#I have ever since the beginning of this game and it seldom causes me issue

[bigsnaff]

my burning question

[not-rigel]

Admit Defeat

warnings: smut, facesitting, fingering, bottom! sevika (if you squint), lots of flirting, y'all are in love, sub! sevika (if you squint), yearning, lesbians being lesbians

work count: 4k

You don't remember who made the first move. You don't know what you had done to get Sevika to return your feelings. At some point, the two of you switched from only speaking in work-appropriate conversations to constantly flirting. The switch was far from gradual, a near overnight shift in dynamic. For weeks,  Sevika has been laying the charm on thick and you've been returning the banter. 

Tonight was no different. The two of you inside the near empty Last Drop, chatting over a game of billiards. Billiards isn't yours or Sevika's typical game but watching her bend over the table was too tempting a sight to pass up. 

“I ever tell you about the time I almost bled out?” Sevika says, chalking up her cue. 

“Just one time? That's a little boring, Sevika,” you tease. 

“I'd have to be stabbed to be bleeding, and you know how often that happens.” 

The answer was seldom. Sevika got into plenty of fights, but most ended with her mechanical claws in her opponent's gut. Never the other way around.  

“Go on. Tell me,” you urge. She finishes chalking her cue and sets it down on the edge of the table. Your eyes follow her as she walks around the table, searching for her shot. She studies the eleven ball, considering the difficulty. 

“Eleven, back left pocket,” she calls. She bends down to line up the shot. But instead of taking it, she begins her story. 

“I was at the harbor, the smaller one, on personal business-” 

“You were gambling,” you interrupted, leaning your weight to rest your hip onto the table. You watch Sevika's eyes follow your movement. 

Sevika shakes her head, “It was for personal business. Needed new plating for my arm, one that can withstand higher temperatures. I heard from a trusted source-” 

“At the brothel,” you interrupted again. She still hasn't taken the shot. Still bent over the table, cue lined to hit but her arm hasn't drawn back yet. 

Sevika laughs at your correction, “I heard at the brothel that someone was looking to trade down at the harbor. I went down there with an alright gun. Wanted to be rid of it anyway. I get there looking for the guy and I find he's got four other people with him, fucking bruisers by the looks of it.” 

Sevika takes a break in her story to finally take her shot, the eleven ball gliding across the felt and into the pocket she called prior. She stands, walking over to where you're leaning against the table. She smirks as she draws closer to you, stopping just close enough for you to feel her body heat. You look up at her, gaze dropping to her lips for a moment before moving back up to her eyes. 

“It's your turn again,” you tell her. You tilt your head toward the table, not breaking eye contact. 

“You're standing in front of my shot.” 

“My bad,” you playfully shrug, taking a large enough step back. Sevika immediately fills the space, stepping even closer to you than she was before. Another centimeter and your chests would be touching. 

Up this close, you'd have to crane your neck to make eye contact. But since you can't find it in you to look away from her lips, you don't have to look as far up.  Her tongue creeps from her parted lips and wets her bottom lip, surely to tease you. 

“As I was saying,” Sevika continues, aware you're watching each word, “I don't pay attention to the other guys, figured if I didn't treat them like a threat they weren't gonna fuck with me. And it worked for the most part. I get through the trade with my guy, no issues. I'm thinking it's over so I shake his hand, close the deal and wait for him and his goons to leave, cause I'm not gonna turn my back on them.” 

You nod, trying to follow along with her story but your attention is divided between how her lips quirk up into a smirk every other sentence. You loved this side of Sevika, the side that can't stop talking. The side that loves sharing her time with other people. The side that is heartfelt and open. 

“You still listening?” She says, pulling your thoughts away from her mouth and secret softness.

“Just skip to the good part,” you huff. You're not impatient and you could listen, and watch, her talk for hours. But the attraction between the two of you was a few degrees warmer tonight. You can't afford to overheat, especially since you work together. 

“Right. The good part. They think I'm looking for a fight so they jump me. I handled them fine enough, taking a few punches. Was focused on keeping them off of me. One of ‘em came charging at me with a knife, no fucking clue where he got it from, and aims right at my ribs. I wasn't really thinking, I just pushed his arm down. Fucking slashed my thigh open,” she continued. She bent over the table again and this time you could see her back muscles ripple underneath her shirt. 

You shift your hips slightly, so they brush against her side. 

“Can I see?” You ask. 

She stood up without taking her shot, taking a step to trap you between herself and the table, “I'd have to take off my pants.” 

“Sounds good to me.” 

She chuckles, “Thought you'd let me kiss you before trying to get me undressed.” 

This was the moment one of you would usually chicken out, coughing up a practiced excuse. But tonight was different. Seizing a confidence you've never held in your life before, you close the little distance there is between you. 

“Kiss me, then take your pants off.”

“Thank fuck,” she sighs. 

She reaches her right hand out, cupping your cheek and guides you to her mouth. There is a moment of hesitation from her, when your lips are a hair away. A chance for you to withdraw. But you won't take it. You push up on your tiptoes, smashing your lips into hers. 

Sevika hasn't felt genuine attraction like this in years. Her body feels like it moves on its own accord. Doing the opposite of what she usually does in situations like these. Fingers tracing over skin instead gripping. Tongue feeling the softness of your lips instead of claiming. Heart beating wildly out of her chest instead of being steady. 

Her chemtech arm holds you by your waist. Between her hips pressing into yours, the table behind you and her arm holding you up, you still feel like you'll melt right to the floor. 

Needing more purchase, you wrap your arms around her neck. Her hair tickles your fingertips and you need to feel more of the soft strands. When you tangle your fingers into her hair she shudders, her knees go weak and weight shifts to rest on you.

You take the time to kiss down her neck, feeling her breaths catch in her throat. Feeling her skin vibrate with her moans. When your lips press onto her pulse point you can feel her erratic heartbeat. It almost overwhelms you, how much she softens for you. 

You're surprised when she guides your hands from her hair down to her breast. Without any hesitation, you fondle her breasts, thumbs rubbing over where you know her nipples are. She's letting out moans above you, the sounds deep and throaty. 

She gasps out a ‘wait’ and you pull your hands and face away.  After she catches her breath she asks if you want to go back to her place.

She's staring deep into your eyes and you regret having looked at her mouth so much tonight. She has the prettiest eyes you've even seen, the most enchanting shade of gray you've ever seen. Like a thundercloud full of heavy rain, her eyes always held back a rough storm. Usually she's unreadable, but right now you know exactly what she wants. 

“Mine is probably closer,” you offer. 

At that Sevika nods, muttering out a soft “Take me.” 

You grab her hand and lead her out the Last Drop and in the direction of your apartment. It's far closer than Sevika's, hardly a five minute walk. Three minutes if you were really in a rush. You make it home in two and a half. 

It's a simple studio apartment, small but well within your needs. 

Once you step inside, she grabs you from underneath your ass, hoisting you up to wrap your legs around her torso. Your hands find their way into her hair, fingers dancing on her scalp. You needed her weak for you, and she was falling apart at the seams the more you touched her. She carries you over to the bed, hiding in the corner of your apartment. She sits down on your bed with you sitting on her lap.

Her hands grab at your shirt, shoving the offending fabric over your breasts until you break the kiss to pull your top over your head. You return to the kiss the moment your shirt is discarded behind you, pushing Sevika down into the mattress. She gasps into your mouth as her back thuds against the bed. 

Her hands are flat against your lower back, inching downwards to slip her fingertips beneath the band of your pants. Sevika guides your hips to grind over hers. You rut your hips into her, no rhythm or pace set. 

"You've got such a pretty face," you tell her. "You wouldn't want me to sit on it, would you?" It's something you've been waiting to experience, waiting for the right person. If there was anyone you wanted it with, without hesitation, it's Sevika. 

"I've been waiting for you to say that for so fucking long," Sevika laughs. You laugh with her, finding humor is how long you've spent dancing around each other. 

You roll off of her lap onto your back to shimmy off your pants and underwear. Within seconds, Sevika is sitting up to help you out of your clothes. You lift your hips and she pulls your pants and underwear down on one try. 

Seeing you near fully naked, Sevika admires your body. Every curve is in its perfect place. Every scar is like fine details painted into your skin. Each blemish makes you more and more of a masterpiece. She always thought you were breathtaking but the word felt much more literal now. Breathing was wasted energy, anything other than pouring her full attention into admiring you was useless to her. 

“Sevika… you're staring,” you said under your breath. 

“I- I'm going to die tonight,” she sighs, leaning down to press kisses to your shoulder. She kisses your shoulder until she's grounded herself, no longer lost in passion boiling over in her head. 

“I need you on my face. Now,” she says against your shoulder. 

“Patience.” 

“Fuck that. I need you. I can't wait anymore.” 

She grabs your hips, flipping you over to straddle her waist. She unclasps your bra, pulling the straps off your shoulders. 

“You're still dressed,” you gasped, trying to find an excuse to slow her down. 

“We'll get to that later. Sit on my fucking face.” She grabs at your hips trying to pull you up and shimmy herself down. You admit defeat when she pouts. 

You crawl up her body and place one knee to the left side of her head before swinging the other over her head. You don't sit down on her face yet, shifting your hips back to hover over her shoulders. 

“Fuck, please sit on my face. I can't wait.” her hands grab your thighs, metal and flesh fingers alike digging into you.  

You're ready to give yourself to her, but you're stopped by the look in her eyes. This time she's the one to take your breath away. 

You reach down and stroke her cheek, “You're so pretty.” 

Her hands loosen their grip on your hips, thumbs stroking your skin.

“You're beautiful. Everything about you is beautiful,” she whispered. The moment was so fragile but nothing could break how she felt for you. 

You feel the need to say something in return but the only words that come to mind are about how you're falling for her. And you can't give yourself away just yet. So you shift your hips over her face. Before you take your seat, you notice that you've forgotten a step in your haste. 

“Wait, we need a safe signal.”

“Like I'd fucking tap out,” she rasps, frustrated that you're so close but just out of reach. 

“Still, we need one.” 

“Fine. I'll tap you twice if I need you off. That work?” 

“That works,” you nod, shifting your hips to position right over her mouth. 

“Oh fuck, thank you.” She sighs before you lower your cunt onto her mouth. 

She starts with kisses to your folds, breathing in your scent while she can still breathe. Her lips press kisses everywhere she can reach, mostly over your labia. Her nose nudges right beneath your clit and you drag your hips back to get her right where you need her. Nose now bumping against your clit, your thighs clench from the added simulation. 

You can feel the tension, built up on months of pent up emotions, dissolving with each pass of her tongue. The tension melts down, collecting inside of you and waiting to be released. Her kisses become open-mouthed as your arousal coats her lips. You jerk your hips, moving your clit over her mouth. She licks around the bud, feeling it twitch and beg to be touched. 

Looking down, you can see her eyes are closed, eyes rolled back behind her lips. Her tongue swipes over your clit and you nearly throw your head back to moan, but you can't tear your eyes away from her. She looks too beautiful beneath you. It makes you feel like you're doing more than taking your own pleasure. It makes you feel like you're not on top, you're on your throne. Your insides clench again as she flicks her tongue over your clit. 

Sevika's hips squirm, trying to find some friction to calm the tension inside of her. Everything about you fuels how much she burns for you. She felt warm whenever you were around but with you filling her senses in this moment, she was close to combustion. She could distantly feel a liquid heat drip from her cunt. With each slow drip that leaked from her, her core coiled with excitement. 

Channeling her yearning into eating you out, she works her tongue over your clit. When you start to shift your hips again, she flattens her tongue letting you move wherever you please. 

You grab her by the hair, grinding onto her tongue to chase your orgasm. It's an orgasm you've been chasing everytime you've masterbated thinking about her. A fantasy that has been just out of reach, and even now it mocks you by running away. 

“Sev, I'm so close,” you choked out. 

You ride her tongue, desperation drowning out the aching in your muscles. Your thrusts are messy, but her tongue finds you each time. No matter where you move, Sevika is there. 

Your orgasm is done with being chased. It meets you, just the way you always imagined it would. It breaks the laws of physics, making gravity cease to exist. Your entire body is weightless as you gasp and choke out Sevika's name. Your grip on her hair is the only thing tying you to this world. 

When the world finally rights itself, gravity working as it should, you lift your weight off of her. Her hands pull your hips forward, setting your dripping hole over her mouth. There's so much more of you to be had and Sevika wasn't ready for the moment to end. 

She laps at your opening, groaning with every bit of cum she licks away. Your taste is even sweeter now, or maybe it was psychological. Sevika wouldn't put it past her to think you taste better after coming. You did things to her that she couldn't explain. 

She is pulled from her thoughts when you jerk your hips away and she detaches her lips. You swing a leg over her head and dismount inelegantly.

“Thank you,” she gasps after she catches her breath. When she no longer needs to gasp for air she takes a deep inhale through her nose, catching your lingering scent that coats her face. 

She doesn't have enough time to react before you straddle her hips and push at her top. You're surprised by your surge of energy but you'd be damned if you didn't return the favor. 

“Sev… Fucking strip for me,” you purr. 

She moans your name, hands reaching up to hold your face and bring you down for a kiss. You dodge the kiss, needing her naked for you. 

“Sevika, I want you. Please… you're too beautiful for me not to see.”  

That makes her heart skip a beat. Sevika doesn't accept compliments but you said that word like it's the truth. So she believed you. 

“Okay,” she nodded, her turn to admit defeat tonight. 

You lift off her lap, moving to unbutton her pants. She lifts her hips and you pull down the waist band. Her pants take more force than you expected to pull over her ass but after a couple tries, they slide all the way down to her knees. She begins to kick her pants down to her ankles then toes them off. 

“The scar is pretty obvious,” she says. You're confused for a moment then you remember why the two of you are in your bed in the first place. On her left thigh is a gash, a centimeter thick and 7 centimeters long. It was a deep cut, evident by how raised and pale the scar is. 

“Shit, that's really fucking bad. How'd you survive?” 

“Took two extra doses of shimmer. You'd be surprised by how life saving that shit can be.”

“Huh,” you shrug. She shifts her hips beneath you and you're back in the moment, forgetting her near death experience. Fuck the reason you finally got her into bed, you have her now and nothing else matters.

You are about to tug at her boxers when her chem tech arm reaches down and tears them apart with two tugs. You snort at her impatience. The amusement is soon gone when you see her cunt. Your imagination has failed you, she's prettier than any fantasy you've had. A trail of opaque, white cum leaking from her. 

“You fucking came?” you asked. 

“I can't control myself with you,” was the best explanation she could give. 

“Oh fuck,” you curse. You bend down to press kisses to her torso, trailing down the valley of her muscles. You don't care that you don't have her top off. If you were going to get your way tonight, it will be coming off eventually. But right now you want to feel her. 

You set your pace slow, kissing downwards to her thighs. She opens her legs, making space for you between them and you gladly take it. 

“Sevika, what do you want?” You doubt you could do anything she wouldn't want but it never hurts to be sure. 

Sevika stops to think for a moment. She imagined every single sexual scenario with you. So which one would she choose? A few crossed her mind but one made the coil of excitement return above the rest. The thought of your fingers, more slender and soft than hers, fucking her until she melts into nothing. 

“Finger me,” she pleads. Sevika keeps surprising you, using a desperate tone that goes against her character. 

“Oh shit, I'm going to fuck you so good,” you sighed. 

You get comfortable on your knees, intending to stay there as long as you can. You trail your fingers over her thighs, tracing words into her skin. You can't tell her that you're falling so you write it out. On her left thigh, ‘I love you” is etched. On her right thigh, “Stay with me” is drawn. 

“Stop tickling me, I need you inside me,” she whines. The sound almost kills you, her velvet voice whining for you to enter her. 

You trace your right hand over her thigh and toward her cunt, teasing just a little more. She gasps when you insert your middle finger. Maybe you do too, with how good she feels. You knew she was wet but what makes you lightheaded is how warm she is. 

Her whines no longer shock you, coming out of her with each slow stroke of your finger. Adding a second finger takes her moans up in pitch. Your fingers feel a thousand times better than she dreamed, non-calloused fingers pulling the coil inside her tighter. 

“More,” she pants. You don't want to leave her word up for interpretation so you ask for clarification. 

“More what? Another finger? Faster? Need me to rub your clit? Tell me,” you urged. 

“Faster! Touch my clit!” she gasps out. Sweat begins to coat her forehead. 

Your fingers pick up their speed, curling against her sweet spot. Without removing your fingers, you move over her right thigh, walking up on your knees before settling down. 

In this position you lay at her side, face next to hers and arm reaching down to finger her. Your palm rubs over her clit with each thrust. You dip your head down to attach your lips. She sighs into your mouth, lips parting to let you control the kiss. 

Everytime your lips meet, you find a new favorite way to kiss her. Now, you find you love biting her lip. She pants and moans into your mouth as her pussy squelches from your fingering. She sounds wetter with each thrust, your fingers gliding in with more and more ease. 

“Please,” she pants, “I'll make a mess.” 

It's your turn to groan into her mouth. That sentence was a threat and a promise. She shifts her hips nudging your fingers to the exact right spot. 

You feel her orgasm wet your fingers as she whimpers out your name. Nothing could've prepared you for how magical making Sevika squirt for you would be. Her breaths huffed into your mouth. Her thighs clamped around your hand. Her pussy leaked all over your fingers. 

After thirty seconds pass, her thighs unclench and you remove your hand. You bring it up to your lips but Sevika grabs your wrist before you can taste her. 

“Can we… I want us… I want to be yours.” Sevika says when she catches her breath. 

“As long as I can be yours.” 

She guides your wrist to your mouth and you take your coated fingers into your mouth. Her taste bursts over your tongue, earthy and slightly salty. You lick your fingers clean and commit her taste to memory. Not that you would never taste her again, but it's something you need to remember. Any moment spent not tasting her will be torture from now on. 

Sevika wraps an arm around your waist and pulls you in to lay on her chest. You settle in, placing your head over her heart. The two of you hold each other, you're listening to her heartbeat steady itself. 

“Sorry about your sheets,” you hear her say, words rumbling in her chest. 

You sit up to inspect the damage. The image makes you laugh. Between her thighs is a little heart-shaped puddle. 

“I lo-” you stop before the words come out, “I don't care. It'll wash out.” 

You lay back down to cuddle her, “You came in a heart-shaped puddle, by the way.” 

Sevika snorts, not surprised that her body was outing her feelings for you. She presses a kiss to your forehead, settling for gratefulness that she didn't chicken out tonight. 

“Why did it take so long for us to do this?” you ask. 

“I was afraid you'd figure out that I'm in love with you,” she says. She meant to hide the words but they found their way out. Sevika loves the way you soften her, how you break away all the walls to her heart without trying. 

Your voice is a whisper when you speak, “Are you still scared?” 

“I'm terrified.” 

“Me too.” 

“Scared?” Sevika tries to get you to clarify. She needs to know. 

“No. In love with you.” 

[tenshindon]

*waves* Hi, I'm Silver. I want to write Yamcha more accurately (he seems really nice?), but I haven't the time or money to buy the manga or episodes, so... any tips, I guess? Can you help me? Thank you 🌻💜

hiya !! i’m always happy to talk about yamcha and The Character Of yamcha :) gonna put my thoughts under a read more cause this Might be long:

I havent watched Z or Super in a while but I do watch and read through the original Dragon Ball often so accuracy May Vary due to my trash memory. I’m also going to try to keep the games’ depictions of him out of this since accuracy varies among those.

The first thing I wanna touch on is Yamcha’s ego- especially how it evolves over the series. The main thing to keep in mind is that while he is generally cocky about his fighting abilities (which is a major weakness of his as he underestimates his opponents often and gets in trouble because of that), he’s never overly confidant with himself as a person; he seldom tries to paint himself as a better person in comparison to others and rather keeps realistic skepticism about himself. It’s also worth noting that, depending on how old Yamcha is in your depiction, his awareness for his fighting inadequacy compared to his friends varies (the older he is obviously the more conscious he is).

Next thing I’ma talk bout is something that i see kind of treated inconsistently; Yamcha’s relationship with women and his love life. I feel like a lot of people forget that Yamcha’s defining character trait in Dragon Ball was his gynophobia- he chased Goku and his friends so long for the dragon balls so he could remedy his fear of women. Of course, he eventually does date Bulma as they realize dating each other would resolve their mutual wishes for Shenron (Bulma’s being getting a boyfriend and as mentioned before Yamcha’s fear of women). As we’re all aware though, nearly a decade later Yamcha and Bulma mysteriously separate, and the reason for doing so is never explicitly made clear in canon (I could honestly make a whole separate post on Bulma and Yamcha’s break up- there’s a lot to discuss with it so if anyone wants that let me know lmao). The majority believe that Yamcha was unfaithful which, in review of his whole character, makes literally no sense- even just subtracting his fear of women (though I’ll elaborate on that later). But back on track and in regards to his fear of women, it never fully goes away. It just so happens that he’s most comfortable around Bulma, and since Bulma’s the most prominent female character of the series we tend to forget his fear in the first place. When around other female characters, he’s subtlety more anxious- or at the very least he isn’t so much of a playboy as fanon interprets him to be. One final thing to note is- unless I remember the series wrong (and anyone’s free to correct me on this)- Yamcha’s never implied to have gotten another girlfriend or even a lover at any point. Of course it’s hard to track the intricacies of Yamcha’s life- this is a shonen anime where slice-of-life episodes are limited, and even then Yamcha is far from being a prominent character anymore (post Dragon Ball).

Up next is his loyalty/friendships, methods of handling conflict, and overall courage because in my rat brain these all go hand in hand. Nevertheless, Yamcha’s a devoted friend- he’s shown time and time again to be supportive of his pals and, even in spite of his shortcomings, always does his best to help the gang out. Like i touched on before, as Yamcha gets older, he’s more and more aware just how far behind in training he is in compared to his peers. But that doesn’t stop him from trying to fight off whatever threat’s present. So with that we can infer that even if Yamcha can’t be the absolute best, that’s not going to stop him from at least trying if it means helping his friends or making them feel better. Additionally, he’s quick to stand up for others, even if he doesn’t know them too well or even at all and he’s shown not to hold onto grudges. One thing to remember is that, presumably for 16 years, Yamcha’s only companion was Puar (that’s not even considering his life before meeting her) and most interactions he has with people involve robbing them. His social skills might not be the best (though that doesn’t mean he can’t act socially capable- he clearly has no issue trying to make Beerus feel comfortable and like a friend at Bulma’s party) but again, his social skills varies with age and the situation. But again, referring back to his readiness to defend others, he isn’t afraid of getting into conflict if it means helping someone else.

Last few topics I’m going to talk about are his relationships with property, finances, and goals- they seem like a small topics but I still want to talk about it. Now hopefully we’re all familiar with Yamcha’s beginnings of being a desert bandit- and seeing his methods of obtaining items, he didn’t try to charm his victims into giving him their stuff. He just took it if he could if he couldn’t intimidate them and retreated if he couldn’t get what he wanted (which is also noteworthy of Yamcha’s awareness of his limits- a bit contradictory to his fighting ego but it seems that if Yamcha’s certain he isn’t able to win something, then he’ll save himself if it means delaying a goal or staying alive). He doesn’t seem to mind playing the long game either, as he’s willing to tail Goku and co. for months as he waits for them to gather the dragon balls without ever letting his true intentions slip. When it comes to finances, Yamcha doesn’t seem to care to heavily about them: back in the desert, Puar mentions to Yamcha that he should wish for money to which Yamcha dismisses it quickly, stating he could just steal money if he really needed it. It’s also worth noting that despite being a successful baseball player by Super, Yamcha chooses to live in a modest apartment. Either he’s very paranoid with money and, despite having enough to buy a full house, chooses to live in a cheaper apartment building or he’s more comfortable with smaller living spaces- which makes sense since he’d lived nearly two decades in a desert cave and had to scavenge for supplies (plus he seems to still think fondly of the desert as he has a painting of such in his apartment).

For the TL;DR version of this post, here’s essentially what you should keep in mind when portraying yamcha:

He’s generally a very lax, simple, and sociable person when he wants to be- though a bit socially awkward when he isn’t prepared

He’s not egotistical, but he has a bad habit of underestimating his enemies at times. this changes over time of course.

While he’s not itching for conflict, he is loyal and quick to stand up for friends and strangers alike

He acknowledges he isn’t the best, but that doesn’t stop him from trying

He’s ambitious and seldom gives up on his goals

He cares little for huge amounts of wealth or property and generally is just trying to get by in life comfortably

While not cripplingly petrified of women post DB, he still maintains a mild anxiety around women he doesn’t know- even around women he does know pardon Bulma he’s still a bit on edge

I’m done with my character study using the anime and manga, but I like talking about Yamcha so below this little buffer I’m going to get into how the games portray him. I might’ve forgot something or got some things wrong so feel free to talk to me about that if you want to. Anyways, you can stop reading if the above is all you’re concerned with- regardless if you keep reading or not, I wish you the best of luck in writing Yamcha ! :)

If you’re still reading, join me in my continuous ramble of the Rubix cube of Yamcha’s character because Toei and Toriyama can’t be consistent.

Something that seems to be portrayed a significant amount is that Yamcha’s aware of his charm and that he uses this to advantage to smooth talk his way out of situations- not that he just so happens to be good looking and endearing and his panicked socialization just happens to work out for him. In regards to his way of talking out of situations, that’s honestly something I could see if Yamcha acknowledges he’s against a threat much greater than his fighting abilities will allow him to handle- and it’s not like he doesn’t consider himself attractive, if we’re to take his reaction to losing his tooth as anything (in case you aren’t aware, he curses Goku for ruining his “beautiful” face). An example of this is most prominent is his interaction with Frieza in FighterZ, where Frieza remarks that Yamcha is both “handsome and sensible”, to which Yamcha attempts to keep the conversation casual so as to not have to fight (which he later points out to Goku once the latter urges that the three of them should just start fighting already). Though I’m sure his first reaction isn’t to talk his way out of something- he’ll just do it if the opportunity presents itself.

I obviously take huge issue with Yamcha’s portrayal of being a womanizer- his major goal was to settle down, get married, and live out the rest of his life with someone. So for him to be portrayed as having to juggle girlfriends is a bit strange to say the least. You could maybe argue that Yamcha hypes himself up to be a lady’s man as a way to cope with his anxiety (fake it til you make it y’know) but I have little faith in the characterization in Dragon Ball games and for them to think that complexly- plus, again, it contradicts with his humble and awkward personality.

Aside from these two notes, that’s all I have to say. so I’m done- forreal this time.

[perspective-series]

Pet Perspective (11/19)

By: @arc852 and @hiddendreamer67

Warnings: Degrading roles, moral quandaries galore

First Chapter || Previous Chapter || Next Chapter

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 Patton grinned as he set Logan down on his desk. “So! What did you want to do? Because I’ve got games, we could watch a movie or maybe just talk?” Patton listed out.

“I don’t have a particular preference.” Logan assured him. “I am willing to participate in most activities but now that I have the capacity to do so I intend on informing you when an experience becomes unpleasant.”

 Patton nodded. “Sounds good! I think a movie would be good then, just to wind down from all that sun and sugar.” Patton chuckled and opened his laptop to pick out a movie on netflix. “Are you okay here, or do you wanna move to my bed? It might be more comfortable to lay down and watch it.”

“I’m comfortable here.” Logan answered.

 “Okay!” Patton said and then looked through the movies. He hummed until he came across one he had seen before but figured Logan might enjoy watching. He pressed play on it and leaned back. “This is a good one.” Patton commented with a grin.

“What is it?” Logan raised an eyebrow.

 “It’s kind of similar to the first one we watched yesterday. But different, of course.” Patton chuckled. “Just watch, it’s starting!” Patton turned his attention back to it.

 As the movie progressed, it was clear that, just like the first movie, this was also had a pet borrower in it.

“I did not understand the first film, just as I do not understand this.” Logan looked somewhere between confused or unsettled. “Why do they feel the compulsory need to drag their borrowers along? No one wants to witness all of this courting.”

 Patton shrugged. “Well, that’s what people do with their pets. They don’t want to leave them alone, so they bring them along.” He explained.

“That seems impractical, as well as demeaning.” Logan huffed. “And on the human side of the plot, it’s unrealistic. They only knew each other for a short amount of time before confessing their love and beginning an arduous journey.”

 Patton chuckled. “Heh, yeah, a lot of movies do that. There’s only so much you can put in two and a half hours, after all.” He paused, glancing down at Logan. “And why would that be demeaning? Wouldn’t you want to be included on a trip instead of stuck at home by yourself?”

“It depends on the venture; I would much rather be left to my own devices than dragged along as an accessory for a romantic getaway.” Logan clarified.

 “I...guess I see your point.” Patton said before turning back to the movie. As it turned out, the borrower had a bigger role to play as he was tasked with delivering the wedding ring to the girl. “Oh, see! There was a reason the borrower came along!”

“Even from a cinematic point that doesn’t make sense.” Logan furrowed his brow. “They made no indication that this would be vital to their relationship- why are they highlighting it? It’s just an excuse to have the borrower in the background for the rest of the film. Not to mention, a ring of that size would be far more strenuous to carry. It’s clearly a fake.”

 “It’s romantic?” Patton said, though unsure. “And really?” It didn’t seem like it would be that heavy.

“Do you see the amount of gemstones on that ring?” Logan pointed to the screen. “And you must account for that weight of the band itself as well. Besides, the action isn’t ‘romantic’ if the borrower is not an important part of the romance itself.”

 “I mean...he’s their pet. People do that with pets all the time since they consider them part of their family and all. I’ve seen a ton of movie where dogs gave the ring. It’s not...uncommon.” Patton explained.

“It may be a common action, but that doesn’t ensure that it’s moral or practical.” Logan argued. “Is it truly acceptable if the borrower is uncomfortable or in pain?”

 Patton’s eyes widened. “N-No! Of course not...but wouldn’t the borrowers have said something then?”

“I imagine they would, but humans seldom listen.” Logan explained. “It’s why I was collared in the first place. And again, in this particular instance, I believe the act is merely staged.”

 Patton looked down, fidgeting with the sleeves of his cat hoodie. “You didn’t deserve to be shock collared.”

“That is a correct statement.” Logan agreed. “It was a violation of my basic rights and a restriction of my free speech, although there are no legal consequences for such unethical actions to my knowledge.”

 No, no there wasn’t. Patton paused the movie, turning to Logan. “Logan...do borrowers like being pets?”

Logan frowned, surprised by the question. “No, I hardly think anyone would enjoy this demeaning treatment.”

 Patton deflated and looked down. “And...I’m guessing that includes you as well?”

Logan was more confused. “Of course, it would only be natural that I would draw my conclusions from personal experience. I’ve lived my seventeen years completely in entrapment, either of a cruel or neutral nature. A borrower existence is not particularly pleasant.”

 Patton felt tears prick the corners of his eyes. “W-We were always taught...that borrowers needed to be looked after. That they liked being pets...I never thought twice about it…” How could he not have?

Now Logan was downright startled, with no knowledge of how to possibly approach this situation. It was a clearly ridiculous belief, but Logan worried if he stated such he might send Patton further into this worrying spiral. “Why are you crying?”

 “B-Because…” Logan’s question only caused him to cry more. “I...I should have realized sooner. We-We all should have! I don’t...you aren’t…” Patton could barely get any words out as he wiped at his eyes. Was the world really so cruel that it had convinced so many people that this was okay. Even...even him.

“Patton, what are you attempting to communicate?” Logan pressed.

 Patton’s heart beat rapidly inside his chest as he lowered his hands and stared openly at Logan. “You’re...You’re a person.” And saying it out loud, something he really should have known all along, caused him to cry again.

Logan’s eyes darted around, desperate for a way out of this uncomfortable situation. “Given your reaction, I assume this is a new revelation then?”

 Patton nodded. “I know...that’s so bad! I...I should have realized...from the beginning.” He met Logan’s eyes. “I’m...I’m so sorry, Logan.”

“Why are you apologizing?” Logan felt exasperated. “And was it not obvious from my identical anatomy, ability to speak and rational thought?”

 “It...should have been, huh?” Patton continued to wipe his eyes, slowly calming himself down. “I’m apologizing...because yeah, I should have realized it sooner. Like...forever ago. But I...didn’t. And a part of me wants to blame the world but...it’s also on me too, isn’t it?” He sniffed.

“Perhaps; it’s a complex issue of societal norms and personal bias- I’m sorry, what exactly does this mean?” Logan asked. “I understand and appreciate your delayed epiphany that I’m hardly different from a human being, but how does this affect this relationship going forward?”

 Patton blinked, that was a good question. “Well...what do you want? Like, truly want. If...If that’s letting you go and living free then...I’ll let you go. Because you deserve to make your own decisions now.”

Logan blinked. That was… a lot of pressure. Logan had never even considered what he wanted for his future, knowing it was not his choice to make; rather, Logan was content to fight his battles moment to moment. 

“I...would not know the first thing about survival if I were released.” Logan admitted, slowly remembering his conversation with Roman earlier.

 “Oh...right, I guess you wouldn’t, growing up in captivity huh?” Patton bit his lip. “You could...stay with me?”

“Up until now I had assumed that was the default.” Logan scuffed his shoe against the desk. Was that what he wanted? It wasn’t terrible here, but Logan had never been given such a choice before. He had no idea what options were available.

 “You don’t have to! This is your decision after all and you don’t have to answer now but if you do stay...I promise to not treat you like a pet anymore.” Patton promised, putting his hands over his heart.

The complete 180 change baffled Logan. “I honestly do not know what I want… but I was content to stay here before your revelation, and my position on the matter has not changed.”

 Patton nodded. “Okay...Just let me know if you ever change your mind. And! Feel free to speak your mind. Whenever. Don’t think of yourself as a pet anymore but like a...a roommate!” Patton exclaimed with a grin.

“A roommate.” Logan tried out the term. It was certainly odd- the only arrangement like that Logan could have pictured prior was if Patton got a second borrower and had them share an enclosure.

 “Yeah! It’ll be fun! And I...I won’t lock the enclosure anymore. It’ll just be your room. I could...I could even move it into the guest bedroom, if you wanted more privacy.” Patton suggested. He wanted Logan to feel as comfortable as possible.

“There’s a guest bedroom?” Logan seemed surprised by this knowledge. 

 “Yeah! We like to have it in case any family or friends come over. Although that rarely happens and we mostly use it for storage.” Patton laughed, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. “But we can turn it into your room if you wanted!”

“I do not require that much space… the privacy might be intriguing but it would likely be most convenient to stay here, if I’m not intruding.” Once again, Logan was at a loss as to what to choose.

 “Of course you’re not. Like I said, it’s all up to you. I’d be happy to have you stay in here with me.” Patton grinned. In fact, he was happy Logan wanted to stay at all.

“This is… a lot to process.” Logan admitted. “Change can be overwhelming. For now, I think it would be most ideal to stick closely to the routine that was in development.”

 Patton slowly nodded. “Okay. I think we can do that.” He grinned. “Did you want to watch another movie?” Patton suggested. “One without borrowers acting as pets?”

“That would be acceptable.” Logan agreed. “Although preferably one with a more intriguing and believable plot.”

 Patton chuckled. “I...think I might know of one.” He searched netflix and chose Big Hero 6. He grinned and pressed play. 

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

 When Virgil got back from his second exam, he was ready to never go to school again and to stay in his room forever. The test had been hard and he was just happy it was over. He went up the stairs, hearing the sound coming from Patton’s room and smiling slightly at the tell signs of Big Hero 6. He rolled his eyes fondly before entering his room.

 “Roman, I’m back.” He said as he set his bag down by his desk. He looked into Roman’s enclosure. Frowning when he didn’t see any lights on. “Roman?” He pushed the button to unlock the house but instead, he heard the click of it locking. His eyes widened.

 He hadn’t locked it before he left.

 Worry coursed through him and he unlocked it again and opened the enclosure up. “Roman? Come on dude, where are you?” He looked in every room, even took a peek in the bathroom despite himself but there was no one there.

 Had...had Roman actually left. Even after he had promised? No...No, maybe Roman was just with Patton? Yeah, that had to be it! Patton must have come in and offered Roman a chance to get in on the movie marathon him and Logan planned on having. He’ll walk into Patton’s room and Roman will be there. Virgil was overreacting, as always.

 But when Virgil went into Patton’s room and looked around, the only borrower he saw was Logan. 

 “Kiddo?” Patton asked, gaining his attention. The movie had been paused and Patton was now focused on him, eyebrows furrowed. “What happened? Is something wrong?”

 “I…” Virgil ran a hand down his face. “I think...I think Roman is gone…”

 Patton blinked. “W-What?”

“Gone?” Logan furrowed his eyebrows. “Gone...where?”

 “I don’t know!” Virgil admitted. “I-I forgot to lock his enclosure but he had promised that he wouldn’t leave and now he could be anywhere and-”

 “Whoa! Kiddo, calm down.” Patton interrupted, standing up and placing a comforting and grounding hand on Virgil’s shoulder. “Maybe he just decided to take a walk around the house?”

 Virgil let out a deep breath. “Y-Yeah...maybe.” That could be it.

 Patton nodded. “We’ll help you look for him. Right, Logan?”

Logan paused, suddenly remembering the brief and confusing interaction he had with Roman earlier in the day.

“Do you want to get out of here? … You, me, freedom… we can live our own lives, away from all the humans…”

Logan felt conflicted. On the one hand, Roman was quite obnoxious and he didn’t owe Roman anything. On the other hand, Patton was beginning to prove himself trustworthy but he was still human. Should he tell Patton what he heard? But wasn’t it cruel to drag Roman back here if he wanted to go? Patton had been willing to release Logan, and just because he was incapable didn’t mean Roman was- in fact, Logan felt almost a bit hurt Roman hadn’t brought him along because Logan would have wanted to be a valuable ally.

 When Patton didn’t hear anything, he turned to look at Logan. “Logan?”

Logan jumped, realizing he had forgotten to answer. “I don’t see how I would be of much use.” Logan decided. “You two can certainly cover more ground than myself.”

 “True but you are the only one of us to be able to fit in places Roman would be able to fit in.” Patton said. Virgil, for his part, was bouncing back and forth on his feet. He was both impatient and panicking. 

 “I’m going to start looking.” Virgil announced and went back to his room to scope it out. Patton wanted to help but he turned back to Logan first to see what he would say.

“I can certainly investigate where you see fit.” Logan agreed hesitantly, feeling uncertain if he had a moral obligation to ‘out’ Roman should the borrower be found. “But I still see little to no point.”

 Patton smiled and held out his hand for Logan.

Logan climbed on, wondering why he felt such a pit of dread in his stomach. He hoped Roman would remain undiscovered so Logan wouldn’t have to make a decision.

 The three searched the entire house. When Virgil found no sign of Roman in his room, he scoped out the rest of the second floor, Patton sticking to the first. Logan helped a little with places like underneath the couch and behind the bookshelf but still, Roman wasn’t found. 

 It had been hours at this point. The sun was starting to set and Virgil paced back and forth, pulling at his hair in worry. “Where could he be?! We searched the whole house and he isn’t…” He wasn’t here.

 Patton frowned and looked around. “Do you think...he got outside?”

 Virgil snapped his head over to Patton. “I...well, I mean, if he isn’t in the house…” Where else could he have gone? Virgil’s heart fell as he realized Roman really did escape. Breaking his ‘promise’. 

 ...Could Virgil really blame him though?

 “Maybe he’s still near the house? We could look outside before it gets too dark?” Patton suggested and Virgil nodded numbly. He had a feeling Roman wouldn’t be found, though.

 They went to the front door and Virgil cupped his hands over his mouth. “Roman!”

“How will we spot him in the darkness if he does not want to be found?” Logan asked quietly.

 Patton bit his lip. Logan did have a point.

 But Virgil just shook his head. “No, we...we have to find him. It’s...it’s not safe out here.” There were a number of dangers, including other humans that could just up and pick Roman up and then Virgil really would never see him again.

 “Come on, we’ll use our phone flashlights.” Virgil said, already taking his out and crouching to search through the bushes. Patton sighed but took out his phone, and started searching too, still holding Logan in his free hand.

 Two more hours passed...and Roman hadn’t been found. The humans and borrower piled back into the house as night had fully taken over. Patton looked over at Virgil sadly as Virgil through his hair, pulling at it harshly.

 “Virgil-”

 “I just don’t understand. I thought we were getting along! Why would he...why would he just leave like that?” Virgil yelled, placing his head in his hands.

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

Logan tensed, the raised human voice putting him on edge. “What… what gave you the indication you were getting along?”

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

 Virgil glanced over at Logan. “We talked, he told me things about his past...and we had fun playing games...at least, I thought we were having fun.” But if Roman had still decided to escape then maybe it had all been an act. The thought made Virgil’s heart drop.

“And when did all that occur?” Logan asked, trying to piece together the timeline to see where his conversation this morning fell.

 “Last night was when we talked. Earlier today we were playing uno and talking a bit more.” Virgil revealed. “Which is why I’m so confused. Was Roman just...acting then?” Could he even believe anything Roman had told him? But...he had sounded so sincere.

 “I’m so sorry, kiddo.” Patton said, placing his free hand on Virgil’s arm.

Logan bit his lip, uncertain. It was clear Roman was an excellent actor, given the performance he would put on for the humans versus when they were alone. Not to mention, he had a habit of making some jest at Logan and then turning around and acting all innocent to cover up. Logan didn’t know what to believe about his fellow borrower. 

 “I think...I think we should head to bed. It’s getting late.” Patton suggested gently but Virgil still whirled around to him, eyes wide.

 “What? No! We have to keep looking!” Virgil tried to pull away but Patton held onto him.

 “Virgil, it’s already late. I hate it as much as you but there isn’t anything we can do. Not at this hour. Maybe in the morning you can call the shelter?” Patton said with a gentle smile. Virgil stared at him for a moment before deflating.

 “How do you even expect me to sleep?” He was still so worried.

 Patton winced. “I know but...please just try? You won’t find him if your exhausted.” 

 Patton, of course, had a point but that didn’t mean Virgil liked it any better. But he sighed and gave in. “Fine. But I’m getting up early.” Patton nodded. That was fine by him, as long as Virgil got a few hours of sleep.

 “Alright, goodnight Virgil.” Patton said, before heading up the stairs with Logan in hand. 

 Virgil thought about following him up but he glanced towards the living room he was in. It...was possible they could have missed a few places? Virgil took out his phone flashlight, silently apologized to Patton and proceeded to continue his search.

[purplesurveys]

793

write the year you were born and bold what you do

born in: 1998.

Millennial

Binging Netflix a lot: I’ve certainly been doing that recently with watching several episodes of Queer Eye or Descendants of the Sun, but I only have phases of it that come by very seldom. Always Snapchatting everything: I used to. I stopped using Snapchat regularly around 2017, when my depression was at its boiling point and I couldn’t keep the account up. In the end I never got around to reviving it even when I got better. Struggling with Instagram captions: I don’t have an Instagram. Always having to delete stuff because of full storage: Not because of full storage since my phone and laptop have a pretty large memory, but because I never like storing too much stuff on my gadgets especially if I don’t need a large chunk of them. Tl;dr I always delete stuff because I don’t want to end up with full storage to begin with. Eating out at a place you discovered on Instagram: No Instagram, but I do check out restaurants that are getting traction on other social media, like Facebook.

(holy crap, definitely not at all a millennial looking at my first few answers)

Used iPods/MP3 players to listen to music: Only up until high school. I have the Spotify app on my phone and laptop if I want to listen to my music. Wanted a flip phone before iPhones were invented: Yeah, because flip phones were popular first before iPhones even existed. I did get my flip phone for Christmas 2007, when I was 9. That baby could last a war; I once dropped it all the way to the ground when I was being tossed around on a fair ride and it turned out okay. Can’t help but post everything on social media: This was me as a teenager when I still felt like releasing everything about my life on Twitter. I’ve toned it down so much ever since then, and it’s been a lot better that way. Have/had/want acrylic nails: No/no/no. Always looking at the phone: Unless I’m with good friends that I want to be spending time with, I could never put my phone down, yeah. Use a bunch of hashtags: Ugh no... only much older people, at least where I live, bombard their posts with many and extremely long hashtags. It’s lost its original meaning so I never really use them anymore. Have tattoos or piercings: I have piercings on my ears. That’s it, though. Shop online: I’ve done it once or twice, but I prefer seeing and getting a sense of a product before I buy it. I only shop online if I’m too busy to drop by a store. Eat a lot of avocado/avocado food: I like dishes with avocado, and I’ll eat them every time, but I don’t get to encounter them often. Closet is full of unnecessary clothes: It has some unnecessary clothes here and there but my wardrobe isn’t THAT useless lol. I still like most of the clothes that I have. Get your food delivered: Yeup, especially if we’re in Skywalk and just waiting for our next class, or if we’re too lazy to go to the mall altogether. Love drinking coffee: Yes. I always wanna try out different kinds of coffee, too. Use public transport a lot: No thanks. Unless they fix up the nasty, neglected public transport here, I won’t feel sorry using my private car.   Eat a lot of takeout food: Isn’t that kinda the same thing as delivered food though? Buy clothes or things you don’t necessarily need: Sometimes I’ll buy useless, novelty stuff just because I find them fun when I first see them, but I make sure it doesn’t blow up into an unhealthy habit of dropping my money on absolutely anything. Work out/go to the gym/want to be fit: No/no/no. Focus on self-love: Uh, I guess. I’m working on it and it’s looking like this these days, so there’s that. I address my self-destructive behaviors more responsibly now, too. Have at least one entertainment site subscription: I’ve never been subscribed to anything. Love traveling/traveled overseas recently: LOL no. My last trip was last August. Spend too much money: Shhhhhhhhhhhh

Gen Z

Spend most of your time online: Yeah, I’m constantly online and I think most of us are? Even if I’m not using my phone I’m connected to the internet and I’ll still get notifications from Messenger; I’m sure it’s the same with most people, unless they deliberately turn off notifications or have a spotty connection.

Procrastinate 24/7: For tasks I don’t enjoy doing as much. If I’m invested in something, or if I know that I can’t afford to procrastinate on a certain job, I do it early on. Consume too much tv/media content: People universally consume media every minute of the day, if not every second. You have your phones, television, newspapers, novels, billboards, music, signs, radio, etc.  Know a lot about technology: Enough to get by. I can’t fix a computer or hack a website though, if that’s what you mean by ‘know a lot.’ Aware and accepting of diversity: Everybody should be, and the only exception to this is for people who support causes that hurt the marginalized. Binge Netflix: I already answered this. Enjoy creating things: I’m not very creative, so no. I like being crafty, but only if a head start has already been provided, like paint-by-numbers kits where I’ll know where the different colors would go so that the end product looks nice. Share a lot on social media: I already answered this too... I guess millennials and Gen X’ers are similar in a lot of ways, still. Prefer to do things digitally: For sure. It’s quicker, more instant, and more convenient. Also it saves me from having to talk to more people than I would like to interact with on a daily or weekly basis. Grew up in a digital world: Pretty much. We had several game consoles at home growing up, I spent my days watching TV, and by the time I was born my parents were already regularly using a computer, mainly to send emails because my dad works overseas.  Talk to friends online more than in person: This would be accurate now, but before this whole mess started I was in school for most of my days and was always around people. I probably only spent eight hours at home everyday, and the rest of the time I was at school. Have met a lot of new people online: For sure. I’ve been on the internet since I was ten and I was exposed to social media from day one since the very idea of seeing other people who are also online fascinated me as a kid. I’ve jumped from fandom to fandom and joined a number of online communities in the last 12 years, so I’m constantly interacting with people from the internet. Prefer digital books to hard copy: I read digital copies more often now, but I do still prefer physical copies since the former can be distracting. I don’t have a Kindle, so reading books from my laptop or iPad will sometimes make me check social media from time to time. The books I’m mostly into (wrestling autobiographies) are never available here though, and I have had to digitally download 96% of the ones I’ve read; but I have no problems with that. Career-focused: Yeah, and I think the pandemic has strengthened that mindset further too. Prefer online shopping over physical: I’m not a serial online shopper so for now I’m not too sold on it and would rather go to a physical store. Idk, it might change though. Interested in things like fashion, beauty, and health: Kinda, no, and no. Watch a lot of YouTubers: Not anymore. I watch more channels that consist of a group of people than vloggers these days. Aware of world issues and want to help: In any way I can. Eat a lot of fast food: I don’t eat them an abnormal amount, but I do enjoy a Big Mac or Jollibee spaghetti every once in a while. People your age are Insta “baddies” and “influencers”: I mean this is more of an established fact than a sentiment I hold, don’t you think? I was born in 1998, so yeah I’m definitely a part of the general age range for today’s influencers and popular people on social media.

[thistleandthorn-rpg]

Congrats Em on your audition for Mason Berry! Please check this page here for what to do next and send us his blog within 48 hours! Welcome to the group!

OOC INFORMATION:

Name/Alias: Em

Preferred pronoun: She/her.

Age: 24, will be 25 as of Jan 22.

Timezone/Country: EST / America.

RP Experience: I’ve been rping for probably too long. It started back in 2006-2008 as an occasional thing then became fully fledged. I’ve tried a multitude of sites, however find Tumblr to be the one I return to the most. I’ve done a variety of genres, lengths, etc and I’m pretty open to anything!

Activity Level: If I had to rate myself using numbers, I’d say 7/10. I do try to be around as much as possible!

IC INFORMATION:

Name: Mason Berry.

Designation: Switch.

Age: 22.

Faceclaim: Ryan Ross.

Birthday: March 2nd.

Orientation: Bisexual.

Kinks: Anything is fair game to him, however he does have a preference for more hardcore forms of play; crying, verbal abuse, dub-con, etc.

Anti-Kinks: Scat, vomit, anything that can cause permanent bodily harm/couldn’t be treated at home, prolapse. Safe, sane and consensual is his motto, even with his “out there” fetishes.

BIO: 

A man with a soft, almost innocent face, Mason does everything in his power to contradict that. Equipped with dark clothing, a penchant for the occult, and a bad attitude, one could consider him the Berry sibling that had gone rogue, though that isn’t necessarily the case. Really, he’s just scared of the world and all it has to offer, so he puts on an abrasive, aloof front as if to show he’s in control, no one else. As a result, it gets him into a lot of trouble, with dominants and even some submissives at times. That seldom seems to halt him, however, putting on confidence that just screams that he’s too big for his boots.  Some like the challenge, others don’t.

No matter how he tries to paint himself, though, Mason isn’t all that bad. He has a softer side for those who can manage to get through that wall of his, even if it’s built brick by brick, and he’s rather creative, music having been a passion of his ever since he was a mere little boy. Music, his family and returning to New York are the male’s most important priorities, only at Lima Heights Institute to get closer to his dream of being a successful musician who tours the world and experiences all it has to offer.

With such a one track mind like his own, it’s almost easy to see why he tends to act as if he doesn’t have time for a lot of the people or situations he comes across.

BIO QUESTIONS:

What is your biggest fear and why?

Fuck, I dunno… I guess being buried alive, that’s freaky, or losing the people I love. Cheesy answer, I know, but it’s just not fun to think about no longer having people you care about and have a good connection with not being in your life anymore. The world’s too big, you already end up feeling lonely… imagine if you really were alone.

What 3 objects/places mean the most to you and why?

New York. I have such a love for the place it’s goddamn ridiculous but it’s better than being stuck in Ohio. Hopefully I’ll get out of here one day and can book it the fuck back to New York City.

My instruments.  Cheat answer as there’s multiple objects in this example.  I don’t have many instruments due to space issues now, however my guitars and keyboard mean the world to me.  Pretty sure I’d go insane without them or my notebooks filled with music.

My notebooks.  Speaking of them, my notebooks are so important to me.  They have my music, my writing, my ideas, my thoughts… every-fucking-thing that goes on in this head of mine.  My pile just keeps growing and growing the more I write.  Sometimes I wonder if giving me access to writing utensils was a good idea to begin with.

Who is the one person you’d most like to meet (dead or alive)?

There are a lot of people I look up to musically but… maybe Leonard Cohen. I’ve always wanted to know more about what went into his music and writing, considering how much he explored and took chances. Always impressed and inspired me.

What is the one moment you would describe as your happiest/most excited?

The day I got my first instrument. I remember it well — Christmas day, an acoustic guitar, way bigger than five year old me but that never stopped me from wailing on the damn thing. The more I played it, the more I fell in love with music. Ever since then, my life was changed for the better.

[badlydrawnkakyoin]

...and have been wanting to say it for awhile now.

It was rather obvious, but this blog is honestly... pretty dead. I always had the intention of coming back, but with friends leaving this place behind, there seldom were people that I interacted with on a regular basis-- and thus a lack of motivation to keep up with the influx of asks (of similar and repetitive nature-- there’s really only so many things to do before things being to repeat themselves, especially if you’ve been at it for a really long time, not taking into account interactions and events.) I tried multiple times to get back into the flow of things, but it simply never worked out due to the aforementioned issue as well as things such as school schedule, the workload it presented, and now a job with the potential to grow into sometime promising-- especially when it’s something I’ve always wanted to do, which is work on games.

This place has been a positive impact on my life and general existence. Tremendously so. I’ve been here since the very beginning as the second blog back in April 2015 (forgive me being a little prideful in saying so, it just means a lot to me) following in badlydrawnjotarokujo/kakyoyoin’s footsteps, and then being followed by badlydrawnpolnareff-- both who became lifelong friends of mine, whom I cherish to the very end. This place has done a lot, even if only by setting certain things in motion. I had a lot of fun, and had a lot of opportunities-- I improved drastically in my art, met a lot of great people who I still talk to, got a lot of attention for a blog filled with dumb doodles, and even met up with people at conventions-- namely Katsucon-- making good friends there, as well. I built a lot of confidence, learned a lot, went through some hardships, and was able to feel accomplishment whenever I got an ask saying I made someone laugh, brightened their day, or even helped them be happy despite how much life sucked, even if by just a little. I’m sorry for never answering them, but I do get those asks, I see them, and I want to thank you all for them. I might be a little dramatic, I suppose, but there’s just a lot I’m thankful for. 

I just really wanted to say a genuine thank you for all the support and love that  me and this blog has gotten over the past two years. To make people happy, give ‘em a laugh, or even inspire someone with my art; that’s really all I wanted from this. There was a huge timeframe where I got busy with school and wasn’t able to do much and I’m sorry for that, and I’m ever so grateful to everyone who insisted I take my time and take priority in my other work, and even followed me outside of this blog, which means so, so much to me. Thank you to everyone who showed me love and support in your asks and comments despite my inability to keep active. And for putting up with the feeble attempts to make stuff again.

To say I’ve been pretty absent from Tumblr as a whole is an understatement, although I’ve been AT LEAST trying to keep my artblog up to date w/ somewhat nicer pieces I do. I’m much more active on my Twitter, where I’m at least a couple hundred times less serious sounding than this, I swear. I also have been making use of Instagram as of late. Snapchat too, if anyone’s into that? I’ve been doing a lot of art and have been practicing on getting better and better, and have a lot of plans for the future, such as convention tabling and making art for games, and further down the line, a webcomic (hopefully with music and animations!) that I’ve been planning and developing for the past year, as well as run a coffee shop alongside bdpolnareff, my QPP. So, things have been looking up, even if I’ve been struggling with depression and the like. I have things I really look forward to. I’ve also recently graduated and have a Bachelor’s degree in Digital Arts & Design! School ain’t over yet, though, since I’m spending another two years in school for a degree in Game Art. Then comes the student loans...

So, while I really want to say sorry for probably disappointing you all with a general lack of content here (which I really am), I want to focus on the positive. I want to express just how thankful I am to all of the 3,000+ people that decided to follow this blog (which was WAY past any expectation that I ever had, tbh) For just being there, validating and supporting me, whether you said something or didn’t,  ‘cause it’s something I really needed. Honestly, you all are the reason that I kept at it for so long, after all. I’m really, really grateful-- probably more than you could ever realize. And if I could ask, if you liked my stuff, please follow me on other places and don’t be afraid to drop a comment somewhere, ‘cause I really appreciate them! (Although I’m kind of bad at conversation sometimes, especially in DMs, but I still appreciate--)

I honestly could say thanks and thanks again all day, and it’s probably getting really old by now if you’re still reading, but I just... really wanted to say how much all of this meant to me. So, as a final thanks, thank you for taking the time to read this. ‘Cause that means a lot too. This is goodbye! From here, at least!

I wish all of you luck and good fortune for the future. There are dark times ahead, but remember that it’ll always pass! Easier said than done, I know, but you can do it! Things may not go as planned, but sometimes those things happen so that something greater may come later. After all, we wouldn’t know what happiness is if we were never sad. You never know what’ll happen!

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[tristanna]

I’ll Tell you Where all the Good Men have Gone.

Via Arun Eden-Lewis

Search the words, “Where have all the good men gone?” and dozens of anecdotes, articles, blogs, and books will appear on your screen.

Overwhelmingly, this question is posed by women, discussed by women, and answered by women.

This, ironically, is an essential reason for these so called man-deserts—men are simply not being asked to contribute their opinions and perspectives. And the good men themselves are increasingly less likely to offer their point of view, for many reasons.

I do not seek to apportion blame here, on either side, but simply to address this question from the seldom-heard voice that is the object of the question itself: good men.

The last 100 years of suffragettes, feminists, and political correctness have challenged and continue to challenge thousands of years of patriarchy—and rightly so. Consequently, the roles of both men and women have been transformed and redefined.

While we struggle to adjust to the new and still evolving status quo, the war of the sexes has taken millions of casualties. In Western culture, divorce rates for first marriages range from 42 percent in the U.K. to 53 percent in the U.S. to a staggering 71 percent in Belgium. Subsequent marriages fare even worse.

The spectre of divorce is another contributing factor in the conspicuously expanding man-deserts. Many men, having seen their fathers broken by divorce, fear the loss of their assets, their homes, and their children and are simply stacking their chips, choosing not to gamble, and checking out of the marriage casino.

Family courts invariably award primary custody to the mother, while the father is restricted to weekend access, supervised visits, or left to literally climb the walls of Buckingham Palace in a superhero costume to protest rights for dads. Men—will they ever grow up?

The ridicule and debasement of men in the media and mainstream culture is now pervasive. Watch a commercial, sitcom, or movie, and invariably an immature man-child or dumb dad is the butt of the joke—the hapless buffoon. Fortunately, these silly men are always saved from themselves by a smart, witty woman or a conscripted, eye-rolling child.

The emasculation of men has become normalised.

Sensibly, rather than have their balls cut off (sometimes literally, and that often gets a good laugh), men are running for cover in their droves, leaving women mystified and asking, “Where have all the good men gone?”

When I was in secondary school, perhaps 14 years old, there was a girl who patrolled the playground, egged on by her gang of girlfriends, kicking the boys between the legs. Clearly, she had been informed by someone this was the quickest, easiest, and funniest way to bring those stupid boys down to earth.

One day it was my turn. Caught by surprise, I crumpled to the ground after a swift kick to the balls, in too much agony even to cry out. Oh, how the girls laughed! Even then, I abhorred a bully.

The following day, I found my attacker in the playground and, contrary to my upbringing, without warning I kicked her swiftly between the legs. To everyone’s surprise she also crumpled to the ground, in too much agony to cry out. A crowd of cheering boys slapped me on the back—their new avenger.

The girls stared at me wide-eyed in shock—a boy who fought back? No one had told them that was allowed, surely it was against the rules! Equality: it’s a son of a gun.

I remember feeling no satisfaction or honour in defeating a weaker adversary but sometimes, especially in the case of a bully, personal satisfaction and honour is not the point—standing up to their aggression is. As I grew into a man—a good man—I learned to walk away from provocation, as most good men do.

“Boys are stupid, throw rocks at them!” Remember the T-shirts launched in 2003? Followed by coffee mugs, posters, even a book.“Boys tell lies, poke them in the eyes!” Another favourite for young girls at the time. It took a fathers’ rights activist to have this merchandise removed from thousands of retail stores. Inevitably, he was ridiculed by a myopic majority.

Presently, in some areas of the U.K., 80 percent of primary schools have three male teachers or less, one quarter of primary schools have no male teachers at all, and some towns have 65 percent single mother families.

Man-deserts indeed.

A young boy can go to school and have no adult male role model, and then return home and have no adult male role models.

Young girls are achieving significantly higher academic standards than young boys. This feminisation of schools spills over into university, then the workplace, and eventually the home, completing the insipid cycle and the marginalisation of both boys and men.

I was born in 1968. I grew up with a strong mother, four stronger sisters, and no father. I was taught, not only by my family but also by wider society, to regard women as my equal, and I always have. Yet, unknown to me, a generation of women were being indoctrinated and trained with a sharp-edged tool kit designed to emasculate men.

Men have been subjugating women for centuries; now, they’re getting payback. It seems only fair. The fox has turned on the hounds and she’s packing a punch, or a kick to the balls. But the nature of men when faced with a fight is to fight back, either psychologically or physically.

Clearly there are no winners in this scenario.

The relentless competitive struggle to determine who wears the trousers is simply a turnoff for many men. Many are just opting out of the kind of psychological warfare that is common in relationships today, unwilling to engage in the minefield of mind games, which are usually executed in three ways.

The first is the habitual belittling and denigration of men, in private or in front of friends, family or colleagues, for what is supposed to pass as humour. The second is letting a man know, casually of course, that other men are sexy, have better looks, more money, talent, or fame. The third, and perhaps the most destructive is being told over and over, “We don’t need no man. Men are obsolete.”

I’ve lost count of how often I’ve heard this since adolescence.

If you tell a man often enough that he is surplus to requirements, eventually he will stop expending his energy to convince you and himself otherwise. Men are rapidly waking up to this phenomenon of man-bashing, so much so that a disillusioned social movement has arisen with its own freshly-minted acronym: MGTOW, Men Going Their Own Way.

Supported by websites and online forums, men are regrouping with a common cause, a sense of brotherhood, and finding their voices again.

The essential precepts of MGTOW are financial independence, rejection of chivalry, social preconceptions of what a man should be, and consumer culture which defines masculinity by a man’s house, car, clothes, watch, or cologne. It is the refusal to be shamed into conventional compliance by being told to “man up.”

Many aggrieved MGTOW refuse to marry or even date Western women, the more ardent among them consciously choosing non-committal relationships, strippers, pornography, or celibacy. Above all, goes the MGTOW mantra, maintain sovereignty of self.

I have been dating for more than 35 years, and back in the 1980s, a man was expected to pay for the movie tickets, dinner, flowers, chocolate, the diamond ring, the house. In each subsequent decade these social conventions have slowly eroded, yet to a greater or lesser extent still remain. Long-held social biases, like the wage gap for example, take time to bring to full equality.

It is important to recognise, however, that equality is a two-way street. It is abundantly clear that many men and women are struggling to walk along that street in close proximity, let alone hand in hand. Why? Because for a century we have been digging up and bulldozing said street. Now, it’s full of potholes, power struggles, and barely fit to travel. Yet travel it we must.

The original message of equality has been somewhat skewed. Women often recycle the poorly thought-out doctrine that they are the same as men. Equality is not always sameness, and sameness is not always equality.

For example, women have equal opportunity to go to war and fight side by side with men, but the physical standards to allow them to do so are not the same. And this can be seen across a whole spectrum of professions, from firefighters to ballet dancers.

Equality is not always sameness. Difference is diversity, and should be a cause for celebration, not dogmatic elimination.

Men are often told (but, again, not asked) they are afraid of strong independent women. Many men, tired of such futile debates and wary of being branded a misogynist if they dare to disagree, are simply shutting down and becoming emotionally unavailable to women, taking permanent residence in their man-caves.

The truth is, men love strong and independent women—it turns them on, in every way. What men don’t love are the predominantly masculine traits that often go along with the package. The relentless competitiveness (necessary in the workplace no doubt, but hardly necessary at home in a loving relationship), the verbal aggression, the emotional manipulation, and the psychological controlling are huge turn-offs.

Increasingly, men are just not interested in competing at work and then having to come home and compete with their partners. In the sphere of heterosexual relationships, most women are not attracted to emasculated feminine men, which is fair enough. By the same token, most men are not attracted to masculine, domineering women.

So, these are some of the general and specific issues creating man-deserts, from the perspective of good men.

But what solutions are there? Waking up to our social conditioning is a good place to start.

Many women are beginning to reject the modern brand of feminism, the so called third-wave that is tantamount to thinly veiled misandry. Equally many men, for two or three generations now, are rejecting the attitude that a woman is some kind of second class citizen.

We clearly have work to do on both sides.

Letting go of these destructive modes of thought, communication, and behaviour is an essential process for healthier and happier relationships between men and women.

However, denying these issues will in no way change the interpersonal landscape for the better, and women will continue to ask, “Where have all the good men gone?” while wandering an ever-expanding and barren man-desert.

So, where have all the good men gone?

For now they have gone their own way. But they are out there, in the same desert, contentedly swimming in the oases they have found for themselves, no doubt waiting for the fourth-wave of feminism to wash over them so we can all truly embrace equality, just like the first-wave promised.

~

Author: Arun Eden-Lewis

[emalynde]

Elf Boyfriends D&D Game RP!

((So we have our magnificent D&D game that has been affectionately titled the elf boyfriends campaign--it’s the game that yields the D&D SSO journals from Chelyse’s perspective.  I also have another storyline woven into the campaign kinda behind the scenes that features Thalandril--Chelyse’s brand new lifemate--and the woman who would now be considered his consort.  Here’s a bit of their interactions.  I’ll be writing and clarifying what’s occurred to catch everyone up on the slowly converging story, too.  All the RP \o/)) Emalynde was lounging casually in the overstuffed armchair that sat in the corner of Thalandril's office, a somewhat coy and confident cast to her demeanor.  She was early.  Earlier than he was to arrive to his own place of work.  A write-up had been tossed upon his desk, intentionally haphazard in the way that it was at an angle compared to the perfectly positioned papers, writing utensils, and other such materials.  Because the agent would be familiar with Emalynde on a personal level, he might note that she seemed ever so slightly tired--as if she had not had the time to trance fully--and that the redhead sported a select few cuts and bruises.  The abrasions might allude to the fact that she had seen some physical confrontation recently, although the traces of as much were hastily concealed, albeit not entirely.  She was here to report in, although the enchantress did not always do so in person.  Emalynde's most recent endeavor had been to gather intelligence upon an upper-echelon noble that was suspected of allowing the drow passage into Evermeet--and not for the purposes Jarlaxle would support.  Drow infiltration was perhaps the one, serious threat to the sun elves of Leuthilspar, as the capital was a more likely target for actual damage rather than simple raids.  Whatever information the smirking elf retrieved, it seemed to have been a more difficult task than normal.  Or otherwise special in some way.  It was a delicate matter, certainly, given that the individual in question was rather high-ranking, but of dour importance given his proximity and influence exerted upon the ruling parties of Evermeet.

*** The door to Thalandril's office opened as the lithe elf walked in, nose buried into a report in his hands.  Without seeming to miss a beat, he snaps his fingers and a series of candles light across the room, giving a scented glow to the ambiance. "I assume the mission went well, seeing as you're early?"  He stated, proceeding to walk to his desk and lower the report onto a perfectly squared stack of papers.  He unconsciously tidied up after, make doubly sure everything was in neat working order across his desk.He didn't mention the fact that it was quite obvious she had a run in with one of the more notorious female abusers of the city.  She was, in fact, one of his best operatives, and had proven she could handle herself in a pinch.  Letting emotion cloud the way he treated her was exactly what he was having to bury away.  This was professional now.  Their past could not intercede with the future; this was the way it had to be.  Thalandril had a look of almost forced professionalism, as memories of what conspired upon his desk on numerous occasions flew through his brain.  He coughed politely and regained his composer. *** Emalynde arches a single, well-shaped brow, rising from her seat with feline grace--the movement fluid and graceful.  It was also sensuous in its way, every muscle of her form trained to move in the most appealing manner possible--when she wished it so.  Despite looking a bit worn, the redhead smirks, smooth steps carrying her toward Thalandril's desk, where the rogue stood.  "Well enough," she laughs, the sound light and melodic.  It was her orchestrated laugh, and he would know it.  It was too perfect.  Too well-constructed.It was unlike Thalandril to not even look at her.  His aloofness was a staple of their playful banter that the Companion relished, but it was if the intelligence agent refused to view her.  Advancing to the edge of his desk, Emalynde rests her palms upon its surface, leaning forward into the posture.  She sought his gaze, now intrigued as to what had caused this perceived change of mood (for that was what she presumed this shift to be).  "You missed me little, I see," the redhead teases, paying rather close attention to even the smallest details of her friend's reaction.  She does somber in an instant, though, allowing Thalandril only a brief moment to respond.  "Dwin'orrel did not allow me the time I would have preferred to move about his home, nor were his premises left unguarded."  A slight sigh parts the enchantress' lips,  letting her line of sight drift off to the side slightly in resignation.  "I have permit another rendezvous with the magister to satisfy your curiosity, my dear Head of Intelligence Operations."  The title was almost mocking, given their personal relationship--even if it was only as close friends.  Her golden eyes flick back up to attempt to meet Thalandril's own, quite serious.  "I hope you appreciate the gesture.  This one does not play nicely." *** Thalandri'ls golden eyes darted away at the comment.  Of course he missed her, but now he couldn't.  He had finally been reunited with the one who truly held his heart.  Lust was always a vice they shared, however, even that was too far for what he was now doing. This was for the best.  "Did I now?"  He replied coolly, not knowing how to really continue this exchange, since he would no longer allow himself to dance with the redhead so.  Realizing she was getting right into the report, he relaxed a bit, no longer worried about where to take the conversation.  He listened intently to the priestess’ words, playing them back through his head as he thought through and analyzed everything brought to his attention. "I do think that is best.  Another meeting with this man may get us what we want.  It just so happens you have an appointment with Lamruil Teth'Sol; he has been commissioned to make you a full new wardrobe.  Benefits of the job I suppose."  He tossed a quick smirk at Emalynde.  Lamruil was the best tailor in the entirety of Evermeet - maybe even all of Faerun.  At over a thousand years old, the ancient elf had perfected his craft.  His wait list is hundreds of years long for a single dress.  The things Thalandril had to do to procure this will keep the Head of Intelligence up for a few trance-less nights. *** Emalynde's heart sank slightly at the exchange.  Seldom was Thalandril unsure of himself--or of anything, really--but that's what she saw marked upon her childhood friend's face.  Or, what she thought she saw, at least.  The redhead could never truly be sure, although she would never admit as much to him.  Part of the Companion wanted to press the issue, to see exactly what the matter was--but now wasn't the time.  Emalynde cared for Thalandril and could tell that something was troubling him, but she knew not what.  She watches him while she relayed her news, appraising his mannerisms and body language.  While they were by no means officially involved, the pair shared one another's bed regularly--and that was the only time Thalandril truly let his walls down around her.  Playing along, although she was inwardly rather worried, Emalynde's eyes lit up, standing upright suddenly to clasp both hands to her chest.  "Thalandril," she purrs, still putting on somewhat of a show in keeping with their typical maneuvers, "You do love me."  Emalynde tosses a wink at the intelligence agent, relaxing into a more casual posture once more.  "An entire wardrobe, hmm?  You must be painfully unaware of just how many garments are currently in my possession."  She was toying with him plainly, utilizing the tone of voice intended to cause his hair to stand on end and his mouth to become dry--among other choice bodily reactions.  Emalynde also knew that Thalandril would recognize her rather obvious methods.  She was testing their waters, and therefore was conveying indirectly that she was aware that something was amiss and was concerned.  All without saying as much--nor making anything awkward.  Emalynde assumed the most endearing pose she could, something she had use on the intelligence agent before to curry his favor.  Having spent almost 150 years in the rogue's company in one way or another, the redhead was privy to some of Thalandril's proclivities.  She hadn't had to actually try with the blonde in what seemed like centuries; they had always danced this seamless dance that came to her as easy as breathing.  "My place tonight, then, as usual?"  Something pulled at Emalynde's chest, as if she were short of breath slightly.  Perhaps this was worse than she thought.  It was the beginnings of slight unease, the priestess always assuming that if something was wrong, it was her fault.  It was always her fault, it seemed.  She spoke somewhat softly, in a voice reserved for intimate conversations that followed their bedroom escapades.  The enchantress was sparing no punches here, aiming directly for Thalandril's heartstrings. *** Thalandril stood up and moved fluidly over to one of his immaculate bookcases, subtly rearranging this and that, as though nervously fidgeting.  "As usual?  That makes you sound predictable Emalynde.  Tsk tsk."  He smiled outwardly, but cringed inwardly.  Does he do this slow and easy, or go right for the blunt truth of the matter?  Unknowingly, he closed his eyes as he decided he had to choose now, the strain almost evident.  It was not normal for him to be like this; the rogue was normally so cool and controlled.  Why was this getting to him?  He was in love with Chelyse, and wanted to devote himself to her.  He couldn't do that with Emalynde around in their current capacity. "I think we should go for a spot of tea."  The last thing he wanted to do was hurt what was most probably his closest friend.  "It is quite stuffy  in here; a nice breeze may clear things up."  He offered his arm to her, and a genuine smile. She was ravishing, alluring, enticing... The agent stopped himself from that line of thought as his blood started to heat up.  This would be harder than he thought it would be...  Was this the right choice? *** Emalynde watches the rogue move around her, sensitive to every minute expression upon his face.  As the intelligence agent traveled to toy with the numerous books within their case, the redhead frowned.  Straightening, smooth steps carry her within an inch of his person, her freckled visage tilted upwards so that he could not avoid her rather direct confrontation.  "You, too, are rather predictable, my dear Thalandril."  It was a low blow, to say his name like that.  It was a trait she utilized with her clients: the subtle, honeyed pronunciation of their name--as if it's utterance held special weight and connotation.  She had made frequent use of it when Thalandril and herself were meeting at the monthly gala, but it had probably been only every so often--and only on special occasions--since then.  "You forget that I know exactly what makes your knees weak."  She attempts to hold his gaze, so that he knew that she knew.  The response just about baffled her, causing the enchantress to blink almost blankly at her friend before slipping her arm into his.  All this was so unlike him.  What could she possibly have done wrong?  "Later, then," she concedes, reverting back to her normal tones and behavior.  Emalynde pauses a bit, halting their progress, as she asks: "I have not seen the damage; must I spend a few more moments healing my... abrasions?  I do not wish to draw attention to them."  Tending to the marks if necessary, the pair soon head out into the streets of downtown Leuthilspar--the most active elven city in existence.  They had a place they preferred to dine, although typically for brunch or drinks.  It would work for tea.  The Companion flashes a warm smile at the waitress, intentionally acting as if she were Thalandril's consort just to spite him for the earlier rejection.  Settling down across from her friend, the redhead rests her elbows against the table, fingers threaded into one another so that she could rest her chin upon the platform created.  "What needs to be cleared up?"  Despite Thalandril's prowess at their dance, he was certainly off his game this morning and Emalynde saw no point in beating about the bush, so to speak. *** Leaning back in his chair, elbows resting on the arms with his hands together, fingers threaded with a single pair of digits sticking up, Thalandril keeps the gaze of the priestess. "Right to the point then, are we?"  He closed his eyes and leaned his head back, taking in a deep breath. Upon exhalation, he opened his eyes and started up at the ceiling.  How to do this: "I'm sure you're aware I have been bound, yes?  Chelyse came back into town, and it was rather quickly that it all happened."  He looked down to see her reaction upon mention of Chelyse's name.  Everyone knew the young paladin was bound to come back at some point.  It had been 50 years.  No messages.  No warning.  He couldn't break Emalynde's cover that she had--until this morning--been under to inform her.  He knew that the Companion would worry that it was something that she had done, and thus felt compelled to explain.  That was always one of her flaws.  But could she understand?  She did not know what love felt like, and now he did.  What the two of them had was lust.  Incredible lust... but in the end it was simply companionship.  That was her job after all, and she was so horribly good at it.  He's not even sure the young prodigy of Hanali knew what love was, with the life that she lived.  He hoped one day she might find it.  Somewhere. *** The redhead arches a single brow, making little effort to conceal how perplexed she was at the mention of his business arrangement; what had it to do with her?  "Yes.  I have met the girl while acting as Companion for her eldest brother.  Sweet family, although I must admit they keep rather strange company.  That is an awful lot of sha'quessir to designate at once, much less for a single house.  What of it?"  Emalynde's mind raced through the many possible explanations for his behavior--was he simply filling her in as to some parameter of his new relationship that had soured his disposition?  Or perhaps he was cross that she had been away so long.  She softened at that thought, the slight irritation at Thalandril's indirectness ebbing away.  A silken slippered foot moves to brush against his ankle and slightly upwards, her voice more gentle, "What ails you?" *** "As much we both know, I love the game we have played.  However... I feel it is best not to play it any longer.  May I speak candidly?  As friends?"  Thalandril asked, pained by something.  Having to deal with feelings--and the way others felt--was difficult as it was, but adding to it the complexities of playing a mind game at the same time is needless.  Especially when it might end up burning the other person rather badly.  Plus, who best to help him understand himself and what was happening than Emalynde?  She was always the one that helped ground him and figure out dilemmas as would a normal person, instead of the almost mechanical being he had attempted to be for so many years.  They had probably had dozens of candid conversation, where the game was turned off and they could just discuss what was happening in their lives.  It was a logical process, seeing as the only real, true friendship the other had seemed to be sitting across the table.  He hadn't even realized that he had put pressure against the young elf's silken foot, until he got a slight jolt up his spine. She was good.  Damn her.  His face blushed ever so slightly at her touch, but he did not pull away.  His heart rate had already begun to pick up, as he waited for his companion’s reply. *** Emalynde's expression reflected the confusion that permeated her thoughts.  "If you wished to discuss something personal," she muses aloud, "your office was perfectly suitable..."  He might be able to watch the processes unfold upon her visage, putting piece after piece together to try to figure him out.  "But of course."  She gestures with her words, sweeping a hand outward in a short gesticulation.  But a smirk quickly curls her lips as she realized that Thalandril was actually blushing at her touch.  The Companion lets her gaze alight upon the intelligence agent triumphantly.  "Have you missed me so thoroughly that you cannot find it in yourself to play?"  Emalynde seemed rather pleased with herself.   "You have been rather off your stride this morning.  I daresay I win."  The rogue receives a most beguiling smile, one that's so genuine of her desire to best the most cunning adversary the freckled elf had known.  Driving her point home, Emalynde slides her pointed foot upwards along the inside of Thalandril's calf, the movement intended to be alluring.  It was mostly playful, though, as one of their pastimes is making the other blush publically.  And she had won so easily. *** Thalandril tried to focus on the matter at hand, as the elven temptress worked her trade on him, riling him up.  He coughed into a handkerchief and moved to pour some tea.  "I am not on my game today, I'm afraid.  One of those occasions, it seems."  He let out a sigh as he filled his own cup with tea--the perfect amount followed by an exact amount of sugar and milk, as he had done a thousand times the same.  "I will let you have this little victory, even if you cheat."  He winked at her as he filled a second cup with dark brown, sweet-smelling tea, going about making it the way she liked.  "I guess we should start with a story, then."  Thalandril then goes into detail about the evening he had with Chelyse and the others at the sushi bar on the shore: how it began, proceeded, and ended.  "Since then... I have felt... different . As though there was something more.  However, I cannot really grasp the whole feeling."  She could see the pain under his eyes; he was not used to being confused or not having control of a situation--that being his feelings for Chelyse.  "These feelings are leading me to desire nothing but Chelyse."  He took in a deep drink of his tea, warmed by the perfect mixture, knowing that this would indeed hurt his lovely companion, but hoped that his explanation would help her realize that it was not her fault in any way. *** At Thalandril's sincerity, the freckled elf ceased her teasing, a slight smile still hovering against her mouth, but more so fond than anything else.  She does beam, though, as the rogue admits defeat--like an eager student, almost, receiving praise from a mentor.  But she does not gloat.  "Thank you," she says gently, already leaning forward across the table slightly to cup the tea Thalandril was pouring her with both hands.  She listens attentively to the story told to her, reacting genuinely as it unfolded.  Emalynde understood as the narrative drew on.  She had been on several such outings with customers who had made a habit of continuously frequenting her company.  Those who made the most use of her companionship, regulating her--in their minds--to the role of lover.  They found actual love, broke the news to her as one would a partner--despite the fact she did not return that sentiment--and then went on their way.  Why should she be surprised when it happened with Thalandril?  But she was.  The feeling crept up on her, as she realized what was occurring, like a growing unease.  A smile remained fixed to her freckled features all the same, not daring to let him see.  Don't be silly, she told herself, it is not as if he does not wish to see you ever again.  Whereas her clients were just that--clients--Thalandril was her friend... her employer, in a way, with whom she shared a rather intimate relationship, admittedly.  Reaching out, she places a warmed hand (a result of cupping her glass) upon his own.  "I am happy for you," she remarks in softened tones, genuine in her well-wishes.  Not one to leave anything unclarified, Emalynde continues forwardly, "I shall return your... possessions that have remained at my home."  She was making sure that he did not intend to visit her in that capacity again.  Gods, why was this difficult? *** Thalandril sighed in relief. "Thank you; I guess it would be... proper to have it all returned. Although your residence is always a safe place to hide out without worrying about having my things on me..."  He mused about the tactical implications of keeping a set of clothes and toiletries at Emalynde's home, not even considering that she was meaning he might not visit her again in the way he had for so long. "I do, however, hope to keep up our regular outings; you do happen to be the only friend I can go out with, you know."  The roguish elf smiled at her, equally worried about her, but happy that she had not made an issue of the situation.  "Would you care to order anything?  My treat of course." *** Emalynde lets her fingers slide slowly free from atop Thalandril's hand, sitting up properly with the same, shield-like smile on.  She was afraid that her closest friend would see through her, but he did indeed seem very much off his game.  To her advantage, at least, she thought.  How odd this sensation was.  It unsettled her more that she could not place it, what it was.  She was unwilling to admit any jealousy.  Thalandril’s and her relationship was not like that.  Perhaps the problems was that someone else was taking up the time of the individual she had spent the last 100 years of her life with.  The smile that turned the corner of her lips upward was one of relief, almost.  "I would like that," she admits, her fear at being discarded abating somewhat.  It was just the sex, then.  Emalynde could easily replace the intelligence agent with a number of willing participants--he had just been her partner of choice for so long.  At the invitation to dine with the rogue, Emalynde politely declines, her expression somewhat unreadable.  "Forgive me," she explains, "I do not feel entirely well."  It wasn't a lie; she did feel strange.  And discussing it with her closest friend felt... wrong.  Standing, the redhead offers her friend a smile before gliding toward Thalandril's chair, bending at the waist to cup his jaw in a gentle hand.  Softly, she presses her lips to his.  If he yielded to the kiss, she would engage him more deeply for a few moments, ultimately pulling away.  The tips of her fingers trailed against his jaw, departing without another word. *** "I see.  Well then, perhaps another time.  I do hope you feel better."  He saw through this.  This was her act, her job, but why was she behaving so?  This was unlike her.  Thalandril watched as the freckled elf got up and walk over to him.  At first he was surprised at her lips touching his.  He did not, however, resist, instead letting his blood become more heated.  She was one hell of a individual.  Even with her guard up, she could make him feel lightheaded.  The rogue watched after Emalynde as she exited the establishment, hoping he still had a friendship intact.  That relationship was very meaningful to him.  Worry crept up his throat, though, at the possibility she had not left amiably; did he miscalculate?  Is that even possible? ((All this happens the day before Chelyse returns to Evermeet from Nexus for a brief stay.  Day after that, Chelyse and Thalandril have lunch and she tells him that she’s staying in Nexus permanently and in love with Kasimir.  He’s not pleased.  In fact, he storms out of the restaurant.  To add to the rogue’s bad day, Emalynde isn’t ever home when he looks for her, she doesn’t respond to his calls, etc.  She disappears.  The DM lovingly titled this bit of storyline as, “I’ve got 99 problems and bitches are all of them,” a remark by Thalandril.))

[brothermouzongaming]

Destiny 2: my thoughts, hopes, and fears

When I joined Destiny 1 I was very very excited to see what the house that built Halo would do now that they had moved on. Admittedly I was unprepared for the very different experience Destiny offered. It interested me, the idea of a simultaneous world the gamers would live, cooperate, and compete in. During the opening months, I was pretty into it, running through the gaunt story to really head out into the world and get a taste of that endgame loot I had seen on guardians in the tower. I was, however, bored by December. Not skilled enough to take on the raids or even hang in PvP reliably (”Git Gud” rings out in the background). My boredom wasn’t eased but amplified by releases like Shadow of Mordor, 2k, Dragon Age: Inquisition, and Far Cry 4. Not to mention Bloodborne, which I still haven’t beat yet.  So I look up, a year and change passes and I forget all about Destiny. My adventures in the worlds mentioned above really dragged me away from the quick and frantic bullet hell that is Destiny. As more and more games came I never got around to my Warlock and before I knew it Destiny 2 was on shelves. I had missed out last time, I wasn’t going to make the same mistake twice.

Fuck me right?

Thots

So I played the story, as meaningless as it seemed, it was definitely better than the D1 campaign experience. On I went me and my friends through strikes, crucible matches, lost sectors, public events. We did it all seldom the Leviathan, at that point, I lacked the finer survival skills needed to survive (I’ve completed it 3 times since :D ). The experience felt thin, but this wasn’t new to me because D1 at launch was thin. It did worry me however that this was our second go around; shouldn’t a sequel feel a bit bigger? I’m not talking scale, but the endgame options in games like this, in particular, are critical to success in the eyes of the gamer. Ignoring that voice in my head telling me to put my controller down, I continued. The loot was disappointing but not just disappointing, but clearly, it was a shallow pool, to begin with. I could’ve made an Arthur meme from how many times I got the same gauntlets over and over and over and over again. Even today they’ll come by and say what’s up, mocking me. 

As the weeks went on, something else wasn’t sitting right. These worlds, they were nice, but they lacked reasons for me to come back and explore...wait....where are the collectibles? I had completely forgotten that we used to have little treats of lore and other info waiting for us in hiding. Along with some simple things like jobs, I was wondering what in the hell would cause such a drastic step back. We were officially regressing. I didn’t give in to the voice although it was screaming in falsetto at this point. Curse of Osiris drops and holy shit was I mad. A world space you can barely turn around in it’s so small, a sad excuse for a story expansion, the same loot issues to the point where it was almost unnoticeable, mind-numbingly grindy missions for Vex weapons, ONE FUCKING PUBLIC EVENT, ONE Lost Sector (it’s also by far the smallest in the whole game). 

On top of it all, Bungie had been beating their dicks about as fervently as they possibly could, making sure to hype that DLC at every turn. Destiny 2′s problems really become amplified when you look back and remember just how “excited” the team was and how they genuinely thought players would like the changes they made and the pathetic efforts they attempted at making it better in the form of the CoO dlc. A dlc now requiring another round of “making it better” from Bungie after several debacles. I honestly don’t think they bit off more then they could chew. Does anyone remember the fact that Destiny 1 was supposed to be a 10 year experience that would allow us to carry our character through it? Sure the franchise may have a ten year lifetime but even Mass Effect let you bring over your character. Instead, they literally start all over, new character, none of the old raid/strike/challenge specific loot (and yet old loot in the form of exotics and an arsenal of reskins), Remember when Destiny 2 was going to have “too much content”? I piss my pants laughing every time I think about it. There is quantifiably less content from weapons to their stats, the gear pool is ankle shallow, there are fewer reasons to grind and look for gear/weapons you want. 

I see people on the Bungie forums go back and forth and both sides have a lot of good arguments. Destiny 2 does offer more worlds that are (overall) larger, and definitely more visually impressive. Where it falls flat is what kept players through the first lull in Destiny 1: the solid shooting mechanics, deep intriguing world, the lore and how it was distributed to the player (which could’ve used work imo), and the rpg aspects shown in random stat rolls for gear. This kept the players going beyond the level cap and outside of multiplayer; after they had done the strikes so many times it was almost scary, gotten bored of non-milestone related events, finished the assigned job and whatever the game offered. The hunt for the perfect gun is a hunt the players deemed worthy time and time again. Those are the things they chose to cut, either cause they hate their fanbase (obviously not), or they wanted to appeal to a larger audience. This was the only outcome Bungie should’ve seen coming and for some reason, they seem to be caught out time and time again. 

Slather on that sweet micro-transaction paste and you got yourself a shit cake. As if gutting the deeper gaming mechanics, stopping all grimoire cards and other major means of lore distribution, reskinning a large amount of the arsenal both from Destiny 1 and within itself, and debuffing the player wasn’t enough. A lot of what could’ve been left in the world as far as loot is concerned was locked away behind the cold dead face of Tess, the Eververse employee who handles the in-game purchases both with bright dust and silver (their premium currency players pay to obtain). Eververse would hold some of the best items in the game as far as ghosts, ships, emotes, and sparrows are concerned. Not only that but event-specific items were even locked away with statistically no chance of any player getting most of the items from the said event. Pushing players to spend their money where they can try their hand, not even an honest shot, via the slow machine-eque loot box mechanic. Ah, look, an instance where cosmetic loot boxes can really fuck up a game and what it could be. 

Hoeps

Destiny at its core is good. The universe is wildly enthralling with a mystique that draws you in, it makes you want to find out what the hell is going on. The shooting is sharp and responsive, you feel the grip of the gun in your hand and the kick when the trigger is pulled in a very natural way that emulates the experience well. The guns are intriguing, alien weaponry and future tech are hard to conceptualize but a lot of guns in Destiny will make you go “hmm” with intrigue as you wonder exactly how much ass this gun is going to rip when you get it out on the battlefield. Rat King, Wardcliff Coil, Legend of Acrius, Crimson, Vigilance Wing to name a few. I hope Bungie can find the spark that drove Halo, a franchise that wasn’t perfect but shined because of the painstaking effort put into it. I’m not asking for Halo 2.0 but I am damn sure demanding better of this bring a developer like Bungie.  

Fiirs

I fear Bungie have completely lost their way. These aren’t the people that made Halo, someone came in the night and took what heart they had and locked it away somewhere no one can seem to find it. For a project as ambitious as Destiny is, there is no passion, no drive to actually make the next big franchise. They seem perfectly content to merely talk about it. Halo was nothing but a fps that amazed because of the world and the mechanics. Yes, the multiplayer was a hit but if you ask me that is exactly why it was. I would’ve thought that in the face of what might actually be one of the greatest franchises in Halo, Bungie would be hungrier than ever to prove that it was no fluke. More and more I’m convinced it was just that. Normally I’d blame the publisher especially with Activision’s stink all over this, but some reports insinuate that all this was Bungie’s doing because making game content was “too hard”. A mountain of an achievement they volunteered themselves to climb up. So what do they do to make up for it? Decide to fuck the people that help make them... yeah if you aren’t worried about Bungie I’d love to hear your thoughts because I need some hope. 

[gujgeorgia719798-blog]

Astrological Account For Pete Townshend.

I am actually a scorpio moon and sun, I have to mention that I lean to these things, but I experience maturity possesses a whole lot to carry out with just how a scorpio reacts to being actually hurt by others. This is where the words 'Once in a while' is actually stemmed coming from since the incident is actually so rare that when our company intend to refer one thing to take place seldom our experts utilize this key phrase. Moon was mayor from New Orleans two times and his lad Mitch resides in his second condition as mayor now.

However their blue pigment was available as well as incredibly expensive for exclusive purposes just. As demonstrateded in the flick, the specialized staff of the Australian meal must maintain the signal lined up WITH THE MOON. You will certainly always remember from the moon article that a moon takes place every 2 full weeks.

The Moon stays, as that is actually always been actually, a mysterious beautiful eye in the evening skies. Condition of Sunlight and also Moon on 12th as well as Second home as well as Mercury in heavy ailment in the chart might cause optic degeneration to the native. The Moon setting calculates exactly how a person responds fitblog2009.info to the behavior and activities of others. Afflicted Moon might induce ailments as breathing trouble, blood relevant ailments. Actually, I would go so far regarding state that your Moon Sign is of identical significance to your Sunlight Sign. On the unfavorable side, blue can also represent coldness and shortage of feelings, both features of the Bluebeard. Lovely November day on the isle yesterday, our company viewed the 'Cycle the County Sailing Boat Ethnicity off our home and also from South Seaside between scuffing layers from coating off Blue Moon. As the last sunset of light blows up and also the superstars and moon happen, you head for mattress and turn in. Most early societies had festivities based upon colossal events, specifically the Sunshine or Moon. Get in touch with the Mama Goddess on a Full Moon and also in the course of the Summer season and very early Succumb to whatever but especially factors like security, love, abundance, fertility, passion, health and wellness, as well as elegance. Roses are actually reddish violets are blue there definitely would not be actually such thing as a greatest time ever before if I weren't with you! There have actually been prominent theorists, musicians, writers, researchers and also other historians in the moon. The straightforward solution to the question from why our company have not returned to the moon is to accomplish along with funding as well as interest. Figure 2 shows the impact from a reduced slant camera much like those used by rocketeers on the Moon ... The yellow arrows lead to the shadows that are actually going the wrong way. Roses are reddish violets are actually blue he's for me except u and also if by coincidence you take my location i'll have my hand and smash your skin! As you can easily see, just couple of months (February, May, August and also Nov) can get approved for a blue moon through this requirements. After that you can easily inform me one thing like: Sunlight in Gemini, Taurus Rising, Moon in Pisces, permitted's say, as well as I will certainly deliver a quick reading in the commentary section. In this post, our company are actually visiting view 5 of the absolute most frequent disagreements for the moon landing lie, as well as negate all of them bit-by-bit, using the readily available documentation. Today we begin the day with Moon square Neptune which could possibly carry lapse of memory, weather condition or even lethargy issues in to contend with in the beginning of our day. Having said that by full moon in Aries on September 23rd you are actually back at the top from your video game. Since you are actually likewise aware, you not simply observe the moon, however you take part in the field from which the moon develops. As an unintended finding, the experts in the moon found that when electromagnetic equipments were stimulated, they induced a physical disturbance of neighboring dust fragments.

[dubredofanfics]

Six Years

Part 30 - Save Me

So many times he tried to fight the temptation of loving her again, so many times he tried winning her back but every time he does, things come up next to his face telling him he don't stand a chance. I need a sign. He begged.

They are already on their sixth year of their term. In a few months, their term will be over and there will be no more reason for them to meet, talk and communicate. His family arranged their long vacation to Europe months after the end of his term to finally have a peace of mind after six straight years of mess, problems and complications. It was inevitable for him not to think that his dream of being with Leni is already hopeless especially now that it was imprinted on his head how she is already with someone else.

On her way to her destination, she looked outside and had a certain reflection. How many times have I hurt him? Did he ever intentionally hurt me? Did he ever cheated on me? No. She gazed into the glass container resting on her lap.

She felt bad for thinking how unfair she has been with Digong the whole time. She felt like she caused more pain and stress to him than happiness, yet, he still manage to continue loving her and even give her a bouquet despite everything. He was one of a kind, she thought. Sometimes I don't know if I even deserve him.

The car paused, she went down and headed straight to his office escorted by his special assistant, Bong.

Someone knocked on his office door interrupting his epiphany. "Bukas yan." He uttered. Bong opened the door and in a second, Leni walked in.

"Good afternoon, sir." She greeted. He was blown away by her presence that he couldn't remember asking for. It would be too obvious if he would react in front of her so she allowed her in and asked Bong to give them some privacy.

"Sana hindi ako nakakaistorbo." She wished as he offered her a seat. "Ano bang sadya mo mam?" He asked and sat back on his chair. She didn't know how to begin, she didn't want to sound so dramatic like she was craving for his mercy and attention. She sighed heavily and placed a paper bag atop his table. He looked at her clueless of what was inside.

"Ayoko kase na sa iba mo pa malaman, so ayan." She pushed the paper bag closer to him. He checked on what's inside and saw the Ecuadorian rose he gave her ages ago in its glass container. He was surprised, he was vexed by her purpose of bringing it to him.

She saw the deep question in his face urging her to explain. "Hindi ko naingatan yung pinakaunang bagay na binigay mo saakin, sorry." She explained but it appeared vague to him. She exhaled sharply and moved her seat closer to be able to open the container next to his eyes. "Hindi na ito yung Ecuadorian rose na binigay mo. Hindi ko alam kung paano nangyari o kung sino yung nagpalit pero synthetic na 'to. Hindi na ito yung binigay mo and I'm sorry kase hindi ko naingatan." She elaborated. "Ayoko na marinig mo sa iba kaya ayan." She followed reiterating her previous statement.

He haltered for a moment causing a deep silence to surround the room. She gave him time to fathom to what she just told him, she knew she caused him another pain and she couldn't feel any more sorry for it. Little did she know that he paused for a moment as he recalled an instance he did months ago.

"Mara, ikaw na bahala ha. Wag ka papahuli." He tapped her arm. "Oo naman, Digong." She replied giving her full support for his cousin's love for her boss.

He was surprised that it's just now that Leni discovered that the Ecuadorian rose is no longer the real one when he asked his distant cousin who works at her office to sneak and replace the real one with the synthetic one while she's out of her office to attend to Yasay's birthday celebration. For an objective that only him and Mara knows.

"Ano bang gusto mong gawin natin mam?" He asked wondering what was her purpose of confessing. "Wala. Wala na akong gusto. Yan na siguro yung last token ko sa'yo." She replied.  He hated how it was tough for him to comprehend.

"Sana hindi mo isipin na ginagawa ko 'to para mag-drama. This will be the last time na mag-so-sorry ako sa lahat ng nagawa ko kase baka mamaya naririndi ka na sa kaka-sorry ko." She followed and looked at him with her sad eyes. He tried to remain stable despite that he was giving into the pits of his love for her. She felt a slight humiliation with his silence, "Narealize ko kase na masyado ko nang pinagpipilitan 'to when I have caused you nothing but pain." She choked slightly as she tried to hold back her emotions. "Leni..." He uttered as he hated hearing such things from her, he knew she was hurting.

"Ang dami ko nang nagawang kasalan sa'yo in the sense na siguro nga hindi ko na deserve yung forgiveness mo." She chuckled fakely. "Hindi ko na nga alam kung deserve ba kita." She followed and looked away. His heart broke upon hearing her struggle but even he, himself, wasn't sure if he wants to fix things between them or just let her go. She looked back at him in deep struggle waiting for his response but he didn't utter anything, he just looked blankly at a distance causing her to feel rejected. Her agony rose up to her throat making her feel choked, her chest prickled in pain as she looked at him not showing any hints of wanting to stop her from leaving. They were both hurting and they were both vulnerable because of their complicated love for each other.

She stood up with her eyes starting to get a bit teary. "Mauna na ako." She stated with an unstable voice, he still refused to reply verbally.

She slowly headed towards the door to exit but as she take every step away from him, she wishes he would grab her and tell her not to go anywhere. The farther she walks away from him, the more painful her heart endures until she finally held the door knob and heard nothing from him. She continued heading out of the palace and entered her van.

She broke down as soon as the door closed. Her driver glanced at her from the mirror but refused to ask her about it. It was very seldom that he sees her cry. Aware of his boss' relationship situation with the president, he had a hint that something happened between them that's why she suddenly turned emotional.

Leni covered her mouth with her handkerchief and looked in the direction of the window as she cried at the car. It was so painful for her to tell him she's giving up and not hearing anything from him to stop her from going. She felt unloved, she felt like he no longer wants her like before. Random thoughts entered her mind in desperation to ease the pain she was taking that moment.

He deserves someone better. Wala naman akong maibibigay na maganda sakanya kung ipiplit ko yung saamin. Puro ako pasakit, puro problema. Napaka-precious niyang tao, grabe yung pagmamahal na binigay niya na parang hindi ko na deserve.

She recalled the time when she was allowing herself to be corrupted by her ex, Bolet. She felt so spoiled, she felt so debased. He messed up with her a couple of times against her will, he took everything away from her that she feel like she has nothing left to rave about to Digong. Ano bang maipagmamalaki ko sakanya? Wala.

Digong felt so flabbergasted as she left his office. Letting her go felt like a large part of him was taken away but he thought maybe it's the sign that he was asking for. Maybe hearing her give up on him is their destiny's way to let them know that it is time to rest and let each other go.

—

Everyday felt like an emotional torture to Leni. She once lost the love of her life, it was painful; but she never expected that something more painful would happen to her.

It was tough for her before to accept the fact and endure the pain when her late husband passed away but it was tougher for her to accept the fact that she fell in love again with someone so deeply and despite that he's still there, she can no longer have him.

She cried it all out to her mother, to her best friend and to herself whenever she's alone.

—

After over a week of Leni's talk with Digong, Yasay had the chance to talk to him regarding the issues and rumors circulating the mainstream media.

President Duterte shuts off VP Robredo

VP Leni Robredo ends issues with President Rody Duterte

Palace confirms rift between President Duterte and Vice President Leni Robredo

The newspapers headlines showed such in bold letters.

Is it really over for President Duterte and VP Leni?

"Tapos na tayo." VP Leni to President Duterte

"Kay Miro na ako." — VP Leni to President Digong

The tabloids published. Some were misleading, but the idea was true. They're through and that's the truth.

"Digong, kamusta?" Yasay greeted him as he entered his office. "Okay lang." He replied smiling as he shook his hand. They had a quick chat about his visit in Saudi before they went to the discussion about the recent headlines.

"May ikukwento ka ba?" He asked, he chuckled in response. "Wala. Tinapos lang niya." He replied briefly. "Akala ko ba babalikan mo na?" He asked.

"Wala eh, naunahan na." Digong tried to conceal his pain through a smile. Yasay frowned, he knew his brother wasn't okay.

"Ikaw kase urong sulong ka eh. Baka naguluhan si Leni." He began to scold him. "Baka nung paurong urong ka she decided to entertain someone new to get over you." He pointed out a thought. Digong paused for a moment, he was guilty with his inconsistency in winning her back before and Yasay has a point.

"Eh anong gawin ko? Ahasin ko si Leni kay Quimbo? Sila na nga yata, nasa balita diba? Ayoko nga basahin." He expressed, Yasay chuckled. "Anong ayaw? Basahin mo para alam mo yung side ni Leni ngayon. Face your fears para mas makapagisip ka ng maigi on what to do next." He advised.

Digong remained undecided for a couple of days but ever since she talked to him, he couldn't stop thinking about her anymore. Everything he sees reminds him of her and it was a tough game for him.

He visited a cancer stricken kids haven in Quezon City to check on them and personally discuss to the owners of the foundation about their donation to the haven. He bonded and talked to the children after his formal meeting with the officers.

He always had a soft spot for children in his heart. He was shook when the nuns showed to him the infant diagnosed with cancer under their assistance. His heart broke for the beautiful child and he felt bad that it is only donation that he can offer.

He gazed at the infant for quite a moment and touched its flushed sensitive cheeks. A smile grew on his lips, the child was so beautiful, he suddenly thought of Leni.

He could only imagine how beautiful their child could be. They wanted it so bad when they were still together. They would always argue whether it's a boy or a girl and who would it look like. He wanted their child to look like her but she wanted it the other way around, they both have planned names and they never agree on anything — it was precious.

Upon thinking about it, a thought hit his mind. Sometimes the most beautiful things in this world aren't meant to last and there's nothing you can do about it than to make the most of it while it's there.

To be continued...