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fictionadventurer · 1 year

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The Shocking Redemption Arc of Chester Arthur

To my great pleasure, I get to tell you about Chester A. Arthur. If you don’t know his story, that’s a surprising statement, because most people don’t even recognize his name as one of the presidents. That’s a crying shame, because this guy has the most fascinating character arc of any president I’ve come across so far. He entered the presidency as a despicable, corrupt, conniving political lackey, and left it as--

Well, I’d best get on with the story.

Chester Arthur started out as an idealist. He was the son of an abolitionist Baptist minister, and though he dropped the religion in adulthood, he remained devoted to abolishing slavery. He became a lawyer with a New York firm that argued several civil rights case, and he rose to fame in 1854 when he served as the defense attorney for Elizabeth Jennings, the Northern version of Rosa Parks. Arthur’s victory in her case led to the desegregation of New York City’s public transportation.

During the Civil War, Arthur got an appointment as New York’s quartermaster general. After the war, Arthur returned to civilian life and became a Republican “party man” who worked behind the scenes to draw in voters, funding, and supporters. He and his wife Ellen (called Nell) both loved the finer things in life, which drove Arthur to do whatever he could to gain fame, wealth, and social status.

This is where I need to explain the spoils system. For the first hundred-plus years of American politics, all federal positions were filled by appointment. When a new president came into office, he could award government positions to his supporters--"to the victor go the spoils". Federal employees were required to donate money to the ruling party. There were no requirements for education or relevant experience. Any job could be filled by anyone with the right connections. If you think that sounds like a breeding ground for corruption and cronyism, you’d be absolutely right. By the 1870s, the system was getting extremely corrupt, and there was a growing push for reform.

But not by Chester Arthur. He owed his career to the spoils system. Through his work in the party, he became the right-hand man of Roscoe Conkling, New York’s senior senator and the state’s “political boss”. Conkling was a flamboyant showman, a magnetic politician, and a ruthless man. He had been a major supporter of Ulysses S. Grant’s presidential campaign, so Grant gave Conkling control over all the federal appointments in New York. Conkling used his power to fill positions with his friends and supporters, and he was brutal in attacking anyone who got in his way.

Because Chester Arthur was Conkling’s most loyal supporter, he got the best federal job in the country—Controller of the Port of New York. Before income tax, around 60-70% of federal funds came from the tariffs at this one port. The controller got a salary similar to the president’s, plus he was able to take a percentage of all the fines they levied. At the height of his power, Chester Arthur made $50,000 a year, which is a lot when the average skilled worker at the time made $500. (A rough estimate puts his salary at $1.3 million in today’s dollars.)

Arthur was living the high life. He racked up huge tailor bills. He had a gorgeously furnished house. His job allowed him to force his employees to donate a percentage of their salary to the Republican Party, which gave him even more power within the political machine. He bought huge amounts of wine and cigars that he handed out to people he was wining and dining for the good of the party. His wife resented that he was rarely home because of his political work, but Arthur loved the machine too much to stop.

After his 1876 election, President Rutherford B. Hayes desperately tried to reform the spoils system, but was blocked every step of the way by Roscoe Conkling. Finally, in 1878, Hayes managed to remove Arthur from his position as port controller, under suspicion of corruption, which allowed Arthur to spend more time working for New York’s political machine.

In January of 1880, Arthur was in Albany working for a political campaign when his wife caught pneumonia. By the time Arthur got home, Nell had fallen into a coma, and he wasn’t able to speak with her before she died. He felt guilty over her death, and especially the lack of closure caused by his devotion to politics. But instead of changing his ways, Arthur moved in with Conkling and became more devoted to politics than ever.

Which brings us to the 1880 Republican Convention. The Republican Party was split between two warring factions—the Stalwarts like Conkling who wanted to keep things the way they were, and the Half-Breeds who wanted civil service reform. President Hayes refused to seek re-election (partly because Conkling had made his life miserable) so these two factions somehow had to agree on a new candidate. Conkling supported a third term for Ulysses S. Grant. The Half-Breeds supported James G. Blaine of Maine—who happened to be Conkling’s mortal enemy.

James Garfield was there to nominate John Sherman—the Secretary of the Treasury and the younger brother of the famous Civil War general—and I can’t go any further in this story before I tell you a little bit about him. James Garfield is one of the most ridiculous overachievers in the realm of American politics. He was born into a dirt-poor farming family (he’s the last president ever to have been born in a log cabin). At sixteen, he left home to work on a canal boat, but quit after he nearly drowned, and his mother and brother scraped up enough money for him to go to school. His first year, he paid for his tuition by working as a school janitor. His second year, the school hired him to teach six classes (while he was still a student!) and then added two more because of how popular he was. By the time he was twenty-six, he was president of that same school. He became a lawyer and was elected to Ohio’s state legislature. During the Civil War, he became the youngest person to earn the rank of general. While fighting in the Civil War, his friends put his name in as a candidate for the US House of Representatives, and Garfield won even though he refused to campaign. He then served several terms in the House, where he became popular, but he refused to seek the presidency, because he’d watched several friends become warped by their presidential ambitions.

At the 1880 Republican Convention, Garfield was the more popular Ohio candidate, but insisted he was there only to nominate Sherman. At one point in his nominating speech, Garfield asked the audience, “Now, gentleman, what do we want?” To Garfield’s horror, one man shouted, “We want Garfield!”

Garfield remained loyal in nominating Sherman, but the spark had been lit. The voting went round after round after round for two days, with the votes being split between Grant, Blaine, and Sherman, with no one getting enough to win the nomination. Garfield got one vote in the third round. In the thirty-fourth round, Garfield suddenly got seventeen votes. Garfield stood to protest, saying no one had a right to vote for him since he hadn't consented, but the president of the convention--who was secretly thrilled because he liked Garfield more than any of the other candidates--told Garfield to sit down.

By the thirty-sixth vote, Garfield had won the nomination.

Now they had to choose a vice president. Several of the delegates got the idea to throw a bone to Roscoe Conkling. He was furious that Grant had lost the nomination, and he was vindictive. Conkling controlled New York’s political machine, so without him, the Republicans would lose New York, and without New York, they’d lose the election. He had to be placated. So the delegates nominated Chester Arthur, his right-hand man, as vice president.

Conkling told Arthur to refuse the nomination, but Arthur accepted, saying it was a greater honor than he had ever hoped to achieve. That's putting it mildly. The only position he’d ever held was port controller, and he’d been removed from that. Plenty of people thought nominating him was a horrible idea—a man like Chester Arthur only one step away from the presidency? But other people thought it was a shrewd political move—it would placate Conkling’s faction of the party, and Garfield was young and healthy and would rule in a time of peace. It wasn’t like there was any chance he’d die in office.

After Garfield was elected, Arthur immediately started causing problems. He all but openly boasted of buying votes in the election—which was not a great look when it had been a close race. He was completely on Conkling’s side in his war against Garfield. After Garfield appointed Levi Morton, a Stalwart, as Secretary of the Navy, Conkling sent Arthur and another lackey to drag Morton out of his sickbed--forcing him to drink a bracing mixture of quinine and brandy--and bring him to Conkling’s house to get chewed out, which caused Morton to resign. Conkling forced another Stalwart Cabinet nominee to resign on inauguration day.

Then Conkling went to war over the federal appointments. At first, Garfield placated him, appointing several of Conkling’s candidates. But then Garfield nominated Judge Robertson as Port Controller of New York Harbor. Conkling was livid. That was the prime federal position, a major source of Conkling’s power in the party, and Robertson was one of Conkling’s political enemies. In Conkling’s mind, Garfield had stabbed him in the back. Arthur agreed, and openly bad-mouthed the president to the press.

Conkling and the other New York senator resigned their Senate seats in protest—a dramatic political move. In those days, state legislatures voted for senators, and Conkling believed that since he controlled so many New York politicians, they’d easily get re-elected to their old seats. Unfortunately, the legislature was sick of being under Conkling’s thumb. The election became a drawn-out battle, and Chester Arthur went to Albany to help Conkling in his campaign.

While he was there, the unthinkable happened. On July 2, 1881, James Garfield was shot at a train station by Charles Guiteau, an insane office-seeker. Guiteau had come to the White House every day for months seeking an appointment under the spoils system. When that failed, he decided God wanted him to get Garfield out of the way so the spoils system could continue. After he shot the president, Giteau shouted, “I am a Stalwart, and Arthur will be president!”

As you can imagine, that made things really bad for Arthur. He’d just spent months fighting the president tooth and nail, and the assassin had mentioned his name. Plenty of people thought Arthur had something to do with the shooting. He and Conkling both needed police details to protect them from lynch mobs.

Arthur didn’t want to be president; in his mind, vice president was the perfect job—a position with a lot of political leverage, but no responsibility. He went to the White House hoping to convince Garfield that he had nothing to do with the shooting, but the doctors wouldn’t let him in the room. He managed to speak to the First Lady, where he got choked up with emotion and was observed to be in tears. A reporter later found him in the house where he was staying in Washington, and noted he'd obviously been weeping.

To Arthur’s relief, Garfield seemed to get better. The bullet had missed his spinal cord and all his major organs. If he’d been left alone, Garfield would have made a complete recovery. Unfortunately, his doctors repeatedly prodded the bullet wound with unsterilized instruments, and Garfield fell victim to a massive infection. He lingered for months, slowly starving and rotting to death.

Through all this, Arthur stayed in New York and refused to take up presidential duties; with so many people accusing him of the assassination, he didn’t want to make it look like he was preparing to usurp the throne.

It eventually became clear that the assassin had acted alone, which laid the rumors to rest, but no one wanted Arthur to be president. James Garfield had been a man of the people. The working class considered him one of their own, proof that anyone could rise from poverty and become president. He was an idealist, a champion of civil rights, a family man who lived modestly. For the first time since the Civil War, a president had been supported by both the north and the south, and the country had come together in grief. Chester Arthur was Garfield’s exact opposite—a conniving political lackey who’d become a millionaire through corruption.

James Garfield died on September 19th. To the American people, it looked like their worst nightmare had come true. Conkling’s lackey was in the White House, and now Conkling would rule the nation the same way he’d ruled New York.

Yet, to everyone’s surprise, President Chester Arthur became a completely different man. In one of his first speeches, he listed civil service reform as one of his top priorities—a shocking move for a man who’d become president through the spoils system. Soon after Arthur’s inauguration, Conkling demanded he name a new Controller of the Port of New York. Arthur angrily refused and called Conkling’s demand outrageous. Conkling stormed out in fury and never forgave Arthur. (Arthur did later risk his reputation to nominate Conkling for the Supreme Court, but Conkling, ever petty, refused the position.)

Arthur didn’t have a complete personality transplant. He still lived lavishly, hosting lots of state dinners. He still preferred the social duties of the presidency to actual government work, and he was a hopeless procrastinator. Always fastidious, Arthur refused to move in to the rotting, rat-infested White House until they fixed up the dump, and he ran up extravagant bills during the remodel.

Yet, as a president, he was...respectable. He worked for African-American civil rights. He started a major process of rebuilding and reforming the outdated and corrupt navy. He did sign the Chinese Exclusion Act, but he had vetoed an earlier, harsher version and only signed a much-reduced one (that probably would have been voted in anyway if he’d vetoed it). That remodel of the White House, even if it ran over-budget, was long overdue.

Most shocking of all was his unswerving devotion to civil service reform. He continued an investigation into a government postal scandal, even though everyone assumed he’d drop it. He voiced his continuing support for reform efforts. In 1883, Arthur signed the Pendleton Civil Service Reform Act. As written, the act required only 10% of federal jobs to be assigned based on merit, and even that required the president to take action to enforce it. People assumed that Arthur would sit back and do nothing, so the spoils system would remain in place. Yet Arthur immediately formed a commission to enact the reform, even appointing some of his old enemies. The man who’d benefited most from the spoils system became the one to finally destroy it.

How do we explain such a complete and sudden change? Part of it’s a matter of personality. If I can indulge in a bit of meta, Chester Arthur seems to be a textbook example of the sanguine-phlegmatic temperament—someone who wants to fit in with the crowd, to go with the flow. As a political lackey, this made him self-serving and amoral, but as president, the crowd he had to impress was the American people. After months of getting crucified in the press, with tons of articles saying what they didn’t want him to be, he’d have plenty of motivation to become what they did want him to be.

A more important motivation, though, was death. His wife’s death was likely the first shock that would make him step back and take stock of his political career. Garfield’s death had an even more profound influence on him. The spoils system had led a madman to murder a president in Arthur’s name; if anything could motivate a man to change the system, that would be it. Even more profound than that was his own death. Not long after entering the White House, Arthur was diagnosed with a fatal kidney disease. He hid the diagnosis during his term, but his actions in office were the actions of a man doomed to die, with a mind toward the legacy he’d leave behind.

Yet there’s another stranger, more mysterious influence that I’ve left to last because of how cool the story is. The day before his death, Chester Arthur—who’d become ashamed of his old life—asked a friend to burn the vast majority of his papers. Years later, among the papers that had been spared, his grandson uncovered a packet of twenty-three letters from a 31-year-old invalid named Julia Sand. Julia came from a family very interested in politics, and her illness meant that she spent a lot of time reading the newspapers, so she was familiar with Chester Arthur’s political career. In August of 1881, she sent Chester Arthur a letter that began, “The hours of Garfield's life are numbered—before this meets your eye, you may be President. The people are bowed in grief; but—do you realize it?--not so much because he is dying, as because you are his successor.” Over seven pages, Julia scolded Arthur for his corrupt ways, but assured him of her faith in his better nature, and urged him to reform. She sent letters over the next two years, full of encouragement and scolding and political advice. She called herself his “little dwarf”, because her lack of ties to him meant she could be completely honest with him.

There’s no evidence he ever answered her. But she did offer some rather specific political advice that he seems to have followed. And he did visit her once. In 1882, he stopped by her house in the presidential carriage, surprising her and her family (who had no idea she’d been writing to the president) with an hour-long visit. She seemed to grow more frustrated with his lack of answers after that, and no letter exists after 1883.

There’s no way to say what kind of effect the letters had on him. But amid all the turmoil after the assassination, it must have meant something to have one voice saying she believed in him. She was a voice from outside the Washington political machine, who could serve as a sort of conscience. The fact that those letters survived when so much else burned suggests he considered them worth saving.

No matter the reason, the truth remains that Arthur entered the presidency as an example of all that was dirty and loathsome in the political system, and he left it as a respectable man. In giving up his old ways, he sacrificed connections he’d spent years building. His old friends never forgave him, and his old opponents never quite trusted his reform, yet he did what he thought was right even if it meant he stood alone. In summing up his presidency, I don’t think I can do better than contemporary journalist Alexander McClure: “No man ever entered the Presidency so profoundly and widely distrusted as Chester Alan Arthur, and no one ever retired... more generally respected, alike by political friend and foe.” I think that deserves to be remembered.

#history is awesome #presidential talk #i apologize but i really can't see any way to cut this down #i like the detour into garfield's nomination #i can't cut conkling out any more than i have #i can't leave out his wife #i didn't even mention that he was washington's most eligible bachelor during his term but he remained faithful to her memory #or that his sister served as hostess at the white house and helped raise his daughter (who he protected from the press as best he could)#or that he did make a half-hearted attempt to seek re-election so people wouldn't think he was slinking off in disgrace #and there was some support for him #but he didn't mind at all when someone else was nominated because he was dealing with his kidney disease #and he died in 1886 #which means he had the shortest post-presidency life of anyone except james k. polk who died three months after leaving office #i did not come into last week thinking that by the end of it i'd have developed a minor specialization #in the presidency of a guy i knew only for his facial hair and his half-verse in the animaniacs song #i didn't even mention the facial hair!#go to wikipedia and see his glorious muttonchops!#say what you will about the victorians but they had wild facial hair game #but anyway here is the life story of my impeccably dressed trash panda son #who is put together on the outside and a mess on the inside #and still manages to maintain a certain dignity despite how pathetic he is #he's a mess of a human being but i love him your honor

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heated-drama-between-men · 2 years

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Woops. Accidentally stayed up till 3:00AM playing Victoria 3

#i have been playing an absolutely crazy usa game now that i think i understand the economy system #ask me about the president who died in office at the age of 100

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acotarxreader · 13 days

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Other Worlds part Two

Azriel x reader

Synopsis: Nesta accidentally pulls you from our realm into theirs and a certain Spymaster can't help but be enamoured.

Original Request: "So I was wondering if you could do like Reader is from the modern world but ends up in the ACOTAR world, and ends up like falling in love with one of batboys."

Warnings: Angst, super fluff, my silliest wordplay

A/N: You guys! Welcome to part 2, I'm so so happy you gave so much love to the first part (which was meant to be a oneshot but ye said no!) and I hope you are ready to tolerate even more of my silliest carry on! Let me know what you think (I hope you love it just as much as part 1).

Part 1

---------------------------

“So then what happens?”

“So then Marley di-lives happily ever after”

“Wow, that’s a great story YN" You offer a smile to Elains kind eyes as the two of you lounge in the front room of River House, awaiting the rest of the group. You had been in the Prythian for almost a month and had found your way with great help from Azriel, teething problems aside.

“I’m just gonna get a drink from the kitchen, want anything?” Elain shook her head as you left for a cup of your favourite floral tea, growing tired of waiting for the others.

“We are going to be late, I swear to Taylor Swift those males better hurry up!” Feyre rushed into the room, haphazardly buckling her shoe before collapsing on the couch alongside her sister.

“Who’s Taylor Swift?”

“YN said she’s like their God of war and karma” Elain nodded in understanding, eyes landing back on the small coffee table in front of them.

“Do you think YN will be okay visiting Hewn City?”

“What do you think is keeping our lovely friends so long? They’re arguing about it upstairs” Feyre sighed.

“Amren is really not going to be happy with this when she comes back from her travels”

“Yes but Elain, have you ever seen Az so happy?” Elain exhaled in agreement before you re-entered the living room to your new best friends. The three of you spent another half an hour before the three males arrived on the scene from Rhysand’s office.

“How wonderful of you to grace us with your presence, are we ready to go now?” You say with a sarcastic drawl as Azriel places a gentle kiss on the top of your head before sinking into the plush chair across from you.

“Cass your hair looks different, so shiny?”

“Thank you for noticing Elain, YN has taught me the so-called curly girl/Illyrian method” he beamed with pride that you matched before you turned your attention back to Rhysand.

“Cass and I are going to go ahead with Feyre, we don’t think you’re quite ready for Hewn City YN”

“Correction Rhys, Hewn City isn’t ready for YN” Cassian laughed back, you looked between the two males before looking to Azriel’s soft gaze as he rested his elbows off his knees, head on a hand. He gave a small smile before leaning back fully into the chair, the room silent momentarily.

“This was your idea wasn’t it?” Azriel feigned offence, hand on his chest before giving a small huff of air.

“Yes…but YN you’d hate it there”

“So, I hate lots of things and deal with that, like Cassian's outfit right now!” you found your feet again along with your sharper tone.

“Ouch!” Cassian cut across you with a half laugh.

“Sorry Cassian honey sweetie baby, I’m mad at the wrong bat” Cassian folded his arms across his chest, he too hated his Hewn City clothes but he nodded in acceptance of your apology.

“I understand YN, I even wore the boots with the shoelaces you like!”

“Oh, the ones from the president?” you gave a small laugh to yourself.

“Yeah!.....Whatever that means” Cassian furrowed his brow in thought.

“Anyways, I’m going to Hewn City with you guys!”

“YN, it's really not like here-”

“So? I want to see the whole of Prythian and I don’t want to beg you to take me anywhere” Feyre’s head shot towards her mates at your somewhat desperate tone, a knowing look shared between the two.

“She’s coming” Rhysand and Feyre said in unison, gaining a shocked expression from both you and Azriel.

-------------------------

That was the end of it, the group was on its way, Azriel sulking for the duration of the journey. The air was knocked out of you at the full scale and odd sense of beauty at Hewn City, it had a different kind of charm to it than Velaris, one that was much less obvious. You felt the group's easy-going nature completely dissolve as you crossed the threshold of a large ballroom-like space where Feyre and Rhysand held court.

You walked at the rear of the group alongside Elain, her timid deamour growing tenfold, your eyes traced the crowd all bowed to the ground before your eyes landed on the back of Azriel and Cassian ahead of you. The whole sight made you feel ill, an entire world away from your realm or even how the residents of Velaris acted.

You felt the cool familiar touch of Azriel’s shadows trace along your lower back in soothing circles easing you into the new harsh environment. You fought back a laugh when the room sank lower to the ground as Rhysand and Feyre entered, the idea of bowing to Rhysand was humorous to you but the somewhat goofy demeanour you so regularly saw from him, completely evaporated.

You sat to the side of the dais while the High Lord and Lady discussed various topics of the Court, Azriel fighting every bone in his body not constantly to check you over to make sure you were okay.

“I’m going to get a drink” You slipped from your chair and down the stone steps, leaving Nesta and Elain to debate book characters. You pushed away the feeling of Azriel’s eyes burning into your back as you reached a group of staff. One reached out an almost rattling hand towards you with the tray and you smiled, she remained unable to reach your eye.

“Thanks…nice party huh?” You raised an eyebrow when she didn’t reply to you, the others seemingly also nervous.

“I used to be a waitress at this fancy restaurant, I get how it feels to be suffocated by pompous energy like the kind that comes from Rhysand” you offered jokingly, her eyes darting to yours in surprise before snapping back forward, her slight tremble growing.

“Ah and who are you lovely creature?” Your head whipped around to a tall, broad male with golden hair and deep brown eyes that examined you with fine focus. He outstretched a hand to yours and you took it reluctantly, something twisting in your stomach.

“Keir, Steward of the Night Court”

“YN, newest stray of the Night Court” You gave a sarcastic smile, moving to go past him, his grip tightening on your hand.

“Oh YN, please stay and chat” He placed his empty glass harshly down on the vibrating server’s tray, throwing the balance of the silverware. You flinched at the feeling of the golden bubbly liquid covering your dress. The sound of the smashing fine crystal and the female dropping instantly to the floor to try to recover from the dire situation drew eyes from all over the room.

“Oh fuck” You jumped back slightly before bending down to help the panicking fae, Keir’s grip on your wrist harshened further, pulling you back up.

“Disgraceful scum” he spat downwards at the female before snapping his fingers. Two giant guards seemingly appeared from nowhere to haul her to her feet and drag her back, she shouted slightly in pure terror, only to be smacked across the face by a guard.

“What the fuck?!” Fury rising in your eyes, Azriel began to make his way through the commotion.

“I know YN, she ruined your lovely dre-”

“Not her, prick! You! Where the fuck do you get off treating people like that?”

“I beg your pardon” his face darkened, his grip burning into your wrist, you swore you could feel the joint rearranging itself. It suddenly lessened as Azriel finally met your side and you yanked your arm downward away from him entirely.

“Keir, YN didn’t mean-”

“Eh yes YN did mean it” you bit back at the Spymaster before storming away from the two males, the room’s volume swelling back to full volume as if this was a normal occurrence.

You marched out of the decadent building and into the streets of the Court of Nightmares, stumbling slightly in the long midnight blue dress that clothed you. You hiked up the dress slightly before continuing to stomp through the streets, gaining a few quizzical glances from the residents. You were struck by the difference of character that occupied the course of your path, the slightly crumbling infrastructure, a stark difference to the building you just left.

“YN, there you are, it's not safe to be out here alone” Azriel jogged to your side, collecting his uncharacteristic panicked expression before you faced him.

“This place…this place...”

“I know YN, it’s its own beast”

“But it's under Rhysand and Feyre’s control?” he nodded in confirmation.

“So they could fix it right?”

“It's a bit more complicated than that YN”

“How!? There seems to be endless wealth at home” Azriels heart warmed at the word home, the thought of you feeling so comfortable in his world filling him with pride.

“It… it's just how it's always been” he offered softly, reaching for your hand, a dark ring of marbling growing across your wrist joint, Azriel’s eyes bore into the marking.

“He hurt you”

“Az, he’s just an asshole, I’m more concerned about that girl” he ran a thumb over the maroon, Cassian landing alongside you both.

“Come on we’re leaving, Nesta is bored and I want to keep learning that Hot-to-Go dance” you let a slight laugh leave you as he made the shapes of letters with his arms, Azriel still unable to tear his eyes away from your wrist.

“Bring YN home, I’ll follow you” he didn’t give you much of a choice as he dissolved into shadows.

—--------------------------------------

The group sat around the dining room table in the Town House, all in the usual state of exhaustion that a trip to Hewn City brought about, Azriel noticeably absent.

“I just don’t know how you can all just pretend that place doesn’t exist” you cut into the wearied silence, the Inner Circle pushing their dinner around their plates.

“YN...” Rhysand’s tone was warning as he took a sip from his glass of wine.

“I mean Feyre how can you just sit here and-”

“YN!” Rhysand barked again and you sat back in your chair, dropping your fork and entering a staring contest with the High Lord of Night.

“You were outraged at the tits in Spring Court but this you accept!?” you continued on, Mor choked out a laugh through the sip of wine she drank.

“Tithe YN, the tithe” Cassian gently corrected with a wide grin.

“I think she meant what she said, Tamlin was acting like one-” the table hummed in amused agreement to Mor.

“-We’re working on it but it's a gradual process YN” Feyre offered softly, ending Mor's comment before it could continue, her kind eyes softening the edge of anger in you slightly.

“This is why you people need democracy!” you huffed, remembering the look of terror on that fae’s face from earlier.

“What’s that? A swear word?” Rhysand asked genuinely.

“I’m sure to people like you in their ivory tower it is!” you stormed out for the second time that day.

“This house is made of stone, what is she talking about ?I thought we were over her riddle stage” Cassian raised an eyebrow.

—------------------------------------------

You threw yourself down on your giant bed, feeling every bit a part of the problem you took such an issue with. You sat up again, dragging your hands down your face before something caught your eye. You ambled over to the dresser, the deep red of your university sweatshirt sleeve hanging out of the large drawers. Your thumbs ran over the well-worn fabric, and you smiled down at it. Your dress slipped from your shoulders to your ankles and you replaced it with your beloved sweatshirt, filling you with a warm fuzzy feeling.

“Hey YN” you span around to Azriel, tugging the end of your sweatshirt down a bit further to cover yourself more.

“Hi Azriel” You said faintly, sitting down cross-legged on the bed. Azriel looked drained, your eyes dropping to his hands coated in a fine layer of crimson.

“Where were you?” you spoke cautiously, Azriel rolling his shoulders before moving into the adjacent bathroom, the sound of his clothes hitting the marble sending an electric shiver through you.

“No one treats you like that” he called out to you, your head tilting. He returned to you in his loose-fitting sleepwear before climbing into the bed, his wings fully relaxing.

You crawled back up the bed to lie the length of him. He looked down at you, rested in the crook of his arm, his wing curling slightly to bring you in further. Your arm traced up his abdomen to rest on his chest until he took the hand, inspecting it again, the maroon having deepened further, if you were honest you were surprised it wasn’t broken.

“Yeah...I’m not finished with him” he placed your hand back down and moved to leave the bed, only to be stopped by your weight on top of him.

“Az it's fine” You laughed, unsure how to handle someone having such unending care for you.

“Rhys told me about dinner-” you groaned at his words after a moment of silence, rolling off of his chest back to his side “-He said he didn’t realise we had adopted a grumpy teenager” he laughed and you hit him in the chest, whilst not taking your eyes from the ceiling above. He kissed the top of your head and you turned upwards to meet his lips, a slight groan of his own leaving him. His mouth tasted of mist and mint and you found it so entirely addictive, he rolled slightly to kiss you further, your hand tracing up his abdomen and across the top of his shoulder.

“I was kidnapped, not adopted” you teased.

“What’s that thing you always say? Flamingo tornado?”

“Tomato, tomato” You laughed fully and he couldn’t help but trace every contour of your face.

“Probably best not to bring up Tamlin around the two of them, although Mor really enjoyed the show”

“Did you ever notice how Tamlin sounds like tampon-” he raised an eyebrow at your words “-nevermind, for another day”

“We have so much to learn from one another” he gave you an excited squeeze.

“I know, I think you would have liked where I'm from"

“Yeah? Do you regret not trying to get back?” you pulled back to look at his face fully, his worried tone coating your ears.

“I miss somethings about home” home, but not you didn’t mean Velaris this time, a twinge of sadness washing over Azriel.

“Like what?”

“Emm coffee, my clothes, college to some degree ehhh tv, I don’t know the shower, people understanding my sense of humour”

“You have a sense of humour?” he smirked and you rolled your eyes.

“It doesn’t matter anyway Azriel, I happily gave it all up for you, graduation and all” You yawned the words out, rolling into a tight ball against his side.

“You never did that exam so how’d you know you’d have graduated?”

“Wooooooow cold” you laughed into him, eyes closing now. Azriel watched you fall asleep with a smile across your face, his favourite sight, a plot beginning to form in his eyes.

—----------------------------------

You stretched your arm into the empty space in the bed, sitting up on an elbow to look around to find Azriel long gone from your shared space. You threw on a dressing gown around you, your sweatshirt still lovingly clung to your curves. The hallway was mostly quiet when you entered it, only the sound of distant whispers filling the airways.

“Azriel?” You called out from the top of the stairs, the whispering silencing immediately followed by what could only be described as scurrying. You traipsed slowly down the staircase, stopping at the bottom to find Cassian stood in the now almost bare living room, only a single desk and chair alongside him.

“Cassian what the fuc-”

“Eh that’s Mr. Cassian to you Miss!” he spoke with a fake authoritative tone and you could have sworn you heard Azriel whisper that it was a bit overkill.

“Right…is this some kinda sex thing you and Nesta have going on?” you laughed lightly, following your feet into the nearly barren room.

“Well it might become one-” he winked before coughing to clear his throat “-now ehh, sit down for your exam”

“What?” you chuckled as he pulled out the chair for you, gesturing for you to sit so you did. You looked down at the scrap of paper, ‘Physics Final’ scrawled across the top in Feyre’s penmanship. You looked back to Cassian confused and you could tell he was fighting a laugh, you turned the sheet over to find one question scribbled across the breadth of the page.

“What is physics?” You laughed the words aloud, Cassian's hand banging off the desk in front of you.

“No talking during the exam!” he barked before covering his mouth to shield his laugh.

“Right… well you didn’t give me something to write with Sir” you said sarcastically.

“Oh I like it when you call me Sir-” a shadow bolted into Cassian's chest, knocking him back slightly “-okay okay sorry, busybody!….emm just tell me the answer then”

“Okay well very broadly, physics is the science of matter, motion, and energy”

“Emm sure let's go with that, congratulations!” he pulled you up from the chair by the arm and through the hall to the kitchen at the back of the house, your laughs of utter confusion filling the hallway.

“Surprise! It’s your graduation!” You hand covered your mouth in astonishment, your new family stood with their arms up around the kitchen island, a large cake sitting in the middle of them, banners and streamers covering every surface. Azriel passed a large bunch of flowers into your hand, kissing the top of your head as he did so, the whole scene bringing tears into your eyes.

“Oh no did we do it wrong?”

“I told you that question was too difficult!” Nesta snapped towards Feyre but you cut her off before she could refute her sister.

“No no you guys this is absolutely perfect, Jesus Christ-”

“I think another one of her friends, potentially related to Xanax?” Cassian whispered to Mor at the sight of her confusion.

“-this is everything” You ignored Cassian, hugging Azriel tightly.

“And because now you’ve graduated, you’re getting a job!” Feyre beamed and you turned to face her, Azriels arms wrapping around your waist from behind.

“Yes, I have been thinking a lot about our…discussion yesterday YN and I’m sorry, you’re right, we aren’t doing enough and so, we would love it if you could help us to level the playing field throughout our Court. We’ll set up an office there for you and perhaps begin distributing our resources better. Azriel…took care of Keir so he won’t be an issue, what do you think?” Rhysand seemed almost nervous making the offer, it instantly melting from him when you nodded in agreement. Cassian practically jogged to your side, your favourite mug outstretched in his hand.

“Oh and, I made you this!” You exchanged the flowers for the mug with a smile, it faltered slightly when you looked to find a thick brown sludge coating the inside of the crockery.

“Ehhh”

“It’s coffee! Or at least my understanding of what coffee, bean water right?” you looked from the mug to his face that radiated pure pride.

“Emm yes Cassian thank you I love it!” you lied through your teeth and felt Azriel shake with laughter from behind you, your elbow shooting back into his stomach.

“Actually, Azriel you can have the first sip”

“Oh no no YN, I couldn’t-”

“I insist” you turned, passing it into his scarred hand. His gaze bounced from your smug face to Cassian’s eager one as he gulped before taking a small sip of the slush. He fought every instinct to spit it back out.

“Lo-lovely Cass thank you” he managed, putting the mug out of arm's reach, Cassian turning back to cut up the cake.

The group hummed with laughter, unadulterated happiness radiating and you looked around at each of them with such an overwhelming sense of home. You looked to Azriel, who had the same expression you had when looking at his family that he had when he looked at you.

“Look at our family YN” he said so only you could hear, you turned to wrap your arms around his neck, his going to your hips.

“I’m so glad I fell into this world”

“Fell from the sky like an angel” you tilted your head back with almost a disgusted groan at his cheesy words only gaining a laugh from the Spymaster.

“I should have just risked going into the snow that night”

“I would have followed you, I will follow you anywhere, from this world, into the next”

-------------------------------

Whatcha think?

Tags (which for some reason is working intermittently): @phoenix666stuff @lees-chaotic-brain @dreamscourtgirl @gabby234lopez @chairofchaos @ariaaira

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i-cant-sing · 3 months

Text

Thinking about that tiktok about the girl being all sad about her parents dying one day and stuff, and I'm just thinking about Yandere President Overhaul AU, the toddler triplets are just sitting around with reader (who's heavily pregnant and snoring on the couch, a little drooling too) and Tomura suddenly realised that you could die- be it by pregnancy or talking to other people- ANYTHING could kill you.

And now Tomura is about 2 seconds away from having a full blown meltdown, and Dabi and Himiko are just trying to calm him down (and give your poor self a break and not wake upto 3 kids shrieking and crying).

Himiko: can you like- not freak out? Mom's not going to die-

Tomura, snot and tears: maybe not now! B-but who knows when?! Maybe- maybe it's today- or tomorrow- or when we're asleep! What are we gonna do w-without her?!

Dabi, rolling his eyes and crossing his arms over his chest: stop being such a baby, Tomu. If mom dies, we'll just- go with her.

Tomura, stops sniffling: what?

Himiko: dabi... that's a brilliant idea! Oh my gosh, we can use my knifes!

Dabi: of course its a brilliant idea, I'm the oldest. I'm smart like that. *pats Tomuras head* see? I told you we have nothing to worry about.

Tomura, wiping his tears away and nodding: you're right. Wait, what about dad?

Dabi: we are not inviting him. He's not coming with us, he hogs mom all the time!

Tomura, eyes twinkling: Dabi, you're a genius.

And the kids all just gather around their poor innocent mom, who's just content when she wakes upto her 3 menaces sleeping away in her arms. Meanwhile, Kai (who's been listening on to the triplets convo because ofc he has the whole place bugged.) is just thinking in his office... "what the fuck? The kids are just gonna kill themselves when Y/n's not around anymore? What- how- why didn't I think of that first? Also, why didn't Himiko stand up for me? Won't she invite me along when they all go? Is she still mad at me for not getting her a pet octopus last week? What was I supposed to do when her mom said no?!"

#yandere president kai #yandere president overhaul #yandere kai chisaki #yandere overhaul #yandere bnha #bnha headcanons #yandere mha #bnha imagines #yandere dabi #yandere shigaraki #yandere tomura shigaraki #yandere tomura #yandere himiko #yandere himiko toga #yandere toga

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yxstxrdrxxm · 2 months

Text

IMAGINE AVENTURINE WHO... (cw: kakegurui au, obsessive gambling, life and death situation/predicament, aventurine's obsessed, unhealthy power dynamic/s between both sides, possessiveness, yandere behavior)

... is well known in Penacony as one of the elite gamblers. AVENTURINE doesn't take a simple bet and runs with it, but makes it clear that if you ever play a game against him, he'll take it up to 10 notches.

... is called the 'compulsive gambler of Penacony', where students shiver at the mention of his name. Often, whoever gambles with him is met with a terrible end, citing that being near him is akin to a death wish with how possessed he acts.

... only desires a challenge. He dislikes gambling for the sake of money or power— he has enough and wants to spend it all until the day he dies. All he wants is the thrill, the one that would push him to the edge, constantly seeking for more.

... is an adrenaline junkie and makes those who goes against him rot in debt, becoming housepets in his journey of finding the one, but he had no luck. A shame, as he's a skilled gambler with many tricks and lady luck constantly gazing on his shoulder— until he met you.

... found you intriguing when you played a game of Craps, and although the stakes were rigged and against you, a newbie, you swept the floor with them and exposed them for their crimes. AVENTURINE found it more amusing when you stated, plain as day, "Those house pets of yours are going to need their lives back when they realize it's been rigged from day one."

... asked the other elites and even the president himself, SUNDAY, if he's ever heard of you. To his surprise, it was like no one has, and SUNDAY comments that AVENTURINE may be up to someone that doesn't exist anywhere. Not in the records, outside, or even the entirety of the country.

... began to become the regular of your regulars; who saw you in your games with others. He saw you win on them, exposing how they have seamlessly won those games despite it being against your favor, and turning it on their heads.

..., after studying your behavior and mannerisms, approached you for a little gamble. It isn't much, as all he wants is simply see what makes you tick.

... leads you into his office and you both take your seats, two sets of cards set in front of you. He even told you that the game you two will be playing is Blackjack— a staple of Penacony, he jokes, but you two know it's a lie.

... tells you that if you win, he'll let you in to the Elites and convince SUNDAY to stop pursuing your missing records. Everyone has been itching to get you to fall from grace, and he isn't letting them get their grimy hands onto your pretty face. Not if he has a say in it. However...

... tells you that if he wins, he'll have you as his personal housepet: a trophy to signify that you have fallen for a man that's feared by many.

... watches with a smile as the cards were taken from both sides, eagerly awaiting for the final verdict between you.

... knew it was only one round. Who knew he only has one chance to finally claim what is his.

... chuckles when he sees the results, his eyes gleaming with the sense of pride— to his loss or yours, no one shall ever know.

@.yxstxrdrxxm | do not republish or repost my works anywhere | 2024

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charlesoberonn · 5 months

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Fact 1: President is the deadliest job in America, with 17.8% of presidents having died in office

Fact 2: 75% of the presidents who died in office did so before antibiotics were invented

Assumption: If we counted pre-antiobiotics deaths for other jobs, president would no longer be the deadliest job

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qqueenofhades · 9 months

Note

Do you think Biden's age is an overblown issue? It does to me because like, believe or not, we do intact have a system to take care of this, and all the times we've had to use if before have worked

If Biden dies, Harris takes over

If Biden deteriorates to the point of being unable to perform his duties (personally I consider this unlikely but I digress), Harris invokes the 25th

If Biden feels he can no longer perform his duties he steps down and let's Harris take over

Which is more than I can say for trump or the lunatic he'll choose for a vp

And that last point about Biden stepping down is important, Biden's sharper than people give him credit for, I do think he intends to serve a full term if reelected, but I do think he's also considered the possibility of being reelected, serving a year or two in that term, and then stepping down and letting Harris take over

Of course the thing with Harris is people right now are transparently trying to do to her what they did to Hillary leading up to 2016, and infuriatingly, people either don't see it or they're falling for it again!

It's the most fucking overblown thing ever, and represents the usual insane double standard. The media mentions Biden's age ALL THE TIME, and yet doesn't mention that Trump is just three years younger at 77, demonstrably in far worse physical shape, and clearly on the express train to senility. Whereas Biden is fit, active, bikes, works out, and otherwise is fine. Is he old? Yes. Who cares? He knows how to do the job and he is certainly a hell of a lot healthier than say, Mitch McConnell (81), who has openly frozen up on TV twice and plainly is not well. If it was Biden doing that ONCE, let alone twice, the media would be howling nonstop bloody murder. McConnell? Eh. Footnote.

Also, a lot of the scaremongering about Biden's age is directly related to scaremongering about Harris. If you vote for him and then he doesn't finish his term for whatever reason, A WOMAN OF COLOR WILL BECOME PRESIDENT AND BE IN CHARGE OF THIS COUNTRY!!!! That is the underlying message. Of course there is a system that handles it if the president, God forbid, should happen to die in office. But Oh Noes It's Scary Female Brown Kamala. Do you want to risk your vote for Biden knowing that ____SHEEEEE_____ might end up finishing his term in some capacity!?!?! She is scary! And brown! And female! And brown!!! We can't let her be in charge!!!

Anyway, yeah. It's total BS, and the fact that the media is fanning it as hard as they can means that they can't think of any way to attack Biden on substantive policy or any other legitimate grounds. So they'll just go after the age thing nonstop, and cross their fingers that it works. Which if it did, would mean ending democracy for realsies this time, but as long as they make money, who cares!

#short-wooloo #ask #politics for ts

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phoward89 · 4 months

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Based on this ask

Coriolanus Snow knew firsthand the deadly risks of childbirth, considering he watched in horror as a young child when his own mother and baby sister died, but he knew that he needed an heir to carry on the Snow name. When he planned on marrying for hate, well, he could care less what happened to his wife during the delivery.

But, somehow, all his plans and views on marriage changed when he met you. You were hired as his secretary, so you spent a lot of time with him. Coriolanus never planned on falling in love with you, but he did. Hell, he even killed your boyfriend in order to make you single again so you'd be able to go out with him.

And when you accepted his offer of dinner, which came with a single white rose, a few months after the death of your longtime boyfriend, he did everything in his power to make you fall in love with him. Coriolanus was successful, you fell hard and fast for him. He was too charming not to let wiggle into your heart, and into your bed.

The president needed a first lady, so he proposed and married you. But it was a bit scandalous, considering you were his secretary. After a couple of negative articles in the media, well, Coriolanus got rid of the writers and made sure that the studios and printing presses in the Capitol (all of Panem actually) knew that if another foul word was printed about his relationship with his wife then he'd kill every single person in the media office.

Safe to say, only articles praising President Snow and First Lady Snow’s love and glamorous life hit the press after that.

And then, of course, came the subject of children. After discussing it, you stopped taking birth control. And you ended up getting pregnant right away.

Seeing you so round with his child gave Coriolanus joy. Gave him an ego boost because he was the one to plant his seed in you. You were carrying his child. His precious baby.

The baby was no longer looked at as an heir, but as a baby to love.

And it was all because of you.

“Coryo, I have my top list of baby names finished.” You told your husband, who was lounging in bed wearing only a pair of sleep pants.

Coryo watched as you sat across the room, placing his fountain pen back into its holder after writing down the final name on your baby name list.

After discussing it, you both decided to wait until the baby was born to discover the gender. You wanted to be surprised and Coriolanus just wanted you to be happy.

“Are you going to let me see it, my darling?” Your platinum blonde husband asked as you slowly stood up from his corner desk.

Placing a hand on your large belly, you smiled, “Of course I'm going to let you see it.”

Grabbing the list, you slowly walked over to the bed. After getting into bed, you handed the list to your husband. “Tell me what ones you like, Mister President.”

Coryo kissed your cheek and smiled. “Of course, First Lady Snow.”

He read over the list, only to discover that you had more boys' names than girls written down. After giving it some thought, he told you, “Cassian Xandros is perfect for our son. It's a strong name.” Mulling it over, he pointed to a name on the paper and announced, "Cersei sounds nice for a girl.”

“It's not nice, Coryo, it's beautiful.” You countered, pulling the list out of his hands. “Looks like the baby has a name; all we need to do is wait for it to come.”

The day your daughter Cersei Snow was born was the day that your husband decided to hate her.

The day didn't start out with him hating his baby girl.

No, it started with your water breaking and a trip to the hospital. Coriolanus canceled all of his meetings, briefings, and work for the day just to be by your side.

He was very supportive during your labor. Letting you hold his hand during painful contracts, smoothing your hair back away from your sweaty face with a damp rag, and buzzing the nurse multiple times for both ice chips and pain medication for you.

The nurses all gossiped amongst each other about how President Snow was the perfect doting husband and and father to be. That he'd make a very good father.

Little did they know.

Little did anyone know what would happen once the doctor came into the room and announced that it was time to start pushing.

Coriolanus was by your side as you pushed and pushed. With every push he noticed you were getting weaker and it worried him.

Looking between your weak, pale form, and the doctor that was sitting at the bottom of your bed, Coriolanus asked, “Dr. Wellock, my wife's growing weaker. Is there something you can do to get the baby out?”

“There's nothing to be worried about, President Snow. Labor’s a strenuous event; many first time mothers grow fatigue and can push for a while before the baby crowns.” The doctor told your husband, more or less blowing off his concern.

You were exhausted but determined to have your baby. Even tho you were feeling dizzy, you continued to bear down and push every time you were told to.

Then, when you felt that you didn't have any more strength coursing thru your body, you gave birth to your baby.

You saw Dr. Wellock hold up the baby and announce, “It's a girl.” Suddenly, your vision began to get fuzzy as you heard the doctor ask your husband, “President Snow, would you like to cut the cord?”

Coriolanus was about to answer whenever he saw you faint, paired with blood pooling around your legs and staining the bed.

“What's wrong with my wife?!” Coriolanus asked, fear filling him as the doctor quickly cut the baby's cord and tossed her to a waiting nurse. “Dr. Wellock, is my wife dying?!” Coriolanus asked in a panicked scream, while the nurse quickly cleaned the baby and wrapped her into a blanket.

“Your wife's hemorrhaging, President Snow.” Dr. Wellock told your husband, only to point to the nurse and tell her, “Give him the baby and get him out of here.”

So, the nurse dumped the baby in Coriolanus' arms and pushed him out of the door. Before the president could blink, the door was slammed shut I'm his face.

As Dr. Wellock and his nurse worked to staunch your bleeding; save your life, your husband stood outside of your room with your newborn baby girl in his arms.

Coriolanus looked down at the tiny baby wriggling and crying in his hold, only to look at the door of your room and realize that you're dying because of the thing in his arms.

Cersei’s what the two of you decided to name her, when she wasn't a danger. Wasn't the reason you're dying.

Coriolanus felt disgust and hatred for the newborn in his arms. He didn't want to hold her anymore. She was the reason why you're knear death right now.

So, your husband found a nurse to pawn the baby on.

Coriolanus swore to himself that he'd never touch that evil little creature ever again. That he'd never love her.

It didn't matter if you lived or died, he was going to hate your daughter until the day he died.

You didn't die in childbirth, but it was a close call. The doctor explained that you had bad hemorrhaging due to your uterus not contracting correctly after the birthing process, causing uncontrollable bleeding. You were given a blood transfusion, once Dr. Wellock managed to stop the bleeding, due to your blood pressure being too low after such a large blood loss.

You were out of it for days, but you survived.

You were happy to be alive and with your family. Coriolanus and Cersei.

But it didn't take long for you to notice that Coriolanus never picked up your daughter. He never held her, hell, Coryo never seemed too interested in her.

Unless it was for a photo op. Then he turned into the perfect hands on dad that would pose for pictures. But as soon as the cameras stop flashing, the president stops caring about his daughter.

You thought that Coriolanus would get over it; would come to accept your daughter in time. But…sadly…your daughter's first birthday is fastly approaching and your husband still doesn't seem interested in her, unless it's for a photo op.

It saddened you, knowing that Coriolanus was offish to Cersei because she wasn't the son he probably wanted to carry on the Snow name. You loved your daughter and you were sure that your Coryo loved her too, but was just disappointed that she wasn't the strong son he probably had his heart set on.

He did pick out a boy name right off the bat when you handed him your list of baby names last year.

Maybe if Coryo had a son to carry on the Snow name, he'd be happier in his role of fatherhood?

Coriolanus walked into the sunroom only to cringe when he saw you coddling Cersei. The damn little creature nearly murdered you during the birthing process, but you were holding her as she napped on you.

Goodness, there was a portable cradle in the room for a reason.

“She's nearly a year old, you shouldn't be letting her sleep on you like that.” Coriolanus told you, taking a seat at the small tea table. He never even tried to hide the disgust in his voice.

“There's nothing wrong with holding her, Coryo? She's my baby girl.” You responded, causing your husband to just shake his head while reaching for the teapot that was in the middle of the table.

“She's a toddler now, darling. She's not a baby anymore.” Coriolanus scoffed, pouring himself a cup of tea. “Do you want to have afternoon tea with me, or are you going to coddle Cersei all day?” He asked, grabbing a macaron and placing it onto the small plate that was in front of him.

“I'll have tea with you, Coryo.” You thinly smiled, only to rise from your spot on the sofa and place your daughter into her portable crib.

As you made your way over to the table, your husband fixed you a cup of tea and plated you macarons. When you sat down, you decided that now was the time to bring up the subject of having more children.

Little did you know, after your near death experience, Coriolanus got himself snipped. So…it was impossible for you to have any more children.

But he wasn't going to tell you that.

Reaching for your teacup, you told your husband,“Coryo, I think we should have another baby.”

“No.” Was Coriolanus’ quick and cold reply.

“But, we could have a son this time “ You pressed, knowing that your husband wanted a son. Wanted the Snow name to live on.

But you were wrong. Coriolanus didn't want a son to carry on the Snow name, he wanted you alive to be by his side. He loves you to the point of obsessive possession. The love Coriolanus has for you is all consuming, like a plague of locusts devouring an entire field of crops in District 11.

Coryo took a long sip of his tea, only to cut eyes with you over his teacup and firmly say, “I said no, Y/N.” placing his teacup down, he gave you the lame excuse of, “I'm a very busy man, my little dove. Being president takes much of my time away from my fatherly duties; we can only handle raising one child. More than one would be too much for us, considering you refuse a nanny.”

“I told you when I was pregnant with Cersei that I want to raise our kids. I don't want somebody else raising them, no matter how it might be easier considering your role in politics.”

“My role in politics?” Coriolanus chuckled, biting into his macaron. “I'm the President of Panem, that's more than just a role in politics.”

Sipping on your tea, you sighed, “Fine, Cersei’ll be an only child.”

Grabbing your hand in his, Coryo promised, “Our daughter will never want for anything. She'll be showered in a life of luxury.”

That wasn't true. Your daughter grew up wanting her father's love, but she never got it. Coriolanus was always so distant and cold with Cersei.

She hated him, but that was fine with your husband since he hated her right back.

You always thought that your husband resented your daughter for not being a son, for not being able to carrying on the might and noble Snow name.

But that wasn't the case at all.

Coriolanus Snow hated his daughter, Cersei, because you nearly died in childbirth with her. Nothing would every change that. He'd hate her til the day she died.

At least when your daughter died, it was bringing your beautiful granddaughter into the world.

A granddaughter Coryo named Celeste Snow, since your daughter was unwed at the time of her unexpected death.

Your husband was a better grandfather than he was a father. You thought that he might've felt guilty for being so distant and busy during Cersei’s childhood, that he decided to right his wrongs while you raised Celeste.

Little did you know, Coriolanus loved his granddaughter because she killed her mother in the birthing bed.

President Snow was a horrible, heartless man with a soul darker than a black hole. But at least he loved you and loved his granddaughter.

Too bad he hated his only child her entire life.

Tags: @kuroosbby001, @purriteen, @poppyflower-22 @meetmeatyourworst, @whipwhoops, @bxtchopolis, @readingthingsonhere,@savagenctzen, @ryswritingrecord, @erikasurfer, @tulips2715, @universal-s1ut, @thesmutconnoisseur @squidscottjeans, @sudek4l, @wearemadeofstardust0, @mashiromochi, @gracieroxzy @belcalis9503, @shari-berri, @aoi-targaryen, @whiteoakoak @spear-bearing-bi-witch, @gisellesprettylies @loverandqueenofdragons, @qoopeeya, @mfnqueen1, @permanentlyexhaustedpigeon88

#dark!coriolanus snow x reader #dark!coriolanus snow #coriolanus snow #tbosas #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #the hunger games #thg #coryo snow #coriolanus snow x reader #coriolanus fanfiction #tbosas fanfiction #coriolanus x reader #coriolanus imagine #coriolanus snow fanfiction #coriolanus snow imagine #coryo snow x reader #coryo x reader #coryo snow fanfiction #thg fanfiction

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hotel-casifornia · 7 months

Text

i like to think there are true crime episodes in the world of supernatural that are just dedicated to dean winchester

because like okay

he gets arrested in jericho california one/two days after halloween in 2005 and escapes custody before they really charge him for anything then he disappears

then a few months later in december of 2005 he shows up in st louis where hes pinned for the murders of two women and then the attempted murder of another, BUT hes found dead in this same womans house and then theres nothing about him for months

THEN in 2006 he gets arrested in baltimore and is charged for trespassing, grave robbery, grave desecration, murder, impersonation, identity theft etc etc and also arrested at this time is his younger brother sam who isnt charged with anything (as a side note here his brother went to stanford and was studying law, he was on track to be a lawyer a year before this) then overnight while an officer is transferring dean to st louis he escapes and that same officer is found dead on the scene by his partner - around this time sam also escapes custody

and so then they disappear for a while and later he shows up again, in milwaukee where a bank heist is going down and hes supposedly held hostage, then after the original perpetrator of the heist is shot and killed dean takes over running the heist, at that point fbi is called in and they storm the building, they find three or so dead bodies and no dean or sam and find the two escaped by impersonating people in the fbi’s swat team and dumping them in a closet having taken their clothes to blend in and get out of the building

and so they disappear again for a while until a few months later they get arrested again and are actually convicted and sent to folsom prison. they spend definitely under a week in this prison and then escape and once more disappear

then in 2008 theyre arrested again in monument colorado and its planned that theyre to be transferred to a maximum security prison in nevada but before they can be transported they supposedly die when the helicopter thats supposed to transport them explodes, a day later though the sheriffs office where they were kept is destroyed and everyone in it dies

AND THEN. there is dead silence on them for YEARS. they become myth after this, some super weird criminals who go down in infamy in online forums and chatrooms and dean winchester is known as the guy who can never stay dead.

and then. dean and sam get arrested again. a decade later. yeah theyre alive still. who wouldve guessed. what are they arrested for this time? TRYING TO KILL THE PRESIDENT.

#things i think about a normal amount #spn #supernatural #dean winchester #sam winchester

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hispg · 5 months

Text

That's my daddy!

Pairings: DI! Leon X Fem! Reader

Summary: Your daughter gives a small speech for her dad.

Wc: 900

Warnings: dad! Leon, bit of fluffy, Leon being a silly man for his daughter.

An: Just remembering that I'm on vacation and won't be able to interact with you. I'll be back on February 6th and answer everyone! 🫶🏻

It was even comical the way Leon was in his daughter's classroom, in the middle of a bunch of children. The point of his being here was a presentation by the kids, where the parents would come to the school and receive a short presentation from their own children.

He was standing there, an awkward smile on his face, the suit he'd insisted on wearing to look presentable for the occasion. After all, the occasion was important. How could it not be? His girl giving a heartwarming speech in honor of her father was more than special.

Last week it had been your turn, and you had assured him that the little ones would like him too, so he didn't have to worry so much.

As soon as his daughter stood up, she came in with a smile from corner to corner, her blonde hair tied up in a ponytail as she came in all bouncy.

"That's my daddy!" She begins, pride evident in her voice.

Leon smiles, looking around as the children look him up and down.

"I'm Leon, Leon Scott Kennedy." Leon says a little awkwardly, feeling like a clown in this situation.

"He's like a superhero! He's the bravest man I know!" She says, her giant smile making Leon melt inside.

She then stood on her tiptoes, making herself taller and speaking louder:

"Daddy is even friends with the president!" She said proudly once again, and that was enough for all the kids in the room to make a low murmur.

"Are you a superhero? The kind with superpowers?" One of the boys in the class asked, looking at Leon with a certain curiosity.

Leon chuckled, preparing to answer, but his daughter stopped him and answered for him.

"Of course! Daddy keeps the country safe! He's my hero!" She said, with a sweetness and tenderness that made him tear up.

Leon paid attention to every word his daughter said, he couldn't hold back the tears that soaked his vision when he saw the little girl speak about him with so much tenderness. Leon was her figure, the reason for so much admiration. Your daughter kept saying that Leon was a super police officer who took care of everyone, who kept everyone safe.

He had explained his profession to her this way, something simpler that hid the horrendous details of his profession. When she finished, all the children clapped, soon starting to whisper among themselves, Leon had really caught their attention.

All the children started bombarding him with questions, seemingly completely impressed by Leon. And although he didn't really want to, he even showed them his federal agent badge. That was all it took for the kids to get even more excited about Leon.

And he was only able to leave the classroom when he managed to answer all the curious little ones, in all honesty he didn't think it would somehow be so comical. While he was waiting for his daughter to finish talking to her classmates, one of them said:

"Your dad is so cool!" A gentle smile on the boy's face.

And then your daughter replies, " It's my dad! The most badass, coolest dad in the world!" She says with a little smile, hugging Leon's legs tightly.

Leon's heart filled with pride, and a cocky smile appeared on his face.

This was his daughter, and he was her hero.

Then they both headed out, finding you waiting for them outside.

"So, how was it?" You asked, giving Leon a reassuring smile.

"Great." He replies back, giving you a kiss on the forehead as you walk back home.

The path was calm, your daughter talking about how her day had been, school and everything her friends said. Soon the topic stopped at a toy kitchen, one she had seen at the mall and really wanted. And she knew that Leon wasn't capable of denying anything a girl asked for.

"Daddy, I want to buy a new kitchen!" Your daughter giggles, looking at her father with puppy dog eyes.

You giggled, giving the little one's hand a gentle squeeze as she walked between you and Leon, holding both your hands.

"But don't you already have one, darling?" Leon asks, not that he would deny buying the child a new kitchen if she wanted one.

Money has never been a problem for him, at least not since he started working as an agent.

"But mine's small! I want a big one! That way I'll be able to make the same food as mommy!" she said, a big smile on her face, showing the dimples you loved so much.

Leon then looked at the little girl, replying with a mischievous smile on his lips, "Burnt food, you say?"

The comment was enough to make you narrow your eyes at Leon, only to see him laughing his ass off at his own comment.

Your daughter was about to laugh too, but she saw your gaze on Leon and held her smile, not holding her tongue to complain to him.

"Daddy! Mommy makes the best food in the world!" She says in her cute, loving voice, giving you a smile.

"If the food is bad, I'll let you take care of dinner tonight." You tell him, and at the same moment his laughter dies down.

"Oh, come on. Just kidding." He mumbles, trying to win you over with a peck.

"You're cooking dinner tonight." You say again, looking at him while your daughter giggles at her father's expression.

Well, at least he had no plans to have dinner at home tonight. Dinner in a restaurant seemed like the perfect escape.

#leon kennedy #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x y/n #leon kennedy x you #leon s kennedy #leon x reader #leon x y/n #leon x you #leon resident evil #leon scott kennedy x reader #resident evil leon #leon scott kennedy x you #dad! leon #leon di #death island leon

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anisangeldust · 1 month

Text

Blind faith 𝜗𝜚⋆

Summary: it’s not an obsession. It’s a need.

Pairing: young President!coriolanus x maid fem!reader

Warnings: misogyny, stalking, Coriolanus’ fucked up mind, mentions of violence, forced sexualization, masturbation (m), non-con, somiphillia, p in v, normal bipolar behavior from Coriolanus, borderline domestic abuse.

A/N: False God series pt 1! Enjoy!

The aroma of coffee and mildew ridden books danced around the confines of Coriolanus’ office; the large, dark oak desk piled high with important paperwork and other such tedious documents that ate at his soul. Many bad decisions had led him to the thoughts he was having at the moment, ones that made him want to peel his skin off and lay in a pool of his own blood.

He should be happy—he should be, but he wasn’t, and it was his own goddamn fault. Any woman in Panem, his pick of the best, and he chose the one that, in his opinion, was so immeasurably insufferable that she was better off in a grave somewhere. But alas, Livia Cardew was an important person, so she ended up with the rock on her finger. She’d be the one in a months time to wear white and be proclaimed his beloved. At least she wasn’t putrid to gaze upon.

Layered on top was the stress of finding a new maid. The old one died right before Ravenstill stepped down from the position, and Coriolanus was just now getting around to replacing her. In his option, the least Livia could do was her duties as a woman and clean, but he’d never dare to let his tongue slip and ruin this important engagement, not after he’d worked so hard to get back up to the top.

Sometimes he was bewildered at how someone who graduated the same year as him at the academy could be so dim witted, did he truly not see how little she brought to society until she moved in? The thought of someone like her as First Lady of such a great nation made the hairs on the back of Coriolanus’ neck stand up. But he dug his grave, and now he was mere weeks from laying in it.

——

Dinner with Livia was as dull as usual. Coriolanus felt it would take a miracle for her to hold a genuinely intellectual conversation, she’d always tilt her head and giggle like a toddler, or drawl on about some useless capitol gossip; things Coriolanus had no patience for. The sound of his voice was nails on a chalk board, and his patience for her was wearing thin already.

“I’m hiring a new maid, I think it’s best.” He says coldly to whatever useless but of information his fiancée was babbling about. He was hoping perhaps she’d give insight, or best case scenario she’d offer to clean instead, but he should’ve known better.

“Sounds great, I’ve noticed that it’s been a bit dusty around here” Livia giggled, her laughter making it impossible for Coriolanus to want to do anything but hit her over the head with a candlestick.

That night, the feeling of arms shaking around him was what greeted him in bed. “Coriolanus..” a familiar scratching voice cooed into his ear. He knew what she wanted before she said it, and it was the only thing he’d been pushing back hard on. Sex.

“Really Livia? I’m tired” he grumbled and pulled her off of him, her touch lingering like a disease.

“Please? I’ll just blow you then, I just want something Coriolanus! We’re getting married soon and we haven’t done anything!” She was right, he didn’t what to was the thing, but the way a woman was begging to get him off appealed to the human desire in his DNA. He was a man after all, and it was his right to receive pleasure.

“Fine, I’ll let you blow me. But that’s it.” He grunted and sat up, pulling the covered off of his body and grabbing her, roughly forcing her to her knees on the side of the bed. Coriolanus grumbled something incoherent and yanked down his boxers, his dick was barely hard, so he jerked it a few times before grabbing his otherwise useless fiancées jaw and forcing her mouth onto his cock.

“Is that what you wanted yeah? Slut.” He hissed and took a right hold of her hair. He figured he could get used to this, at least she was mediocre at something, and maybe over time he’d start to enjoy it more. He fucked all the frustration he felt with her into her throat, not caring at all about the hot tears streaming down her cheeks, or the gagging sounds she was eliciting as his fat tip bullied the back of her abused throat.

Cumming down Livias throat, he groaned and pulled his cock out of her mouth. Slapping her reddened face with his softening dick. “Swallow it bitch” he commanded and stood up, pulling up his pajama pants and climbing right back into bed, not caring at all what Livias doing as long as she’s quiet, not a single positive thought about her crosses his mind before he’s pulled into the clutches of sleep.

——

Coriolanus had barely skimmed the applications for maid, picking the one he felt was most suitable, young, semi-important family, and good enough looking, that’s all that Coriolanus needed to be honest. Perhaps she could be someone else to take his anger out on, it’s just a woman after all, they’re replaceable.

The young president was looking out of his big windows when a poised knock and slight creek of the door caught his attention, it was his assistant, Basil. “Sir? The maid that you hired is here to meet you per your request.” He politely reminded.

“Thank you Basil. Send her here please.” Coriolanus replied and sat down at his large desk, leaning back and waiting to simply hire whatever young woman he had employed and get in with his day.

The rhythmic clack clack clack of heals down the hall was both intriguing and confusing for Coriolanus, Livia didn’t walk like that, perhaps this maid wasn’t a lost cause, and oh was he correct. You opened the door gently and walked in, the aura you carried was that of a divine presence, you looked so young, so corruptible, and Coriolanus couldn’t help but salivate at the thought of destroying that youthful innocence.

He could tell you had made yourself considerably more presentable for this meeting.. your lips were rosy and your hair was long and shiny. The simple but elegant dress you wore was simply too much, Coriolanus found himself wanting to bend this new aphrodisiac of a stranger over his desk, but he refrained for the sake of professionalism.

“You must be Y/N, nice to meet you. Since I’m employing you, you may call me Coriolanus. I also have a-“ he almost chucked in the word “-Fiancée, her name is Livia. Any questions? I’m a very busy man.” He said as he propped his legs up on his desk to hide his growing boner.

“Not at all, thank you Mr. President” your voice was intoxicating, the sweetest drug, and Coriolanus decided right there that he would stop at nothing to indulge in it. He almost corrected the you as you called him by his title and not his name, but the way you said ‘Mr President’ almost made him cum in his pants. A crude and disgusting idea flashed through his mind.

“Perfect. Well, it’s customary for the maids to wear clothes of a traditional French maid, I expect your measurements by tomorrow so I can have your work uniform made as soon as possible.” He was lying through his teeth, but he needed an excuse to know more about you, and a uniform he could make slutty was the perfect way he could be exposed to the newfound object of his desires more easily.

“I understand President Snow, I’ll have them in by tomorrow” you were shaking visibly, Coriolanus surmised it was due to the kind of job working for the president had to offer, or perhaps he himself is an intimidating presence.

“Wonderful. You’ll start work next Monday. I’ll get you aquatinted with the rest of the staff, and of course with Livia as well” He leaned back and almost scoffed at the name. Who was she to you? She’d never hold a candle to your beauty, to your obedience.

“Wonderful, thank you for your time Mr. President.” You stood up and didn’t even take a step before a deep command left the politicians throat.

“Call me Coriolanus.” It wasn’t a question, a mere suggestion. It was a command, one he expected you to follow.

“Yes of course, sorry sir-Coriolanus!” You were visibly flustered as you left his office, and he didn’t even try to hide that his eyes were glued to your round ass as you walked away.

——

A maid for the president, that was your job now, only to keep the house clean. It was easy right? That reassurance swirled around your head like milk in a bowl, the president was surprisingly kind, and surprisingly hot. But right now your job was to the clean the mansion, and after a brief introduction with his other staff, you went to one of the wings and looked out for where he said your uniform would be.

On a table in a small lounge was a small bouquet of flowers, a bag that looked of a luxury clothing store, and a card addressed to you. Upon opening the box inside the bag, you were greeted with a typical maids outfit yes; but it seemed much sexier than you would’ve thought would be appropriate. But who are you to say ‘no’ to the president?

The card was short, telling you what parts to clean and parts to avoid, where all the cleaning stuff resided, and how to reach Coriolanus if need be. Along with the information was a key to the mansion, and a keycard for anything that may be restricted (and not so subtle warnings annoy what would happen if either privileges were to be abused) With all said and done, you went and changed to start on your work day.

——

“Who are you?” An entitled voice said from behind you, her tone like someone who just witnessed a person puke. You stopped dusting for a moment and turned around, this lady looked at you like something on the bottom of her boot.

“Hello ma’am, I’m Y/N. Coriolanus hired me as a maid, you must be his fiancée Livia, I’m honored to meet you.” Your reply was kind, despite the obvious lack of kindness from this stranger whose house you were cleaning.

“Oh, my bad, I didn’t realize you’d be so.. provocative” she snarled and rolled his eyes at you. Reaching one of her hands out and knocking over a small vase of flowers, the glass cracking and water spilling. “Oops!” She taunted smirked. “Well? Aren’t you supposed to be cleaning?” She jeered and giggled, walking away as you sighed in both defeat at her actions, and relief that she was going already.

——

To say Coriolanus was fuming would be a severe understatement. What was supposed to be a perfect opportunity to spy on his new eye-candy of a maid in her perfectly pornographic outfit was soiled by his entitled brat of a fiancée. Looking at her made him ill, how could she? How dare she? Her actions were only solidifying her spot on his shit list, as to which she was a repeat offender.

The aftermath made it slightly better, the image of you on your hands and knees, sweeping up broken glass, made Coriolanus harder than he had ever been. And he may or not have snapped a few pictures of you bend over various surfaces.

The young president say in his bed much past after he usually would go to sleep, Livia passed out next him. He slowly palmed his boxers to the thought of you and your outfit, imagining that he was pushing you against the table and fucking your tight cunt.

“f—oh fuck..” he sucked in air as he began to tease his tip with his thumb, thinking about how he’d wrap his veiny hand around your throat and use you like a fleshlight, fucking you hard fast with his fat cock. He imagined how it would feel if you were riding him, fat ass in his grip and tits on perfect display he stroked up and down his dick as the image become more real, the want for your little pussy became unbearable. Coriolanus almost came when he imagined not even stepping you of your maid outfit, simply cumming inside and forcing you to clean while his seed pooled in your cunt.

Close to orgasm and pathetically desperate to cum in a warm pussy, Coriolanus ripped the blankets off of his sleeping fiancée. She wouldn’t care, at least he didn’t care if she did, and a clean tear of her panties granted him access to her, surprisingly wet, pussy.

It was easier to imagine it was you, the darkness and ability to shiver her face in a pillow really helped. He eased his fat tip inside her sleeping pussy, and began to sloppily thrust; not caring about anything but finishing.

“Coriolanus..?” A sleepy voice murmured, only to be taken breathless by a slap.

“Shut the fuck up you slutty bitch, let me use your pussy, fuck! And- then you can sleep-!” He grunted through sloppy thrusts and lewd squelches. His large hand went up to her mouth, allowing her no room to talk or complain.

Coriolanus came quickly to the thought of being buried in your pussy. The image of his milky cum dropping girl your puffy lips, coating your clit with his cream. He quickly pulled out of the pliant body of his fiancée and took his hand of her mouth. He rolled over and the strongest wave of clarity hit his system.

How the fuck was he going to survive being around you?

Taglist!

@daenerysqueenofhearts @caramelandvenus @yoursrosie @wearemadeofstardust0 @kay-lla @mrsriddlenott @sleekervae @ianales @qoopeeya

#anisangeldust #angels yapping #tom blyth #coriolanus snow #⋆ ˚｡⋆౨ৎ˚angel #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #coriolanus snow smut #false god series #false god #president snow #coriolanus snow x female!reader #coriolanus smut #coriolanus snow angst #coriolanus x y/n #maid!reader

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