#the women might also use some help with taking care of their kids with divine powers

[edeluarts]

Wouldn't it have been cool, if Hera befriended and/or took all Zeus' unwilling lovers under her protection? (which would probably be the majority of them, since even many of the "willing" ones were tricked by him. Plus being approached by the king of the gods isn't really a situation where you can say "no" without fearing for your (and possibly your loved ones') life and safety)

#there's just so much potential here #just imagine them all bonding over how Zeus hurt them #the women might also use some help with taking care of their kids with divine powers #Hestia would definitely join on this #maybe Hera could've actually been happy #greek mythology #Hera #what if

[merci-bitch]

please a melissa a nsfw alphabet !!

I’m assuming that you meant Melissa from Abbott Elementary and I would love to! Haha. Gotta love a fiery redhead. Now reading @multimilfs ‘s Melissa fics got me cooking. They write wonderfully and if you haven’t checked their stories out, you definitely should. It’s worth it! Slay bestie 👌🏻

Melissa Schemmenti x Fem!Reader

NSFW Alphabet

warning(s): smut obviously, it’s Melissa in her dangerous habitat

Aftercare (What they’re like after sex)

Well, to be fair. She might look firey and tough on the outside but Melissa is 100% passion and 100% heart. She cares so much for you, and for the kids at school. And after Joe, she’s always scared it’s going to end up the same way.

But Mel would be good with it, always. She’d force you to drink water, perhaps even have a small bite to eat. If you’ve done something particularly rough, she’d massage your legs and thighs if they cramp.

You of course would do the same for her. Specially the massages. Lay her on her stomach and just do her whole back, legs, everything. She works hard everyday with the kids, and just needs a moment to relax. You get her.

- Body part (Their favourite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

Spicy Mama.

Melissa knows you have an eyesight for her hips. I mean, who wouldn’t ??

She knows she’s an attractive woman and she uses that against you sometimes. Her large chest and her arse in leather pants? You’re done for it.

As I said, she’s 100% heart and passion, but that doesn’t stop her from liking the little things about you. Your freckles if you have them, your hands. She specifically likes your hands…👀 

- Cum (Anything to do with cum basically…)

Loves filthy kisses after she’d sat on your face. Or the other way around.  

- Dirty Secret (Pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

If you’re another teacher at Abbott, and you ride in together, but if you’ve had a rather good morning. She can’t help but send you knowing glares and lingering touches. Who knows what would happen after the children have gone home?…

- Experience (How experienced are they? Do they know what they’re doing?)

Melissa knows what she’s doing. She’s been with men and women.

And if you haven’t been with a woman before, Melissa is of course a bit shocked, but she will gladly help you along the way. Sex shouldn’t be embarrassing to talk about. She will be there for you, and will take it in your pace. Whenever you’re ready.  

- Favorite Position (This goes without saying. Will probably include a visual)

Melissa likes to be between your legs. The clawing at her hair sometimes drives her crazy. And you just taste divine.

That said, she wouldn’t complain if you went down on her. She’s taught you well. If you ya know what I mean…👀

- Goofy (Are they more serious in the moment, or are they humorous, etc)

Since Melissa wants it to be as comfortable as possible I think she will let in a laugh or two. Perhaps stop in between to just lay with you. Stroke your cheek, make you all blushy before continuing.

- Hair (How well groomed are they, does the carpet match the drapes, etc.)

I don’t think she really cares that much, but she keeps it trimmed.

- Intimacy (How are they during the moment, romantic aspect…)

Melissa is a 100% heart and passion and a south Philly/Sicilian. She knows her way around the kitchen and knows how dance. Of course she’s gonna set something romantic up. Perhaps an anniversary dinner, your favourite meal. Some wine. Candlelit perhaps. And moving to the living room for slow dancing, oml. Yes please.

She loves you, and wants you to know that. She may not say those three words that often but she wants you to know that she loves you either way. She says it in her actions. By making you lunch, or helping yoh grade papers.

- Jack Off (Masturbation headcanon)

Of course girl does it. It’s normal. And when you ain’t around? It’s a nice stress relief.

- Kink (One or more of their kinks)

Wouldn’t say she’s that kinky, but that doesn’t stop her,

Orgasm denial, praise kink, edging, roleplay?, spanking(more playfully) hair pulling

- Location (Favourite places to do the do)

She prefers her own house. Her own place where she can have you where ever she wants without interruptions. It’s her house, she can do whatever the fuck she wants, and that’s you.

The bed is always most comfortable. Shower in the mornings before work. She’d always said kitchen is off limits. But one time, girl just couldn’t help herself.

- Motivation (What turns them on, gets them going)

I think, you would quite worked up just seeing that glint in her eyes. That mischievous glint she sometimes has. When you know she’s up to no good. She often sends it your way. Knows the effect it has on you. Whenever she wears her famous black leather pants. You’re done for it. It patches her curves so well. You’re sure she was made by the gods themselves.

Now, I wouldn’t say Melissa is a possessive type but she does get quite protective. Perhaps a little jealous at times. You could be at her cousin Annette’s for dinner. Perhaps someone makes a comment on how good you look, and she just tightens her grip on you. It depends on her mood. If she’s had a good day or a bad day.

- NO (Something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Doing something around the kids. Or heavy PDA around the kids. Nothing like that at all. Don’t think she’d like anal either. She wouldn’t do anything you wouldn’t like.  

- Oral (Preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc)

She loves the look in your eyes when she goes down on you. When you’re completely helpless to her touch. It’s one of her favourite things.

- Pace (Are they fats and rough? Slow and sensual? etc.)

It depends on her mood, but it’s usally in between both rough and gentle. But sometimes, mama spicy becomes a little too teasing for your taste.

- Quickie (Their opinions on quickies rather than proper sex, how often, etc.)

Mhm, not sure. It wouldn’t happen in school with the kids around. Or Janine in the position to catch you. And it wouldn’t be quickies if you ask for it at home. She would deny you teasingly and make you wait for the real thing.

Although if you’re out at a bar with the teachers, and drinks are flying even though some might not look like drinkers. Barbra being the Christian woman she is, just watches on by with a smile. Who knows if you and Melissa might disappear into the bathrooms 🤷🏼‍♀️

Of course Barbra knows. She sees the look in Melissa’s eyes afterwards. A teasing smile on her lips.

- Risks (game to experiment, do they take risks, etc.)

I mean she does take risks, but at a certain level. It depends on what it is.  

- Stamina (How many rounds can they go for, how long do they last…)

Girl can last a long time. She loves the look in your face. Completely covered in sweat, perhaps happy tears. The smell of sex in the air. What a way to end the day.

- Toy (Do they own toys? Do they use them? On a partner or themselves?)

Course she got them. Her bottom drawer in her nightstand has a few to pick from. She’s got a few vibrators as well. As she said herself, technology is good for when you haven’t been with a man in a while. Or you, in this case.

- Unfair (how much they like to tease)

She’s a teasing woman. But mostly it happens behind her own doors. But again, wouldn’t stop her from sending that mischievous glare your way. That smirk of hers? Boy.  

- Volume (How loud they are, what sounds they make)

Melissa is loud, but I wouldn’t say she’s a screamer. She knows what feels good and makes you know you treat her well.

She will make you scream though. If you’re a quiet type. She loves trying to get more and more sounds out of you. Praising you for being such a good girl.

- Wild Card (Get a random headcanon for the character of your choice)

Melissa is a wild one in general. She knows a guy who knows a guy. And in her younger days she might have had sex a little all over the place, now she mostly prefers her own home.

However you make her feel young again in a way. Not just because you’re younger than her, but because of your energy. Your aura just brings her happiness and if you suddenly suggest something wild. Who’s to say she wouldn’t try it?

- X-Ray (Let’s see what’s going on in those pants, picture or words)

Just normal underwear, perhaps black lace. Unless she’s feeling frisky one evening. She’s got a silk robe. Maybe she has something under it and maybe she doesn’t…

- Yearning (How high is their sex drive?)

It’s fairly normal. Although, if we say you’d never been with a woman before and slowly works you up. You get quite obsessed with this new feeling. Barbra noticing the change in Melissa. How she suddenly seems more relaxed than usual. Melissa just giving her a smirk before turning back to her own lunch.

- ZZZ (… how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

You sometimes both lay awake and just talk. Sharing small laughs here and there. She’d kiss your forehead and your nose, before giving you a final goodnight kiss. Giving you a smile before you snuggle up to her. Wrapping her arms around you, making sure you’re alright before going to sleep herself.

#melissa schemmenti x reader #abbott elementary #ask

[cheerfullycatholic]

Hello! I would love some help if you’re able. I guess this is in regards to the fear of getting pregnant. It’s very deep for me and I can empathise with women who’ve had abortions, but I think I’m coming around to the idea that I can’t do it. I’ve spent a lot of time prayerfully reflecting on how a soul comes into the word via childbirth and recently it hit me, and what now seems obvious: I can trust God that it always happens at the exact right time (even though on a human level we might not see it that way at the time). Because everything always does. That sort of cleans up the thoughts about abortion, artificial fertility, and even sex in general. That if a person gets pregnant then I can be certain that it’s part of God’s plan for that to happen, and therefore for the best for everyone for that to happen (mother, child, father, family). Like such a huge thing as someone’s literal life, I just realised how inconceivable it was to me that God would play around with it, or that it could even be explained by mere physical ‘chance’. I debate whether to include the caveat of getting pregnant only by ways of sex which also feels right and divinely guided to have, but perhaps not even only then. The stories you’ve shared on your blog seem to really attest to this. Again, how would God play around with that? I would truly appreciate your thoughts about this idea and/or prayers as I feel a bit conflicted. Thank you so much. God bless you.

Human life is so valuable, God created each and every one of us in His image and each of us are willed into existence with so much unfathomable love and tenderness, that's why I'm so against abortion, ya know? It's unbelievable how beautiful it all is. Life is a gift, bringing it into the world can be scary and there's always challenges, but that doesn't mean that He isn't looking out for us and taking care of us. Like you said, it's inconceivable to think that God would play around with that

I can understand being afraid of pregnancy. When I was younger, the only times I saw pregnancy and childbirth was when I watched shows or movies, and they're all very bad at accurately depicting it. After I started learning more about pregnancy, the complications that can happen and the ways in which doctors are able to help and save their patients, and after watching tons of birth videos, I got a better understanding of it and it no longer scares me so much. But that doesn't necessarily mean I want to get pregnant and have kids, and not everyone is called to that kind of life and that's okay. But like you said, if it happens, God's got this

[qm-vox]

So You Want To Play A Fairest

(Portrait of Erin Peters by cantankerousAquarius. The character originally appeared in Night Horrors: Grim Fears, published by White Wolf; catch my take on her in New Avalon)

Previous Articles: So You Want To Play A Beast, So You Want To Play A Wizened, So You Want To Play An Elemental, So You Want To Play An Ogre, & So You Want To Play A Darkling

You ever wonder, flipping through a Monster Manual for D&D, or a Bestiary for Pathfinder, why nymphs and hags are both always, always, women? It’s older than you know. Dig into the sordid history of tabletops and you’ll find sylphs that Gary Gygax wrote, Chaotic charmers who use mind control to reproduce with non-sylph men; you’ll find the legacy of the matriarchal drow, who follow a mad goddess, and you’ll find the medusae, whose sexual dimorphism is so complete that their men are beautiful and can turn stone into people.

Dredge deeper and you’ll find the tales that Gygax and his wretched ilk based such creatures off of.

You ever wonder why we assign such powerful Gender to creatures of beauty and horror?

Fairest don’t. They know, every time they wake up from a nightmare that is also a wet dream. They know, every time they get hit on at the bar and have to decide how they’re playing this. They know, every time they look in a mirror and see not their own face, but the ten thousand horrors that made it beautiful.

If you are very patient, and lucky, and kind, they might tell you why.

If you aren’t, they may show you.

This article draws primarily on Changeling: the Lost and Winter Masques, as well as Swords at Dawn and Night Horrors: Grim Fears. Other sources, when used, will be cited. It requires Content Warnings for sexual violence, sexual slavery, abuse, gaslighting, addiction, substance abuse, self-harm, self-image problems, mentions of fascists & fascist ideology, and just, so very much incel bullshit.

Bonus Material Part Two: The Seeming Part

The end of this article, just past the customary Sample Fairest, will include some additional material intended to help you select a Seeming for your character and otherwise build them up as one of the Lost, much as So You Want To Run A Spring Court included material for Courts as a topic.

Take Me To Wonderland - Fairest Overview

Fairest is the fourth Seeming presented in Changeling: the Lost and possibly the most confused about its own identity. Its sections in Winter Masques present depths and nuance that are completely absent in core, essentially making Winter Masques required reading for Fairest players in a way that no other book is - especially since Fairest keep getting written in a particular way alluded to in the Ogre article, which I will expand on later in this article. Fairest is numerically well-represented in canon and popular in the fanbase, home to many memorable character concepts, but its bones with folklore and tradition are weaker than it fronts as.

Ogres and Darklings claim an innate relationship to physical violence; so too do the Fairest claim a relationship to violence. The violence of Perception and its dark twin, Judgement; of Rumor and its mad dog, Prejudice, the violence of Lies and their merciless master, Truth. Fairest, alone among the Lost, have casual access to the resources of a society that refuses to service or acknowledge Changelings, and with access to that society comes both opportunity and temptation. To be Fairest is to wield power that many other Lost cannot, but the opportunity that power offers is a lie; a Fairest can smile until her face breaks like a mirror, but she’ll never be “sane” enough for the masses to see her as anything but a useful pet.

Life’s Lush Lips - Homecoming As A Fairest

Fairest can make the dubious claim of having the least clear memories of Arcadia amongst all the Lost, with Darklings and Beasts jockeying for second place. This isn’t to say that the experiences Fairest have are necessarily more intense or more inherently traumatic than that of other Lost, but rather that the abuse Fairest suffer is so emotional, so targeted at their perception of their selves and their situations and their self-image, that the memories which do form are inevitably colored by those emotions, coloring the dreams they have of Arcadia with both the emotional resonances they had at the time and with their later attempts to grapple with their own trauma and transformation. For many Fairest, who cannot trust even their strongest memory dreams, attempts to understand their own Durance must rely either on the word of their Keepers (and Faeries lie, oh, how they lie), or on reverse-engineering their own behavior to try and conceive of a trauma that could cause it.

Inevitably, however, some things are seared into their minds. For almost all Fairest, their Keeper is high on the list of things they remember with absolute clarity. Other facts, shattered and scattered, vary more widely. Erin Peters remembers stretched years kept in a cold, dark room lit only by her own hatred; every detail of her cell is scorched onto the back of her eyes, but the otherworldly balls her Keeper took her to blur together like food coloring in syrup. The slaves of the Candle Countess have terrible nightmares of the choices they were confronted with, the decision, offered over and over again, to become complicit in the Countess’s cruelty or to be victimized by it. Metallic Flowering from the Shining City struggle not to use drugs to mimic the rush of pleasure they’ve grown used to receiving for performing their jobs well; they also scream in terror if people touch them. A Draconic and a Shadowsoul both remember being used for the sexual pleasure of alien horrors; the one dreams of coiled scales and terrible teeth, the other a lifetime of lurking in an alien maze, tasked to perform the duties of a living trap for the “wicked” and “unwary” who had not yet shed the last vestiges of kindness.

There are no “wild” Fairest. For worse and worse still, to be Fairest is to have been defined by the inescapable and all-consuming attentions of your abuser, and it is this more than anything that other Lost so often fail to understand about the Fairest. Their Keepers heap them with reward and punishment, manipulating the Fairest with honeyed praise, godly wrath, gaslighting, neglect, withholding food, wondrous rewards, drugs from beyond the realms of earthly pleasure, and other hooks and crooks designed to make the Fairest dependent upon their abuser. It is hideously effective, and the first obstacle, maybe even the mightiest, that a Fairest faces to their escape is the simple horror and joy of being alone again. Their masters will try other tricks to keep them in place - tempting them with pleasures, horrific punishments, oh-so-sincere apologies - but before a Fairest can escape into the Hedge she must face, in her mind’s eye, the lonely flight back to the Iron Lands.

The memories that draw Fairest home often have parallels to their experiences in Arcadia. A slave in the Shining City bites into an otherworldly pastry and recalls her grandmother’s pie in its place; the bride of the Demon Lover, curled up under the sheets, thinks about the broken smile of the boyfriend she left behind at home. A Dancer remembers the roller rink where he fell in love with skating, while across the endless tides of the Fairest of Lands, a Shadowsoul holds on like grim death to years of work at haunted houses, scaring kids for fun and for Halloween. Fairest, so famous for their skill at words, struggle to articulate to other Lost why this should be so. Darklings assume it’s because these memories are less intense than Arcadia, and that the Fairest are fleeing to safety. Beasts get it a bit more right by thinking that these memories taste like home. The truth of the matter is that those memories have an intrinsic and nameless meaning; the highs and lows of Arcadia are divine, flawless, absolute, and therefore worthless. They are the proclamations of merciless gods. What draws the Fairest home, more than pain and pleasure they can have on their own terms, is the understanding that those gestures - for weal or for woe or for anything else besides - were made because someone cared about them, personally. Once they fully internalize that their abuser views them as disposable, the Fairest comes home to someone who won’t.

Three Kiths And Flowering Is One And A Half Of Them - Fairest Kiths

Yeah we’re about to be like that about it.

All Fairest can excel in the social arena; their Blessing can be used to flare almost every social roll in the game, and Fairest can never be caught off-guard in a social context (they suffer no untrained penalties to social rolls). With the sole exception of Empathy (usually rolled with Wits) and sometimes Streetwise, there’s no time a Fairest can’t fall back on their words and expect to win through or at least buy time. This is, as you might imagine, a godsend when it comes to attempts to pass in mortal society; Fairest can usually front, charm, bluff, or Manners(tm) their way through things like renting an apartment, nailing a job interview, asking their roommate to do the FUCKING DISHES, or getting stopped by a cop, but both the books and the fanbase miss something here. While Fairest are superb at active social events, they’re no better at keeping a lid on themselves (Composure-based rolls) than mortals are - and given both the nature of their trauma and the fact that they are, you know, Lost, Fairest have a lot more to keep a lid on day-to-day than the human society they’re trying to blend into. Thankfully, Fairest are pretty good at being able to politely leave a situation and go somewhere else to scream, shout, cry, or have a psychotic break, as appropriate.

Of course, Fairest can’t make something from nothing. As discussed in So You Want To Play An Ogre, you can’t win a social game someone else refuses to sit down to, and social rolls shouldn’t be mind control. All the Glamour in the world can’t make your roommate do the FUCKING DISHES if they’re deep in the throes of executive dysfunction, nor can it make the cashier at Walgreens fail to card you for wine when their computer literally won’t advance without an ID. People who are keyed up about honeyed words or whose own trauma came at the hands of manipulators and abusers might refuse to play that game on the terms the Fairest is setting, which makes it hard to, as it were, turn this problem into a nail. Lurking down this path as well is the specter of becoming like the masters who made you this way; if you get used to saying what will get people to listen to you, eventually you start seeing people as enrichment puzzles that dispense the things you want. Madness waits down that road, and it waits for Fairest with a giant spiked bat, thanks to their Seeming Curse.

There’s no pretty way to say this so I won’t: Fairest are always on the verge of losing their minds. Their curse hits them with a flat penalty to all rolls against losing Clarity, which means that Fairest lose Clarity faster than other Lost and they do so more consistently. This necessitates a balancing act with avoiding becoming heartless manipulators; Fairest must engage in control-seeking behavior in order to stay mentally well, must be able to trust and rely on people close to them, structure their lives, and anticipate important changes or they end up on the fast way down. Other Lost often don’t understand this need or the Fairest curse to begin with, and so Fairest end up in unofficial support groups for one another, similar to those run by Darklings except no one will admit it’s a support group even at gunpoint. Woe fucking betide the friend or life partner who gets between a Fairest and her “book club”, “girls’ night”, “D&D campaign”, or other excuse for this vital community support.

Fairest Kiths are...bad. They’re bad. This is the part of the article where I’m supposed to talk about thematics and symbolism and metaphor, and I cannot do that here, because they are bad. Fairest has three viable Kiths that are actual Fairest Kiths, one that’s a Beast Kith who got lost and wound up here by fucking mistake, and a pile of garbage bigger than my self-esteem problems. I’m almost tempted to only talk about those four Kiths and save myself the time but I suppose I should show the work like I’ve done for all the other Seemings, so here we fuckin’ go I guess.

Flowering - This is it. This is the Fairest Kith. If you want to roll any other kind of Fairest you must first pass the trial of justifying why you’re not playing Flowering. In theory, Flowering draws its mythic heritage from nymphs and dryads, charming flower sprites, Knights of Flowers, and the like, but in practice Flowering’s only mechanical effect is 9-again on Persuasion, Socialize, and Subterfuge with no qualification or requirement, which doesn’t just make you better at everything Fairest is good at, it makes you better when you spend Glamour to flare it too. Want to represent a biobahn sith’s hypnotic dance? Flowering works. Want to create a vampiric Fairest with a sultry voice? Here comes Flowering. The siren at the bar who smells like sea air and gunpowder? Flowering. Everything is Flowering. Even the things that aren’t Flowering are Flowering because all Fairest Kiths have a social focus, which is Flowering’s undisputed arena of mastery.

Bright One - In theory, Bright Ones represent beings of light in the vein of Victorian fey (which...ugh...Victorians), but their Goblin Illumination is, how you say, useless, only becoming vaguely useful for a total of 2 Glamour as a passive defense that took you 2 turns to set up. Anything you want to represent here can be found in Flowering and with Elements or Communion (Light).

Dancer - You know how Flowering gives you bonuses on all social rolls? Would you like those same bonuses but on 1 less skill and only on rolls that “involve physical grace”? No? Run Flowering here and give your character a Dance specialty in one or more skills.

Draconic - One of the game’s premier melee options and a Beast Kith who took a wrong turn and ended up getting a free makeover intended for someone else. Draconic in theory represents Fairest as dragons, monster girls, demons, and in general at their most physical, but that idea sorta...falls down a bit? Draconic’s bonuses are all about Brawl and all the sample Draconics are swordsmen, which might suggest to the discerning reader that someone in the office wasn’t reading their own fucking game. Draconic Fairest don’t make bad melee boys if you invest in Lethal Mien, but honestly this is Dual Kith bait; slap it on your Hunterheart or your Razorhand and go apeshit.

Muse - Close but no cigar. In theory Muses are, well, muses; figures of inspiration, mentorship, teaching, creative fire. Their Kith Blessing is strong but requires access to mortals, which is complicated and roundabout on the best of days. If you have an idea that you think is Muse-shaped, use Playmate instead.

Flamesiren - Behold, we enter the realm of Okay(tm). Flamesirens are what Bright Ones wanted to be, and their hypnotic aura is actually a pretty neat tool; with cunning you can make it a one-sided penalty, and even if you don’t it’s an interesting method of de-escalating a social or combat situation by subjecting everyone to the tar pit that is your presence. If your concept involves light and color and you’re resistant to Flowering, Flamesiren will do more than nothing.

Polychromatic - Polychromatics don’t have a lot of roots in mythology; their modern inspirations are, well, Manic Pixie Dream Girls. But they get a shout-out here for being the only Fairest Kith who can muster up decent emotional defenses; not only can they magically boost their Composure rolls (and non-Composure rolls to resist magical and mundane emotional attacks for that matter), but others get a flat penalty to Empathy rolls against them, which makes them talented dissemblers. You’re still probably better off with Flowering - in a world of passive Kith Blessings, Polychromatic’s is extra passive - but I can see this Kith passing muster, and even being worth the two dots to Dual Kith in-house.

Shadowsoul - This one’s insane. Ostensibly Fairest Does Darkling, Shadowsouls get their Wyrd to Intimidate rolls which could be the whole Kith on its own and still be worth the slot, but in addition to that they get 9-again on Subterfuge (matching Flowering and Darklings there) and access to Contracts of Darkness, one of the most powerful in the game line, as an Affinity Contract. Is your Fairest spooky? Would you like them to be spooky? Here’s your one-stop shop.

Telluric - This is a Kith made of ribbon bonuses. In theory related to stars and celestial light, Telluric’s bonuses to rolls “with precise timing” isn’t...really worth considering. Run ‘em as Flamesiren and move on.

Treasured - In theory also able to muster emotional defenses, Treasured are Fairest who are literally made into works of art. They’re Okay(tm) but in their niche are beaten out by Polychromatic with a better effect for less resources.

Playmate - The last Real Fairest Kith(tm), Playmate appears in Night Horrors: Grim Fears where White Wolf tries to sell it as Peter Pan, but its powerful team-oriented bonuses mean that Playmates are useful anywhere Muse is wanted and more places besides. The front woman of an indie rock band could be a Playmate; so too could be an idealized baseball captain, the director at your local theater, the middle manager of a sinister conspiracy, or the night shift lead at a research lab. Do people do a thing in teams? Playmate does that thing.

And She Had Huge Titties, I Mean Massive Badondadonks, Absolutely Enormous Bazoggahoggas - Lost’s Canon Fairest

Remember when I said we had to get back to this after So You Want To Play An Ogre? Now we’re getting back to this. I’m not gonna re-state my caveats from that article and I’m not really gonna go back over the bit about So White Wolf Was Run By Fucking Nazis because, in all honesty, I do not have the fucking time to restate all of that in new words. Give thanks that OPP got out alive and let’s get right down to it.

Fairest have a very consistent characterization in canon that is only really challenged in Winter Masques; the narrative put forth in Lost is that Fairest, being attractive, have an uncomplicated power which privileges their lives. Which is a rather bloodless way to describe how White Wolf kept writing and publishing Fairest as heartless abusers and manipulators getting their jollies and emotional needs met by casually destroying their fellow survivors, manipulating them through sex appeal, outright lies, cattiness, cruelty, and betrayal. Much as simply queering Ogre does not help Ogre in and of itself, queering Fairest only takes you from incel and Nazi propaganda about women into...incel and Nazi propaganda about twinks, femmes, & in general anyone with the temerity to be found attractive by straight white people.

I’m not bitter, you’re bitter.

So what do you do at your table, with your Fairest concept? Lemme open up by saying that like, Fairest qua Fairest is perfectly solid, and if it wasn’t there wouldn’t be an article here; Fairest has a lot to say for itself about feminized violence, about your personhood being reduced to a product for the consumption of others, about emotional abuse & neglect, gaslighting, and sexual assault, but the conclusion White Wolf arrives at (”Fairest have unalloyed power over mortal and Lost society and they abuse that power”) is super fucking obtuse and betrays a serious lack of concern for what the Fairest undergo. It ignores the way a Fairest’s ordeals will force her to confront her relationship to her own gender and alter her willingness and ability to be consumed, disconnect her from her former society while also isolating her from her new one, and these questions are important for you if you’re looking to play a ‘classic’ Fairest.

But that leaves some hanging questions. Male Fairest face the almost inescapable fate of “failing” maleness on patriarchal terms; even the most strapping, broad-chested, athletic Adonis of a Fairest has become a man of layered words and reflexive empathy, whose Manly Stoicism(tm) is a cracking facade at best and entirely abandoned in a more typical circumstance. Men who become Fairest thus face a second journey after their escape from Arcadia; confronting what being men means to them and building their gender identity back up from the rubble it’s become. The temptation to accept success on society’s terms is always going to be present, and it’s always going to be offered like it’s possible, but it’s a losing game for these Fairest; they simply cannot be the men that other men demand they become.

Now, the discerning and loyal reader is surely about to ask, hey Vox, where’s the butch Fairest I was promised back in the Ogre article, to which I respond WE’RE GETTING THERE but I gotta use this as a bridge to talk about something that cuts across Fairest of all genders, be they cis or trans. Lost 1e makes a lot of hay out of the idea that Fairest “are rarely conventionally attractive”, and core even provides some interesting written concepts for that...which make it into exactly none of the art. Every published Fairest is conventionally attractive for various definitions of conventional, be it as a supermodel or a waif, but that leaves the question of Fairest who genuinely are not - and, tragically, Fairest who were not, and were then made into someone more easily consumed by their Durance. You know what I’m about to say, and I know you know I’m about to say it, but I’m gonna say it anyway: all bodies are beautiful, but Fairest know well that beauty and attraction aren’t the same, and neither are beauty and happiness. All Fairest, from the roundest bear to the most wide-eyed waif, are the products of Keepers who valued their bodies in that state, and that idea is going to haunt them day in and day out for the rest of their extended lives. There is no such thing as a Fairest with an uncomplicated relationship to their body, and that White Wolf seems to think that an uncomplicated relationship is their default state is...disgusting, frankly.

Which brings us, at long last, to butch Fairest (also bear Fairest but I’m gonna stick with the one set of terms or I’m going to go mad and this will never be published), who have a complicated journey ahead of them. On the one hand, the assertion of control and ownership over their own bodies, their own identities, cannot be overstated. On the other hand, elements of those bodies are going to be completely out of their control; a nascent butch Fairest may well hit the gym to get swole only to discover that she literally, physically cannot, that she has been Assigned Dex Build At Durance. Hauling your corpse out of Arcadia with an extremely feminine appearance shaped by your Keeper might complicate attempts to present in a more masculine manner or even just to appear androgynous, and those complications can be discouraging. For those that stick to it, this journey will take them two places; one is the bared-teeth, bloody-knuckled assertion that this life is theirs and you can have it if you can fucking take it, and the other is into the ranks of the Freehold’s retained warriors, usually in Summer or Autumn, though a vibrant representation of Spring knights will make it seem as if Spring has more butch Fairest than it actually does. These Fairest are aware, or will become aware, of how much of their job involves de-escalating or pre-empting violence; a focus on Physical stats or skills is not necessarily common, but hyper-specialization therein likely is. A butch Fairest is a lot more likely to have, say, Brawl 4 (Multiple Opponents) and no other Physical skills than she is to have Brawl, Weaponry, Athletics, and Stealth, in part or in whole because her first weapon of choice is going to be an Intimidate roll.

At every turn you’re able to, challenge White Wolf’s narrative about Fairest by asking yourself what your Fairest wants, why they’re this way, what they’re frightened of, and how the way they behave relates back to these. They’re not products; they’re people, just as hurt and Lost as the rest of their peers.

Princesses And Pastries - Fairest In The Courts

Fairest have a complex relationship to the society of their fellow Lost. On the one hand, they have the same need for community, support, companionship, understanding, honesty, and material aid as all Lost; a Fairest is not magically proof against being homeless, against starving, against the dangers of existing in the modern world without things like a photo ID or car insurance, and Freeholds provide all of these things. On the other hand, the thing most Fairest fear most, even if they can’t articulate that fear, is their own power - social influence, emotional trust and betrayal, status, political power, and authority. Fairest are all too aware that being good at this game does not make them immune to it - after all, that’s the lesson they learned at the hands of their Keepers.

What follows from this is a complex dance of interactions that each Fairest in some ways has to feel like she’s managing on her own, even if she’s not (and she rarely is; those support groups exist for a reason). If you give a Fairest a doughnut in a social setting, she will lick that doughnut even if she doesn’t intend to eat it right away, solely to hear someone else say something along the lines of “well it’s yours now”. As Fairest filter into Freehold society and take up social roles at all levels of power - officers, messengers, ‘ambassadors’ to mortal society, secretaries, pledge-smiths, teachers, monarchs - their responsibilities and rewards become their doughnut. That Fairest make a big deal out of both their job and the benefits that come with it is rarely, as other Lost sometimes think, about aggrandizement or reveling in power for its own sake; it’s about the sheer relief and assurance of hearing someone say, to the Fairest’s face, that this is her doughnut and no one is going to take it from her.

Younger Fairest tend to flit between two or three Courts; their initial selection may be based entirely on friendships, Vibes, or a gut-check decision based on an initial pitch by that Court, and Fairest can go quite far even in a Court that doesn’t quite actually fit their needs. Eventually, though, those Fairest who survive their youth will gravitate towards a Court whose ideals speak to them, even if its current social order isn’t living up to those ideals. If they’re going to be condemned to live as exiles in the world of their birth, the Fairest can at least be the person she wants to be, god damn it. Fairest aren’t any more or less vulnerable to a toxic Court environment than other Lost, but they’re good at detecting it beforehand. Unfortunately they’re also good at telling themselves they can change it.

Spring - Though early Spring joiners are of course rare in general, Fairest are among those Lost who more commonly choose Spring as a first Court. Spring’s highly social focus and chaotic internal organization is almost tailor-made for the skill set of your average Fairest, but therein too lies a sense of threat; for many Fairest, Spring can remind them of their Durance, and their joining of the Court is as much motivated by fear of a powerful cultural body as it is by any genuine Desire, maybe even more so. Many such Fairest end up caught in Spring’s middle-road trap, spinning their wheels without recovering or worsening more or less until they finally die, but when Autumn can sniff out the fearful ones it puts a lot of work into cooperating with Spring to get them out and where they can be helped.

Summer - More Fairest dabble with Summer for dreams of glory, or because they want to believe in Summer’s apolitical sales pitch, than ultimately stick with Summer. Those that do stay often serve as officers, as the Sun’s Tongue or the Arrayer of Distant Thunder, and as Court sorcerers. Fairest skilled in Contracts of Separation can make for surprising Jaegers, hounding their prey down more like a private investigator or a serial killer than a traditional hunter, but while striking this is fairly rare. Fairest who stick with Summer are those who are looking for its high ideals and are often among those rare Summer Courtiers who can competently articulate both those ideals and their pitfalls without falling prey to cynicism and bitterness.

Autumn - For those Fairest who hurt others to feel safe, Autumn is waiting. The Leaden Mirror can be attractive to young Fairest because it’s easy to perceive Autumn as atomized, defined by personal relationships rather than webs of political influence, but when the Fairest discovers those webs the existence of Option Two: Resort To Violence as an acceptable tool to the Ashen Court is perversely reassuring rather than threatening. The image of the Fairest as a witch, tempting and threatening, clings to them in Autumn but it’s honestly not their most common role; Autumn employs its Fairest as rumor-mongers, the Other Woman who seems a little too familiar with your husband, therapists & counselors, oneiromancers, and ambassadors to Hedge communities. The work Autumn does is harsh on Clarity, and Fairest are especially vulnerable to that harshness, but if the Court invests the time in helping its Fairest members, the self-awareness and self-confidence it offers can be a godsend that no other Court can give them.

Winter - As the Court which is actually selling what Fairest think Autumn has - to wit, the ability to simply say “no” to all social interactions with no justification required - Winter has a strong undercurrent of Fairest membership at all tiers of its power. Fairest often end up directly involved in Winter’s money-making enterprises, and flourish as Squires and Armigers with their fingers on the pulse of the Court’s morale. Winter’s hands-off approach displays a tremendous amount of trust in its Fairest from their perspective, and the demeanor of the Coldest Court - Winter’s indifferent equality - has a potent, merciless appeal. The trap of drowning in Sorrow sucks more than a few Fairest under, but if their peers can be there for them there’s always a way back out.

This Is Not A Pipe - Fairest And Lost’s Themes

My many thanks to Izzie M for her extensive help on this section. I’m not sure I’d have been able to grapple it down, emotionally or intellectually, otherwise.

Fairest go through some intense shit, and the shit they go through can never fully be addressed, never fully be recovered from. It’s no mistake that Fairest, like Wizened, are among those Lost likely to never fully gain resolution with or from their Keeper, and this is because they embody the dark truth that no matter how much progress you make, how much you heal, your trauma has changed who you are as a person and you will be dealing with it until you die. But, as alluded to extensively above in the discussion of Fairest and gender, Fairest also embody the way in which society will attempt to stamp you, mold you, turn you into a product to be consumed or an archetype to be placed into its churning machine, and its attempts to reshape who and what you are and can be are, in themselves, a form of trauma and abuse.

Fairest deal a lot in expectations. They’re expected to be perfect victims, they’re expected to be happy (because they’re beautiful and attractive, because they can front as Doing Okay, because they have a form of access to ‘normal’ society), they’re expected to want romance and sex (since everyone else wants those things out of them), to perform emotional labor, to be available, intimate, understanding, to keep up appearances. Fairest escape the chains of their Keeper only to be clapped in the chains that extend into the eyes and minds of their peers, and they cannot move without hearing the clink of them.

Fairest are primed to represent victims of ongoing emotional abuse and neglect; sex slaves and victims of child abuse might find themselves in Fairest, as might husbands or wives of abusive partners (and boy, re-living my bullshit there was a bonus prize I didn’t want to receive for writing this article), children pushed to over-achieve (here overlapping with Elemental) until they break, pastor’s daughters and cult kids (here overlapping with Beast), and others. However, Fairest also hit their thematic stride when talking about trauma from a society that will not give you an exit. A trans person is first punished by society for “failing” to perform their assigned gender, then made to perform their new one to expectations that they cannot set, do not control, and do not consent to; such a person might easily be Fairest, as might a man breaking under the expectations of Maleness, a college student losing their mind in finals week with no one to help, or even more ‘ordinary’ sex workers expected to perform emotional and physical labor for a society that rewards their work with violence and dehumanization.

Fairest are people with complex internal worlds and they damn well know it, but the temptations to let others define them are numerous; society promises all manner of rewards for being who and what it wants you to be, for wanting the things it tells you to want, for being the kind of person who wants and does those things. To be Fairest is to know at any time you can start faking it and receive those rewards insofar as they’re actually on the table, but it is also to know, every second of every day that you’re performing that role, that it is fake. If you can’t find a community with which you can be genuine...well. You can always get more hurt, and in this way Fairest also bring another theme of Lost into focus: that the Lost owe compassion and understanding to their fellow victims, because failure to care can only hurt both them and everyone in their blast zone.

Feet Pics For Legos - Coping As A Fairest

Fairest are among those Lost who are most concerned with their day-to-day social interactions and safety rather than their immediate, very physical environmental safety. They are perhaps the Seeming most likely to live in a group setting (in an apartment with roommates or romantic partners, in a house shared between multiple households, splitting the bills in a condo, with their parents), and are definitely the Seeming most comfortable with the idea of living with mortals who aren’t ensorcelled. Indeed, Fairest don’t tend to do well living alone; even a Fairest who wants or needs a private place to be, choosing to keep a home in which others cannot lay a claim, will likely crash at friends’ places, sleep over at the Freehold commons on some pretext or another, stay the night with a lover, or otherwise have a place to flop down while surrounded by other people. Having other people - their greatest reality check - around the place helps keep the Fairest centered in the real reality, better able to pick apart the mortal from the Wyrd from their own unrelated hallucinations, and a Fairest who is isolated - or who is permitted to isolate herself - quickly begins to dissociate and may soon be incapable of caring for herself until someone can get her back into the present.

Those invited over as guests to a Fairest’s home may note a lot of concern for those she lives with. She likely schedules the event well in advance, is clear about the boundaries of those she lives with (”That’s Brenda’s room, the door stays shut.”) and in general treats her communal home with a lot of respect and love. Respecting these boundaries and in turn having her own respected is very validating for the Fairest and is vital to be able to feel safe and at ease in her own home, and impressing their importance on guests further reinforces that this is, as it were, her doughnut. While not dismissive of their own literal physical safety per se, a Fairest’s anxieties rarely center around her body being violently attacked by strangers. For those that do have such anxieties, they may choose to solve that problem by simple expedient of rooming or living with someone large and scary.

Another detail of note which is touched on in Winter Masques is that Fairest tend to seek out life’s little pleasures. Though they are not necessarily wealthier than other Lost, how a Fairest chooses to spend her money tends to follow particular patterns. Rare is the Fairest who doesn’t have clothing they like, a phone that works, a wallet or purse that can actually hold all of their stuff, and in this regard most Fairest without a special interest in fashion as a hobby in and of itself will have an aesthetic that is self-expressive but serviceable and hard-wearing, but any place the Fairest haunts, frequents, or lives in will get little touches everywhere. Fairest spend the little bits of extra money for good toilet paper, soft soaps that won’t hurt the skin, good shower supplies, high-quality razors, boots that won’t wear through - and they spend their serious money on their hobbies and preferences. A Fairest with a passion for cooking scrimps and saves to get a fully-stocked kitchen; a Fairest who likes building and connecting invests in Legos or Hot Wheels and creates elaborate environments for them. A gamer Fairest has headphones that can vibrate your constipation away and a fiber optic connection to ensure that lag will not stand between her and your doom. The reasons for this are manifold, and Lost’s canon writing suggests that Fairest seek pleasure to alleviate a desire to return to Arcadia. This is, to put it mildly, a stupid assertion; rather, the Fairest provides her own pleasures in part because it is one of the most emotionally clear ways to lick the doughnut, and in part because it reminds her that she can be happy under her own power, can seek pleasure, stimulation, engagement, without placing herself at another’s mercy - ironically making it easier to go out every day and do exactly that as a member of her various societies.

As a Fairest settles in she tends to look for “her” people, and quite often they’re good at compartmentalizing this, wearing different hats and having different feelings about those hats without feeling fake or distressed about the bare fact of that. She’ll have her personal friends and family, like her housemates, her girlfriend, maybe her mortal family, her neighbors, and then folks like her Motley (which are like her personal friends and family, but In The Know), her fellow Fairest and the Freehold broadly, her work friends and fellow hobbyists. A Fairest who does, say, sex work, thinks of herself as a Sex Worker and understands herself in the context of that broader social group. It can be a lot! Many Lost barely have a handle on being a member of both the Freehold and a Court, and the way Fairest flit to and fro between many communities, slipping seamlessly from one role to another, can be exhausting to watch - but by doing so the Fairest also builds bonds between those communities, highlights their common needs and interests, draws them together over their similarities and strengths. Darklings and Wizened get a lot of the work on the ground done, but it’s often a Fairest in the role of whistleblower, figurehead, and champion all at once.

After all, this, too, is her doughnut.

Example Fairest - Clara Belltower, Spring Playmate

Clara Belltower is a mime.

Well, no, not exactly. Clara Belltower is a self-employed porn actress, erotic script writer, and director, whose primary thing is mimes, clowns, and more broadly circuses and performance venues. She came back from Arcadia eight years back fleeing life as her Keeper’s Stepford Wife, and ran face-first into the money issues that haunt the Lost in general. What started out as a practical choice in new career - and an attempt to find and express an identity not created for her by her abuser - became a creative passion that has stayed strong with Clara and propelled her to status in the Spring Court, which retains her keen eye for decoration, direction, and theatricality in service to its high rituals and revels. Clara’s livestreams and online presence are also a convenient avenue for the Freehold to launder its less legal revenue streams, which has endeared Spring’s “silent siren” to the Winter Court and cemented her as a mover and shaker.

Clara’s ambitions reach beyond erotic miming, as talented as she is at both creating and purveying such. She has her eyes on four different strip clubs in Freehold territory alone whose owners and operators need to fucking go, and she wants Winter’s help making it happen; further, she wants the Freehold to take over operation of those establishments for the benefit of the workers. Clara’s vision is popular in Spring and has its supporters in Summer too, but the Declining Seasons have been cool on the concept, citing a need to maintain subtlety and avoid entanglements with the mortal world that might invite the eye of, say, the IRS - or mire the Freehold in a protracted war with local police departments. Clara’s passion burns with a righteous simplicity, envisioning a Freehold that is active in improving the city around it - if the cops want to throw down, bring it on! Her influence over Winter means the Coldest Court cannot simply dismiss her desires, but neither is it willing to go to war. Something is going to have to give, soon.

This concludes the Fairest portion of the article. Some additional thoughts on Seeming follow.

Bombing Your Own Position - Choosing Your Seeming

So it’s been six articles and I’ve talked about the ways various Seemings can represent responses to the things which traumatize us; neurodivergences for which society abuses us, the machinery of capitalism, violence, prison, and more. But how do you go about choosing your character’s Seeming? The obvious choice is to make a character that puts a lot of yourself at the table; to seek out a Seeming that reflects your own traumas, your own issues, your own anxieties and struggles, and then grapple with them in this fictional context. But RPGs can be an emotionally challenging medium, and you may well not want to deal with your own bullshit during your magic trauma fairy game. That’s valid!

Now, the second obvious piece of advice is to think about your proposed character’s themes and traumas and then select a Seeming from there, but this can get complicated. Many Lost players feel as if they need two Seemings, and to those players I say: no the fuck you do not. But it is true that people are messy and do not fully resolve, that the broad spectrum of the world of sorrow and loss is not easy to fit into 6 discrete categories whose creation was often managed by, not to keep repeating this point, fucking Nazis. I have found in my experience that it can be helpful, when you’re torn between two Seemings or you have a character you’re sure is this Seeming even though they look like or could be that one, to ask yourself why the character is not the other option. Why is this alluring and sensual Darkling not a Fairest, what makes this brutal and violent Wizened not an Ogre? This question naturally leads to others about their abuse and their reaction to it, and can start your momentum for writing your concept out.

As an addition, while I’ve spoken of various Seemings as being well-equipped to represent specific traumas, they don’t own those traumas. Elementals are metaphorically autistic, but there’s nothing stopping you from running an autistic Fairest or an autistic Beast instead. Rather, those Seemings outlined as being “for” or “about” certain traumas are those whose selection will make those traumas thematically central, cause you to return to them as a topic over and over by virtue of being who and what they are. Real people have complicated problems which intersect with one another, spawning new problems that are more strange than the sum of their parts, and it’s both valid and interesting to write your Lost that way - just keep in mind that it’ll still be complicated at the table too.

Van Helsing Hate Crimes - Seeming Politics

White Wolf spent a lot of time waffling back and forth on whether or not Seemings represent distinct cultural and political identities in a given Freehold, drifting towards ‘yes’ when the writers thought about the way Blessings and Curses create consistent, measurable differences between Lost of various Seemings, and towards ‘no’ generally whenever they were asked to actually outline a Lost society such as a sample Freehold or Entitlement. Some Entitlements are locked to specific Seemings, often times with little thought as to why, while other times Seeming-based power blocs are alluded to as worldbuilding elements (such as in Lords of Summer) without much in the way of supporting detail. Why should these things happen, when, how, what does the buildup of this violent fracture in a Freehold society look like?

On the whole, I have taken the stance in these articles and in my own worldbuilding that some amount of fantastical prejudice exists amongst the Lost, but that the systems of oppression have not taken root. Maybe it’s idealistic of me to view the Lost as unwilling or unable to produce internally racist power structures that create an underclass for the benefit of an appointed elite, but in general I feel as if Freeholds are too small, each individual member too precious by simple dint of being a living being in a physical body, for this kind of evil to flourish. That said, you may have also noticed that I identified two Seemings - Darklings and Fairest - as explicitly self-uniting and in some senses self-governing on the basis of common traumas that they often cannot fully explain to outsiders, and indeed community with people that understand your bullshit without you having to say it aloud - that is, those who share a Seeming with you - can be invaluable to all Lost. Ultimately, however, I want to advise against looking at Seemings the way that, say, Vampire: the Requiem looks at Clans, and instead to treat them as reactions to trauma rather than a kind of alternate racial identity.

Next up: So You Need To Write A Fetch

#Changeling: The Lost #rpg #fairest #trauma #abuse #seemings #violence

[oftenderweapons]

heyhey! if possible, i’d like to place my order for a strawberry smoothie + spinach & artichoke dip + clam chowder + bbq sandwich. thank youuuu 💕💕

Pairing: Taehyung x reader

Wordcount: 3.3k

Genre: smut. Final fluff. But mostly smut. Pining. Drabble for Bangtan Bistro

Rating: 18+

Tonight we’re serving

- Strawberry Smootie: Kim Taehyung

- Spinach and Artichoke dip: Smut

- Clam Chowder: “What do you mean my meal has already been paid for?” (It’s been rephrased for stylistic purposes)

- BBQ sandwich: Celebrity in Disguise (you need to squint but I swear it’s there just read till the end LOL disguise might have been taken a bit too literally)

TRIGGER WARNINGS: okay, mild alcohol consumption (wine, brandied cherries), swearing, dirty talking, heavy flirting, making out, oral sex (sixty-nine, face fucking male receiving), brief masturbation (male and female receiving), briefest mention of rimming female receiving (just a quick lick *wink wonk*), quite rough sex, manhandling, one degrading comment, impregnation kink and breeding kink, lactation kink (I guess), mild bondage (knees), outright ramming, cumeating and creampie. Final soft, sweet surprise I don’t wanna spoil, I promise it’s a good thing.

Remember to vote for next prompt here and here is my complete masterlist!

Also, lemme self promote my new Taehyung AU

Bfbfhreb there, ready to go! Enjoy 💜✨

Feeling the scorching hotness against your spine was exciting. His eyes were there, planted against the see-through back of your blouse and you could feel them like molten metal dripping down your skin.

He was following the line of pearl buttons tracing your spine, holding close the sheer peacock blue gossamer.

Taehyung licked his lips subconsciously, his mind already wild with pictures of his fingers snapping every button open, one by one.

“Sir, may I ask your order?” A waiter interrupted his musings.

The young man startled. “Steak. Rare. And… Uhm, you do have a Nobile di Montepulciano 2018, right? Just a glass. One for the lady at the bar too. Roasted vegetables with the steak.” He closed the menu and placed it on the table. He loosened his tie discreetly.

The waiter checked the wine chart and confirmed the order. “The steak right away? No appetisers?” He asked.

Taehyung followed you as a polished waitress accompanied you to a table across the room, the iridescent fabric of your top shimmering in a holographic effect under the soft light of the chandeliers.

“No appetisers,” he confirmed, his eyes never leaving you. “About that glass of merlot for the lady. She has moved over there,” he curtly indicated the direction with a nod of his chin. Looking at the waiter he searched the backpocket of his slacks. “Now,” He extracted his wallet, looking for a note and laying a 50,000 won piece on the table. “I know this might come off as rude but I’m asking for more than food, so…” Taehyung let the sentence fall eloquently. “Tell me something about her. Name, phone number, shoe size, I don’t care as long as I get to see her again.”

The waiter’s eyebrows shot up. “Of course, sir. She usually comes here with her friends, but tonight apparently she is by herself. They usually come on Thursday night.”

Thursday, of course.

Taehyung smiled. “Thank you. But I need a bit more than that.”

“I’ll come back with more, I promise.” The waiter bowed politely and left. Shortly after, Taehyung noticed the waiter walking to your table bottle in hand, gesturing to the other table as he talked to you discreetly. From the distance he could recognise a small smirk aimed in his direction, before you turned to the waiter, batting your lashes as you nodded.

He noticed a set of earrings glimmering like twin stars at your earlobes, while a fine thread of diamonds adorned your neck, matching the other pair of jewels.

The waiter poured your wine and leaned towards you, the epitome of politeness as he explained the situation very elegantly.

You were slightly surprised but didn’t let his words sway you too much. Keeping a sphinx-like composure you said something Taehyung couldn’t decipher from the distance, the waiter walking in his direction straight away.

“The lady said she is waiting for you to drink, sir.”

Glass half full, Taehyung lifted it in your direction, waiting for you to mirror the gesture. He cocked an eyebrow as you did, tipping the rim in your direction before bringing it to his lips and taking a small sip, observing your red lips lay on the glass while your neck stretched.

Watching your throat move as you swallowed was a vision too erotic for him to handle, and he politely fixed his stance, trying to alleviate his need.

Just as his steak was delivered, he was struck by surprise as the same dish was served at your table.

If he didn’t know any better, he would have thought it a shame that you and him were sitting alone, ten metres apart at two different tables.

A part of him was pleased to realise that you had specifically asked his exact same order; however, his ego was drastically redimensioned once you started eating. You were a tease, licking your lips as the juices from the meat glistened on the deep scarlet colour of your lip tint. He felt embarrassed at the amount of details he could see now thanks to arousal, feeling like a predator as he studied your hands gripping the cutlery, your mouth opening wide for a bite too big, and the wine. He loved watching you drink. He loved watching the diamonds twinkle as your throat moved.

He was almost sad the moment he noticed you had both finished the food.

“Please, put the lady’s bill on me,” the waiter nodded as he took the empty dishes away.

“She wanted me to tell you her shoe size is seven and a half and that she doesn’t want anything less than six inches.”

Taehyung snickered and looked at the table cloth as he felt his cheeks blush. “I know I’m asking a lot of you, but would you tell the lady that I’m interested in another kind of number?”

“About that, she mentioned 100-85-120. I believe you can understand perfectly.” The waiter commented. “May I bring the dessert chart? Or would you perhaps be interested in today’s special?”

Taehyung nodded to himself. “What about your divine flaming cherry bites?”

The waiter bowed his head in acknowledgement. “For the lady too?”

Taehyung smiled. “Yes.”

The older man was glad to assist the young customer, not at all because of the tip — he would have considered it rude from anyone else, however the warm smiles and the way he used honorifics and register had the man trusting the wealthy, polished kid. He almost felt fatherly sympathy for the smooth charmer sitting at the table: he looked at the woman with nothing but adoration and devotion. There were at least twenty women in the room, some of which had way more skin on show, and way sultrier looks; still, he only had eyes for you.

Once dessert was delivered at both your tables, the flirting resumed, your instincts awakening dangerously as he made a fine work of licking his fingertips, stained with the chocolate sauce covering the brandied cherries elegantly placed on a small pastry basket.

It was your turn to catch fire as you stared at his deep, dark eyes, his unwavering glance, and the beautiful shape of his mouth, his brown, wavy locks pushed back elegantly. He looked like the devil.

And you had every intention of burning in his flames.

As you asked for the bill, the waiter shook his head politely. “The gentleman at the table over there has already taken care of it, miss.”

Your eyebrows shot up before you smirked. “Then I think I should stop by and thank him.”

“He’ll be more than glad, miss.”

“Thank you for your help. I hope your shift will proceed smoothly, mr Lim.” You rose to your feet.

“It is always a pleasure having you here. Greet your friends on my behalf.”

You chuckled gently. The kind, warm man had seen you and your mates come across the foyer so many times, for dinner or for drinks. He always exchanged greetings and was always happy whenever you asked him about his family and the business. “Will do. Goodnight then.”

“Goodnight, miss.”

You took slow steps in the man’s direction, stopping beside him. “I believe I owe you a thank you.”

“No need to thank me.” He said, looking up at you.

“What if I wanted to thank you.” You replied slowly and quietly.

“How?”

“An empty hotel room can be very lonely.” You said, looking at your feet and toying with a keycard in your hands. “I’ve booked a room to celebrate my birthday and let me tell you everything has been so dull so far.” You pouted a little before shrugging casually. “Maybe we could turn the night a little brighter.”

“I am a gentleman, I don’t really like visiting ladies in their private rooms.” He looked away theatrically. “However, how would I disappoint such a refined woman? And leave you all alone on your birthday. I believe that would be unforgivable.”

“Indeed.” You confirmed.

As he stood up, he placed an arm around your waist. “Sorry, I tend to be an old school romantic. Stop me if you feel uncomfortable.”

“I love a bit of romance.” You smiled at him, batting your lashes seducingly. “What brings you here for a lonely dinner?”

“Business.” He replied curtly.

You snickered. “Of course.”

“Floor?” He asked once in the lift.

“Thirty-fourth,” you replied, fixing your skirt.

“Pretty high up,” he commented, pressing the button.

You resisted ten floors before staring at his lips. By floor fourteen his mouth landed on yours, sucking your lower lip, enjoying the plumpness of it before he opened wide, his tongue sliding out and entering your mouth, tickling your palate before swirling round your appendage.

His palm caressed your side, reaching your asscheek and squeezing it, his throat emitting a low hum.

“I’m sorry, I couldn’t hold on anymore,” he apologised as he parted from you once the doors dinged and opened.

You fixed your hair, his hand gesturing for you to lead the way — an excellent excuse to stare at your behind as you walked in front of him.

Once you reached the door, he kissed your nape while you slipped the keycard into the lock. His hands were already fumbling with the tiny buttons before the door would even buzz open.

“You can call me Nymph.” You said, as his hands proceeded working the small buttons.

“Of course. I'm Sir to you.” He stated sternly.

You smiled and shook your head. “Of course.”

You turned around and took off your shirt. “Get yourself naked.” You said distractedly.

He clenched his jaw at your command but obeyed nonetheless. “Nothing less than six inches?” He commented as you slipped off your heels, his glance following the red soles of your stilettos.

With a hand to his chest you pushed him with his back to the wall and teasingly dragged your palm all the way to his belt, lingering there a while before moving further down. “I’m sure you can deliver.”

“In kind.” He smirked, his eyes rolling shut as your fingers teased him over his slacks.

“Naked, now, sir.” You ordered.

“A hungry Nymph we have here.” He commented, undoing his necktie and throwing it on the bed. Next, he only undid the buttons necessary to get his shirt off. His undershirt was gone in seconds, just as your blouse and skirt disappeared, your body clad in a burnt pink silk slip.

Taehyung licked his lips and undid his belt, kicking his slippers close to the door before getting rid of his trousers lightning fast.

“Shall I get on the bed?” You asked, taking a few steps back.

“Oh no. Stay right there, Nymph.” He ordered, standing in nothing but his underwear before placing his hands around your waist and pulling you closer, kissing your neck, your chest, your hardened nipples hidden underneath the smooth silk. He began walking you backwards to the bed.

“Climb,” he purred once the back of your calves touched the mattress, making you turn to face the bed, your body kneeling on the comforter before he pushed your front down, getting you on all fours. He flipped your slip up, exposing your skimpy panties. “I’m gonna rip these.” he growled before biting your ass.

“Don’t. Just take them off.” You replied, turning around to look at him with imploring eyes. You didn't want to ruin the set.

He followed your request, immediately dipping his nose in your wetness once he managed to unstick the fabric from your folds. Shamelessly, he moaned as his tongue went from your dripping hole to your puckered one, laving it lewdly.

“Yes, Sir.” You keened, pushing back against his tongue.

He chuckled, parting from you, standing to his feet and taking off his boxers.

His cock pulsated painfully at the sight of you, at the way you stared at him while he reached the other side of the bed and laid down, settling in the middle, his erection right below your awaiting mouth.

You tried to lower yourself and swallow his tip, however he stopped you. “Get on my face right now, Nymph. I wanna see if you taste as expensive as you look.” He growled.

You simply licked your lips, his cock twitching as your hot exhale caressed his flushed skin. He was so veiny, and all you wanted to do was check if you could feel that against your inner walls. Straddling his face, you settled on top of him, not wasting a second before taking him in your mouth now that he was underneath you, under your control.

He moaned sinfully, his breath hitting your moist skin before his tongue flicked against your entrance, eliciting a contented hum.

For a few minutes all you could hear was the sounds of you sucking his cock, wet slurps filling your ears as your mouth became messy with saliva and his precum. At the same time, Taehyung was enjoying your cunt covering his whole face in juices, while some of his own spit eventually landed on his cheeks, coating his chin and nose too.

He was starved, shameless, wild. He parted from your folds only long enough to say 'naked, now'.

It didn't feel like there was any room for insubordination.

You freed his cock only long enough to remove your slip, sucking it back in your mouth before you took off your bra. As his hands met your breasts, grabbing them with thrilling pain, you felt him push you upwards away from his sex.

“I don't want to cum in your mouth. Gimme that tight, dripping cunt, Nymph,” he growled, touching your clit while his tongue teased the softest flesh of your labia.

“I'm going to ride your face, Sir?” You asked, feeling your breasts starting to bounce as your hips began grinding against him.

“Fuck my face, sweetness.” He replied, your body following his command straight away, your mouth opening in brainless, fucked out whimpers as your orgasm approached.

He kept going.

And even when you started to cum, he went on.

Even when you were humping against him ruthlessly, violently, he continued.

And when he noticed a second high take over, he outright refused to let go, no matter if you cried and begged and yelped.

He only calmed down once he felt you grab his cock and begin to stroke.

He slapped your mound violently, growling minaciously before he pushed you forward, on all fours, grabbing your thighs and opening his legs so that your front fell against the mattress once he pulled your knees from beneath you, placing your drenched core right against his crotch.

His stronger hand spanked your ass. “I told you I want to cum in your cunt and that's what you do?” He hit again. “Touch me so I'll have to cum on my belly like a teen nerd?” Another spank. “Hope you're gonna stay put now.”

He maneuvered the tip to your hole, sliding the head inside.

You purred and whined once you felt him sheathed deep in your core.

The angle was majestic. His upward curve teased the back of your vagina, rubbing against all the right spots, the soft head pressing against the inner nerves of your clitoris.

Just as you tried moving your hips against him, he sat up straighter and grabbed your hips, shoving you on his cock with breakneck speed, making your front burn with the friction against the sheets.

“Sir, please. Please it burns.” You called, desperate after a minute or so, feeling your control slip.

He gave a few more thrusts before he realised you had voiced discomfort. “Inside? Am I going too fast, does it hurt?” He spoke with tenderness and apprehension.

You shook your head. “My chest against the sheets.” You explained with a small whine.

He nodded and laid down,catching your leg and leading it in a half circle motion, helping you roll on your back as you unstraddled him.

However, his kindness was short-lived. As soon as he found your calves beside his chest, he grabbed your ankles and sat up, bending your knees and blocking them with his forearm; his free hand searched for the necktie and, once he found it, he expertly slid it beneath your legs, and then around them, tying a knot above the swell of your calves.

You stared at him with your mouth open, eyes wide and inquisitive before a naughty grin lit up your face.

He rose to his knees, crawling closer to you, bending your knees to your chest and letting your ankles settle over his left shoulder.

“Hold on tight, Nymph.” He said, bracing a hand beside your face as he lined his shaft with your cunt, sliding in effortlessly, grunting at the unspeakable tightness of your sex. “Fuck me so good, sweetness.” He mumbled. “I'm gonna rail you.” He groaned as he felt his balls tighten. “I'm gonna fill you up and watch those tits grow once you're full of my babies.” He teased. “Now you're gonna milk this cock and take every drop of my cum.”

You mewled at his sinful intent, squeezing round him and feeling his hand generously finger your clit.

“Please, fill me up. Please. I want to be heavy with your babies.”

“And you're gonna lactate them.” He whispered darkly at your ear, making the gesture feel so dirty, even though it was just natural mammal anatomy.

“I will, Sir.” You cried out, feeling your end tower over you.

“And once they're done suckling, I'll take my turn.” He growled. He had only maybe three strokes left before he would cum.

“I'm yours. All yours. Please, breed me, Sir. I'm yours,” you wailed, voice close to breaking.

“You are my horny little cumslut,” he snarled before joining your mouth with his, covering both your and his cries as you finally reached the peak.

His cock drilled deep into you as he coated your inner walls in cum, the hotness and stickiness of it pouring out of you and gluing him to your entrance.

It felt magnificent.

“I know you.” He whispered gently at your ear. “My most precious darling.”

You were still drifting ecstatically, your eyes opening slowly, lazily.

“Hello Lace.” He cooed at you, smiling softly. “Welcome back, my love.”

You mirrored his smirk and wiggled your feet against his shoulder. “Hello, my beloved fiancé. Would you please do me the courtesy of untying that?” You arched an eyebrow.

He chuckled and obeyed, almost expecting you to slide off of him; instead, you simply moved a leg to his other side and crossed your ankles behind him to tug him close to you.

“That impregnation thingie really got you going, uh?” You said, wiggling your eyebrows at him.

He nodded and kissed your chest, cupping it softly and pecking your nipples, your skin still flushed from the burning friction and the recent orgasm. “Even though I know you're covered, I find the idea so sexy.” He confirmed, pressing his face to the crook of your neck, inhaling your scent. “You looked very hot in that outfit. It really made me want to seduce you all over again.”

“It was fun watching you act the part. You even tipped the waiter.” You chuckled.

“You told me your measurements, Miss 'no less than six inches'.” He kissed your earlobe. “Do you know they're the combination of the apartment safe?”

You laughed and then quieted down for a second. “I wanted to jump your bones the very moment I saw you.”

“Happy to know my future wife still gets the hots for me.” He commented, matter-of-factly.

You giggled quietly. “I love you.”

He combed your hair slowly, tenderly. “I love you too.”

#taehyung x reader #kim taehyung smut #thebtswritersclub #thetruthuntoldnet #bangtansorciere #taehyung x yn #taehyung fluff

[gryffindordaughterofathena]

IT'S ALL IN THE CHEMISTRY

Book : Open Heart Book 3

Pairing : Ethan Ramsey x Diana Ramirez(mc)

Word Count : 1.5k approx

Category : Fluff

Warning : None

Summary : What’s better than one powerful woman? Two powerful women. 3.1 rewrite

A/N : Hello! This is my debut in the chapter rewrite team 😂

Bloom Edenbrook would take some time to get used to. It would take all of them time to remember that beneath all the flashy technology is the same old Edenbrook, with it’s smell of antiseptic, meagre coffee and rustling pages at the nurse’s station.

It would also take Diana time to get used to the latest addition to the Diagnostic Team, to the shifting dynamics and changing patterns….

It would also take time for her to fully embrace the new rhythm her life had fallen into with Ethan at her side, she loved this life and she would never miss those days of miserable pining, subtle smiles and hidden glances. But it would be a lie if she said that she had completely adjusted to this new life, she hadn’t, there was something that was still disquieting and it bothered her.

She was filled with a certain restlessness, something that couldn’t be explained, moreover Martha’s case bugged her. If Ethan and Harper could not get a hold of what it was, what chance did she have?

She was just a third year resident and they had decades of experience under their belt. She had seen how easily in sync the two of them where, how they bounced ideas in a flawless game of ball. And she couldn’t help but feel insecure.

She felt out of her depth and from beneath her confident outlook towards the world, shadows of doubts crippled her………. Maybe, just maybe she wasn’t the right choice for the team.

She had always been the balancing force to Ethan’s part of the equation, if he embodied experience, she embodied fresh eyes…

The flowing water to his stone set ways.

But sometimes, the equation doesn’t need a balancing force, but it needs a catalyst, that makes the reaction faster, more efficient…. Was that the case this time?

Lost in her thoughts, she didn’t realise where she was going until she bumped into someone, “Whoa!” exclaimed the voice of Dr. Harper Emery, “Oh! I am sorry Dr. Emery, I didn’t- I was just-” she launched into hr apology, “ Hey! No need to apologize Dr. Ramirez, I know you were preoccupied, I am just as stumped by the case as you are. Are you heading towards the Diagnostic Office?”

“Uhmm! Yes I was, thought I would do some more research on Martha’s symptoms, maybe we are missing something.”

“Good call! Mind if I join you?”, Harper asked.

“Oh! Of course”, she said as they made their way towards the office.

Ethan Ramsey, hated superficiality, especially if it came as a threat to the well being of his patients.

He hated the possibility of the doctors slacking of from patient care by the allurement of benefits that could be obtained from the changes in the hospital.

He had already caught some of the attendings lingering in the game room and doctor’s lounge when they were supposed to be with their patients and that was enough to sour his mood.

Diana had the same principles as him, both of them were equally suspicious of Bloom’s intentions, the topic of discussion of many of their nights. Yet she remained unperturbed by all this, Ethan marvelled at how she navigated her way through all this debauchery and yet kept her cool, doing everything that was needed to be done and not once succumbing to the propaganda of money sucking leeches…..

He stood by the nurse’s station, hidden behind a stack of patient charts, his thoughts currently occupied by a certain third year resident and how divine she looked in his oversized grey sweater that morning, honestly, who was he kidding? she looks good even in plain scrubs…….his line of thought was interrupted by an obnoxiously loud gossip at the opposite side of where he is standing, he would have ignored the gossips but a name made him stop right in the tracks. “Did you hear that Dr. Ramirez might not be in the Diagnostic Team anymore? I heard that Dr. Emery has joined the team and apparently she and Ramsey are getting back together? Why would they keep Ramirez in the team anymore? I bet she got her place in the team by seducing Ramsey? Why else would they give a patient murderer a place in the–” “I would stop right there if I were you Dr. Miller”, the ice cold voice of Diana spoke out before Ethan could even utter a single word. “You are bad mouthing not just me but three of your seniors in the place you work and I wonder how much of your pay check Mr. Bloom signs for your gossip sharing abilities.”

Ethan was shell shocked at the words coming out from the mouth of the usually cheerful doctor and he was even more shocked when he saw, her stop talking at the placement of a hand on her shoulder. From behind Dr. Ramirez came out Dr. Harper Emery, her heels clicking on the linoleum. “I’ll take it from here Diana” she turned towards the visibly pale intern, “Dr. Ramirez here successfully found the cure to Dr. Banerji's illness in her intern year, she assisted me in a surgery even though she had no practice in the field, she ran into a room with an alleged murderer just to save a patient’s life, which is a more than what could be said of you Dr. Miller, so before you talk about someone keep that in mind and if I find you lingering by the hallway when you ought to be with your patients, you will be out of this program before you can diagnose your first patient. I’ll personally make sure of that.”

With that, the two women turned their backs on the intern and went back to their patient chart consultation, the incident already at the back of their minds with patient care making up to the front.

For what was perhaps the first time in his entire life, Dr. Ethan Ramsey felt sympathy for an intern, he would never fancy being on the receiving end of the wrath of the two women.

The reopening party was in full swing when Diana found herself standing with Naveen and Harper, a glass of expensive wine in her hand. “I never got the chance to thank you after this morning’s incident Harper” Diana said, “thanks for having my back”

“You don’t need to thank me for doing the right thing Diana, besides you had it handled quite well, I just couldn’t let go of the chance of intimidating him.” “Also I have been meaning to apologize for speaking over you during the team meeting today, I was both nervous and somewhat excited to join the team, I am sorry if I hurt you in any way.”

“There’s no need to apologize, Ethan told me how Naveen had come up with the idea of you joining the team, so that there’s no place for Dr. Mendoza in it, you have been our saving grace quite literally, moreover I am excited to work with you.”

“Harper was our only option, can you believe Ethan threatened to quit again if Mendoza was given a place in the team?”, Naveen added with a friendly laugh.

“He is impossible”, Diana replied, her voice soft with visible fondness for the stubborn man.

“That he is, but enough of it, now go and spend some time with him, he looks ready to punch the next person who comes up to talk with him and don’t deny it, but we know that you have been dying to be with him.”, Harper said, her eyes alight with mischief. “Honestly, the man is completely love struck, now go save him from Mr. Bloom”

Trying to hide the blush reddening her cheeks, Diana quickly made her way to Ethan.

“So you finally have time for me?” Ethan huffed.

“Are you telling me Dr. Ramsey, that you missed me?”

“I just find such parties a waste of my time, that’s all.”

“You didn’t think it was such a waste of time when we made the detour to the On-Call room.”

“Well you can call it the only perk of this party”

“Well there’s another perk of parties, come dance with me” Diana pleaded.

“I will, on a condition, will you come home with me?”

“Only if you promise to act civil towards Bryce’s jokes at tomorrow’s brunch, you’ll come right?”

“Of course I will and as for Dr. Lahela, it depends on his ability to keep his jokes to a bare minimum, besides I don’t want to get on Sienna’s bad side, I will never forget about the last time l missed brunch”

“Damn right you won’t” Diana laughed as he pulled her towards him for the dance.

As they gently swayed to the soft music, her thoughts went back to that afternoon, back when she doubted her usefulness in the team. Sometimes a reaction needs both a catalyst and another reactant, but where the catalyst speeds up the process it doesn’t take part in the reaction and on the other hand the reactants are what forms a wonderful new thing, the reactants are where the magic happens. It was simple really.

She had nothing to fear.

After all it’s all in the Chemistry……

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

Tagging: @caseyvalentineramsey @dl-thewriterperson @jamespotterthefirst @drariellevalentine @rookie-ramsey @openheartfanfics @miss-smrxtiee @poudredevie @whimsicallywayward15

A/N : If you have read this far, thank you. I just had to write this down so that chapter 1 could make sense to me. I hope that I have been able to portray what I wanted to.

@terrm9 @genevievemd @aestheticartsx @fireycookie @maurine07 @starrystarrytrouble @schnitzelbutterfingers @tsrookie

@anntoldstories @iemcpbchoices

@stygianflood @sophxwithers

@actuallybored

#open heart third year #choices stories we play #open heart #choices #dri original post #ethan ramsey #ethan ramsey x mc #dr ethan ramsey x mc #dr. ethan ramsey x diana ramirez #dri writes #ethan x diana

[ineedmorequartz]

My first headcanon blog! Woo!

What hobbies do my servants enjoy. Note, this is largely based on servants I have/use. My apologies, if a specific servant isn't in here.

1-3 stars.

Bedivere.

He's into gardening and likes to make all sort of decorations with them. He makes flower crowns for anyone who asks gladly. Bedivere likes just to be. He has his own place in Chaldea where he likes to go to calm down.

Hektor.

As a Lancer he's a natural in pool. He likes to play with other servants but namely other Lancers and few selected ones. Smoking is also a common thing for him to do. Needless to say the, chaldea has reserved areas for the smokers.

Ushiwakamaru.

(We were robbed Ushiwakamaru riding a horse.)

Ushiwakamaru, enjoys riding on a horse. And as she lacks her own horse despite being a rider, she usually asks for other riders to let her ride their horse. (Mainly Lan Ling as he is one of the few summoned with a horse.)

She is also fond of sword fighting but she's nowhere Saber class good with them.

Jing Ke.

Similar to Bedivere she enjoys gardening. They can be often seen together in the garden silently tending to them or discussing on how to take care of different flowers. She also has great interest in poetry. As well as she reads poems she also writes her own ones. She doesn't share them often, but when she does it's deep. She's one of the heaviest drinker in all of Chaldea usually drinking more then other servants.

Robin Hood.

Robin is bit of balanced kit. He enjoys cooking and can make a good dish with right ingredients. He also enjoys hunting and often hunts for his own ingredients let it be animal or herbs. He also occasionally plays pool with Hektor. He is one of the few servants who smokes making him to be easy around.

Billy The Kid.

As a Archer Billy naturally is into sharpshooting. Other servants often bet against him against other archers, which they lose just as often. He's not the fastest pull for no reason. Billy also enjoys riding on a horse. It reminds him of Silver back when he was alive. Billy and Robin also play often card games with each other.

Jaguar man.

Sleeping and eating. That's what she does mainly but just as often she eats she pulls other servants with her to her shenningans. On some rare occasions she manages to drag others into a wrestling match with her.

David.

David appreciates women and reads literature. He also has made it into his hobby to compare stock markets back to when he was alive and to now.  Not much else to say.

Medea.

She makes cosplay outfits, bottle ships and figurines, which are quite well-made. She tried to keep it as a secret but one day when she was doing it Hektor happened to enter her to to inform she was needed. After that word got out and now she does custom outfits and figurines for other servants and her master.

Mephistoles.

Mephi is bit of a troublemaker. He does small pranks here and there to keep everyone on their toes. When most servants see him entering the room, they either keep an eye on him or leave the room. He just generally enjoys causing havoc in Chaldea.

Okada Izo.

Okada is a handful. As he's a foul-mouthed he gets into battles regularly. Even more when he's drunk, which happens relatively often.

Writer duo. Shakes and Hans.

Shakespeare and Hans. They can be found writing and/or discussing literature. Then there's times when their personalities clash and they go on a long discussion about what makes a great story. Let's just say none sleeps in those nights in Chaldea.

Mata Hari.

This lovely Dutch queen loves to dance. She'll dance around the chaldea with a smile on her face. She also hosts dance lessons for others. In addition she helps around the chaldea others whatever they need with.

Sanson.

Sanson enjoys reading different plays. He is especially interested in the plays they played in Salem. He also works as a medic in the medical staff. He enjoys a good glass of wine at late nights. Worth of mentioning Sanson is a part of Marie fan club.

Cursed Arm.

CA is fond social events. He enjoys talking to others about anything. It doesn't even have to anything spefic, just small talk. He helps around the kitchen and makes the best curry you'll ever taste.

Fergus.

Fergus, this womanizer does what he implies he does. Flirt with women and get drunk. His other hobbies are working out and getting drunk with his friends.

Boudica.

She's officially the stew expert in my chaldea. She is the cook and the big sister everyone relies on. When she isn't cooking, she can be found in the gym working out. And even then she will help others with their workouts.

Cu Chuculain.

He enjoys hunting similarly to Robin and he's a decent cook as well. Cu enjoys among others things fighting other servants. His greatest joy comes from fishing tho. He can sit whole day just waiting for the fish to bite.

Diarmuid.

Diarmuid likes to go to the garden. He will just lie there and pick the pretty flowers up. He enjoys those moments. As a true Celtic warrior Diarmuid loves to fight but to much smaller degree then Fergus and Cu.

Euryale.

She's one of the few servants who spend alot of time in front of the mirror making sure she looks as beautiful as she can be. Although, she doesn't have to thanks to her divine skill. She enjoys video games as well but she tries to keep it as a secret from the others but they all know.

Asterios.

Asterios is a silent one. He doesn't speak much but he can be seen chilling in the garden just being there. Anything Euryale suggests Asterios will go with her. Through this interaction Asterios got into playing video games. Da Vinci made a custom made controller for Asterios for him to play comfortably.

Blackbeard.

Other then being creepy and frustrating, he watches anime and reads dōjinshi in his room. He might burst out of his room, just to brag about this super cool scene he saw or just to beg someone to buy a new dōjinshi for him

#Fate grand order #Fate #FGO #fgo #Bedivere #Hektor #blackbeard #Ushiwakamaru #ushiwakamaru #Jing Ke #Medea #Robin Hood #Cursed Arm #Billy The Kid #Jaguar man #David #Mephistoles #Okada Izo #Shakespeare #Hans #Mata Hari #Sanson #Fergus #Boudica #Cu Chuculain #Cu #Diarmuid #Euryale #Asterios #Accept this attempt at writing.

[ms-katonic-of-tamriel]

DAI Playthrough idea

Inquisitor Lucien Flavius Trevelyan.  Ex-Circle mage, mostly content with life in the Ostwick Circle, likes the learning and academic side, does miss his parents, but no inclination to rebel until it was actually happening, at which point he ran off with the rebels because all his friends were doing it. Not religious, no real belief in Andraste whatsoever but kept quiet about it in the Circle.  Since leaving, he’s become a lot more open about his views, and found to his surprise more people than he thought shared them, and there’s enough anger at the Chantry for him to acquire a coterie of fans and fellow freethinkers.  He’s at the Conclave hoping to try and talk some sense into the Templars but it doesn’t go well.

Decisions!

Broadly pro-mage, not very pro-Chantry.  Not anti exactly, but very much not pro either and really doesn’t like the Herald of Andraste title.  Not up to speed on elven issues but the more he learns the angrier he gets at the Chantry, and he does find the culture fascinating.

Goes to Redcliffe to talk to the mages, finds out about the bargain with Tevinter, goes ‘what the actual hell have you done’ and ends up sorting that mess out.  Templars can very much sort themselves out in his mind.  He wasn’t harmed at the Circle but he saw things happen to others.  Gives the mages an alliance.  They were his friends after all.

As Inquisitor he wants to stand for order and justice rather than the faith or revenge and does his best to pick merciful, rational choices where possible. After Adamant, he keeps the Wardens as Inquisition allies, and at Val Royeaux, there’s a good chance of him getting all three parties to work together.  Failing that, he’ll keep Celene as Empress, with or without Briala at her side.  At the Well of Sorrows, Morrigan is getting the power - Lucien hears the words binding geas and goes nope, not for me kthnx.

Romances:

Awkward demisexual who preferred books and studying to anything else, Lucien’s got no romance experience but might consider it for the right person.

Cassandra: too intimidating by far!  Also twice his age.  Even if he was into intimidating older women, Cassandra has expectations of a romantic hero who will sweep her off her feet.  Lucien has no idea where to even start so... doesn’t.  Also she will not shut up about the Maker, and Lucien has spent the past two years becoming a fervent atheist and loving not having priests around any more.  He can’t pretend to be Andrastian for her sake.

Iron Bull: Bull’s stories about his sexploits make Lucien’s eyes pop out and his hair stand on end.  As far as romance goes, Lucien is fleeing in the opposite direction from this one.  They get on well enough, and Lucien’s curious about the Qun... but not curious about anything else, thank you very much.  Still, he cares enough to save Bull from the Qun.

Dorian: a possibility, and Dorian would definitely be interested, but it’s more likely these two will end up as besties rather than boyfriends.  Never say never though. Lucien's really not OK with the way Dorian's family treated him and completely sides with him over it. If Lucien was accidentally flirting with him previously, Dorian might well choose that moment to confess his feelings. Not known how Lucien would respond.

Josephine: most likely out of all of them.  Pretty, cultured, goes out of her way to make Lucien feel at ease, Lucien would likely adore her.  Also the duel scene would be way more poignant with Lucien the inexperienced mage going rapier to rapier with a master duellist for her affections.  Plus they’re both probably demi.

The rest of them:

Cullen: hasn’t got a clue what to make of this somewhat unimpressive young man but he’s who the faithful are rallying around and the only one who can close rifts so he’ll keep him alive.  Becomes steadily more impressed with Lucien over the course of things.  Lucien talks him out of going back on lyrium, having no wish to see anyone shackled by the Circle if they don’t want to be there, even Templars.

Leliana: scares the hell out of him.  “No, don’t murder people!” becomes a common refrain.  However, over time, she softens, he starts to see her less scary side, and he’s able to talk her down from murdering Sister Natalie.  On seeing the change in her after, he’s got no hesitation supporting her for Divine.

Blackwall: they get on rather well!  Lucien respects Blackwall’s experience, always appreciates a big strong fighter to hide behind, and Blackwall’s avuncular nature appeals.  Finding out the truth about him is heartbreaking but Lucien can’t help but rescue him and give him another chance to do better.

Solas: Lucien respects his skills, does rely on his advice, but there’s something a bit off there.  He doesn’t know what though.  He wants to like Solas, but something just rubs him up the wrong way.  Still, he’s a useful companion, they do get on, Solas seems to approve of Lucien’s decision-making on the whole, and Lucien loves asking him about ancient elven culture. He's less keen on the whole 'what if the Veil wasn’t here’ angle though. Solas disappearing will feel like a betrayal and really hurt.

Vivienne: nothing in common at all.  Excellent chance he never recruits her in the first place.  If he does, he spends the entire adventure regretting it.

Varric: takes Lucien under his wing from the outset and looks after him.  Lucien’s appalled by some of Varric’s wilder exploits but does laugh anyway, and the two become fast friends.  Even if Lucien does keep wanting to know how Bianca works.

Sera: they drive each other up the wall but Lucien is somehow still fond of her.  That Tempest stuff is terrifying though.

Cole: weirds Lucien out completely, but he senses the spirit’s heart is in the right place and a spirit who turned human??  Come on, that’s a paper in its own right!  Cole’s fate could go either way, but I suspect Lucien will go for the human option.

Lucien's parents: never had any other kids. They still miss and mourn him. They've been worried sick since the rebellion started and Lucien disappeared. He never wrote because there'd been no contact allowed for over a decade and it never occurred to him. But word of their son surviving the Conclave and joining the Inquisition reaches them and they put all family business in their steward's hands and go to Haven. They get there in time to find the ashes, but returning scouts, maybe even the Chargers, can tell them Lucien is not only alive but Inquisitor and take them to Skyhold. Cue tearful reunion, Lyra as quartermaster, Davidicus joining the researchers, either available as a party member if Lucien needs them.

Training specialty: none of the mage ones appeal.  Knight-Enchanter?  “No I don’t want to be up close and personal with the enemy, I want to be far away from the stabby things!”  Rift Mage: “so... the initial innovators of this field are all dead due to the magic destroying them, and the second wave of experts are all off their trolley due to magical weirdness and seeing their friends disintegrated.  Er... think I’ll give this one a miss, thank you very much.”  Necromancer:  “NO!”

In the end, he ends up studying Artificer after persuading his advisors that just because he's a mage doesn’t mean he should only study magic.  “There’s so much else to study and learn!  It can’t just be learning about magical energies and the Fade!  There’s a rest of the world to see and study!  Why should being able to do one thing make me incapable of doing anything else?”  Cue magically enhanced traps, grenades and possibly some sort of Dwemer laser-enhanced crossbow thing replacing his staff.

Trespasser Lucien is a bit more cynical and battle-hardened and the constant pain from the Mark is no joke either.  He’s honestly not surprised at Solas’s identity by the time it comes out, not as much as he should be.  Does his best to save the dragon, would like to try and save Solas from himself if possible, but isn’t that committed to the idea.  Disbands the Inquisition entirely, thinking it has served its purpose, and then returns to his parental home.  He’s reinstated as their son and heir and is soon using Trevelyan money to build himself a whole series of prosthetic arms with a variety of attachments.  Just in time for the big society wedding involving the Trevelyan heir and the Montilyet heir whose families saw a couple in love and made the wedding decision for them.  Mostly they end up living in Antiva but Lucien’s parents are regular visitors... as are the rest of their former Inquisition colleagues.

#dragon age #lucien flavius #dai #dragon age:inquisition

[rainofaugustsith]

Things Are As They Are

Viri comes out to Vette. Also posted in Sithy Snippets on Ao3. Some of Viri, Vette and Tivva's dialogue is taken or paraphrased from the Sith Warrior Chapter Two companion mission for Vette.

The Promenade is always busy. It’s 0215 in the morning by Vette’s chrono, and it might as well be mid-afternoon, for all the people clustered around the plaza. The aromas of sweat and spice are on the slight breeze, and Vette wrinkles her nose. Nar Shaddaa just never smells good. 

As busy as the Promenade is, Vette has no trouble navigating through the crowd. People tend to scurry out of the way as she approaches, thanks to the tall Sith lord walking through her side. Viri’s face is neutral and her hands are relaxed, hanging freely at her sides. Her lightsaber is sheathed on her hip. She’s chosen the least intimidating armor she owns for this excursion, and seems to be making an effort not to be frightening. The clouds of black and red Force power that often surround her are dormant and the air around her is calm. And yet, people still blanch and scurry away when she approaches. It must be hard, to have everyone run away from you, Vette thinks to herself. She sneaks a look at Viri. Nothing escapes the Sith lord; her blue eyes immediately fix on Vette’s face. ”Are you all right?” ”I am,” Vette replies, shuffling her feet. “Just…” ”Nervous.” ”Who wouldn’t be?” Vette stops short and takes a deep breath. They have reached the docked pleasure barge on the Promenade; the coordinates they’ve divined from a nervous contact at the Slippery Slope Cantina. The location of Vette’s sister, Tivva. Viri stops at the entrance. ”I’m happy to wait for you, if you think I’d complicate things.” ”No,” Vette says quickly, motioning for Viri to follow her onto the barge. “I’d appreciate it if you joined me.” ”Who are we looking for?” Viri’s eyes are already scanning the crowd, studying the faces at each slot machine and table. ”She’s blue, like me. She was always tall, even as a kid. Beautiful. She didn’t have any tattoos when I last saw her, but it’s been years…what if I don’t recognize her? What if she doesn’t know me?” Vette’s mouth goes dry. ”I don’t think anyone could forget you,” Viri smiles slightly. “We could start with…the woman holding her chain, as they say. Crystal, wasn’t it?” ”Yeah,” Vette says, relieved to have a focus. “Crystal. I don’t even know who to ask…” ”Hey,” Viri says, signaling a serving droid. “I want a woman for the night. Prettiest you’ve got. Help me out, who handles that here?”

The serving droid silently gestures toward an older Twi’lek woman sitting on a nearby banquette. 

”The direct route usually works,” Viri chuckles, leading the way. Crystal notices them as they approach, her eyes sweeping over them both with a calculated assessment. ”Hey, cute thing,” Crystal says, addressing Vette. “You looking for work?” ”No,” Vette stammers. “I…we…” ”Ah, you’re here for some fun, then. First time in a place like this?” Crystal says sympathetically. “Who do you fancy? Humans? Twi’leks? Nautolans? Men? Women?” ”Uh…” Vette swallows hard and looks at the ground. “I don’t fancy…no, I didn’t want to…we…” ”Do you have a girl working here named Tivva?” Viri says, stepping in. “We just want to say hi. Can you call her for us?” ”Ah,” Crystal says, looking from Viri to Vette and back again. “Everyone’s got someone who loves them. That’s it, isn’t it?” Vette nods mutely. ”Tivva! Get over here,” Crystal shouts. A woman by the edge of the barge cringes, and then sighs and makes her way through the crowd to the banquette. Crystal nods and walks away. There’s a resemblance, but not much of one. And as Tivva glowers at Viri and Vette in turn, there is no recognition in her eyes. ”No women, no couples, and no, I don’t want to hear any arguments,” Tivva says, her voice firm and strong. ”You…you don’t…” Vette opens her mouth, but no further words emerge.

Viri’s nostrils flare with a sudden burst of anger. “Hang on, Vette. I want to explore this rule against women. I mean, we’re all open minded here.” 

”Shut up,” Vette says, cutting her off. “Crazy Sith Channel on mute, please?” Viri glares at her. ”Argue somewhere else,” Tivva says, turning to walk away. ”Tivva, no!” Vette says, finding her voice. “Don’t you…don’t you know me? I’m not here as a customer, for Force’s sake, neither is she, and we’re certainly not a couple!” Tivva turns. Studies her. And as recognition floods her expression, tears form in her eyes. ”Ce’na. Oh stars.” Tivva whispers, coming closer. “It’s really you, isn’t it?” ”Took you long enough,” Vette sobs, hurling herself into Tivva’s arms. ”I can’t believe you’re still alive,” Tivva murmurs. ”Despite my best efforts.” ”Did she call you Ce’na?” Viri says, wrinkling her brow. ”This is my friend,” Vette says, looking to Viri. “She’s a Sith lord.” ”Charmed. Any family of Vette’s is a friend of mine.” Tivva draws back and stares at Vette, wrinkling her nose. “Vette? Is that what you’re calling yourself these days? Sounds like a gangster from the tech sector.” ”Yes, that’s my name now,” Vette says, arching her eyebrow. “Old days. Long behind me. The name stuck.” ”Tivva, you need to get back to work,” Crystal calls. “Unless the ladies want to pay for your time.” ”Start a tab for me,” Viri calls back. “I’ll cover whatever your normal fee is so they can talk.” ”It’s your credits to waste,” Crystal shrugs indifferently. Vette shifts uncomfortably from one foot to the other. “I’m guessing this wasn’t a voluntary career move.”

Tivva sighs. “I’ve been working here for two years, and it’s killing me. I kept thinking I’d get sold again but I’m too old. Please, Ce’na. You have to get me out of here. I’m sure she’d let me go, but not for free.”

”You know I will,” Vette says quickly. “Viri? Can you - please - buy her freedom? I wouldn’t ask, but it’s my sister….” ”Absolutely,” Viri says, pulling a stack of gold credits out of her pocket. “Tivva? Give this to your master. If she objects, she can talk to me. Sith lords can usually convince people.” ”You…you’re really doing this,” Tivva says, bewildered, as she cups both hands to take the credits.

”Yes,” Viri says. ”You see why I hang out with a Sith lord?” Vette grins. ”Thank you. Thank you so much. I’ll talk to Crystal and get my things and…” Tivva runs to Crystal, credits in hand. ”You…you are the best. Thank you,” Vette says, wiping tears from her eyes. “I’ll pay you back.” ”No, you won’t,” Viri says firmly. “I didn’t do this as a loan. And if we find anyone else you care about - friends, family - I’m happy to do the same. Just ask.” ”I’m sorry I told you to shut up before,” Vette murmurs, looking away. “It…just wasn’t the time for a joke.” ”No harm done.” Tivva returns, carrying a small, thin rucksack and her new documents. “I’m free. I’ve got my stuff. Let’s go.” ”That’s all you have with you?” Vette says sadly, gesturing at the bag as they walk away from the pleasure barge. “I don’t think it would be safe for you to stay with us, but I’m sure we could give you a lift out of town. Where to?” ”I don’t know,” Tivva shrugs, looking away. “I’m…not sure where to go now. I want to catch up, but I have to…get myself together.” ”Wait. Some of my friends are still on Nar Shaddaa,” Vette says, pulling her datapad out of her pocket and typing quickly. “I am sure they can give you a place to stay, at least temporarily. I ran with them for years.” ”Did they give you that terrible nickname?” Tivva asks, amused. ”Drop it with the name, would you? Do you want me to call them or not?” ”Yes,” Tivva says. “Please.”

 “I just got ahold of Taunt,” Vette says, reading the screen. “She’ll meet you at these coordinates. Just take the speeder to the Corellian district. Here’s my holo frequency. And money, here’s some credits…”

 “If anyone gives you trouble, you call us,” Viri says, raising an eyebrow. “I’d advise you not to mention my name to anyone. Wouldn’t want you to get caught in any Sith vendettas. But if you need my help, call.” 

”I have a Sith in my corner now?” Tivva seems amused. ”As I said, any family of Vette’s is a friend of mine,” Viri replies. “I won’t let harm come to Vette; I won’t let it come to you, either.” ”You’re all right,” Tivva says quietly. ”Go to Taunt, and call me…” Vette says, embracing her again. ”I will,” Tivva says. “I don’t even know what to think right now. But we’ll talk later.” ”We’ll walk you to the speeder,” Viri says, leading the way. * Vette watches Tivva’s speeder careen off into the Nar Shaddaa night. As she turns back to Viri, there are tears in her eyes. ”We found her. We really found her, Viri.” ”I’m so glad,” Viri says, a genuine smile crossing her lips. “And I’m sorry she could not travel with us. I wouldn’t have wanted to place her in danger.” ”It’s better that way,” Vette says. “I’m used to our murder and mayhem. She wouldn’t be.” ”Say nothing about her on the ship,” Viri warns, raising an eyebrow. “Even to those who are friends. You know the walls have ears, and we don’t want her on anyone’s radar.” ”Understood,” Vette says. ”Speaking of which, we should be getting back. You know the dummy will invariably have something new and miserable for me to do soon. And he won’t like waiting.” ”Back to Sith business! Grrr!” Vette sticks out her tongue. ”Let’s just stop at the bakery. It’s on the way. But they have cookies.” * When Viri says she wants cookies, she means it. Their air cart is so weighed down with cookies that both she and Vette have to push it, the crates swaying precariously as they make their way toward the spaceport. ”You know, I’d tell you just to learn to bake these. But you’d probably set the galley on fire,” Vette grunts, pushing the elevator button. ”Maybe? You know I would,” Viri says, smirking. She fishes into her bag for a cookie, closing her eyes and relishing the bite. ”Before we join the others, I wanted to ask you…there was something I noticed…” ”Hm?” Viri says, taking another bite of her cookie. ”You asked the droid for a woman. Not a man.” ”Yes, I did.” ”And then when Tivva said she wouldn’t take women, you were annoyed.” ”Yes, again.”

 “You wouldn't really have wanted to do anything with Tivva, would you?” 

”No. Absolutely not. I was making a general comment.” Viri finishes her cookie and takes another from the bag. ”It bothered you, what she said.” ”Somewhat. Not everyone likes women, I understand, but…” ”But you like women, don’t you?” ”Correct,” Viri says, looking straight ahead. “Do you have an issue with that?” ”No,” Vette says quickly; definitively. “Of course not. You like who you like. I was just curious. But…um…” Viri raises an eyebrow. “If you have a question about it, just ask me. I won’t be angry.” ”You’ve never had a girlfriend. Or had anyone…overnight…on the ship. Or flirted with anyone.” ”That’s right. Because nobody’s caught my interest.” ”Nobody?” ”Nobody.” ”You’re picky,” Vette laughs. ”No, it’s not that, it’s…” Viri’s voice trails off and she looks away. “It doesn’t matter. I’m not actively seeking anyone, and I’m not interested in casual encounters. Is your curiosity satisfied for now?”

”I think you should have a girlfriend,” Vette replies, elbowing Viri. ”I’ll keep your recommendation in mind,” Viri laughs, elbowing her back, gently. “But now is not the time. Things are as they are.” ”When will be the time?” Vette presses. “When you’re on the Dark Council?” ”It might be more dangerous then,” Viri laughs, as they walk through the hangar toward the ship. “It’s not what I need at this time.” ”You’re happy with things as they are?” ”Yes,” Viri says. “I have friends. Power. This fine ship. And…are we still sisters? Now that you’ve found Tivva again?” ”Of course,” Vette says fiercely. “You can’t be replaced.” ”I’m glad,” Viri says, smiling faintly. As she presses the button on the hangar, her face falls back into its Sith lord mode: expressionless but slightly malevolent. Things are as they are.

#Viri and Vette #Viridana Dragoi #Sith Warrior #fanfic #fanfiction

[yourfriendslimey]

Clouds of Cream

Pt. 1

Summary- While taking a day to run weekly errands, you take the time to stop at your local cafe where a certain handsome barista happens to work...

Pairing: Mark Tuan x Reader

Genre: Fluff

author’s note: This part is mostly to establish base story, also later parts will contain sexual themes; however, i COULD also produce watered down versions for those of you who enjoy the story but don’t care for those kinds of things. lemme know. Anyways, enjoy <3

WC: 2342

Part. 1- I Never Got Your Name…

Your eyes pried themselves open as the morning sun snuck into your studio apartment. With a heavy arm, you reached over to the tiny bedside table and grabbed your phone. 8:00 a.m…. You groaned, tossed your phone onto the table and pulled the blanket over your face. It was Saturday, your day off work, so you could in theory sleep in. However, you knew if you didn’t get up now then the To-Do list tacked to the cork board above your desk would go unattended. Plus… You thought, sitting up haggardly…I could stop at the café while I’m out…

You had gone to Downtown Brews for the first time a few months ago with a close friend who swore up and down it had THE best coffee. He was right. Now you were all but addicted. The roasts were divine, and the pastries were nothing to scoff at. And often by chance, you were helped by the same barista who, if you dared to say so, was not too hard on the eyes. The barista…You felt guilty not knowing his name by now. Even though you saw him every time you walked through those doors, you never managed to read his nametag. You were always too…distracted.

You let your feet hang off the bed for a few moments while your mind began to wander. As you stood and made your way to your tiny bathroom, you wondered if he even really noticed you. Of course, he recognized your face. You were there all the time. At the counter, he would give a casual smile and in his cool tone say “Hey, y/n, nice to see you again? The usual?” They took names for orders, so yeah, he knew that too. He knew your regular order because it was well... your regular order. But that didn’t mean he really saw you. The café had a lot of regulars, he probably knew a few orders and names by heart. While brushing your teeth you became even more lost in thought… You leaned close the bathroom mirror, analyzing your face. It was still puffy, showing the aftermath of a late night’s sleep. You frowned a little. Maybe he has a girlfriend. Maybe you just weren’t his type. You fed into your dismay while taking a longer than usual shower.

With fresh breath and a newly showered body, you walked to your closet and pulled out a pair of black skinny jeans, an oversized t-shirt with your college mascot on the front, and a grey dad-hat. You might as well be comfortable while running around all day. You grabbed your backpack and tossed in your phone charger, wallet, and keys. You quickly snatched the list from the board and hurried out the front door before the demon that was procrastination could set in.

You groaned as you walked to the end of the hall, anticipating the journey you had to make down the stairs. The elevator was down and had been for months now. The landlord kept telling you someone would be in to fix it next month, but it seemed like next month never came. Instead, you frustratedly stomped down the stairs, each time cursing past you for wanting to live on the third floor.

The building you lived in was nowhere near fancy. But it was home at least. Unlike the buildings uptown, the lobby wasn’t big and beautiful with potted plants and delicate light fixtures. It was more of an extra wide hallway. The walls presented a sickly grey-green on the upper half, the bottom being slowly warping wood paneling. A large portion of the space was dedicated to old metal mailboxes and contained ceiling lights hanging on their last legs; more than half of them flickering or entirely dead. You decided to check your mail later. You never really got anything anyway.

Outside, you were met with a clear sky and smiling summer sun. A warm breeze danced through the branches and the sweet smell of mature flowers blessed your nose. You felt more energized by the perfection of the day and with newfound eagerness, began your walk to the café. You breathed easily, taking in your surroundings. It was around 9:00 a.m. now and most of the city was already awake. Busy men and women walked as fast as their legs could carry them. Some to their respective jobs and others you presumed, to use the day the same as you; going off to clear a long list of errands. The start of summer vacation also meant children with time to kill. Kids ran up and down the sidewalk, getting what you deemed an early start to their day’s mischief. A couple walked hand in hand, giggling and smiling. You could overhear them mention something about grabbing lunch later and maybe seeing a movie. Seeming them happy together sent you into a vivid daydream.

You saw the barista’s warm smile and kind eyes. You confidently sauntered up to the counter, cool as ice. You flashed a cheeky smile that caught him off-guard. “Hey there, what’ll it be?” he said with a fully flushed face. You leaned in real close and looked him in the eyes. With a stolen velvet tongue, you said “A tall, dark, and handsome…”

The cheesiness of the line snapped you out of your trance with a quiet laugh. Before you knew it, you found yourself standing in front of Downtown Brews. It sat gingerly on the corner, beckoning you inside. The coffee cup logo printed on the glass door a sight for sore eyes Through the large window you noticed that almost every seat was full. No big deal since you just wanted to grab something to eat while you walked. You pulled open the door, a small bell jingling overhead. You placed yourself at the end of the line, grateful that it wasn’t too long. The early morning rush had pretty much passed already. You scanned the peaceful scene. Even though it was full, the loudest noises were the clinking of mugs and forks. It was always like this no matter the time of day.

Downtown Brews had that affect on people. The café created a sanctuary away from the loudness of the city. It had a minimalistic look. Plain golden-brown wooden floors, beautifully simple wooden tables and chairs, and small hanging lights that seemed to float in the room. On each table was a centerpiece containing small purple wildflowers in cute white vases that looked like fine china. The walls were mostly windows, save for the left wall that made contact with that of the bookstore next door and the gray brick wall behind the counter. It was decorated with shelves lined with mugs, glasses, and more white vases with various plants and flowers scattered about. You noticed that every week, there was at least one new one. The owner of the place must have had a real love for flora.

You stood for what felt like ages, listening to some poor young intern order complicated coffees and various treats for what seemed to be an entire office. You anxiously switched your weight from one foot to the other, wondering if maybe today you would order something new. And then you saw him. The man who made your face hot and your head cloudy. He was always here when you were, not that you were going to complain about it. He looked so suave in his uniform. The white shirt, black slacks, and black apron on his waist seemed custom made for his slender frame. How could such simple clothes look so good on someone? Your hands felt clammy and your chest went tight. You hated and adored this feeling all at the same time. Taking a few quiet deep breaths, you set your sights back on the menu, busying your mind with deciding about what to order for breakfast.

You studied him as he switched places with another staff member and prepared his customer’s order. The café had a lovely practice. Whoever took your order would also prepare it. This allowed for a more personal experience that resulted in fewer messed up orders. The baristas took turns instinctually; based off who was the least busy.

You gawked at him, transfixed on his form. You watched as he grabbed a few pastries from the glass case in front of him, slid them into a small toaster oven and began fixing the drinks. Every movement was smooth and graceful. He was like an angel. His face was lit up with a precious smile as he handed over the massive order and with a nod chirped “Here you are! You coworkers better say thank you for this. Hope you have a good day.” The intern gave a rushed “Yes, thank you, you too,” and fixed her gaze on the cardboard trays of drinks stacked onto boxes of patisserie. She shuffled away with a sense of urgency you’d never seen.

The barista’s skin was almost glowing. It looked soft and flawless, almost like it had been airbrushed. But it was all too real. You heart began to race as the last person between you and the counter wandered off. You shook your head lightly, trying to snap yourself back to the now.

“Can I help who’s next, please?” the honey voice flooded your ears.

You nearly stumbled up to the register, eyes barely leaving the chalkboard menu hanging above. Even though you weren’t really looking, you could still feel the warmth of his smile. You met his eyes. “Hey y/n. How’s it going? Medium iced coffee with vanilla creamer, three sugars, and cocoa powder on top, right?” You felt the heat rising in your face.

“Hey, uh yeah. I mean, no.” Your voice was almost imprisoned in your throat, impulse taking over.

“Oh, did I get I get it wrong?” he let out a small chuckle and ran a hand through his beautiful hazelnut curls, “Sorry about that, guess I must be a bit tired if I’m forgetting-“

You didn’t mean to, but you cut him off “Not at all. I just wanna switch it up a bit. Today I think I’ll have a medium iced cold brew with sweet cream and caramel this time. And could I also have a cranberry muffin, please?” you smiled shyly, embarrassed knowing that you were obviously flustered.

He smiled wide and clasped his hands together. “Well I see we’re mixingg things up now,” he giggled quietly while punching your order into the automated screen, “Gotta keep me on my toes somehow.” Damn that smile- you took off your backpack and quickly pulled out your wallet. “Is that for here or to go?” He peered up at you, eyes doe-like. “To go, please.” You choked a little and could have sworn you saw a bit of disappointment in his eyes but passed it off. He told you the total and you handed him the cash. “Alrighty, I’ll have everything ready in about ten minutes.” You nodded and gave a small hum as he gave you your change.

You stepped off to the side and let your eyes follow him as he skillfully crafted your drink. His smile was replaced with a stern look as he focused on his task. You wondered if your mouth was watering from the aroma of coffee and hot muffin awaiting you or something else. Suddenly, it hit you that once again you avoided looking at his name tag. You instinctively avoided looking at one part of him too long. As a child mom had taught you it was rude to stare, and that sentiment stuck with you even now. You chastised yourself. It felt as though after you missed it the first time, it felt impolite to check now. But it was ruder to just not know. You always wanted to ask, but avoided it, thinking he would think you were a moron since he clearly has a nametag on. You silently huffed in frustration and made attempts to get a better look. However, you couldn’t get a clear view. If it wasn’t a machine in your way, it was one of the other baristas, or he was simply moving too much or he was turned away from you. Though you couldn’t deny that you enjoyed looking at his back almost as much as his front.

“Y/n, your order’s ready.” His smile had returned as he stepped up to the pickup area.

He held out a small brown paper bag and your drink. “Here you go. Have a good day, and I’ll see you soon.” His face was warm, his smile genuine. You beamed at him and gently took your things Your heart fluttered. Without even thinking, the words flew from your lips. “I’m sorry, I know I come here all the time, but um…” he leaned forward, placing his hands on the counter, “well I don’ actually know your name and i keep forgetting to ask…And it feels rude to not know since you’re such a good server.” He chuckled, raised an eyebrow and smirked. He shook his head lightly and let it drop to the side. “Tsk tsk tsk. And I thought we were friends.” His smile melted your heart. He stood tall and folded is arms.

You apologized again, telling him you knew he had a nametag on but you always forgot to look and began to ramble about feeling nervous to ask and the whole thing. He gently cut you off. “Don’t worry about it. It’s Mark. And now that you know, you better not forget.” He pointed a playfully stern finger at you. The name rang in your head. This man who occupied so much headspace finally had a name. A beautiful one. At least to you. You grinned, “I won’t, I promise. I’ll see you later, Mark.” You turned to leave and as you did, you were certain his smile had grown bigger and his cheeks pinker.

Mark....

#got7 #got7 mark #got7 jaebeom #got7 jackson #got 7 jinyoung #got7 youngjae #got7 yugyeom #got7 bambam #got7 fluff #got7 smut #kpop #mark tuan #got7 imagines #got7 scenarios #kpop imagines #kpop scenarios #fluff #kpop smut #kpop fluff #smut

[chocolate-parfait]

Their modern jobs pt. 2 - ikesen headcanons (Uesugi-Takeda forces +Kennyo)

Kenshin (hairstylist)

Kenshin's salon is always so full of people he even has a queue outside his shop

He only hires the best professionists out there, and he is definitely on top of the list when it comes to elites.

His long and delicate fingers are very skilled, they know what they're doing, and the feeling of having them running through your hair is a divine experience

He's said to be capable of doing miracles. Even the worst-looking and ruined hair will become like silk after his treatment! (some even say he's able to cure baldness lmaooooo)

He divides his time into dealing with his clients and thinking about commercial strategies to beat the others stylists' working places. He's so serious about it he considers it a war, and it also helps him get more and more popular!

Every employee is very friendly and kind towards the clients, whereas Kenshin is the only one who is unsurprisingly cold as ice, making him even more charming and adored by his fan/clients

Shingen (pianist)

Just like Kenshin, his fingers are of the most talented and experienced you'll find in the field, earning him a wide and supportive fanbase

His music style can vary from classical to original pieces that have a more sensual and elegant vibe to them. His songs are usually made into playlists used during romantic dates for couples all over the world; he even plays live for this very purpose! (he may or may not flirt with your woman, pay attention)

He's known as the "sexy pianist" (that sounds a bit lame doesn't it) and he receives hundreds of requests from magazines that want to interview him or have a photoshoot. Having Shingen as the cover for your journal will increase the sales a lot

But he's not only popular among women, due to his very friendly and laid back attitude, he's made friends with thousands of people and has connections in many countries across the globe. His audience is usually composed of adults, but the gender varies

Yukimura (firefighter)

The cutest firefighter you'll find in the fire station. His boyish charm make him very popular among girls and poor Yukimura is the subject of endless teasing from his elders

Despite him being young and inexperienced, he fights bravely and fearlessly against the flames, putting citizens' lives before his own

Refuses to do photoshoots for sexy calendars, he's so embarrassed by the thought you can see him going as red as the enginemen's vehicle

He's friends with many old ladies, having saved them and their cats multiple times from various incidents and stuff. He also helps them cross the road or carry groceries whenever he's off duty

Sasuke (astronaut)

Well, are we even surprised? Going to space would mean being on cloud nine for our genius scientist. We already know his love for astronomy is very deep and personal to him so becoming an astronaut would be a dream come true

You can bet he's going to make terrible space-related puns for the whole time, exasperating his fellow colleagues

Generally, he'd be very very grateful for the experience. His passion aside, he's finally able to make some friends and probably long lasting bonds with someone! It's like almost all his problems found a solution in space

He doesn't slack off either. He's one of the most hardworking ones in the team, although he often finds himself lost in thought as he stares at the Earth

Kennyo (priest)

YOROKOBE SHOUNEN he's kirei kotomine from the fate series

He takes care of all the strays he finds, be it cats, dogs or even kids. He feeds them, finds clothes for them through charity, and teaches them basic knowledge

He might even open an orphanage

At first though, many people are kinda scared of him because his slightly dark aura and tough appearance, but as they discover what he actually does, they warm up to him and help him by donating money to the church

He's never alone since he's always surrounded by his brethren. There's this solemn atmosphere that gets interrupted only by the ruckus of little kids playing outside

If it wasn't for that ambience, people would probably fall asleep during mass because of Kennyo's deep and smooth voice

#my writing #ikemen sengoku #ikesen scenarios #ikesen imagines #ikesen headcanons #ikesen kennyo #ikesen shingen #ikesen kenshin #ikesen sasuke #ikesen yukimura #uesugi kenshin #takeda shingen #kennyo #sanada yukimura #sasuke

[desolate-rose]

Chapter 4 I regret ever thinking

I had… well i hadn't quite come to terms with my situation but i was getting there. I had spent the last six months freaking out over… well not the smallest things being reborn was a pretty big deal, but that wasn't the point! I need to focus on the here and now and be positive or I'd never pull myself out of the funk I had fallen into. I can finally see properly!

I've discovered several new and interesting things with my (finally) developed eyes! I think I'm living in a mansion! (Manner? Castle? Palace?... Villa?) I haven't exactly been able to get a good look at my new home, but the richly decorated rooms and resplendent halls I have seen are pretty telling. Just think my new family could be noble! The realization that the grandmotherly women and the teen who would take care of me on an alternating pattern were servants instead of family only added credence to my new theory.

That's not the only thing that i discovered with my newly developed eyes, I can move my ears! In all honesty my new body was quite fascinating! Apparently it was somewhat of an instinctive action that i had been unaware of up to this point. Ears reflect your emotions! How cool is that! Now that I have noticed the ears and how they move i can't not see them. The teen with the cute freckles (i still didn't know anyone's name) (i dub thee Spots) who would occasionally come and tidy up my nursery was the most expressive thus far, her ears would perk up when i made a cute noise, would press flat against her head when she had to change my diaper, and twist this way and that when she was thinking hard about something. It was honestly quite adorable.

I would try to get another glimpse of my own ears to see what they looked like when they moved if my mother had let me near a mirror. She had apparently decided that after my second mental breakdown that mirrors were not conducive to a happy baby. I mean i couldn't quite blame her, the last two times i had seen myself in the mirror i had spent the next few days crying but it was still frustrating. I wanted to get a better look at what I looked like now! Do I have any other new features? Maybe when my new teeth grow they'll be pointed! Sticking my tiny fist in my mouth I felt around for anything new in my gummy mouth.

Nope nothing yet. God I can't wait until i can eat something and not just exist of boob milk, i am soooo excited for that development. I know teething is going to be painful but i can't wait for the taste of something other than milk.

Oh my god I take it back, I take everything back! This is not worth it. Mashed carrots are not worth it. It could never be worth it. I itched and I was in pain and I loathed every traitorous time I had wished for teeth and something to eat other than boob milk. I was in hell. I had to be, there was no other explanation for this gosh darned itch! I was in pain and I wanted to die. Again.

My new teeth weren't even pointed!

I furiously chewed on the bars of my crib in the hopes that applying pressure might help at least a little, it was an awkward position and my neck was starting to crack but I. Did. Not. Care. At this point I would do anything to get rid of this horrid itch.

My new father, A man with a frankly fabulous beard fluttered around my crib uselessly frowning and attempting to cajole me off of my crib bars with words I didn't care to attempt to understand. I spared him a disdainful glare before once again focusing on the crib bars and my own personal torment. I was currently quite resentful of the fact that adults didnt have too teeth and don't remember the whole painful process. It was petty but I was currently ignoring everyone. It was the only thing that restrained my righteous fury. That and the fact that i'm a six month old, but the latter reason is simply a mere inconvenience and not the revenge stopping road block it once was. I could and would make your life miserable. With my new baby lungs, my adult intelligence, and the new knowledge of the adults superior hearing I could hit never heard before pitches of pain.

So I was currently ignoring everyone for their own safety. Except my mother. My mother is a divine angel who has never done anything wrong. Ever… and i was slightly psychologically dependent on her. Only slightly. A smidge. Just a little.

But back to the current situation I was currently ignoring my new father as he ineffectually attempted to cajole me off of the bars of my crib. Pathetic. Hmph, as if I would be moved by his weak mortal pleas.

The door cracked open allowing Spots the cute freckled teen into my nursery. now that i thought about it the sun shining from the windows of my nursery was about in the right position for her to show up. this was not a showcase of any sort of skill in telling time by using the sun or some other sort of fantastical talent along those lines, i had no idea WHAT time it was probably before noon but that was the best i could guess. I had simply been so bored over these last six months practically confined to the same room that I had memorised the schedules of my regular visitors relative to the amount of light shining from my window on sunny days. Yes I was that board. (time wasting electronics how i missed you.) spots cheerfully pranced into my room before noticing my father. The poor girl let out a startled squeak before stuttering out apologies and dropping into a clumsy curtsy. Another point to the idea that my new parents are nobles. “I- uh- apologizes my lord! I did not expect you, I will return later to complete my chores.” my lord huh? That was practically a confirmation of my earlier theory! “Complete your duties girl.” my new father barked, he sounded like a drill sergeant, jeze dude chill. “Of course my lord” she squeaked, jumping to attention to bow once more before scurrying off to tidy up the nonexistent mess in my nursery.

“Now you, stop chewing on the bars of your crib! It is completely inappropriate for a girl of your standing, you have a perfectly good toy to play with!” my father ineffectually blustered, placing the toy in front of me. Realy, realy? That's what you're going to go with? I'm a baby! A baby with all the knowledge of a reincarnated teenage girl, but still a BABY! So I decided to act like a kid my age would. I spared him the nastiest glare I could with my cute baby pudgy cheeks (ignored spots cooing in the background) threw the toy back in his face and went back to chewing on the bars of my crib.

Also on FanFiction.Net https://m.fanfiction.net/s/13547505/4/

#botw #princess zelda #zelda #botw fic #botw oc #zelda botw #loz botw #breath of the wild #the advertable inevitability #t.a.i #inevitability

[bramble-rose]

ABOUT REN SOHMA

(spoilers ahead)

Okay…. So take a deep breath.

I think Ren and Akira were really in love with each other and I think Ren is suffering from a form of postnatal depression.

In the manga it is often hinted that Ren had seduced Akira and would be a slut who was not worthy of him and had exploited his situation ...

After reading the story again, I do not think that was the case.

Akira was very ill and his diagnosis was that he was going to die very young. As the head of the family, he stood above everybody - which separated him from the other family members. Added to this was his illness, which further isolated him. The family had been urgently looking for a wife for him to bring an heir onto the scene, but no one was good enough. And I think this is where it started.

Ren was one of the many housekeepers of the Soma clan and was responsible for Akira. She cared for him, was always near him and noticed his emotional state, his loneliness. At least that is how it is told. She fell in love with him over time, but remained silent for a long time until she finally confessed her feelings to him.

It is also said that Akira had chosen her, among all the other women ... But Ren, as a simple maid, did not meet the level of esteem intended for Akira's future wife. There was much contradiction. Ren was insulted and not considered good enough. She was told to be a dirty witch, who was far below Akira and got his affection with tricks. It is implied that she simply seduced him. Ren is beautiful, you have to leave that to her.

However, both professed their love for each other, Akira also said that Ren alone recognized his loneliness and he married her in spite of all.

From this marriage, none other than Akito emerged - the reborn God of the Junnishi.

However, it were the already born Junnichi who knew about the pregnancy before Ren and Akira, because in a vision Akito appeared before them and announced that another banquet would be forthcoming. Ren was raided by the Junnichi one morning out of the blue .… And voila! All at once Ren's presence was no longer a thorn in the side of anyone. God would be born! Everyone was very happy - and everything was just about the kid. About Akito. About God.

And here is another important point.

Ren is disregarded as a person. Nobody cared about her anymore. Akira was also incredibly happy about the pregnancy. Through the vision everyone knew that Akito would become a girl and out of fear and jealousy that everyone would only love this girl, Ren threatened to abort Akito if she wasn‘t raised as a man ...

At this point you should think, why thought Ren that way? Even to the fact that only the baby mattered anymore and that she was just a vessel to everybody ... would it have been different if Akito had been a boy? Yes, I think so.

It is said that Ren was ashamed that the God she was going to give birth to was female. I think that's not the case. I think it's actually a messed-up jealousy for 'Daddy's Little Girl'. Ren was afraid that this child would drive a wedge between Akira and her, as Akito would be the God of the Junnishi. She would be all over the place. Ren saw Akito as another woman not as her daughter. She was a Rival (which is a trope that is often used in manga and anime… and it is really strange)

Well, Akira, of course, agreed to Ren's threat but was still happy about the birth.

Ren did not even want to hold the child.

This fight and all this points are important to understand why Ren has lost her mind. At first she was not good enough, she was insulted over and over again, even her family's home offended. Then she became pregnant and suddently everyone only loved the child, everyone was waiting for God. For the special Entity ... She was just their birth machine and the man she loved thought only of the divine child.

So as a toddler Akito had a hard time suffering under Ren. She physically and verbally abused Akito and raised her as a boy. Ren constantly blamed her, no matter what, that she would be useless and that Akira and Ren would not need her, Akira and Ren as a couple would be the only special onces because their connection had produced a special child.

From this time on it's always about who Akira loves more. His daughter or his wife?

A strange question since there are so many different varieties of love, but Ren's psyche and self-perception were already disturbed at the time. Otherwise she would have noticed that there is no reason for jealousy.

When Akira finally died, the secret is revealed ... Akira loved Akito. Of course, she was his daughter. But he said he wished that Ren could have loved her, too. He was sad that the two didn‘t got along and especially noted that Ren should have been happy about the birth of her child.

While he is dying he told Akito that she was special. She was God, she didn‘t need him or Ren. She was the God of the Junnichi and would be able to move on because everyone else has been waiting for her. She was born to be loved. After that he only talked about Ren, who was not called, even though her husband was dying.

He said that Ren and he had experienced true love and that their love was so special that they have begotten Akito, the God. That this would prove how special their love was.

So yes, Akira loved Ren deeply. Of course he did, she was his wife. Even though her outbursts made him unhappy, he always wanted the best for her. His last word was even 'Ren', as far as I can remember.

So what can you read from it? Akito was present during her father's monologue and as a small child she might thought that her father did not love her as much as she believed ... Akito's eyes are drawn throughout the scene without light effects. Actually a stylistic choice to describe the absence of emotions: Her father died ... she is traumatized.

When Ren stormed in she claimed Akito would not be needed anymore now that Akira was dead, Akitos supposed divinity would not be real and that the invisible bond between Akito and the Junnishi wasn‘t real (btw, it actually exists, Ren was wrong).

Ren felt helpless and was angry and sad that her husband died before she could said goodbye and blamed Akito.

Later that day Akito got a secret box from one of the housekeeper (she has no name). Supposedly it was a last gift from Akira to Akito to show how great their love for each other was. In the box was supposedly Akira's soul ....

Everything that happend to this point has made Akito extremly insecure and years later she stil believed that her father's soul is in that box.

Years later Ren learned about that box and wanted it for herself since everything that belonged to Akira belonged to her. She didn‘t know what was in it but that didn‘t matter. Ren even used Rin to get that box… and that ended badly.

But what does all this say about Ren?

I think through all the things that happened before and during and after the pregnancy Ren suffered from some kind of postnatal depression and never got over it. And after Akira died things got worse.

Akito is not directly one of the Junnichi, but she is obsessed with the spirit of God. And like almost all other parents in Fruits Basket, Akito's mother has been influenced by the curse.

Most parents in the story are violent, neglect their children, mock them, terrorize and abuse them and have no direct connection with them. Especially the mothers are greatly affected. So is Ren.

Ren thinks of Akito as the one who took Akira away from her. Emotional and physical. The loss has driven her crazy and the bond and the curse are something she can not grasp and understand, and so she loathes it. Because with the curse her and Akiras love started to fall apart. She does everything to torment Akito, insulting her, unsettling her and tries everything to destroy her identity. Both as God as well as a woman.

She even goes so far as to sleep with the man Akito loves the most.

( I can not help thinking, that Shiguri, as the mastermind he is, didn‘t just do that because he was so keen on her, he even said he just got into Ren because he thought Akito would look like Ren if she was raised as a woman ... So Shigure took advantage of Ren to imagen he has sex with Akito? That's weird … but that's Shigure, you never know what he's really thinking. And then there is the whole Kureno thing going on... But when Ren found out about this she was furious. Akito again took her place.)

All this does not make Ren's deeds better or excuses them, but it sheds another light on Ren, who is being vilified by everyone. And it absolutely explains why Akito is the way she is. The abused abuses ... but Akito is a different topic.

In the end, however, both were victims of a third person involved, beginning from the marriage of Ren and Akira, to his death and the question of who loved whom, and who would be the right heir as head of the familiy. This person was respinsible for and kept fireing on the hatred between mother and daughter. She had her fingers in the whole game: The housemaid without a name.

She insulted Ren for years.

She questioned everything Ren did.

She kept her away when Akira died.

She spur the hate/war between Akito and Ren… using the box/Akiras Souls and both their feelings.

She claimed Ren was insane.

She blindly obeys to the old family rules without thinking.

And… she, as one of those who raised Akito, let her do whatever she wanted and never taught her morals or boundaries.

She let both run amok and called it disgrace in secret….

And after Akito had seen her mistakes and wanted to change, the maid refused to change, claiming she was too old...

#fruits basket #fruits basket spoilers #fruits basket reboot #furuba #ren soma #ren sohma #akito sohma #akito soma #akira sohma #akira soma #the curse #zodiac #anime #manga #manga only #postnatal depression

[noythe]

If a thing loves, it is infinte

A small story that I wanted to rewrite, to honor the mighty Vergil and his son. Reader is the mother of Nero.

Originally posted on Ao3, hopefully it is not too awkward. 

Pairing: Vergil/Reader

Warning/Tags: Canon-Typical Violence, Torture, Slow-Burn, Awkward-Romance, Lots of Angst and Fluff

Chapter 1 Hell on Earth

There once was a man, feared and respected. Loved and hated just the same.

There was life and death, pain and happiness.

But despite every terror there was on the mortal world, there was some unholy powers, trying to rule.

But what should be ruled, if there was no one left?

There was a group of Hunters, known and led by the famous son of Sparda, Dante.

The Devil May Cry.

But what of the Legends if they go mising?

Heaven, Earth and Hell, what would be the missing piece in this chaotic mess?

The world was a mess.

Where once had been peace and the wonder of creation, was only despair and terror now. Angaelic beings have watched over the mortal realm long enough. Demons only caused chaos, destruction and pain. All they cared for was ruling the world only causing despair. No matter how often humanity had been at the brink of utter destruction, there always was someone to take a stand. One of the most honorable ones had been the Dark Knight Sparda. Had he once been the right hand of Mundus - the king of the underworld - he realised that justice needed to be brought to the world and rebelled against his king, defeating his army and sealing him away along with his own power, leaving him on the human world.

To take revenge upon Sparda, the Demon King ordered his loyal monsters to elimnate Spardas family, murdering his kin. During this attack, his mortal wife Eva got killed, the twins she had born and raised for a few years survived but lived through the trauma differently. And neither of them had a pleasant memory of it. Just loosing everything. Home and family. Years have passed and while one of the brothers became a danger for the world always seeking for more power, the younger twin became a hunter - later creating Devil May Cry.

Hunting Demons and fighting his brother over and over again that was something that never changed, no matter how many years passed. But of course even this time peace didn't last forever.

And again the world needed someone to save it. And one of them was Dante, the now legendary Hunter. Earning  himself quite a name over the past decades as a proud Son of Sparda, wielding the Rebellion and mastering many weapons over the decades. A new demon King alone would have been not a big deal, not for Dante if there wouldn't be that gruesome Demon Tree, now taking a hold of Red GraveCity. Emerging from the ground, raising high into the sky and slowly taking his childhood home apart. Dante did not take this job alone. By his side were Trish and Lady, the most dangerous Women the world had seen so far. If there was someone out there to cut the tree down, it would be them.

But for once, the Son of Sparda went missing.

And that murderous tree was still standing, sucking the blood out of the humans living in that city and as much as the military tried to protect the mortals of Red Grave, their strength was far from enough. And whatever manged to survive the roots, probably got devoured by demons or killed by debris and everything that got thrown around. But if the Qlipoth would collect enough blood, it would grow a single fruit that was forbidden and powerful. Fullfilling the true desire of Urizen: Endless Power, making him the new true King over the Underwold. But also it was rare. Only once every thousand years it could grow.

Over two thousand years ago it had been harvested by Mundus, and the tragedy that followed then lead to this day. But without the Devil Hunter, how should they prevent the tragedy to repeat itself? Maybe mankind never learned from it's mistakes... But for the divine and cursed, there was no such rule. As they remembered it all. Stored in ancient tomes and memory, never to be forgotten. Always to be told, even if mortals no longercared, They forgot so fast, life always passing by in a blink.

But not everything was lost. It was just a matter of time and perhaps a young Devil Hunter needed, who was desperate to beat the Demon on his stupid throne, polishing his ugly face. One failure was enough for the kid named Nero. Even after being called a 'Dead-Weight' he tried to help those that couldn't protect themselves, but for that he had to get stronger first. Recover. He was not all alone, yet it might took a little longer than he wanted to, knowing that this was not his final goal. He wanted Urizen. But after loosing his right arm, there was a lot for him to get used to.

And while the impulsive boy cursed Nico and her way to drive that van, the annoying screeching of a bird echoed through destroyed buildings over broken streets and people turned to dust.

"Ey, V! Ey, EY! Are you listening?", Griffon complained, landing on a broken door that was about to break in, caused by the weight of the monster bird. "Of course.", the thud of a closing book followed and the slender man moved into the direction of the bird, accompanied by the constant sound of his silvery cane, hitting the ground to support his steps.

"There's so much pollen here, I might be starting to be allergic!", the bird continued loudly and faked a sneeze.

"But as long as there might be a chance to find someone who is alive, we can buy the boy more time." "Time, time, time. Always the same chatter, You gotta move! Maybe we should get a vacuum. Ey V, can ya use one if I find one? Nah..Whatever.  No time for that, r-rrrright? ", the annoying voice askeed and distanced itself from V, the door finally breaking down as he left his fomer spot and revealing another room that was abandoned and covered in dust and pollen, the remainings of a couple was laying on a bed, their bodies curled around each other, trying to comfort themselves in their very last moments. V just silently passed the room, watching the pair dissolve into a cloud of pollen. It was all Urizens fault. So many lost souls, innocent humans forever gone, who would remember them? For a while it was all quiet and calm - until there was Griffons voice once more.

"Yo! V! You gotta see this!" Silence. "Seriously! I think someone's alive!" That actually made him hurry at least a bit. V knew that he certainly wasn't in shape to run around like the boy Nero. It actually took him long enough, that Griffon met him halfway, urging him to move faster. "Hurry, Shakespeare." The building was too fragile to bust through walls, the risk to injure or kill whoever survived was simply too high and V was on a 'Be-Nice-Trip'. Perhaps they couldn't save everyone, but every single soul that survived, was one less to feed the Qlipoth, even if he was not really the biggest fan of.. helping. It was simply odd for him, Griffon didn't really understand that. Didn't matter, he had a contract with V and did as he said.

His cane scratched over the ground now and then as he made his way over the rubble, trying very hard to not fall over his feet as he barely had the strength to keep up that fast. The screaming of Griffon got louder with every step, that bird certainly growing impatient with every moment that V didn't show up. Griffon flapped his big wings in front of a door, yelling annoyed as the black haired man finally made it to his side. The thing that had kept Griffon from the potential survivor was a door. V rolled his eyes and raised hsi cane to tap against the door. "Are we playin' ''Knock, knock'' or what? Now is not the time,V!", The Bird teased V.  But there was no sound coming from that room, not a single reaction. A black giant cat manifested in front of him and dashed against the door. It had been quite stuck, the frame no longer in shape but at least the door open.

And this had been the only option to get a look inside. He had tried to open it the normal way. But with a malformed frame and all the roots around it of course wouldn't be that easy. V huffed as he finally entered the room, having a quick look around. It had been used as an ballroom, he mused. A few big round tables at the side, surrounded by the equal amount of chairs. Unless they were flipped around, destroyed or pierced through by the Qlipoths roots. The giant chandellier in the middle of the room was no longer intact, half of the luxurious golden branches were wrapped by roots , a few glass shards below it, silvery petals and to Vs surpris: fresh drops of blood. Griffon was flying around and stopped in front of a tall window that was halfly covered by curtains. The drops gathered,until there was stain - as if something had been dragged along. More roots blocked the way outside, but he assumed that whoever had been a victim of the Qlipoth, was outside most likely about to die. Even if the blood was not complely dry.. If there was hope..

The painful scream of a woman pulled him out of his thoughts and made him pick up his cane once more, Griffon already looking for a clot of blood that could help them to make it through. Not in this room. But perhaps in the one below, as some of the roots had made their way through the ground. If they hurried, they might made it in time, finding whoever was standing against the Demon King as well. Chances never were big, but they had to start somehwere, he would meet Nero soon enough. A little detour would not change much, if he was honest. Shadow and Griffon at his side he hurried out of the room again, Shadow dissolving into mist below his feet to make V move without effort and much faster than before. Every second did count. Another scream, followd by a grunt. Metal that was hitting against a solid surface, Over and over again. But with time the beating got less, rapid. As if someone was loosing their power  or the will to fight back. It took him a good while to actually reach the exit of this place, having to face a few nasty demons on the way, but of those he and familiars quickly took care of and finally were able to proceed and stumble outside, walls behind them cracking and breaking down as the support of the roots slowly vanished, now that they were cut off from blood sources. It was bright outside, the sun still fighting against the looming shadow that was cast by the growing demon tree, clouds and rain usually controlling the mood of the day. So it was indeed a surpise that at least for once the sun made it's way through and reached the ground.

And there you were, in the middle of group of Empusa, blood dripping down the right side of your face, a deep cut hovering over your brow. You certainly had seen better days, like everyone who was alive lately in Red Grave City. Your hair was a mess, sprinkled with dirt and blood and stuck to your face. And it was you  who had been fighting, the weapon of choice a rusty pipe that nearly was as long as your entire arm. But to be fair, against the sheer amount of enemies you barely had a chance and every kind of weapon would do. Countless bruises showed up wherever your clothes had been ripped into shreds, your arms and legs suffering from deep cuts as well. It was not exactly a surprise that a civilian wouldn't make it among the Empusa. But it also explained the lack of your strength.

The pipe slipped from your bleeding hands and you forced youself to kneel down and pick it up, smashing it with a feral scream into the next Empusas head. V had the urge the help so he did send his familliars to support you. Those beasts were not a challenge for Griffon or Shadow, but they had to be careful not to injure you by accident. Your reflexes were so slow and it probably was just the adrenaline that kept you standing. "Ahah!", Griffon laughed and smashed against one of the demons, making sure to avoid your arm as you still tried to hold your ground. For a human you didn't do so bad. It could be better, but considering that you were a mere mortal in that mess of this city this was outstanding. With the help of Shadow and Griffon it did not take long and the fight was over, your breathing uneven and fast as the adrenaline still rushed through your veins. You nearly dropped your weapon of choice as Griffon sat on top of it, eying you closely.

"So Missy, why aren't you out of this city?", the bird asked and you seemed unfazed by the fact that there was a speaking bird. But if there were armies of demons attacking a city - a speaking bird should be the least of your worries. "No time." you panted and tried to brush some of your hair back but only made it worse. Ah right, the blood. "Perhaps you should leave now, while you can.", the young man suggested and you turned to the raspy voice, eyes staring at him.

"Your bird...is speaking, Sir.", was the reply you gave him as the said bird landed on his outstretched inked arm. For a while he held your stare, before the corner of his lips twitched up into a smile. "That he does indeed.", the bird ruffled his feathers and tried to present himself proudly. But you barely watched the bird, trying to flex your fingers and try to get a solid grip around the pipe again.

"But it would be best if you take your leave as soon as possible. We can offer you an escort, if you wish.", the man insisted while the bird complained that they had no time for that. But the man just assured the strange coloured avian that it was fine and you breathed through. "I am capable of taking care of myself, I am sure you have something else to do..", a polite decline but your muscles were sore and the cuts needed to be tended to. If there was a spot that wasn't close to falling apart you actully could take a minute. Running water would be great. And bandages. Maybe you should have thanked them. But your mood was as low as it could get. These insects were disgusting. And bug spray did not exactly help. A rusty old pipe wasn't working that well either.. "Let's go V! Missy doesn't need any help and the boy's waiting for us."

You wanted to wave them goodbye, wishing them a safe journey. You wanted to assure them that you could manage. But the ground started to shake and rumble below your feet, the street tipping to the side as another root made it's way to the surface -looking for another source of blood to feed the Tree. But while Griffon pulled V out of danger, you weren't so fast. The fair skinned man turned around as soon as he had solid ground below his feet again, risking a look to see if you made it as well."Oh shit, V. Guess that's it for her." Your upper body was pierced by one of the roots, the bloody tip facing downwards, your life essence slowly dripping down the plant. The impact left no air in your lungs to scream as there just was the shock and pain. The pipe creating a clattering sound as you let go of the weapon, closing your hands around the sharp end of the root as you tried to pull yourself from the pointy end, desperatlly forcing your muscles to make it work. No, you were not done yet. There was no fucking way that you would be stuck on a root and bleed out, No. Fucking. Way. V and his familiars moved again, hurrying to find the source of the root and destroy it. Even if Griffon was pretty sure that you wouldn't survive this. No one would survive that, humans dried out in no time and fed the Qlipoth by that.

"Slice them." Shadow moved quickly through the horde of monsters, Griffon cackling as he unleashed his power upon the enemies. You didn't know where they went but after a felt eternity, you lost your balance as the root dissolved and released your body. Coughing and spitting out blood you sank on your knees, watching the blood pool around you. The taste on your tongue was sweet and coppery, your breathing uneven. "Shit.", you cursed and blinked desperately to keepy our eyes open. You were well aware that if you closed your eyes now it would take long to open them up again. It was getting so cold. So dark. So painful. Slumping to the side you felt blood plastering your skin, starting to dry as you slowly drifted off. You couldn't give up now. There was so much that you needed to do. So much that you wanted to get done. You were going to be fine. Not. But there was not a minute that you could waste on that thought. You couldn't give in. Death was not a option.

"Ey, Shakespeare! She is still breathing!" A warm hand gently moved your chin to the side and your eyes fluttered open once again. Dark green eyes looking down at you. Was there the hint of a smile? Indeed. "Don't worry." What a gentle voice. Maybe it did sound a little different. Maybe just now, maybe it was something familiar... It was hard to tell with the drumming in your head. And while you felt incredibly light and comfortable right now, there was something that just seemed wrong. You didn't notice how the old phone in the distance was used to call for a Van that would pick you up, as he had more..pressing matters to follow. But there was something calming in his voice, as he nearly promised you that you would be fine. And while he waited, sitting right next to you Shadow curled around your form kept you warm company. V pulled the book from his jacked and started to read for you. Voice soft and melodic it was absolutely calming to listen. Neither V or Griffon knew if you would survive this and In case you would loose your life here, he at least stayed by your side  reading  poetry to you. Sometimes, even if only for a short moment of being wake you thought that he sounded as if he was sorry. But then there was the melodic tone again, enevloping you like a blanket, helping you to drift into so much better moments. Now and then a breeze graced your skin, whenever Griffn circled around to check for the Van or your state. What was it now, that made you cling to your life? It was your goal. Your memory, your dream.

"Seems like she doesn't want to die. Reminds me of someone. huh.", You wanted to return something, but your lips didn't move as you wanted to and your tongue was heavy. Your entire body was sluggish and unable to follow even the easiest command. At least somtimes you managed to move the thumb of yours. Just a bit forth and back, trying to focus on the nerves to not loose consciouness. That at least was a battle that you managed to win - no matter how much this man was reading to you. Another felt eternity passed and then even you could hear the sound of brakes, a car that rushed over the broken street and just came to a stop mere centimeters away from you. You would have been unable to move anyway. But that V at least hadn't seemed worried about that part. The sound of the cane retuned and stopped just right next to you.

"It does seem like she can make it." Did he sound relieved? It was so hard to tell right now. "Yo, chickee- out of my way!" Once again you felt even lighter than before, noticing the scent of cold smoke that now surrounded you like a cloud. Your feet bumped against a wall as you got carried somewhere, hearing a woman swear over and over again. At least she didn't try to make it worse, considering the state you were in anyway. "No peeking!" The arms that held you before awkwardly let go of you as you were placed on some sort of bench, your head hitting the rest for the back with a dull sound. And there was another curse from the woman as she tried to have a look at your wounds.

"This Lady had been hella lucky," Your forehead started to burn as something was applied on your cut, followed by a gauze. Same for your arms and legs. Tiredly you groaned and forced your eyes open, it took a good while to focus on something. The room was filled in a big cloud of smoke and the lightning was everything but good for the eyes. But it didn't take long and you noticed at least where you were. Inside a car: a van.  And the woman you looked at seemed friendly. Or surprised that you woke up so soon and stared at her. "Mornin' Sweety. You should take a good nap and I'll drive that Van to the border of tRed Grave, Here's no place for ya."

As much as you wanted to insist, a blanket was laid over you, carefully tucked into your side and it was so heavy and warm.. You didn't have an interest in fighting back anymore. It was so warm and cozy and the pain slowly faded. Still you noticed the constant chatter between the woman and the bird. Now and then the voice of the man breaking through the silence. But you weren't surprised that it was not quiet for long. The door to the Van got closed, a lighter was used and then the engine of the car started to howl. It didn't matter that you were supposed to sleep, your mind tried very hard to stay awake. And in the end, you lost. The next time you woke up, the car was no longer making a milkshake out of you. You felt much better than before. The pounding in your head was gone and the pain in your chest as well. Your skin itched caused by all the dried blood.

"Ey, sleeping beauty is awake!" You slowly tried to sit up, only to be hit with a towel right in your face. "take a shower, sweetie. Just go to the back of the Van." The woman introduced herself as Nico, before she started to fiddle around with a box. Besides the towel she also handed you bandages and some clothing that was not your size but at least it covered more of your skin, that what you were still wearing right now. "Thanks..", you muttered, overloaded with all the stuff that was given to you and bumped your head on a cabinet as you tried to get up. Oh great. The bird started to laugh with a cackling sound and you just growled weakly while squeezing yourself through the Van. Shower..Shower. Ah! Hidden behind that corner. It took a while to arrange yourself, telling the bird to not even dare to peek. V - apparently the guy that had saved you, didn't seem to be type to do something immodest. But the Bird.. Tsk. Stripping out of your clothes you stepped inside the shower, playing around  with the handles to adjust the temperature of the water. While trying to find the perfect setting for yourself, you took of the bloody bandages. The skin underneath was mostly smooth, the tissue of the your skin had been knitting itself together pretty fast. Only a few old scars showed up on your arms, legs and between your shoulder blades. The only scars that you still could feel.. But at least you managed to keep them out of the sight of strangers, so no one dared to ask.

Finally bare you used the water, working your hair with something that was supposed to be shampoo. But it took nearly forever to even get the all dirt out of your hair. The water remained red for a good while, just slowly turning lighter as the water turned cold. Leaning your forehead against the wall you breathed through, allowing the cold water to run over your back, the steady feeling of water drumming on your skin was able to comfort you. You couldn't even remember when you had your last shower. It didn't matter if the water was warm or cold. You just wanted to feel clean, wash all the gore and blood away. You could not stay here forever. Even if the thought was temping, so you hurried to clean yourself up as fast as possible and picked  the towel to rub yourself dry. This probably had been the best shower you ever had taken. Or at least in the last few weeks. Reaching outside to grab the clothes you stared at the bird and the bird stared right back at you.  Was that thing serious? Throwing the blanket at that thing you cursed it, promising it to make some soup out of it as you harshly grabbed the clothes and slammed the cabin of the shower again. Empusa? No problem. But a Demon Bird that had been waiting infront of the shower for you to finish?

Creepy as fuck. With damp hair and dressed you made your way outside and crossed your arms in front of your chest., judging the avian with a look, that made him flee with a screeching sound and landing on the shoulder of his master. "Whass' up, Missy? Afraid to join us?" Well, that didn't work as planned..You certainly wouldn't tell the bird that an apology was in order.. Instead you turned your attention towards the woman at the drivers seat and smiled grateful.

"Thanks for the shower..and the clothes. I will return that kindness to you." "It's fine, Miss. Got the boy to pay for me, ain't that right, V?" The man just huffed and agreed quietly, but didn't look up from his book. He simply turned the page and hit the demonic bird with the length of the cane to stop him from doing more nonsense. Or you really would make some soup out of him. Nico took a pull from her cigarette and leaned over her seat as she eyed you while puffing out some smoke.

You hated the smell, but she had cared for your and still planned to drop you off at the border of the city. As if there was a way for you to leave this place. You weren't done yet. No. The new Demon King needed to be stopped. And there still were people out there that could be saved. And you were able to protect yourself... Just not like this, "Lookin' much better without all the blood.", Nico hummed and eyed you really closely. Did she notice? The eyes behind the round glasses were sharp, but if there was something your host saw, Nico didn't mouth it all.

"And your overall state seems to be fine. You recoverd fast,", the mysterious man mused and you knew that you had to think of a story about that really, really quick. Unless they let the topic drop. By the looks of it he had a contract with demons. That you could see clearly.. But desperate times...

You shook of that thought and turned back to Nico who just inhaled deeply to start talking. "We'll move on tomorrow. If ya want, take a walk outside. V needs to clear the street for me." "Why don't you do that yourself?", the Bird asked and ducked as Nico threw some packaging at the Bird, who simply dissolved into ink and got absorbed by V's body, the small box meeting black hair. He didn't look all to happy with that situation, but you decided to indeed take a walk outside and leave them alone with the discussion.

It was darker than before, cloudy and even a bit chilly. The Van was rusty and severally damaged, now that you actually had a chance to have a look at it.

With a sigh you tried to fix the pants that you were given. Loose fit at least.. But maybe you needed a belt for them soon. Unlike the Van, the air smelled like rain. You couldn't help but inhale deeply. It certainly wasn't smart to get out with damp hair, but a cold in times like these couldn't be worse than demons and Trees from the Underworld. The street the Van was parked in was meant for one way only and there were some roots in the way, ah - the ones V had to get out of the way.You wondered how far...Oh. Nevermind, you could see the tree from here. A few fragile buildings left and right, cracked ground and so many inncoents that were dried out and leaving only shells behind. The bodies would dissolve fast enough and there was nothing you could do. Only keep the fallen in your memories. How many families were ripped arpart? If the Gates of Heaven would open for the victims?

Walking around the Van you hummed a familiar tune, until you were interrupted by a cloud of black ink, slowly building itself into that bird from before. "So..Miss.", you leaned against the Van and looked up to the Demon, his wings nearly hitting your face as he started to fly in front of you. "What is it, chicken?" "You're not human, are ya?" Raising a brow you crossed your arm in front of your chest and looked up to the bird. "What makes you think so?", was the only reply he would get. Griffon cackled and sat on top of the Van, ruffling his feathers proudly. "Your not dry like a raisin", he squeaked and used his beak to hit your head. As if to play 'Knock-Knock' .. Did his master not know about that birds own mind?

"It runs in the family." I was not even a lie. Just not the entire truth. But there was no reason to explain yourself to a Demon. "Nah, Nah. Not good enough, you hear me? You might fool the others, but you can't follow a Demon. Not the mighty Griffon!" That saved you the introduction. Griffon.. Didn't ring a bell in your head. Leaving the spot at the Van you took a few steps and turned around to face the avian, the hint of a smirk on your lips. "Smart little bird. But does it matter? There are more important matters to focus on." He cackled and there was electricity in the air, his position towards you didn't seem to be friendly at all. "Need to know if you cause any problems for V. So?" His eyes focused you and something was shifting in the air. Demons. "Listen, Demon.. We wish for the same. And now get your master, things are getting ugly."

The street indeed filled with all the nasties, you were unable to count the amount of demons, but thankfully V was leaving the van and regarded you only with a look, telling you to stay inside. "You just recovered, it might be best...to sit this battle out." "Don't worry..V. - I shall be fine." "You can't be serious, now Ihe two watch you both?! I'm not getting paid enough for this shit!" This time you smirked for real, but didn't even plan to go back inside. That bird was right. But thankfully he didn't know about your origin or the abilities that lurked deep within you. There was more to this world than just Devils and Demons.

It was time to bring back the light to this city.

#DMC5 #dmc5 vergil #dmc5 nero #dmc5 dante #vergil #vergil sparda #Red Grave City #I am not really good at writing okay #Dadgil #How could I not? Just look at Vergil #hes so hot #he is so fine #and aged like fine wine #send help #dmc dante #v dmc5 #dmc sparda #dmc nero #Own Writing #eva sparda #So much angst incoming

[porniscancer]

Two pieces of advice I constantly give people are these:

-Never look for happiness in other people. I promise you it will slowly destroy you inside.

-Guard your heart and be careful to whom you give it to. You don’t get those pieces of yourself back.

I should take my own advice

So I’m not going to get terribly in depth into my personal life just for the sake that it is not necessary for the sake of this confession/rant/unloading or whatever you want to call it. I’m just putting things to words to get them off my chest. I hope anyone reading this doesn’t think any less of me by the end of it.

I’ve been married to my wife for quite some time now. I can’t say the whole time has been good. Quite frankly a lot of it has been just varying degrees of hard. Some my fault, some hers, as would be with any relationship. I’m not going to go in to the entire history of our marriage. What I will say is that, yes, she has known about my addiction since before we were married (which she had always been supportive of me over. Probably because she struggles, herself). It has also increasingly become cold. As much....... drive..... as I have, she has never really reciprocated. Not most of the time, anyway. We’ve had moments but our marriage has left me intensely frustrated in that arena for all but probably a total of two years of it.

We’ve gotten along ok. But if I’m being honest, our marriage sucks. Things haven’t been the same since we had kids. She became increasingly short tempered and snappy with me for a long while. Shutting off to my physically as well. Which built up a lot of resentment in me. I’m not perfect. There’s things I could do better. I’m not a tremendously wonderful communicator and don’t express myself very well unless I’m super comfortable (which, if you can imagine, is difficult to do when you’re afraid of being snapped at).

Fast forward to six years ago when a friend of mine from Facebook messaged me asking for prayer because her fiancée left her. She was emotionally unstable and I feared for her well being. The two of us became close. Way too close. Not inappropriately, but emotionally. I admit that now. At the time, I became emotional support for her. While I regret how I handled the friendship and how close I let it get, at the time I felt she was a danger to herself and she trusted me. My wife was very uncomfortable with it and we had discussions about it. I should have put her in closer contact with someone else to help her and backed off. But I didn’t. I felt appreciated and needed.... which became addicting. During this time, my wife made an earnest attempt for about 3/4 of the year to be close to me. It was the first time in years I truly felt wanted. But it didn’t last. Neither did the other friendship. She eventually started dating someone and I became a mere afterthought. Not to overshare, but it was also during this time that was the last time we had sex. She’d been getting into gaming (where she’s got a friend of her own that she’s inappropriately close to that she thinks I don’t know about) and she got a new laptop. The games became her focus and she spent more and more time with it while I became ignored and she wanted nothing to do with me physically.

Fast forward to last year. A friend from Facebook and I started chatting after I shared a joke with her privately. Only reason I sent her that was because she’d posted something about finding amusement in dark humor and so I sent it to her because it was something I find funny that others might not think are funny and I don’t want to offend anyone. Everything’s fine at this point. We mostly shared memes and humorous banter for a couple of months. Then one night when she’d had a drink (enough to be a little tipsy) she told me her husband hated her. I don’t know why she told me that. But she opened up that sometimes he’s mean to her and treats her like he hates her. Which, if you can imagine, resonates (seriously.... I’ve been snapped at for simply trying to help or do something nice. This is not an exaggeration). And, because I’m the dumbest man alive and I don’t learn from mistakes, we became close. Our conversations have been inappropriate at times. She’s confessed to me a few times she finds me very attractive which I, regrettably, reciprocated. But we did eventually resolve to keep our conversations appropriate and have been doing so. I’m trying to deal with this with a lot of prayer and by allowing space with my friend. Just..... as you can imagine, it’s causing a tremendous amount of inner turmoil. I’ve been dealing with a lot of anxiety and worsening depression over it. Both out of guilt for feeling anything in the first place as well as despair knowing nothing can possibly come from it as we are both married and are both serious about marriage being a life long commitment. I already often feel no hope that my life will get better. This just adds to it. Even though I shouldn’t and there’s no chance short of divine intervention of anything coming of it, I feel a deep pain every time I see her post a photo of her with her husband. Which then makes me feel guilty and hopeless.

At the end of the day, really, I know I need to guard my heart. I know most of my wounds are self inflicted. But if you take anything from this, please.... take the advice I’m too dumb to listen to. Don’t wrap up your happiness in other people. It’s a bad idea. They will fail you in one capacity or another or you’ll latchh on and become dependent and when things change you will experience deep hurt. AND.... guard your heart. When you get close to someone like that, you don’t get those pieces of your heart back. No matter how much time goes by, your heart will still miss them every time you’re reminded of them.

I’m not looking for advice or help. Just venting what’s on my heart for therapeutic purposes. I do hope anyone that’s read this far doesn’t think any less of me. If you want to know why my heart latched on to two women it shouldn’t have? It’s very simple..... I felt wanted and needed

[humansofhds]

Amber Scorah, MTS ′22

“I no longer feel zealous for a religion, but rather for the beautiful treasure that this life is, and the incredible fact that any of us are here. I am just trying to use this life in the most meaningful way I can, not just to create meaning for myself, but also for others.”

Amber is a first-year master of theological studies candidate studying religion, ethics and politics.

Earliest memories

I remember fear mostly, because the Jehovah's Witnesses believe that the end of the world is coming any day and have been preaching this for over 100 years. Our children’s Bible story books had violent images of people being massacred by “God,” and I think it made me into a little bit of a dark child—a child that was thinking about things that other children probably weren't thinking about. Since I didn't celebrate birthdays, Christmas or do activities that my peers did, I felt this sense of being an outsider in the world. Therefore, I can’t extract my childhood memories without the religion looming large.

Beyond that, I have had such a weird history that I don't know which part of it to focus on. I'm Canadian originally, but a new American now. I was born as a third-generation Jehovah's Witness, and was a member of the religion all the way up until I became a missionary in China. When I was in Shanghai preaching, I ended up waking up to the fact that my religion wasn't everything that I had been taught it was. It came to a point that I no longer felt I could morally be a part of the Jehovah’s Witness organization, so I left my post, moved to New York City, a place I had only been once before, and started a whole new life from scratch. I now am an author and work in media activism.

Where have you been all your life?

Part of being raised a Jehovah's Witness is that you're told not to get a career. You're taught that if you have any talents or abilities, you shouldn't pursue them because all of your time should be used to preach and convert people. So, whenever my talents surfaced, or educational opportunities arose, I did not pursue them. By the time I left the religion, I was in my early 30s and didn't think I could do anything because I had only ever preached and worked part time. However, when I moved to New York, everyone that I would tell this story of my life to—the underground preaching, living in China, etc. —would say "This is crazy. You should write a book about this." Enough people said that to me that I thought, "Maybe I should just write down the story.”

I did end up writing the story and it got published, which was a shock to me. (See book publisher page here.) It was also terrifying, because it meant that I was coming out publicly as someone who did not believe in the Jehovah's Witnesses anymore and would be branded by my family and friends as an “apostate” and shunned.

But during the process of writing, something happened that I didn't realize would happen. I was able to revisit the past in a way that stitched it together and brought it into my present. Writing a memoir let me revisit in my memories—all these people that I missed and loved but would no longer talk to me. It helped me to make sense of it all and to just understand for myself: “What does it mean to lose everything and to start over?”  

I have had to come to terms with my mortality because the Jehovah's Witnesses believe that once you survive this apocalypse, you will go on to live forever. After my departure, facing death was existentially difficult. Figuring out what I thought about God or the meaning of life was something I had to deal with. When every question you might ever have about life is answered in a specific belief system, and then you find out that the very foundation of that belief system is not true, then you have to figure out what the truth is.

I have also struggled with feeling behind in life. Everyone else my age had already gone to college, had a career, some of them were already having kids. And here I was, ejected into this world, where I didn't have a college degree, a career, friends or family. I was afraid that whenever I would go on a job interview, they would look at my resume and think; "What's wrong with you? Where have you been all your life?"

Unlearning, and re-learning religion

When I first left my religion, I hated religion and had no interest in it. I had a religion hangover because my religion was so all-encompassing and had overtaken my identity. But even though I felt repulsed by religion, I could never feel like an atheist.

As time goes by, those questions of meaning are still with me, just as they have always been, even as a child. I love this idea of approaching religion not as a religious person, but as a person seeking to understand what it is that makes us create religions, or to be part of religions, or what gives rise to all different kinds of religions. I am interested in answering those questions not through a holy book, but through eons of human experience and exploration. It was this quest that brought me to Divinity school.

Since classes started, my mind has been blown. It's really addictive, actually. Being here is like having a mirror that shows me what I’m interested in, and what I have to give the world. I am a little bit of an activist at heart and have a really strong sense of wanting to take action when I see a wrong that needs to be righted. I feel happy to no longer be an outsider, and to be able to find ways to do that.

Walking through unimaginable loss

In 2015 I had a baby boy. Karl died as an infant, on his first day in childcare. It was a horrific tragedy, and one which I believe firmly could have been prevented if America, like most developed countries in the world, had a national paid parental leave program. If I had not had to go back to work so early or be faced with losing my job and my health care, he probably would not have died. One in four women in America have to leave their babies at two weeks old. I was one of the lucky ones, in a way, because I had three months.

After Karl’s death, I became an activist for parental leave and joined forces with another mom who had lost her child in a similar way. I wrote an article that went viral in the New York Times and this campaign reached the 2016 Presidential election campaign and led to meetings with the Clinton campaign. Shortly after our campaign New York State passed a paid family leave bill.  

I am also now a co-partner in a company that does media activism, where we bring untold stories of people who don't normally get heard from to the media. I used to check out and think that God would solve all problems, but I now realize that we all have a personal responsibility to do what we can to make things better.

On the horizon

I want to write a book about the struggle to find a sense of morality after leaving a religion that is so all-encompassing; Having had my morality dictated to me for so much of my life by religious leaders, I now find that I question everything that others take for granted. I am very curious about ethics and morals that aren’t grounded on religious beliefs.

Another thing I want to pursue, which I hope that my time at Harvard will help with, is more media activism. Going to Harvard connects you to a world where you can have a greater impact, since you will be broadening the subjects you are versed in and learning from other students who come from all different backgrounds.

While on my journey here, I carry with me my late Father, and the rest of my family members who are still Jehovah's Witnesses. I also think often about the many people I know who got out of religions like mine and those who committed suicide after they were shunned. I carry their stories here too, because not all of them get to go to Harvard. Now that I know we are mortal beings and this life appears to be all we get; I feel this zeal for living a rich life. A life that not only intellectually expands my world, but also gives me the tools that I can use to lift other people up. I no longer feel zealous for a religion, but rather for the beautiful treasure that this life is, and the incredible fact that any of us are here. I am just trying to use this life in the most meaningful way I can, not just to create meaning for myself, but also for others.

Interview by Suzannah Omonuk

#Harvard #harvard divinity school #memoir #book #Religion #media #publishing #advocacy #loss #large