#and 13 talks about her wife and has a female companion in love with her. like. 10 doesnt do basically anything in comparison | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

acupofqueercoffee · 2 years ago

Text

“A healer, a lover, a killer”

Unohana Retsu x Female Reader

wc : 6700+

cw : arranged marriage // sexual assault towards the very end // ***non-con is NOT between reader and retsu*** // blood and gore // graphic description of corpses // hurt-comfort // fluff and fluff and fluff and fluff // flirting // wives // minazuki is a gentle-giant 🥺 // murderous milf // older woman x younger woman

ffs i just want to spoil my mommy rotten (and be spoiled rotten) is it too much to ask for ಥ◡ಥ i’m desperate to do her justice but bruhh she sure is difficult to write 🥲

▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃

Marriage, in essence, is a sacred binding of two people, or rather two lovers during which they vow as one to cherish the beauties, to endure the burdens of life.

There may have been a time when you have fancied such foolish fantasies, entertained little hope of finding a love so profound that it will bleed colours into your lonely, miserable life.

Alas, fate does not favour you. But of course, it never does. Likely will never do.

You were born earning the resentment of your father, for his beloved wife perished as you came to be. She was the apple of his eyes, the one possession that he dearly cherished, and swore to cherish in perpetuity. With fingers entwined and two hearts as one, they had endured the burdens of life in tandem, and just when it was beginning to thrive, a promising future stretched out ahead of them like a perpetual sunrise, a curse befell them in the form of you, oh evil, despicable you.

Bearing the brunt of the mother’s death is the child as your father treats you with much hostility. Within him resides not a dot of affection for you, and he makes a point of rubbing salt into your wounds, reminding you in every possible way that you are a murderer, an abomination, a hellspawn on a sacred land. Your life is no better than a slave’s, easier perhaps without the need to exert yourself, but certainly not kinder without anyone to converse with, much less to confide in. Even a slave has companions whereas you who is abhorred and forsaken by your own flesh and blood, have no one in this world but yourself.

Thus, in your father’s resentful hands, the flickering light in your heart eventually, completely dies.

When you have finally come to terms with your life as it is, marriage comes to you in the form of a cruel joke.

If you have been none the wiser, you may have believed it to be a chance at a better life, a crack of sunshine through a sky full of gloom. And for a while, you have. Naive enough to hope. Foolish enough to dream. All it takes is a flick of your father’s merciless tongue, and the fool’s paradise, in which you have been taking sanctuary, comes tumbling down.

“You do not deserve to feel happiness as ephemeral as it will be. So, listen to me. And listen carefully. The Gotei 13 wanted me to hand you in saying that while you may not presently look the part, you are a menace to soul society. You should have never been born to begin with. Instead of her, it should have been you.”

“Despite everything, in the end, I very generously agreed to relinquish you under only one condition. That you will be wedded to one of the captains. Such an outstanding opportunity is hard to come by and apparently, they were desperate enough to get their hands on you whatever the cost. I requested that the wedding be held to the nines for the sake of publicity. People need to witness it with their own eyes in order for them not to talk foul of my family.”

“I can’t have the whole boat going putrid because of a single carp, can I? So, enjoy it while it lasts, dear daughter because I can’t promise that you’ll come out unscathed once they’re done with you.”

════════ ∘◦ ✾ ◦∘ ════════

Your soon-to-be other half is a stranger. You know about her as much as you know about the outside world: in other words, next to nothing. Except that her eyes are reminiscent of azurites, and her hair, a moonless night, the woman with whom you will be spending the rest of your life is merely a stranger to you. But then again, with their motives kept under wraps, you will be lucky to survive through the night.

Fleeing is out of the question for you understand the extent of your capabilities, and to flee right now will be tantamount to dicing with death. Despite your father’s despicable attempts to trap you in despair, you decide that playing docile is quite possibly your best bet. Come rain or shine, you will survive. You have not endured the torments of your wicked father after all this time simply to be trampled like a weed. What an insult it will be to your painstaking efforts.

So, when you are asked if you will take the stranger before you as your lifelong partner, without hesitation, you say, “I do”. Legions of people bear witness to your false union as your wife echoes your words; her dulcet voice, like the first trickle of rain, slakes your drought.

“Won’t you seal the deal with a kiss, Captain Unohana?”

Amongst the circle of people who are uniformly dressed in white overcoats, the one whose voice has sounded mischievous has been a man with a straw hat and an additional pink garb.

Unohana. Unohana. Unohana.

A pretty name indeed, as befits a pretty woman.

The first half of his statement is entirely lost on you as you repeat the name in your mind over and over and over again. It is the delicate crawl of fingers on your face that rectifies your lapse of concentration. First thing you notice, once you have blinked the haze away, is her violet gaze that is caressing your features and her face that has unexpectedly appeared under your nose, leaving little to no space to the point that your breaths mingle.

The warmness of her breath that ghosts along the apple of your cheek smells faintly of wild flowers and herbs; then comes the silky press of her lips atop the corner of your mouth. Given the circumstances, the kiss is not entirely unpleasant. If nothing else, it is kind, and although you loathe to admit it, your heart sings under her touch.

You fail to mention before that she has rose buds for lips, and now, upon departure, they bestow upon you a beautiful pink blossom smile. It is serene, strangely soothing, and you feel at peace with the woman who is your wife, all kind eyes and saccharine smiles, but whose full name you have yet to learn.

As inclined as you feel to assume that the kiss has somehow irreversibly put you under her spell, the more logical part of you know that neither your mind nor body is tampered with; your admiration for her beauty is born purely of your unadulterated self. Since the dawn of your life, it is ironically in the hands of a stranger whose intentions with you are still unclear that you experience tenderness for the very first time. Some semblance of affection has visited you in the form of a palm cradling your cheek and lips caressing your skin, and although you know it to be nothing more than a performance, it is undeniably the closest that you have ever felt to being loved.

Her gesture has understandably moved you in the warmest of ways, and it is only given that, as she continues to drench you in gentleness and swaddle you in kindness, you will grow to forget the true nature of your marriage.

════════ ∘◦ ✾ ◦∘ ════════

“Follow me.”

Such has been your wife’s first words to you, a command that leaves no room for rejection, as she comes to meet you in her, or rather your shared quarters. In her absence, unsure of what to do with yourself, you have been sitting on your heels by the side of a tea table, anxiously awaiting her arrival, but immediately on her command, you arise to your feet. And then, follow her you do as she leads you outside.

In the middle of the veranda, a wooden tray lies in wait, holding on it a ceramic pot and two ceramic cups. The side of the veranda, towards which the pair of you are heading, lacks the railing, and it overlooks the other buildings in Seireitei. When she goes to take a seat beside the tray, you silently watch her. Only upon being motioned to do the same do you mirror your wife. The night is tranquil and the sky, brimming with tiny twinkles. The flickering lights from the buildings below and the glittering celestial bodies above; together, they give you the illusion that you are being swallowed into an infinite pool of stars.

In the quietness of the night, she speaks with a gentle lilt that is carried to you by a zephyr.

“You have questions for me, I take it?”

Simply sitting still in leisurely contemplation of the stars, she oozes charisma, and you cannot help but admire her. Due to the moon bathing her in its silver glow, her long hair that is tied loosely around the small of her back shines with an otherworldly sheen. She is the juxtaposition of darks and lights as the charcoal of her strands that elegantly frame her angelic face accentuates the milkiness of her skin.

“Am I that dangerous of a person for you to willingly go through with this folly?”

It is more or less a slip of your tongue. There are many questions to which you seek answers, and at the first chance, without really thinking, you end up blurting out the one thing that is on the forefront of your mind.

When her eyes seek your face and your eyes subsequently are greeted by her face, to your surprise, a smile crawls onto her lips.

“My, what gives you the impression that this marriage is a sham?”

“I was told by my father that I was to be surrendered to Seireitei, and that all he had asked in exchange was for a captain to wed me very publicly, because he hated the idea of his family name being tarnished by the likes of me.”

“The likes of you?”

Tea is poured equally into two cups; one finds itself in your hand whereas the other is taken into elegant fingers. The warmth of the liquid as you take a delicate sip thaws the chill in your bones. By the time your voice makes an escape from your lips, it is accompanied by the billowing steam from your cup.

“A menace to soul society.”

“Hmm, is that what he said?”

Your response has been a nod, and she receives it with a hum.

“I see.”

Cradling the cup in your palms, you twiddle your thumbs over the rim, lips caught between your teeth.

“Is it true?”

“Partially, that is.”

At her words, confusion reigns. However intrigued you are, you wait patiently, poising for elaboration as she takes a languid sip of her tea.

Once again, she holds your stare before she speaks. The tilt of her lips that settles back into a line indicates solemnity.

“What I’m about to tell you is highly confidential, but since it concerns you, we’ve come to a collective agreement that it wouldn’t hurt to inform you of it. That, and we necessitate your cooperation.”

“You are not inherently a peril, although if fallen into wrong hands, you will inadvertently prove hazardous to Soul Society. You have innate powers that, while you may not be able to use them, make you a catalyst of sorts. It is not Reiryoku as Shinigami possess which therefore makes you a peculiarly. Even amongst the Gotei 13, only four of us is made aware of this phenomenon, meaning that your father, too, was kept in the dark. We thought it best to take you under our wings before any of the risks become a reality.”

“Simply put, after thorough investigation of your father, we exploited his hatred for you so that you will be relinquished to us without him making a fuss. Additionally, in order not to arouse suspicion, we’ve made a false announcement to our fellow captains and subordinates. They know you to be my longtime lady-love whom I’ve decided to tie the knots with. A flourishing merchant such as your father would surely lust for publicity. He was only playing right into our hands by stating his one condition.”

Even though the bombardment of information is too much to process, now, you know with certainty that you are not necessarily rotten to the core, and that your stranger wife alongside her companions harbour no ill will towards you.

As she takes another dainty sip of the tea in her cup, you silently mirror her, mesmerised all the while by the grace and elegance with which she carries herself.

“Although an apology is in order for my sudden behaviour at the altar, as I’ve explained to you, displays of affection and physical touch are mandatory for the believability of our story. This marriage isn’t merely for show in that we have to talk and act as married couples do. Do try to put up with it.”

Talk and act as married couples do?

The implication alone has your cheeks ripening into cherries, the redness of which is only amplified by the unexpected words that go tumbling down your lips.

“I didn’t particularly mind the kiss, so an apology isn’t necessary.”

“Is that so?” The delicateness of her voice has a playful lilt to it, and it pleasantly tickles your ears. “Then, my dear wife, I’ll be counting on you from now on.”

“I- I’ll do my best.”

“My, my, aren’t you a good girl.” She wears a smile on her face that drips delight while you are painted red to the tips of your ears.

Good Girl.

Those two little words alone has single-handedly put you in a trance that the rest of the night passes in a blur. As far as you remember, the pair of you sip tea in silence until when she suggests retiring for the night, like a lost puppy, you follow her. Her quarters become your quarters and her futon, your futon because, as far as a married couple is concerned, living separately is out of the question.

Suffice to say, on the night of your wedding, you lie awake in bed, unaccustomed to the warmth of another body just inches away from yours. Amidst counting the tiles on the ceiling, you peek a look at your partner to find her at rest. Even asleep, she truly is a sight to behold. However, unbeknownst to you, she shares the same sentiment, and it is proven soon by the voice that calls out to you in the death of night.

“I’m surprised that you took me at my words without the faintest hint of scepticism.”

“Call it a gut feeling if you will but you seem to mean me no harm. Besides, I have nothing to lose by taking a chance.”

On the night of your wedding, you wear a smile to sleep.

Maybe,

Just maybe,

your chance at a better life, after all, is not entirely an impossibility.

════════ ∘◦ ✾ ◦∘ ════════

Unohana Retsu.

The name of your wife which you have forgotten to ask her directly has been revealed to you by her Lieutenant in the name of Isane Kotetsu.

Captain Unohana, as her subordinates address her as, is surprisingly a natural at playing lovers.

Likewise, touch-starved and thirsty for endearment, aside from shyness that stems from inexperience and her offhand compliments, you take on the role of a love-struck wife with much ease.

“My, my, darling, is that a proper way to see your wife off? How cold.”

She does a convincing job of sounding crestfallen as you walk her out of her estate, sending her off to work with only a wave of your hand.

Upon hearing her sigh, you walk up to her, letting your palms glide over the chest of your finely-dressed Captain. A kiss is demanded of you, and so, in the presence of her Lieutenant and a few other subordinates, you drop your lips to the apple of her cheek, murmuring your utterances into her fragrant skin.

“Do your best, Hana. I’ll be awaiting your return.”

Genuine surprise can be found in the widening of her eyes, albeit lasting only for a fraction of a second. And then, her lips are curving skyward, settling into a saccharine smile.

If the kiss that finds you on the tip of your nose, like the gentle flap of a butterfly’s wings, is not enough to sweep you off your feet, then the pad of the thumb that caresses the bone of your cheek certainly is. Ample, in fact.

“See you later, little flower.”

════════ ∘◦ ✾ ◦∘ ════════

Your wife has an unusual way of styling her beautiful long hair.

She tends to wear it in a thick braid, but instead of letting it dangle behind her back, she lets it hang below her chin almost in the form of a necklace. You will go as far as to say that it is one of her idiosyncratic features, for without it, her attire for work is incomplete. On idler days when she remains at the estate, her hair can be seen tied loosely at the small of her back.

When you have noticed how difficult it is to care for a hair of such thickness and length, you have expressed your desire to do it for her. To your delight, she has let you, and so, here you are, gingerly applying essential oil to a mane of dark hair as you comb it with great reverence.

You admire the way she sits, spine always straight, perfectly poised. The same goes for the voice that softly caresses your ears, warm and tender.

“How was your day?”

“Infinitely better than what I was used to,…” For an answer, it should suffice. And yet, “…but I’ve missed you, Hana.”

It may just be one of your flaws; you never know when to keep your mouth shut. Thankfully, she receives your divulgence with a sweet smile.

“My, you’re quite the charmer.”

Cheeks painted pink and heart thrumming giddily, you continue combing her hair. Surely, she is graced by the gods themselves; lush and healthy, her charcoal mane slips through your fingers like expensive silk.

“You called me Hana.”

“Oh! I- I did, yes. Since we’re supposed to be long time lovers, I thought it was only fitting for me to call you by a unique name. If you don’t find it agreeable, I’ll refrain from-”

“None of that. I’ve never been called a pet name, is all. It’s refreshing.”

Then, after a beat of silence, she chuckles. Until now, you have only seen her smile, having never heard her laugh or chuckle for that matter. It is the most wonderful sound, rich, warm, and the culprit behind your breath that has suddenly been stolen.

“Yachiru would like you.”

You do not know whether to rejoice or lament that such a precious sound stems from the thought of someone else. In the end, you settle on savouring it all the same.

Yachiru, whom you have the pleasure of meeting during your visit to your wife’s Ikebana Club, is quite the boisterous little lass. You feel silly and selfish in equal parts; silly for going green because of a child and selfish because you want to be the sole reason behind all the lovely sounds that she makes. On the other hand, as your wife has expected, the pink-haired girl takes an instant liking to you, sticking like glue to your side. Meanwhile, instead of paying attention to the real task at hand of arranging flowers, you end up being entranced by your wife’s gentle cadence and her distractingly gorgeous face.

When the name which you have uniquely chosen for your wife leaves your lips, Yachiru mimics you.

What you have not been expecting is for your wife to intervene.

“If you could refrain from calling me by that name Yachiru, I would appreciate it. I don’t mind you giving me a new nickname but this one is reserved for my wife. She alone calls me Hana, and I would like for it to remain that way.”

“My, Captain Unohana is very romantic!”

If you are not mistaken, the dreamy sigh comes from Matsumoto, the Lieutenant of the 10th division.

“I understand, Captain HaHa. Can I call you Captain HaHa?”

“By all means. As long as it isn’t Hana, I don’t mind.”

════════ ∘◦ ✾ ◦∘ ════════

More often than not, your wife’s placating smile is the testament to her benevolence as a healer, but there are times when she wields them as a weapon.

Having cultivated the habit of preparing lunchboxes for your wife and her Lieutenant, you deliver the homemade meals personally to her division. One of the things that you look forward to every day includes admiring your wife in her elements. Such little glimpses into her work life allows you to understand just how much of an influence she has on her subordinates.

Soft-spoken and kind-faced as the Captain of squad four is, even the rowdiest of Shinigami fear her; they regard her with much respect. You have yet to hear her raising her voice to someone, and even still, she has never had to repeat her will more than twice for the other person to obediently comply with it. There are people from the 11th division, who, according to the information that you have gathered, are supposed to be the most battle-hungry Soul Reapers in Seireitei, that at your wife’s gentle warning and excessively sweet smile will flee with their tails between their legs, leaving a trail of apologies in their wake.

“Oh my, treating me as if I’m some kind of ghost.”

Puzzled, she has wondered aloud, and you have found her expression heart-meltingly adorable.

During one of your visitations to her squad, you have also had the pleasure of befriending a special someone.

You remember marvelling at the giant sage green creature that is aloft; its form, very reminiscent of a manta ray. However, when you see someone climbing effortlessly down the back of the creature, you have been surprised, to say the least, to be greeted by the unmistakable voice of your wife.

Upon striding towards the pair of them, you fall prey to the surprise attack of an extremely wet tongue. Even though it leaves you resembling a drowned rat, what simmers inside you is the farthest from annoyance. If anything, you find the one-eyed giant quite lovable.

“Why, will you look at that.”

“What does it mean?”

“It means, sweet girl, that she likes you.”

Before you hug the bizarre creature, you peek a look at your wife. Only when you see the nod of her head do you advance.

“Oh! Right back at you…?” Another questioning look at your wife earns you her name. “Minazuki.”

“Miki, you adorable little munchkin!”

At your words, she emits a crooning sound that you are inclined to believe is her way of purring in pleasure.

════════ ∘◦ ✾ ◦∘ ════════

When your wife has some time on her hands, she has a habit of climbing mountains. It is as much a recreational activity as it is a hunt for medicinal herbs. Having been longing to accompany her during her excursions, you have, after much consideration, raised the question, only for her to readily agrees.

“Can I come?”

“I don’t see why not.”

The silence that cocoons the two of you is anything but unbearable as you amble abreast. Taking it as your opportunity, you voice the query that you have been mulling over for some time now.

“There’s something I’m curious about.”

“What are you curious about?”

“Why you?” When you steal a glance at her, you find her eyes on the track, face impassive. “There were four of you who were privy to the truth, correct? So, how come you were the one to marry me?”

Her response does not come until after a while, voice sounding serene as it usually does.

“The Captain-Commander is out of the question, and among the three of us, I was deemed the most suitable candidate. One doesn’t go out much due to how sickly he is and the other is- well, it’s unthinkable that he’ll settle for one person.”

“And what about you, Hana? Have you got no qualms?”

“Whatever the Captain-Commander asks of me, I do without question.”

Oh.

You have asked, and so she has answered. It certainly is not meant to hurt.

And yet,

“I see.”

“That, and I also happened to be the first person to learn of your existence.”

At this, you perk.

“You did? How?”

“Purely by chance, but that’s a story for another day. Now, come. The herbs I’m looking for are just up ahead.”

She teaches you about different herbs and you help her collect them, preening under her complimentary head-pats when you find the right plants, and becoming all the more hell-bent on seeking rarer herbs, for only then will you be rewarded with honey-dewed whispers. Upon stumbling across one such plant, in your excitement, you fail to see a hole in the ground as you briskly make your way through the thickets.

Needless to say, your recklessness leaves you with a strained ankle. It is your pained grunts that garner the attention of your wife. When she finds you limping, the discomfort apparent on your face, she helps you to a tree trunk. You are thankful for the arm that is stably wrapped around your waist for it halves the effort that you will otherwise have to exert.

No sooner has she sat you down onto the mossy trunk than she is kneeling before you. Taking your wounded foot into her hand, she gingerly lets it rest atop her thigh. Forefinger and thumb pluck your sock, peel it down, and doing so reveals your ankle where a bruise is already beginning to bloom.

As she works on your wound, you can feel the pads of her digits ghosting across the naked base of your calf. Her fingers, dainty in appearance, have strength in them along with callouses that you suspect are the by products of her years of sword training. Speaking of which, Minazuki, her Zanpakuto as she has taught you, Miki as you like to call her, is slung over one of your shoulders. Since her Lieutenant is absent, for today’s trip is you and your wife’s alone, you have happily taken the role of the Captain’s blade bearer.

Due to the injury that you have sustained, despite your reassuring that you are fine, your wife does not take no for an answer, and so, the expedition is cut short. Soon after the pair of you have mounted Minazuki, you fall victim to exhaustion, surrendering yourself to the clutches of sleep.

The first thing you notice upon opening your eyes is the shimmering sea of stars, with the first thing you hear being her voice that pulses warmly in your ears.

“Are you awake?”

“Hmm, where are we now?”

When you shift, you discover that your head is cushioned by her thighs.

“Not very far from home.”

You are suddenly awestruck by the vision that appears in your line of sight. Backdropped by the starry sky, she is truly a sight for sore eyes.

“How are you feeling?”

“My eyes feel hot.”

A palm finds home on your forehead. You cannot help but sigh dreamily at her cool touch that seems to instantly soothe the ache in your head.

“You have a touch of fever, I fear. Rest. I’ll wake you when we arrive.”

You can only hum, ready to succumb to slumber again. However, when you feel the withdrawal of her hand from your forehead, your fingers catch her wrist, emboldened by a feverish haze. You press it against your neck where the coolness of her flesh offers you sweet reprieve from your body’s heat. If you are not mistaken, you have felt the faintest sensation of a fingertip tracing the length of your nose before you drift.

She does, in fact, not wake you.

By the time you open your eyes, you are already under the comfort of a futon that smells distinctly of her.

════════ ∘◦ ✾ ◦∘ ════════

You do not know when it changes, but at one point, it does. Your marriage stops being an elaborate masquerade and starts becoming something more by the time you no longer need reminders to exercise intimacy. A kiss on her cheek, a palm on the small of her back, sweet-nothings dripping with honey; they come to you as easily as breathing, and she responds to you in kind as she always has. But then again, to be unreservedly honest, your actions, from the beginning until now, have never been absent of sincerity.

From sleeping entwined in each other’s arms to walking with your fingers intertwined, even in the absence of onlookers, in the privacy of your quarters, you behave as lovers do. Neither of you seem to notice the change, and if you do, neither of you bother to comment on it. It simply is the way it is.

“Oh, Hana, you’ve returned! Come here. Sit.”

“What is this?”

“I just thought that your feet could use some pampering after walking around all day.”

“My, you need not trouble yourself-”

“But that’s what married couples do. They look after each other.”

“Very well, then, if you insist.”

Adoration, ardour and nothing in between; that is how you sink to your knees before your deity. Raising her feet off the floor, you gingerly place them atop your thighs. When you slip the socks off her feet, you exercise both care and tenderness, barely suppressing the urge to press delicate kisses to her exquisitely dainty ankles. Once her feet are completely bare, you guide them into the bucket that is sitting in front of you. Under the warm water, you trace the little notches of her bone, run your fingertips along every dip and hill the way you want your lips to caress them.

Then, all too gently, you gather them once again into your lap where a towel awaits. You take your sweet time petting them dry, the desire to drench her porcelain skin in kisses now coming back with a vengeance. As if possessing a mind of their own, your hands slips beneath her uniform, fingers leaving playful caresses along the length of her shin.

Suddenly overwhelmingly thirsty, you wet your lips with the tip of your tongue before chancing a look at her. There is a silent question in your eyes, and she answers you with a nod of her head. As soon as the green light has been given, you carefully hike the skirt of her Shinigami uniform over her knee, allowing your fingers to knead the muscles in her calfs without interruptions.

It is true that when you have decided to give her feet a wash and a massage, you have no ulterior motives.

But now,

Now, it is entirely a different story.

The collision of your gazes sparks a flame in you.

Has the blue of her eyes always been this dark, you wonder.

*Knock*

“Captain Unohana, may I please come in?”

Hastily scrambling to your feet upon hearing Isane’s voice has you tripping over your own two feet. Your forthcoming fall is prevented by willowy fingers that latch onto your wrist. One thing leads to another, and before you know it, following a breathless “oomf”, you find yourself seated on the pillowy thighs of your wife.

Seemingly unfazed, she commands, an arm around your waist cradling you close to her chest.

“If it’s nothing important, Isane, I suggest you leave us be. My wife and I are currently in the middle of some important matters that urgently need attending to.”

“U-understood!”

It is beyond your control; your hands finding purchase on her shoulders, even more so the amicable slap that you deliver to her arm.

“Did you really have to phrase it like that?”

“Like what?”

Ah. There is no denying it. From the very first moment you behold this woman, you have fallen irrevocably in love with her.

“Hmm? Care to enlighten me?”

You do not. Care to enlighten her that is, for your lips have found hers, sampling her smile to see if it tastes as sweet as it looks. You have taken a bite out of the forbidden fruit, and there is no going back, although when you feel no reciprocation from her part, you pull back with a heavy heart.

The look on her face is indecipherable; she has always been difficult to read. Completely at a loss, you are tempted to blurt out that it has been a momentary lapse of judgement even though you know very well that it is anything but. The loudness of your rampaging thoughts is instantly lulled as soon as her lips seize yours, the fervent collision prompted by the hand that is holding you at the peak of your nape while wandering digits curl deliciously into your hair.

Likewise, greatly galvanised by the ravenous mouth that is feasting upon your lips, your fingers wander beneath her braid, and further still beneath the lapels of her uniform. It is as you are ghosting along the jut of her collarbones that your fingertips feel a patch of uneven skin just below the dip in her throat. As if electrocuted, she jolts, subsequently discarding you in the process of rising to her feet.

“You should leave.”

Leave? Leave where?

After all, this has become as much your home as it has been hers.

“Hana, I- did I do something wrong?”

“You should leave.”

Ah. Never have you thought that you will find yourself at the receiving end of the generous Captain’s genuine irritation.

As the last vestiges of warmth is entirely replaced by the chill of her stare, you decide that you will smile. You will smile for the both of you, as wide and as big as you can, a farewell to what could have been.

“I understand. I’m sorry.”

Delivering your utterances in the cheeriest voice that you can muster, you smile at her. You smile so broad that the uncomfortable stretch of your lips hurt your face.

But as soon as the door to her chamber closes with a thud behind your back, the first droplet of tear begins to fall.

════════ ∘◦ ✾ ◦∘ ════════

In a wicked twist of fate, you fall into the hands of malicious men who have all the intentions of maiming you beyond repair. It is drizzling, a night befitting your mood, as the cold droplets mingle with your warm tears.

There are hands, hands everywhere, tearing your clothes haphazardly off your body, hitting you when you struggle; your foot has caught one of your assailants in the crotch, and his payback comes in the form of kicks to your ribcage. Blood is leaking out of your nose from being brutally backhanded across your cheek. It forces you into a daze.

A whore. A wench. A witch.

Awful names have been called.

Four versus one; you are helpless against them. Your suffering is their satisfaction, but a rag doll in their heartless hands, as they manhandle you with a single minded purpose of ravishing you.

You feel hands on your thighs that are manipulating your body as they see fit.

You hear the rustles of fabric, frantic and foreboding.

In the face of danger, it is her face that you picture.

And then, you hear screams.

Alas, the raindrops are red, eerily reminiscent of blood.

Hands are retreating. Feet are scrambling.

And suddenly, you are alone.

With much difficulty, you sit up. When you bring your palm up to your face for examination, you find blood. Your eyes follow the scarlet trail on the ground only to be greeted by the lifeless eyes of the man who has kicked you with wild abandon. His body lies a few steps away from his head. Scattered messily across the ground are his companions, and mixed within them are parts of their bodies; a leg here, an arm there. In the middle of it all stands she, holding her blade with a head impaled on it like a grotesque skewer.

Ah. So, this. This is your Hana in her purest form, who has butchered them in cold blood as though they are mere cattle.

Such empty eyes. How merciless. How magnificent. You are not so much surprised as mesmerised. Such macabre display should scare you except that she has killed in order to save, and if nothing else, you feel cherished, you feel protected.

Sore all over as you are, you attempt to stand, immediately shaking on your legs like a newborn fawn.

“Hana.”

It is but a feeble croak that manages to bring her eyes to you all the same. In an instant, she is by your side.

Her hair is unusually undone, and it leaves the scar in the middle of her chest exposed. Surprise colours your features when her sword is unceremoniously dropped to the ground in order for her to slip free of her Captain Uniform. The white cloth is then gingerly draped over your frame which is as good as bare. Your clothes are in tatters, tears and bruises marring your features, and for once, she seems to be at a loss for words.

Although her mien betrays nothing, behind those unfeeling eyes, you can practically see the cogs turning in her head. While she appears to be in a dilemma, you take the initiative to approach her, fingers gripping the dark fabric of her Shinigami uniform white-knuckled tight.

Your forehead collapses onto her shoulder before you whisper against the hummingbird flutter of her pulse.

“Hold me, Hana. I need you to hold me, please.”

And hold you, she does. Oh, how she does, as you weep and weep and weep until with the drying of your tears, your consciousness, too, fades.

════════ ∘◦ ✾ ◦∘ ════════

“Whatever you do after the wedding is no concern of mine. Didn’t you say it so yourself?”

“Only because I thought she’ll be trea-”

“Whatever you do after the wedding is no concern of mine. Didn’t you say it so yourself?”

“Please. Please, spare me. I beg of you. Please.” The man before Unohana grovels at her feet. “I’ll give you whatever you want. Please.”

“Whatever I want?”

A series of frantic nods ensue. She cannot care less if he looks a crying mess. His state of dress: posh and pristine, his state of being: without a nick, only reminds her all the more of you, bloody and bruised, and her blood boils. Oh, how her blood boils!

“What I want is your head!”

“What I want is your heart!”

“What I want is you sliced in half!”

Looming over the cowering excuse of a man, she sinks her sword into his chest, inch after inch of blood-drenched blade penetrating his flesh.

“Well? Do you think you can give me what I want?”

“Please. I- I’m sorry. Have- have mercy.”

“Mercy, you say?” The moonless night echoes with a maniacal laughter, dark and haunting. “How laughable!”

“No matter, you will die at my hands. And you will die tonight. My bloodlust will not be sated unless you die. So, die you will whether you like it or not.”

════════ ∘◦ ✾ ◦∘ ════════

“I received a letter this morning.” You speak into her chest as you lie cocooned in her arms. “Father has passed.”

“Does it upset you?”

A fervent shake of your head should suffice for an answer. Still, you voice your reason.

“He may have been my mother’s devoted husband but he was never my father.”

Silence reigns. Her fingers trace patterns on the small of your back while your face nuzzles the little notch of her throat.

“Thank you, Hana, for being my sunshine after the rain.”

In a show of sincerity, you press a delicate kiss to the scar beneath your lips. When your face is brought out of its safe little cocoon, it is only so that she can take a bite out of the sweet, succulent fruit. She conquers your lips in the same way she has conquered your heart, and all too happily, you let her consume you. Body, mind and soul.

By these hands that are no stranger to bloodshed, you have been healed. In more ways than one.

In these arms that are capable of destruction, you have found solace.

A healer or a killer, Retsu or Yachiru, she is your beloved wife all the same, and you intend to cherish her for all that she is.

In sickness and in health.

In good time and in bad.

In perpetuity. In tandem.

▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃

323 notes · View notes

four-loose-screws · 3 years ago

Text

FE8 Novelization Translation: Book 2 - Front Cover & Other Introductory Pages

Yup, you read that right! It’s time for book 2 already!

And here’s the big announcement - I recalculated the number of parts I’m going to split the chapters into, so I don’t have to take a break in-between books 1 and 2! Some chapters have more scene breaks than others, so it was an easy thing to do without compromising pacing at all.

Let’s get started!!

Fire Emblem: The Sacred Stones

Book 2

Written by TAKASE Mie

Illustrated by SUZUKI Rika

Published by Square Enix

(inside flap)

Author

TAKASE Mie

TAKASE Mie was born on July 31st in Tokyo. She graduated from Waseda University. Her recent hobby is the cello, which she was inspired to start learning after watching a certain sailing movie. Though she has dreams of one day being able to play Bach’s cello suites, she still has a hard time with even basic scales.

Cover and Obi Design: atelier THiRD

Princess Eirika vowed to rebuild her home country of Renais, gained the help of their ally nation Frelia, and started to fight back. As her army marches, she crosses paths with all sorts of people, and grows her group of allies. Finally, they make it to Renvall Castle, a critical strategic location for the Grado Army, and attack it. During the battle, she succeeds in reuniting with her elder twin brother Ephraim, who disappeared on the front lines. However, after having only a moment to confirm each other’s safety, Ephraim states that he will march to Grado Castle. Eirika volunteers to travel to the Theocracy of Rausten to support him, but then...

(inside flap)

Illustrator

SUZUKI Rika

SUZUKI Rika currently lives in Yokohama. She is a freelance illustrator who has contributed to titles such as the Monster Collection TCG (published by Fujimi Shobo) and Angels of Dawn (written by KAYATA Sunako and published by Chuokoron-Shinsha, Inc.). She also created the manga Tableau Gate - Volumes 1 & 2 (published by Kadokawa Shoten).

Fire Emblem: The Sacred Stones

Book 1

Written by TAKASE Mie

Illustrated by SUZUKI Rika

Table of Contents

Chapter 11: Caer Pelyn

Chapter 12: The Wyvern Rider’s Wrath

Chapter 13: The Desert Palace

Chapter 14: Reunion

Chapter 15: The Day the Empire Fell

Chapter 16: Repatriation

Chapter 17: The Demon King’s Shadow

Chapter 18: Encroaching Trap

Chapter 19: Night in Rausten

Chapter 20: The Lord of the Darkling Woods

Chapter 21: The Continent’s Wrath

Character Introductions

Eirika

The Princess of Renais. She is kind, and does not like war itself, but still dedicated herself to the current war without hesitation to retake her country, a goal entrusted to her by her father, the king.

Fado

The king of the Kingdom of Renais. In his youth, he was renowned for his military prowess, and he is adored by his people as an honest statesman.

Seth

Though he is the youngest of all Renais’ generals, his loyalty and superb skills in both combat and discernment make him the ideal image of a knight.

Franz

He may have just only become a full-fledged knight, but he has a very serious and earnest personality, and is skilled in combat as well, ensuring him a promising future.

Valter

A general of the Grado Empire also known as the Moonstone. He was discharged from the army for the crime of massacring ordinary citizens for fun. However...

Gilliam

A devoted knight of Frelia with a long history as a fearless soldier. He is a man of few words, but his power is known throughout the entire Frelian Army.

Tana

The princess of the Kingdom of Frelia. In contrast to her friendly personality that is beloved by all of her retainers and servants, she also has military experience, and is an active member of the pegasus knight unit.

Hayden

The king of the Kingdom of Frelia. His resourcefulness is unparalleled, and has earned him the title “The Wise King.” He is a long time friend of Fado’s and spares no effort in aiding Eirika and her allies.

Vanessa

An outstanding knight, even among the prided Frelian pegasus knights. She is very serious, but kind.

Moulder

A priest. Within his calm appearance lies a very intelligent mind. He can not only heal with staves, but is also knowledgeable in medicine.

Selena

A mage general of Grado, also known as the Fluorspar. One of the empire’s three generals. She has vowed her undying loyalty to Emperor Vigarde.

Ross

A boy living in Ide Village in Renais. He is saved by Eirika and her allies when his home is attacked by bandits.

Garcia

Ross’ father. A former troop commander in the Renais’ army known for his dauntless courage. When his wife passed away, he retired from the army to raise his son.

Neimi

A girl born in Lark Village in Renais. Her home was burned down by bandits. She cries easily, but undoubtedly inherited her grandfather’s famous skills with a bow.

Colm

Neimi’s childhood friend. They were the only two to survive the bandit attack on their hometown. He has sticky fingers, but is kind to Neimi.

Artur

He meets Eirika and the others while carrying out the orders given to him by his monastery to purge the lands of monsters. He has a deep love of learning and is a devoted monk.

Lute

Artur’s childhood friend. Though it is true that she is an exceptionally skilled mage, the words and actions she chooses as a result of her confidence in that fact are a bit detached from reality.

L’Arachel

A young woman with a strong sense of justice on a continuing journey to take out the monsters roaming the lands. She actually appears to be of noble standing based upon the way her companions talk to and act around her.

Dozla

A warrior traveling with L’Arachel. He cannot hide the fact that he is her loyal retainer, though perhaps it is more accurate to say that he is not really trying. He’s not one to sweat the small stuff.

Rennac

He is actually a master thief, and just under contract with L’Arachel, but all she does is drag him around everywhere.

Natasha

A cleric being pursued by the Grado Army because she was deemed a traitor. She asks to travel with Eirika so she can spread the word to other nations about the strange things occurring within the empire.

Joshua

A skilled mercenary who loves to gamble above all else. He becomes Eirika’s ally after losing a bet with Natasha.

Ephraim

The prince of Renais and Eirika’s older twin brother. He is blessed with a strong sense of justice and decisiveness. He also excels in spearmanship, and his skills are highly respected by the cavalier unit.

Kyle

A loyal retainer who has served Ephraim ever since he joined the cavalier unit. An exceptional knight who’s skilled in serving as a guard.

Forde

Like Kyle, he serves Ephraim as both a guard and close confidant. He and Kyle have been rivals since they were young. He is also Franz’s older brother.

Orson

The commanding officer of the Renais cavalier unit. He is a devoted cavalier who has served the royal family for years, and that King Fado trusts deeply, however...

Innes

The prince of The Kingdom of Frelia. He always has a strong sense of duty towards his role as a member of the royal family. He is extremely confident in himself, and has the strength and abilities to back it up.

Myrrh

A girl who is neither human nor monster, but a member of the dragon tribe. She leaves The Darkling Woods to tell the humans about the abnormalities occurring across the continent.

Amelia

A girl who became a soldier because of her respect for General Duessel. However, she feels lost when she learns that he opposes the war.

Gerik

The brave leader of a band of mercenaries. He joins Eirika’s army because Prince Innes hired him as his guard.

Tethys

A dancer whose bewitching dances attract the soldiers around her and heighten their morale. Once she joined Gerik’s Mercenaries, she became an indispensable member of the group.

Marisa

A female mercenary is rare enough, but her beauty and skills make her even more of a diamond in the rough. She is registered in the guild as a member of the same mercenary group as Gerik.

Ewan

Tethys’ little brother. He aspires to become a mage, and convinced a renowned sage to become his teacher. He is at the age where he cannot help but want to be treated as his own person.

Saleh

The sage of Caer Pelyn, and the only person of this age to associate with those of the dragon tribe. His abilities are very widely known. He is also Ewan’s teacher.

Glen

A general of the Grado Empire who is also known as the Sunstone. One of the empire’s three generals. He also questions the current war…

Cormag

A dragon knight of Grado. Glen’s younger brother. He trusts and respects his brother completely, but after a certain event happens, he leaves the Grado Army.

Lyon

The prince of the Grado Empire. He has been a friend of Eirika and Ephraim’s for many years. His research into dark magic has made him even more knowledgeable in magic than the palace mages.

Ismaire

The beautiful queen of the Kingdom of Jehanna, known as “The Queen of White Dunes.” She has gained the overwhelming support of the people for her accomplishments in running the country since her husband’s passing.

Duessel

A general of the Grado Empire with the title “Obsidian.” One of the Three Imperial Generals. Though he has been accused of being a traitor, he is working together with Ephraim to warn the emperor of the error of his ways.

Knoll

A palace mage of the Grado Empire who studied dark magic alongside Lyon. He is one of the few people who knows the reason why the emperor, once known for his virtue, changed so drastically.

Caellach

A general of Grado known as the “Tiger Eye.” He started out as a mere mercenary, and rose up to his current position, but he is an ambitious person who wishes to rise even higher.

Vigarde

The emperor of the Grado Empire. He is beloved for his virtuous ways, including opening up the national treasury to the people in times of disaster. However, ever since that fateful day, his personality has changed completely, and he began the invasion all of the countries across the continent of Magvel...

Syrene

The commander of Frelia’s third unit of pegasus knights. She is Vanessa’s elder sister by blood, but Tana also looks up to her like an elder sister.

Mansel

The Pontifex who rules over the Theocracy of Rausten. Known for being highly educated and devoted to his beliefs, he is worshiped by the deeply devoted people as the representative of the gods.

Riev

A mage general of the Grado Empire known as the “Blood Beryl.” Ever since he learned the reason for the emperor’s change, he has served the emperor to support his dark ambitions.

#fire emblem #fe8 #sacred stones #fe #nintendo #game boy #game boy advance #gba #japan #japanese #translation #novel #light novel #fe8 novelization translation

55 notes · View notes

dirty-urie · 3 years ago

Text

Little Brendon

Second Person

Brendon x Female Reader

PFTW Era

Fluff(ish) Oneshot

PG-13? R?

3.6k Words

Warnings In Order of Appearance: real person fic, language throughout, arguably slight smut, minor dirty talk

Author's Notes:

1. I don't know how I got this idea or what possessed me to actually write it, to be honest, but I had fun, so I guess that's all that matters.

2. Posting this in honor of the anniversary of the show I went to on the first leg of the Wicked tour, which was technically yesterday, but this fic wasn’t done yesterday, so here it is now.

“Awww, little Brendon,” you gush at the computer screen.

“Please tell me you aren’t looking at pictures of my penis,” Brendon says, walking into the room.

You laugh, rolling your eyes. “Not that your ego couldn’t use a little bruising, but no, I’m not cooing at your nudes. Merch wants you to sign off on the final photos of the Beebo plush, and look how cute he is!” You shift the computer monitor so he can see what you’re looking at.

“Why are you going through my email?”

“You always ignore emails from Merch, and I like looking at all of the new Panic designs!”

“Babe, I work ten hours a day; I don’t want to do anything I don’t have to. Merch will use whatever designs they think will sell well. They don’t actually need my approval. Those sign-off emails are just a formality.”

You pout. “I know, I know. I won’t go through your email anymore.”

“Good,” he says, relieved. "I wouldn’t want you to discover all the messages from my mistresses.”

“You’re a jackass,” you call, flipping him off as he leaves the room with a smirk.

***

“I’m gonna miss you,” you pout, leaning against the door frame to your bedroom.

He kisses your forehead and puts another pair of sweatpants in a suitcase. “You can’t wait for me to leave. You get to have the girls over, watch all your shitty movies, and you won’t have to deal with my dirty underwear or noisy video games in your nice living room.”

You take the t-shirt he’s about to pack out of his hands and throw it on the bed, pulling him into a kiss. You slip your hands under the waistband of his pants to grope his ass. You pull away. “Mhm, that’s what I thought. I don’t ever have to deal with dirty underwear because you never wear any.”

“Hey! Don’t slut-shame me! You love having such easy access to this body.” He gestures to his body with a strange flailing arm motion.

“You know what? You’re right. I can’t wait for you to leave.”

He side-eyes you. “Well, in that case, you won’t want the present I got you.” He shrugs, refolding his shirt.

Your eyes light up, and you go kiss him again. “Have I ever told you how much I love you? Because it’s a lot. Enough to justify a really nice present,” You say after he pulls away.

“That’s what I thought. I guess you’ll get your present after all. Close your eyes,” Brendon says.

You close your eyes, and he hands you something soft. You open your eyes, and it’s Brendon’s likeness in plush form. He’s wearing Brendon’s tour outfit with a gold jacket over a black tee and black leather pants.

“Little Brendon!” you exclaim, seeing the toy in your hands. “Aww, it’s even got your lips and little eyebrow scar! Thank you, babe.” You kiss him and then Little Brendon. “Now I have someone to keep me company while you’re off getting bitches on tour.”

“Oh, come on, babe,” he says, putting his hand on your shoulder and looking into your eyes, “they’re not bitches, they’re groupies.”

You smack his arm affectionately and then push him onto the bed to crawl on top of him. “Maybe you should practice for the groupies. Wouldn’t want you to kill their rockstar fantasies because you’re out of experience.”

He flips you over and rolls on top of you, nipping at your neck. “Out of experience? What, pray tell, have we been doing every day for the past two weeks, if not building my experience?” he asks with disbelief, punctuating each point with a bite or kiss. “Remember when I made you come twelve times in one hour before I let myself come? Or when we fucked on the roof of my studio when the neighbors were out of town? Or when you fucked my ass with that new toy, the one that vibrates?”

“Shit, shit, point taken,” you moan, grinding up against him while he bears down on you.

His phone pings, and he slows his hips to grab it from the side table. “Fuck, Zack’s out front. I’ve gotta go.”

You grab the front of his shirt and yank him down for a deep, dirty kiss.

He’s reluctant to pull away, but his other love is calling. Tour, that is, not Zack.

“Okay, let me up, loverboy. I’ll help bring your stuff out to the car,” you tell him.

“Thank you. Most of my instruments and stuff are already with the guys, but I’ve still got two suitcases and a backpack.”

You both stand up, and he grabs the suitcases, leaving you with the backpack. “You’re not gonna readjust, rockstar?” You ask, eyeing his tented sweatpants.

He shrugs, “My hands are full, and it’s nothing Zack hasn’t seen before.”

“You just like showing off,” you accuse, and he smirks a little and winks because you’re not wrong.

You walk him to the car and give him a final goodbye kiss. “I love you to death. Knock their socks off, babe.”

***

Without fail, the one-week mark hits you like a truck. You’ve had your fun with girlfriends, and you’ve enjoyed the peace and quiet, but your bed is empty, and it’s weighing on your chest. Even the puppies seem a little more glum without Brendon.

You feel silly, but finally, after two nights of crying yourself to sleep, you give in and grab little Brendon from your dresser and cuddle up with him.

***

Two weeks later and you and the real Brendon are half-asleep, snuggled up against each other in the nicest hotel room in Houston. You can only spend two nights with him, and you refuse to let him go for even a second more than you have to. Which he did not appreciate when he had to use the bathroom, but it’s his fault for leaving you for so long.

“Baby, I’ve got an interview, but I’ll bring back breakfast, and we’ll eat in bed, okay? I’m really sorry,” He whispers apologetically, peeling away from you.

“Don’t be sorry, it’s what you have to do to pay the bills. Can you hand me Little B? He’s in my purse,” you ask, and Brendon obliges without comment, probably just happy you’re not crying.

You fall back asleep with the little guy in your arms.

Brendon knows it’s irrational when he comes back three hours later at 8 am, and he feels a tiny twinge of jealousy at the plush you’re cuddled up with. However, he feels it is not irrational that he’s upset when he climbs into bed with you, and instead of immediately clinging to him like always, you just clutch Little Brendon harder. Almost as if protecting the toy from Brendon.

“Y/N, I’m back,” he whispers in your ear, half-hoping you’ll throw the doll on the ground and roll over to make burning hot love to him for 12 hours straight. That’ll show Little Brendon. Well, no, it won’t, he has stuffing where his brain should be, but it’ll show him on principle.

You do roll over to throw an arm across him, but you still have little Brendon tucked under your other arm.

Brendon decides to call this one a draw.

“Did you bring food?” You mumble.

“Of course, darling. I’ll do anything to spoil you. That’s one of the perks of having a driver’s license and sentience.”

“…What?”

“Nothing. I’ll get your food.”

He insists on feeding you and rubbing your feet, and letting you watch whatever you want on the hotel TV. And it’s just because he wants to take care of you while you two are together. Definitely no other reason. He certainly feels no joy at the sight of Little Brendon lying discarded on the nightstand. Point Real Brendon.

After the day of pampering, it pains you when you check the clock, and it’s time to leave. “Alright, I’ve gotta head out, B. I can’t miss my flight,” you finally say, changing from Brendon’s T-shirt into real clothes.

Brendon thinks about protesting, but he knows better. You have your own life apart from him, and he respects that.

You cram your stuff in your overnight bag and give your goodbye hugs and kisses to Brendon. Then you kiss Little B before throwing him in your purse. You think you see Brendon scowl at your new companion, but you were probably just imagining it.

***

“Surprise!” Brendon shouts as he opens the door.

“Babe! Thank god I sent the strippers home early,” you joke as he sits next to you on the couch.

“Shit, I missed the strippers?”

“You fucking goof,” you laugh, playing with his hair. “What are you doing home early?”

“Nicole needed to come home for some emergency with her house, so I figured I’d charter the plane and zip down with her and Zack to spend the night with my beautiful wife.”

“God, that must’ve cost an arm and a leg, B.”

He shrugs, “Nah, we were only in Portland anyway, and it’s easier than finding a new bassist on short notice. This way, Nicole and I can be back for the San Jose show tomorrow night, and I get a whole twelve hours at home with my girl and my puppies.”

“Oh, well, I’m glad it worked out for everyone. Especially me,” you say, shifting to sit in Brendon’s lap.

You two finish up the episode you were watching before you insist that he comes to bed because he’s overworked and jetlagged. He’s sleepy and doesn’t need that much convincing, but he tries to put up a fight anyway.

“I only get a little bit of time with you; I don’t want to spend it sleeping,” he complains.

“This is the hardest I’ve ever had to work to get you in my bed,” you respond, yanking him to his feet.

His eyes light up, and you shake your head. “No, sir. We’re not having sex. You’re getting at least seven hours of sleep in your own bed with the love of your life, and then you’re going to take a shower, make me breakfast, and give San Jose the show of their lives. You’ll literally see me again in two days when I come to the LA show.”

He bites his lip, still trying to lay the seduction on thick.

“No! Bed! Or I’m making you sleep in the guest room!”

He sighs, trudging along behind you to the bedroom.

“Um, babe, I think you forgot to kick out your mistress before I got home,” he says, gesturing to his side of the bed where little Brendon is tucked into the comforter.

You scowl playfully. “Oh, shush you. Where else should I put him while making the bed?”

“I don’t know, but letting my replacement sleep in my spot feels a little on the nose.”

“He’s not your replacement, baby.”

“Really?” Brendon asks, picking up Little Brendon and getting into bed, “because” he sniffs Little Brendon’s head, “I’m pretty sure Little Brendon is wearing my fifty dollar cologne.”

You blush, “Okay, well I take him everywhere, and I didn’t want him to smell, and it’s not like I could use any of my perfumes…” you taper off, realizing that you may have given yourself away with the ‘take him everywhere’ line.

He narrows his eyes but doesn’t say anything else before clicking out the light.

“Hey, Brendon?” You ask quietly.

“Mm?”

“Um, what did you do with Little B?”

Brendon clicks on the light. “Ah-ha! J’accuse! You’ve replaced me!”

“I just don’t want the dogs to rip him up and then leave me to clean up stuffing all morning!” You defend yourself.

“Well then, you won’t mind me putting him up on the dresser.”

“Of course, I won’t mind.”

Brendon puts Little B on the dresser and goes back to bed, so imagine his surprise when instead of waking up tangled in your arms the next morning, he’s not even touching you on the king bed. Instead, you’re hugging Little Bastard with your nose buried in his fabric hair.

Little B’s smirk taunts Brendon as he storms out of bed to make his damn wife breakfast. His damn wife.

***

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, I’m gonna come,” you whine, rubbing your hips frantically.

“Come,” he commands. “Let me see that pretty mouth fall open as you come all over our bedsheets, pretty girl.”

The angle on your clit is perfect, and the image of him getting off on your phone right along with you pushes you into bliss, and your orgasm rocks through your core. You know you’ve affected him when you hear him grunt as come rolls down his fist.

“God, babe, you’re incredible, from a completely different country, fuck, a completely different continent, you still turn me on like crazy,” he admires.

“I could say the same about you. I came so hard just from getting to hear and see you.” You tell him before accidentally dropping your phone. “Shit, sorry, my fingers are a little wet.

Brendon would normally just be admiring the soaked panties he’s getting a glimpse of, but instead, his attention is drawn between your thighs for a different reason.

“Were you getting off by humping Little Brendon?!”

“It’s not what it looks like, okay?” You say, picking up the phone. “He’s the perfect firmness, and he’s way easier to manage than a clunky pillow! It’s purely physical!”

Brendon scoffs, “I’ve bought you thousands of dollars in sex toys, and you turn to him? In our marital bed? I’m being cuckolded by polyester!”

“Brendon, it’s a stuffed animal, not the pool boy. You come back from England in three days, and you can fuck me however you want. Y’know, because of your functioning dick, tongue, and fingers?”

“Just as long as I don’t come back to find you rimming the stuffed tiger from Calvin and Hobbes,” he teases with a smile.

“Hm, is degrading Winnie the Pooh out of the question, too, then? because if that’s the case, then I’ll need to find different plans for tomorrow evening.”

He gives you a pointed look, feigning seriousness before cracking a grin. “Alright, alright, thank you for the orgasm. I’ll see you on Tuesday,” he says before blowing you a kiss before hanging up.

“That plush better count his days,” Brendon mumbles to himself before falling asleep.

***

“Do you want me to go with you to the store?” He offers.

“No, baby, enjoy some of your time at home. I’ll just bring my other husband for emotional support.” You toss Little Brendon in your purse.

“I remember when I was your emotional support at the grocery store…” Brendon starts, looking off into the distance.

“Yeah, me too, and you were terrible. You hated it. Rest assured, I’ll make you come back to the grocery store another time, but right now, I’m being nice because you just got back from tour. And you still have the dishes and the vacuuming to do.”

“Aye, aye, captain. Don’t let the paparazzi catch you smooching Little Brendon while I’m at home doing your dirty work,” he calls as you leave.

“No promises! He’s very tempting!”

***

“You never snuggle with me anymore,” Brendon pouts after you reject his advances in bed.

“It’s August, and you’re hot,” you complain, and he gives you a suggestive look. “Not that kind of hot, Casanova. I mean two minutes in, and you’re sweating all over me. It’s uncomfortable.”

“You snuggled with Little Brendon when I was gone!” He accuses.

“Yes, because I’ve grown accustomed to sleeping with something in my arms, and Little Brendon doesn’t sweat, or snore, or wake me up in the morning with his cock pressing into my thigh, or bicker with me about how I choose to sleep,” you explain, annoyed. Brendon looks genuinely upset, so you soften your face. “When the temperature isn’t in the triple digits, and we don’t literally stick together when we touch, we can cuddle. Okay?”

“Fine.”

***

“Bogart, hey buddy, look at this toy for you to chew on. Bite, bite, bite, kill,” he says, throwing Little Brendon to Bogart.

Bogart sighs and rests his head on Little Brendon like a pillow.

“First my wife and now my dog,” Brendon shouts, throwing his hands up in frustration.

“Okay, this has gone on long enough,” you tell him, alerting him to your presence in the doorframe. “Sit,” you order, pointing to the couch. “Brendon, you’re jealous of a toy,” you state bluntly.

He blushes and grabs his stuffed enemy. “It’s not about the toy,” he finally admits.

“Yeah, I didn’t think so.”

“It’s just,” he struggles to find the right words, “I love touring. I love seeing all the different cities on my days off, meeting fans, partying with different bands, and most of all playing shows.” He takes a deep breath. “But I also love you. I love waking up with you, going out to dinner, watching you get off on my thigh, and just getting to be near you. So when I have to be away from you to tour, sometimes I wonder if I made the right choice, and seeing you do the things I want to do with you with the stupid Beebo plush instead, kept bringing all of those feelings to the forefront” he confesses.

“Oh, B, of course, you made the right choice. I love you, and I miss you when you’re gone sometimes, but I love our life. I love getting my independence when you’re gone, visiting you on-tour, watching you do what you love, having super hot reunion sex. So yeah, sometimes I just wanna squeeze you and smell your cologne and kiss your little face, but I’d never want you to sacrifice your career for that,” you say. “You wanna know why I like Little B so much?”

“Because he’s so good for humping?”

“No,” you laugh, “well, yes, actually, he is. But it’s because he reminds me why I spend some nights alone and hop on dreadful red-eye flights every few weeks and have to hook up with my husband on a fucking bus. So you can put on this dumb gold jacket,” you fiddle with Little Brendon’s jacket, “and perform the songs you worked so hard on for hundreds of thousands of people, and then sell thousands of these dumb little dolls so we can live in a multi-million dollar house with a home studio and a heated pool.”

“So you’re not replacing me with the puppet doll?” He asks.

“Well, maybe a little, but sometimes you feel so intangible. Even when you’re here, I know you have other, more important obligations, so it’s nice to have something constant,” you laugh, “and I think Bogart feels the same way,” you say, pointing to the dog who is curled around his new friend protectively.

***

“You’ve created a monster!”

“Have not!”

“You were the one who gave him Little Brendon!”

Brendon’s eyes dart to the floor because you’re right.

Bogart grew attached to Little Brendon faster than you did and now gently carries the toy with him wherever he goes. If you try to reclaim Little Brendon, Bogart growls and snarls.

“It’s kind of cute, I guess. He’s protecting his daddy,” you say.

“Then it’s your fault for putting my cologne on him,” Brendon retorts.

“Ugh, fine,” you concede.

“Oh look, he’s dropped it,” Brendon points out.

At first, you think it’s a good thing, but you both recognize the look Bogart’s giving.

“Go, Bog! Get it!” Brendon cackles as the dog pounces.

“Oh no, you don’t, bad dog,” you scold, snatching the toy away. “If you wanna hump something, I think Zack’s coming over tonight, but we don’t do that to mommy’s things.”

Brendon’s still laughing his ass off, and you shoot him a dirty look. “C’mon, babe, you’ve blue-balled him,” Brendon says, pointing to the sad-looking dog.

“Bogart is fixed and doesn’t have balls, a characteristic you two will soon have in common if you don’t stop giggling like a ten-year-old,” you threaten, and he, wisely, shuts up. “That’s what I thought. And if anything, this is just vindication for me because I told you Little Brendon was good for humping, and you dismissed it,” you tell him.

“Okay, fine, there was a brief period of time when I was irrationally jealous of a toy,” he admits. “But I think you should get another taste of the real thing before you decide who’s the better lay once and for all,” Brendon says, picking you up and carrying you to the bedroom.

“Brendon!” You lightheartedly protest in his arms.

***

You’re lying on his chest contentedly as he strokes your arm. “You wanna know what I miss the most about getting to cuddle with you when you’re touring? Something Little Brendon doesn’t give me?”

“Hm?”

“Your heartbeat. Feeling it under my head or under my palm. Especially if we’re lying together for a while. I love how it slows and steadies the longer we’re with each other. So comforting.”

***

Little Brendon is sitting on your bed with a card that says, “Squeeze me!” on the front. You squeeze the plush, and you immediately recognize Brendon’s heartbeat coming softly from the chest of the toy. You smile and pick up the card.

Hey, baby! It reads, I’m no doubt missing you on the second leg of tour right now, but if you really need some comfort, I hope this’ll do. The recording lasts about an hour, and I made sure it got down to my resting heart rate before it stops. I’m sorry for being a jealous dick about a stuffed animal, but even my possessive lizard brain wants you to have something to make you feel better if you’re ever stressed or upset. (And now that the Beebo plushies are officially for sale, you can rest easy knowing yours is special)

xoxoxo,

Brendon

#why did i write this?#brendon urie fanfiction #Brendon x Reader #my own work #brendon urie #panic! at the disco #panic at the disco #brendon urie smut #brendon urie fluff

37 notes · View notes

musetta3 · 3 years ago

Text

Dragon Age OC as a Companion: Revka Cadash

Trend started by @little-lightning-lavellan it’s an amazing one and I had such fun with it! Thank you for the template!

This will be under a cut, because ohhhhhh my, there’s a lot here <3

This is also on AO3!

Is your OC a Companion in the Dragon Age series? What would it be like for a player to select them to join their party for quests (or romance them, perhaps? 👀)

You have selected Revka Cadash to join your party!

Race: Dwarf

Affiliation: Carta

Gender: Female

Class: Rogue/Archer

Specialization: artificer

Background

Revka Cordelia Cadash (born 8:95 Blessed) is a dwarven rogue and businesswoman. She is a companion and a potential romance option for a male human, dwarf, or qunari Inquisitor in Dragon Age: Inquisition.

Revka is a member of the many-membered Cadash Clan, and daughter of Brygida ‘Cookie’ Cadash and Artur ‘Archie’ Cadash. She has an older brother, Tavi, as well as numerous cousins, including Edric ‘Dasher’ Cadash, the head of the Ferelden Carta.

Revka grew up in the company of her rambunctious cousins, and thus views them like brothers and sisters. It’s common for Cadashes to play tricks and pull pranks on each other as a way to show affection, as is evidenced in the short story ‘Flapping in the Breeze.’ Some of Revka’s favorite pranks include spiking food with chili oil, switching people’s beverages, hiding belongings, and breaking into ‘private’ things such as journals, desk contents, or that box of cookies under the bed.

Revka made a name for herself in the Carta accompanying her mother and cousins on patrol as a teen. Her deadly accuracy with a bow earned her the nickname ‘Hawkeye;’ her duties quickly expanded to include ‘problem-solving’ for the Carta, her solutions ranging from assassinations, blackmail, and negotiating contracts, to smuggling, and forgeries. Her successful business plans and battle tactics made her a valuable asset to the Carta.

In 9:13 Dragon, Revka married Iwan Feddic, a member of the merchant caste and a Cadash client in Ostwick. She helped her husband run his international shipping business, a venture she took over after his untimely death. When Dasher’s wife, Darya, died at the hands of the Orlesian Carta, Revka returned to Ferelden to help her cousin raise his five children, turning over the Ostwicker affairs to her brother, Tavi.

When the Cadashes eliminated a rival Carta branch in Kirkwall, they sent Artur Cadash to oversee operations in the city. 22-year-old Revka volunteered to accompany him, becoming her father’s second in command. Once arrived in Kirkwall, she helped him found Graywater Imports, an import/export company functioning as a storefront for both legal and illegal goods. She is a prominent member of the Cadash Carta branch in Kirkwall, often dealing with the Dwarven Merchant Guild and Varric Tethras.

Romance with Varric Tethras

Shortly after Revka arrived in Kirkwall, she met the young Varric Tethras. What began as mixing business with pleasure became a romantic entanglement that lasted until Tethras met the talented smith Bianca Davri, and broke off with Revka for Bianca. As much as Revka wanted to cut all ties with him, she maintained their business relationship… and an unrequited, one-sided love for the deshyr prince.

Involvement

A special mission at the War Table will unlock a quest at Kirkwall’s Docks, ‘Ten Shades of Graywater,’ in which the Inquisitor will receive a mysterious anonymous letter inviting them to the coast to discuss a purveyor/supplier contract for the Inquisition. The Inquisitor will arrive in a seemingly abandoned alley, but is ambushed by Coterie thugs. After the enemies are slain, Revka can be engaged in conversation.

If Varric is in the party, he will be surprised to see Revka. It’s revealed that they know each other through various business ventures, and are old acquaintances… although the weighted, bitter quality of Revka’s answers imply that their relationship is more complicated than Varric had said.

Upon further questioning, Revka pitches her business proposal: wholesale lyrium for the Inquisition’s mages or Templars, with access to the Cadash Family’s network of spies, businesses, and Carta members for Inquisition purposes. Her only condition is that her family obtains an industry monopoly, becoming the sole provider of lyrium for the Inquisition and Southern Thedas.

Revka can be found near the archery targets and training dummies in Haven. Once the Inquisition relocates to Skyhold, Revka spends time training in the courtyard, in Skyhold’s main hall talking to Varric, or in the rookery, spoiling her messenger crow, Cipher, with treats. Dialogue options will reveal that she uses the bird keep in contact with her family and business associates.

Approval and Romance

Revka can be romanced by a male Inquisitor of any race, and will jokingly comment on the height differences if romanced by a qunari, elf, or human. A Cadash inquisitor of either gender can unlock Carta-specific dialogue. Revka is guarded at first, giving out only generic information about her family, but with some persistent questioning the Inquisitor can wear her down. Depending on dialogue choices, the conversation can end with the Cadashes exchanging stories of ‘colorful’ family members and an approval gain.

Revka takes a more pragmatic view on politics: she supports whoever pays the most, and sells lyrium to both the Templars and mages without discrimination. Upon learning the truth behind the events Redcliffe, however, she is dismayed to learn what her products enabled. Traveling to Redcliffe with Revka in the party will trigger her personal quest ‘Scales Fall from Her Eyes.’ (this quest will trigger after the Inquisition relocates to Skyhold if the player sided with the Templars)

Revka approves of Inquisitors who are tenacious, calculating/far-sighted, and does what is best for the majority. She believes that the end justifies the mean, sanctioning death only as a last resort. She approves of bold plans, investigating all aspects of a quest before making a decision, and an Inquisitor who makes jokes (especially puns). Her sense of justice changes as the player completes more of her personal quests. She will approve of charitable acts and kindness as the game progresses and her personal beliefs change.

Revka’s romance can be initiated through the conventional method flirting and conversation. During the quest ‘Scales Fall from Her Eyes,’ the Inquisitor has an opportunity to embrace Revka, leading to a kiss.

If Revka is not romanced by an Inquisitor, she can enter a relationship with Varric Tethras, but only if the Inquisitor assists in reconciling the two ex-lovers. Revka’s romantic past with Varric is hinted at in party banter if both are present, the two bickering with each other. This series of quests are available post-arrival at Skyhold, and has conditional dialogue for certain scenarios.

Revka gets along well with Dorian and Cassandra, bonding with them over their mutual love of books. It’s revealed that the three of them have an unofficial ‘book club’ going on, where they read various novels and comment on them in party banter. Revka also gets along well with Sera, bonding over pulling pranks in Haven and Skyhold. She makes a special bond with Leliana over nugs, owning a nug, herself.

Revka does not trust Solas from the moment she meets him, stating he knows too much, and is fond of talking without saying anything. She also suspects Blackwall of hiding something.

Companion Quests

Scales Fall from Her Eyes

After the events of Redcliffe, the Inquisitor will receive a note from Revka to meet her at the abandoned cabin outside Haven. Or, if the player sided with the Templars, this will trigger once the Inquisition relocates to Skyhold. At the meeting, she will share her guilt and horror at what occurred. She questions her personal beliefs, and offers an apology with the promise to amend her family’s business practices. After this quest, Revka is more empathetic, approving of selfless and charitable acts, whereas before she’d disapprove.

At the end of the quest, the Inquisitor has an opportunity to embrace Revka, which can lead to a kiss, if desired.

Varric’s Quest in Valammar

Revka can be found beside the fireplace in the main hall, arguing with Varric over the contents of a particular letter. Upon investigation, the Inquisitor learns that Revka has broken into the locked box in which Varric keeps his correspondence, which she claims he’s done to her on multiple occasions over the years. He neither denies nor confirms the accusation. Revka demands to know why Varric is still in contact with ‘that woman,’ declares she won’t set foot in the main hall until his ‘guest’ is gone, and leaves, demanding the Inquisitor ‘talk some sodding sense into him.’

This leads into Varric’s quests with Bianca Davri, and some cutting comments from Bianca calling Revka a ‘sore loser.’ Varric comes to Revka’s defense, much to the Inquisitor’s surprise.

If the Inquisitor takes Revka to Valammar, she disapproves and will grouse all the way there, cutting snide remarks whenever Varric says something. She becomes jealous during Bianca and Varric’s reminiscing, interjecting and muttering. Her anger only grows as the quest proceeds, Revka calling out Bianca for her selfish, pragmatic methods and carelessness. Once Inquisitor concludes the quest, Revka declares she needs some air, and says she’ll meet the Inquisitor at the nearest inquisition camp later.

Upon arrival at the campsite, a scout reports that Revka never returned to camp. The Inquisitor must search the nearby area; eventually, they find Revka injured after being ambushed by bandits (the Inquisitor and the party must defeat them in order for the quest to proceed).

If Varric is present, he will be upset, demanding to know why she would be so foolish as to wander around alone. Revka half-jokes, claiming how surprised she is that Varric cares about her safety, after all these years. Varric’s expression visibly shifts. The Inquisitor arranges for her immediate medical care, but it’s too serious a wound for her to remain out in the field. After this point, Revka is unavailable as a companion until after the Inquisitor returns to Skyhold.

Once the Inquisitor returns, they will find Varric in the central courtyard, pacing outside the infirmary/medical tents. The medic will inform the Inquisitor that Varric hasn’t left since Revka’s arrival, but refuses to go inside to see her. Selecting Varric for a conversation will show he can’t bear to face her after what happened at Valammar; he feels especially guilty, knowing that she got hurt in an attempt to calm down after the encounter. The Inquisitor can remind Varric that his apology should be to Revka, not them. To trigger their romance, the Inquisitor can encourage him to visit Revka and share his feelings.

If the Inquisitor visits her instead, they will gain high approval with her, and further unlock romance scenes. After the visit in the tent, Revka will invite the Inquisitor to her quarters to personally ‘thank’ him. The Inquisitor can choose to accept her proposition, or refuse. Depending on choice, Revka may sleep with the Inquisitor. There is an option to break relations off with Revka the morning after.

Revka’s Family

Revka’s war table missions mostly revolve around business opportunities she’s scouted out for the Inquisition throughout Thedas. Some of these are triggered through conversations with Revka in the rookery or throughout Skyhold. Completing quests from her cousin Jon in Tevinter will reveal Venatori camps on all game-maps, and will reduce the cooldown time on war table quests dealing with Venatori in general.

Revka’s cousin, Czibor, can be encountered in the Hissing Wastes hunting Venatori. Accompanying xem in eliminating a Venatori camp can lead to xir recruitment as an Inquisition agent.

The Trouble with Tavi

After the quest Wicked Eyes and Wicked Hearts, Revka will ask to meet the Inquisitor, requesting their assistance in a matter of life or death. She reveals that she’s received a letter from the Orlesian Carta, stating their displeasure at the Inquisitor’s choice of ruler, since they’re encroaching on the Orlesian Carta’s operations. They know Revka and the Cadash family has been helping the Inquisition, and threaten to exact revenge. She’d thought it an empty threat until her brother Tavi stopped replying to her letters. Upon investigation, it’s revealed that the Orlesian Carta kidnapped Tavi and have hid him at their base in Val Royeaux. Revka asks the Inquisitor for assistance.

Should the Inquisitor refuse Revka, she will greatly disapprove, stating that her brother’s more important that the Inquisitor’s ‘sodding principles,’ and leave the Inquisition to save him. She will not be available again until later in the game (post Adamant), when a war table mission will appear from Tavi in Ostwick, stating that Revka saved him and has returned to Kirkwall. She is still very offended, and is considering terminating the Cadash business contracts with the Inquisition. He urges the Inquisitor to please make her reconsider, citing the monetary gain the contracts net him but also Revka’s hurt (note: the letter will also reference a romanced Varric, asking the Inquisitor to enlist his help). The Inquisitor has the choice to make up with Revka and invite her back, or leave her be.

Should the Inquisitor choose to help Revka, she will greatly approve and travel with the Inquisitor to Val Royeaux. Varric—regardless of the romance status—will also express interest in coming, but bringing him along is not required. Revka will be touched by his offer, regardless.

The meeting place mentioned in the Carta’s letter is an abandoned oil warehouse at the docks. Inside, the companions note the derelict condition of the place. The further they travel into the warehouse, following a trail of blood, the smell of rancid oil grows stronger. In a storeroom, there is a lone dead dwarf bearing a note, a man Revka recognizes as Tavi’s second in command in Ostwick. If the Inquisitor can find Tavi before time runs out, the note says, they’re welcome to him. As the Inquisitor reads the note aloud, a shadow darts in the periphery; the door slams shut, locking them in. A torch is thrown in through a window, setting the spilled oil on fire.

The Inquisitor may, through a series of dialogue choices, decide to rescue Tavi or leave him to his fate, opting to escape. If the Inquisitor chooses to escape and leave Tavi behind, Revka will greatly disapprove, running off to find him herself. If she is romanced by Varric, he will also greatly disapprove, stating that they should go after Revka. If the Inquisitor chooses this route, they can still save Revka and Tavi. Otherwise, the two Cadashes are not seen again, supposedly perishing in the fire. Revka will then be unavailable as a companion for the remainder of the game.

The mission to save Tavi is time-sensitive, with several endings: should the Inquisitor take too long to escape or find Tavi, the warehouse will collapse on them, killing everyone. The timer, separated into quarters, is marked by sections of the roof collapsing: escaping by the third collapse will guarantee the party’s safety. Escaping post-third collapse can result in a 50% chance of the roof collapsing on the party: if this occurs, Revka pushes either her love interest or her brother out of the way of a falling beam, sacrificing herself for their safety. The mission then ends with the party barely escaping in time, mourning the loss of their lover and/or friend.

Pranks

Various pranks around Skyhold and Haven are attributed to Revka via ambient dialogue and party banter. If the approval rate is high enough, Inquisitor has an opportunity to join Revka in pulling pranks around Skyhold post-Adamant. She claims that she’d like to cheer everyone up, and would like the Inquisitor’s help.

Prank 1: sneak into the kitchen and switch the sugar out for salt in a cake.

Prank 2: paint a smiley face on the back of a sleeping Solas’s head

Prank 3: Rearrange Vivienne’s furniture

Prank 4: Distract Varric so she can steal his letters and replace them with scrambled riddles

A cutscene follows, showing a crowd standing at the base of a flagpole the morning after. Revka pushes through the crowd, gasping: someone has nailed her frilly blue panties to the pole. Varric is seen leaning against a column, howling with laughter. Revka pulls a face at him and scowls, but eventually ends up laughing, too. (Note: this is inspired by the short story ‘Flapping in the Breeze’)

Trespasser

If Revka left or died during the events of the game, she will not be at the Winter Palace. Otherwise, there are several outcomes as to what she’s been doing…

If she romanced Varric, she returned to Kirkwall and is his lover

If she romanced the Inquisitor, she stayed alongside him as an Inquisition agent

If she did not romance anyone, she returned to Kirkwall

There is an option to marry Revka as a romanced Inquisitor, or urge her to marry Varric. If she marries, her brother Tavi and a recruited cousin Czibor may attend the ceremony.

Combat comments

Kills an enemy

And stay dead!

Sodding nughumper, good riddance.

Low Health

A little help would be lovely!

Oh shit. Not good.

Atredum na satolva! Toss me a health potion, will you?

I’m too old for this…

Low Health (Companions)

(The Inquisitor) Inquisitor!

(The Inquisitor - if romanced) Hold on, love!

(Varric, unromanced) Varric, you don’t look so good...

(Varric, if romanced) Oh shit, don’t you dare die on me.

(Sera) Can someone check on Sera, please?

(Cassandra) Cass! Wait!

(Dorian) Dorian needs help!

Location comments

(Approaching Camp) Ahhh! Home sweet tent.

(When collecting a shard) Ooh! I wonder how much it’d fetch at market.

Storm Coast

(sighs) They ought to call this place the ‘Soggy Coast,’ or the ‘Sopping Coast.’ My socks are soaked through to my boots.

Fallow Mire

The bugs will drain you dry before the undead will. Nug-humping bastards keep biting me…

Anyone else feel eyes watching you from the shadows?

Hinterlands

(Laughs) You know, back when I was running jobs for the Carta, I would get so lost here in the Hinterlands. Good to know things haven’t changed.

Don’t go near there; bears love that place. I learned that the hard way…

(at Witchwood) Ah, the Which-Witch-is-Which-Wood. Da would warn my brother and I about this place when were children.

The Hissing Wastes

I have sand in places I never knew existed.

Why my cousin had to choose to hunt Venatori in the ass-end of nowhere is beyond me…

Emprise du Lion

(scoffs) Snow. Snow. More sodding snow. I’m up to my tits in the stuff.

We don’t get snow like this in Kirkwall.

(on seeing a snowfleur) Ooh, look! Fluffy nugs! Can I take one home? Lucky could use a friend.

Emerald Graves

I…I heard the reason why this place is called the Emerald Graves. Such a tragic story.

I didn’t expect such greenery this far south, to be honest.

Exalted Plains

(shivers) You can feel the sorrow in this place.

Companion Comments

Blackwall: “Rev? She’s a bit… unnerving, to be honest. Never smiles, glares holes in the side of your head. Offered to sell my carvings in Denerim, though: two sovereigns apiece. I swear she could sell water to a fish, that woman…”

Varric: “(Laughs) Hawkeye and I go way back. Don’t let her innocent face fool you: she’ll bleed you dry at Wicked Grace if you let her. Learned some of my best tricks from her—Don’t…erm. Don’t tell her that.”

“Do you know how Hawkeye got her name? She shot a fly from across a room, once. Still don’t know how she did it.”

(If Inquisitor romanced Revka) Hawkeye’s a sweet girl, under all the Carta bullshit. I’m glad she has you; she deserves some happiness in her life.”

(If romances Revka): “I know they say don’t mix business with pleasure, but I get all the best discounts at Graywater Imports, now. You want anything? I think they’re running a sale on Antivan leather, at the moment.”

“She’s probably upstairs feeding Cipher, knowing her. Or taking another order for Dagna; buys crafting supplies like candy, that one.”

Sera: “Rev’s fun, not all stuffy just ‘cause she’s someone back home, yeah? Takes jokes well. Can’t shoot for shit, though…”

Cole: Ash, steel, gray, withering inside at the sight of him smiling at her. Don’t look back, you’re not going that way; old coals don’t rekindle. It bleeds under her armor, but she can’t bandage the wound. I want to help. (if she romances Varric) but he helped her feel whole again. (if she romances the Inquisitor) but you helped her feel whole again.

Solas: “Is it wise to allow a known member of the Carta in our ranks? She actively seeks information and passes it along to her superiors.”

“Do tell Mistress Cadash that if she breaks into my desk one more time, I shall ward the drawers to set her on fire. I can tolerate harmless pranks, but one thing I cannot abide is liars who snoop.”

Iron Bull: “They say still waters run deep, and she’s no exception. She might appear all laughs and smiles, but that woman knows exactly what she’s doing. Don’t underestimate her.”

Dorian: “Ah, my darling Rev: she has excellent taste in literature and baked goods.” (if she romances Varric) “And dwarven merchant princes.”

Cassandra: “I doubted her intentions, at first, but she has proven herself quite useful to the Inquisition. If you see her, tell her to return my book, will you? She ‘borrowed’ a week ago, and I want to know what happens to the poor Guard Captain.”

Vivienne: “Mistress Cadash would do quite well at court; she understands the Game surprisingly well for one who’s not a courtier. Too strong from the onset, however: the idea is to gain a person’s trust, not frighten them into submission.”

Cullen: “I knew Mistress Cadash back in Kirkwall; I’d frequent Graywater Imports often. They carry three kinds of hair pomade there, did you know?”

Josephine: “Mistress Cadash has many useful connections throughout Thedas; I’m pleased she offers them to us so freely. But then, we’re making her a rich woman with all the business contracts. Quid pro quo, as the Tevinters say.”

Leliana: “Rev is a shrewd woman, fierce and good at her craft. Did you know that she has a pet nug in Kirkwall? She always has something for the birds when she comes here; I like her.”

Trivia

It’s said that the young Varric Tethras wrote his first novel, The Dasher’s Men, about Edric Cadash, Revka’s cousin. The femme fatale who assists the hero of the tale, Revka, is heavily inspired by Varric’s lover at the time, Revka Cadash. An autographed copy of The Dasher’s Men can be found in the rookery, where Revka sits.

Revka adores cookies, and has been trying to get the secret brandy snap recipe off of her cousin, Edric, for years. She has tried everything from recipe book publisher scams to impersonating the Viscount of Kirkwall’s chef to obtain the recipe

In party banter, Revka will mention her nug, Lucky, which, according to the short story, she won during a rather raucous evening of Wicked Grace.

When Revka isn’t reading, answering correspondence, or training, she enjoys baking, sewing, and embroidery.

Despite being an adept businesswoman, Revka is terrible at bookkeeping, and will often complain about it to Varric… sometimes enlisting him to do it, with a bribe of cookies.

#dragon age #dragon age inquisition #writing prompt #dai #dragon age companions #revka #revka cadash #Cadash x Varric #dorian pavus #Varric Tethras #dragon age varric #cadash #female cadash

48 notes · View notes

coco96 · 4 years ago

Text

LDAF -Doctor Who Masterlist

Last updated: 10/28/2020

9th Doctor

Never Split Up (9th Doctor X Male!Reader) Warnings: Mild violence, yelling and confrontation Request: Ninth doctor x male!reader where the reader is getting harassed by some random guy while traveling with the doctor and the doctor steps in to help save reader from the guy

Accidents Happen (9th Doctor X Reader) *PARENTAL Warnings: Injury Request: … reader sees the doctor as a brother/dad figure and the reader gets hurt so the doctor has to take care of them? Also, could the reader possibly be male?

Crybaby (Doctor 9-12 X Fem!Reader) Warnings: Self-Conscious reader Request: … reader getting emotional and sad easily. Others think its annoying, she thinks that too, but the doctor thinks its a good thing because that means she really cares about that and isn’t as insensitive like the most humans

---

10th Doctor

Practically Human (10/11 X Fem!Reader) *PLATONIC Warnings: Mention of death, injury and mourning Request: Reader is a cyborg … she’s been travelling with the doctor for ages + her cyborg traits have come in useful … she’s been struggling recently but hasn’t told the doctor + instead she just turns her emotions off bc she doesn’t want to be sad. the doctor tries to convince her that it’s okay to be sad and tries to convince her to turn them back on. …

That Jumper Used To Fit You (10th Doctor X Reader) Warnings: Weight loss, loss of sleep Request: A 10th Doctor x reader where the reader tries keeping up with the timelord resulting in not eating and sleeping enough. The Doctor realises it after seeing the weight loss and steps in?

---

11th Doctor

The Human Thing (11th Doctor X Reader) Request: … after an adventure Amy and Rory kiss and 11 makes a remark about humans. The reader gets all defensive like “maybe try human stuff before hating on it” or something and realizes what they are suggesting and says they werent implying that but the doctor kisses them mid sentence …

Company (11th Doctor X Fem!Reader) Warnings: Mention of illness and death. Request: How about one w/ Clara exploring the TARDIS one day when the Doctor can’t take her out on an adventure … She hears someone she doesnt recognise + follows the voice to find the Dr sitting w/ a woman she’s never seen before (reader) and he’s just sitting there, smiling while she speaks about something to him. …

Trouble Sleeping (11th Doctor X Fem!Reader) Warnings: Depression, anxiety, fainting and mention of not eating. Request: … reader where she’s been feeling anxious and depressed but hasn’t told the Dr cos she can’t explain why + doesn’t want to worry him, but it’s been keeping her awake at night so on one of her adventures with him she passes out while they’re supposed to be running/hiding from the monster/alien. she wakes up on the TARDIS and he gets angry and says she should have told him and then she gets upset and he calms down and realises something is really wrong.

He Doesn’t Love me (11th Doctor X Fem!Reader) Warnings: Angst, injury, kidnapping, death Request: … whatever alien/bad guy they’re up against takes reader hostage/ threatens to kill her if Dr doesn’t do what they say. she calls them an idiot + starts ranting about how he wouldn’t risk himself + the entire galaxy for her. the alien/baddie argues that the Dr would bc he loves her + she says he doesn’t love her back. …

Jealousy in a Timelord (11th Doctor X Fem!Timelord!Reader) Warnings: Injury, technically there’s death and I think I only swore once. Request: … reader is a Time Lord too, and she’s the doctors wife (instead of river) and she gets jealous when river starts to join her and the 11th doctor and Amy and Rory on the tardis and then she starts to distance herself … then something sneaks onto the tardis and attacks her maybe and there’s angst and fluff where she explains her worries to the doctor and he reassures her.

Bowties and Jackets (11th Doctor X Reader) Request: 11th Doctor request here. Can you do something where Reader steals his Jackett and Bowtie and pretends to be him?

Birthday in Hollywood (11th Doctor X Fem!Chubby!Reader) *PLATONIC Warnings: Insecurities and self-conscious reader Request: … reader having her 17th birthday. The Doctor (i dont care which) knows how she gets sad when its her birthday, and how she thinks she is nothing special so he sends her into the tardis’ changing room and gets her a dress she would never wear because of her chubby body (steals her clothes so that she has to chance) and the rest would be up to you..

---

12th Doctor

Please Don’t (12th Doctor X Fem!Reader) *PARENTAL TRIGGER WARNING: Alcoholic parents, mention of mistreatment, panic attack Request: … Reader never felt like she really had parents because both are alcoholics. But she feels for him like hes her father and is deeply afraid that she bores him or something and he leaves her and gets a panic attack when he hints something like that all of sudden and just sits on the ground, not able to move, crying because it hit her so hard

That Look (12th Doctor X Fem!Reader) Warnings: Self consciousness of other character, age gap Request: Reader travels with the Doctor for a while now, knowing him as 11 but he regenerates to 12 a few months ago and he is in love with her but thinks a relationship is now even more unlikely to happen now that he looks old. But she really loves when hes talking intelligent stuff and hes doing exactly that and she can’t help but kiss him and hes flustered and shocked and she goes ‘I wanted to do that so long now’

Unseen Softness (12th Doctor X Wife!Reader) Request: ... 12 being totally soft for his timelord!wife!reader and she’s the only one who can get past his angry, non-affectionate exterior which is great for her as it means she gets all the hugs from him. And forehead kisses ...

---

13th Doctor

Underated Illness (13th Doctor X Fem!Reader) Warnings: Sickness Request: ... reader is sick? And she’s trying to hide it but then she ends up passing out (thankfully not in a dangerous situation) and 13 just rants at her about safety and fusses over her and makes sure she gets better?

Lost Hugs (13th Doctor X Fem!Reader) Request: ... reader keeps to herself a lot and 13 gets upset cos she thinks its because reader wants to leave her because she’s a woman now but actually y/n just doesn’t want to overstep her boundaries - 12 wasn’t a hugging person and she learned to just deal without the much wanted affection and 13 just hugs the hell out of her ...

Colour Of Love (13th Doctor X Reader) Request: … Reader joins the fam and starts crushing after 13th. reader want’s to at least let 13 know but they are just good playing woodwinds … and r not good at singing. but the TARDIS changes the tiles colors depending on feelings so 13 follows the path of reds, pinks & yellows and listend to the melody reader is practicing and /oh/

A Little Notebook (13th Doctor X Fem!Reader) Request: … 13 is low-key really into y/n but tries to ignore her feelings. Y/n is an artist and, unbeknownst to 13, has a whole bunch of sketches of 13 in her notebook. One day Yaz, who has been desperately trying to set the two up, strategically places the book in the console room. 13 finds the notebook, and y/n sees 13 looking at the sketches of her. …

Weekly Dates Interrupted (13th Doctor X Fem!Reader) Warnings: Stress Request: … reader is going through uni, she’s like 24, & her + 13 are dating (if that’s alright), but she drops reader off for her classes, then comes to pick her up again at a set day the two agree on when she doesn’t have as much work or stress. One day, when 13 skips along to the decided date, she finds the reader is really struggling (severe anxiety, regular panic attacks, crying over her assignments, etc) and she encourages reader, with fluff?

Nearly Died (13th Doctor X Fem!Reader) Warnings: Near death experience Request: … 13 snaps at her girlfriend because she almost got into serious trouble with some alien. 13 is just concerned and worried about her getting hurt, but doesn’t realise that she doesn’t see it that way and thinks 13 is actually angry. So girlfriend goes off to her room and 13 finds her later and realises how upset she is and apologises and they just hug a while

Without A Doubt (13th Doctor X Reader) Request: … the doctor is worried that the reader won’t love her anymore because she’s a woman now. She distances herself and finally when they have a moment to breathe after the initial few episodes the reader’s just like ‘will you just talk to me’ w/ a fluffy little ending?

---

Bill Potts

Under the Console (Bill Potts X Fem!Reader) Request: … They are both the Doctors companions (and Reader is female too if thats alright..) and Reader complains in front of the Doctor how beautiful she is, and she never would have a chance with her, not knowing that Bill is standing right behind her.

---

Missy

Teasing (Missy X Fem!Reader) Warnings: Spoilers kind of? Request: … Reader is an introvert woman and the Doctors Companion. She has to have an eye on her while Missy is in the Vault and the others are gone for an adventure. What exactly happens would be up to you but i want Missy to kiss and tease her

133 notes · View notes

artistjojo1228 · 5 years ago

Text

Rock and Roll Storytime #13: The 27 Club (Part 1: What It Is, Robert Johnson, and Brian Jones)

Considering that I’ve already talked about several specific stories involving the tragic seven, and how we’re all superstitious of the number thirteen, I feel it’s high time I talked about this... Also, I’m dividing this into parts so that I might be able to offer some more insight than I could if I were trying harder to stick into Tumblr’s character limit.

Robert Johnson, Brian Jones, Jimi Hendrix, Janis Joplin, Jim Morrison, Kurt Cobain, and Amy Winehouse.

These seven names make up the most prominent members of the 27 Club, or as I like to call it, one of rock and roll’s oldest and most prevalent superstitions. Some people (like hack biographer Charles Cross) have stated that there is more of a statistical spike for musicians dying at twenty-seven, or just believe that musicians are more likely to die at 27.

I think this chart should dispel a lot of those notions...

I’m not superstitious of the club by any means, but what I’d still like to do is talk about what it is, and talk about the lives of the tragic seven in particular. Bear in mind, I might be including some of my own personal opinions and anecdotes on the matter, so please bear with me.

The 27 Club

In its most basic form, the 27 Club is a list of actors, artists, athletes, and most predominately musicians, who all died at the age of twenty-seven, typically as the result of drug overdoses, health problems, or car accidents. There is no official membership though, so I’ve heard of people including as few as three members and as many as eighty-one (okay, that last one was me counting almost everyone who’s ever been mentioned on the Wikipedia page as well as a camera assistant killed in a train accident in Georgia in 2014). For those sites who will list more than just the Tragic Seven, the earliest one is usually considered to be Alexandre Levy, a Brazilian composer who died of unknown causes on January 17, 1892, and the most recent member is generally considered to be someone who died in the last three years, such as Anton Yelchin, Kim Jong-hyun, or Fredo Santana. (Personally, the most recent member I’ll count is Tyler Skaggs, who died of an opioid overdose just twelve days shy of his 28th birthday on July 1, 2019).

The club started up after the sudden deaths of Brian Jones, Jimi Hendrix, Janis Joplin, and Jim Morrison between July 2, 1969, and July 3, 1971. The deaths were highly publicized affairs, and inevitably, people noticed the coincidence that these four had died at the age of twenty-seven, and of course, the notion of a 27 Club started up.

This notion was further popularized when, in 1994, Kurt Cobain was found dead, having died by suicide three days earlier. Reportedly, in an interview, his mother said (in part), “I told him not to join that stupid club.” Whether or not she actually said this is a matter of personal conjecture (especially once you realize that she actually abused her son for years and that he was homeless for a time because of her). In either case, some people think nowadays that she was actually referring to the fact that two of Kurt’s uncles and his maternal great-grandfather had also died by suicide (especially considering that research has since shown that trauma can run through families), but since most of the general public would likely be unaware of that, it was assumed that she was referring to the 27 Club.

The notion was popularized again in 2011, when Amy Winehouse died from alcohol poisoning. It gets creepier once you take into account that in 2008, she expressed fears of joining the club. In retrospect, it all seems cruelly ironic...

Since the notion first became popularized, the 27 Club has shown up in various movies (usually about individual members and all of varying quality), books, TV shows, comics (like the MAD magazine strip featured above), and songs.

And now that I’ve got the rundown, I’d like to go into more detail about the tragic seven...

Robert Johnson:

Admittedly, I might have shot myself in the foot with this one, since I already (recently) covered much of what is known/mythologized of his life (https://artistjojo1228.tumblr.com/post/188292315565/rock-and-roll-storytime-crossroad-blues-the-myth), but I’d like to give at least the basic rundown regardless. Much of what I’m about to relate was mainly dug up by researchers in the 1960′s and through no small amount of effort.

Robert Leroy Johnson was born on what is believed to be May 8, 1911 in Hazlehurst, Mississippi to Julia Major Dodds and Noah Johnson. He was the youngest out of ten or eleven children (sources vary). His mother’s husband, Charles Dodds, was reportedly forced by a lynch mob to leave Hazlehurst, and he moved to Memphis, Tennessee. Likewise, Julia also left, and two years later, she sent her son to live with Charles (who by now had changed his name to Charles Spencer). As a result, for a short time, Robert was known as Robert Spencer.

In 1919, Robert went back to live with his mother, and there is some evidence to suggest that he received some schooling in 1924 and 1927. When he was still a teenager, Robert had taught himself to play harmonica and jaw-harp, but had difficulties figuring out how to play the guitar. Still, like me teaching myself piano, he was, if nothing else, determined to figure out how to play it. After a number of incidents involving him annoying people with his utter lack of skill playing the guitar, he disappeared for a while. Most likely, he spent this time learning guitar from Ike Zimmerman in a cemetery, or from watching other performers on stage. However, the popular legend about his life is that he sold his soul to the devil in exchange for his exceptional talents.

As I’ve said, Robert, during one of his songs, would play rhythm, melody, and bass lines, stamp his foot to the beat, and on top of that, sing. I believe this anecdote from Keith Richards summarizes this best: “When I first heard it, I said to Brian, ‘Who’s that?’ ‘Robert Johnson’. I said, ‘Yeah, but who’s the other guy playing with him?’ Because I was hearing two guitars, and it took me a long time to realize he was actually doing it all by himself.”

In 1929, 18-year-old Robert married 16-year-old Virginia Travis. By this time, he had started going by Robert Johnson again. Sadly though, Virginia died in childbirth a few months later, along with the baby. Her surviving relatives blamed Robert for what had happened, because of his choice to sing secular music.

Yeah... back then, the blues was considered the “Devil’s music” by many, because, as I’ve said, just about everything fun and exciting for us is “evil” to the older generations and especially the hyper-religious. This could also be a reason why the legend of Robert selling his soul took off.

At some point, he had a child with a woman named Virgie Smith, and in 1931, he married Caletta Craft, and for a while, they settled down. However, at some point in or around 1932, their relationship came to an end, though sources disagree on whether he abandoned her or if she, too, died in childbirth (trust me, giving birth back then was a much riskier affair than it is now). In either case, Robert left home and became an itinerant musician, traveling around the country and playing popular songs on street corners (he also had a remarkable ability to play a song by ear). He traveled from town to town, employing up to eight surnames depending on where he was staying. During his travels, he lived with extended family members, various female companions (whom he’d known for varying degrees of time), and others. Those he was employed by often had little idea of his past (something that was easier to get away with back in those days). His friends state that he was well-mannered, soft-spoken, reserved in private, nice, and fairly ordinary, minus the extraordinary musical talents and love of women and booze.

In 1936 and 1937, Robert recorded the 29 tracks that would come to define his musical career and legacy (with 13 alternate takes surviving to this day). He achieved his first and only brush with fame when “Terraplane Blues” became a modest regional hit. I would also like to point out that the recordings are very lo-fi (typical of a recording of the day), and that when the recordings are slowed down to ~85%, it actually sounds much more natural. Of course, I will leave personal preferences up to you guys:

youtube

As fate would have it, before he could get into the recording studio again, Robert died under mysterious circumstances on August 16, 1938, and was subsequently buried in an unmarked grave. His death certificate was eventually unearthed in the 60′s, and some researchers determined that he likely had congenital syphilis and that it was a factor in his death. But of course, the legends give a different version of events entirely.

The more popular version of the story of Robert’s death is that he was performing at a juke joint near Greenwood, Mississippi on August 13, 1938, and that he started flirting with the wife of the bartender. In turn, he poisoned Robert’s drink, though sources disagree on what the substance was, with varying sources citing strychnine (highly unlikely), lye, or even mothballs.

Robert reportedly managed to fight off the poison, but then, according to some sources, he caught pneumonia, and with his immune system already weakened, he just couldn’t fight it off, and he died a slow, agonizing death.

Today, three headstones mark the various locations where it’s believed he might’ve been buried, and a signpost marks the crossroads where he allegedly sold his soul to the devil all those years ago...

Brian Jones:

Once again, I might’ve shot myself in the foot, because I’ve already talked about various aspects of Brian’s life, including his multiple children (https://rockandrollstorytime.tumblr.com/post/188266868006/note-this-is-going-to-be-a-bit-less-light-hearted), drug arrests (https://rockandrollstorytime.tumblr.com/post/188266958481/rock-and-roll-storytime-6-the-rolling-stones), decline and eventual death (https://rockandrollstorytime.tumblr.com/post/188271810426/rock-and-roll-storytime-9-the-decline-and-early), and even how he brought the Rolling Stones together and gave them their name (https://rockandrollstorytime.tumblr.com/post/188272778331/rock-and-roll-storytime-10-how-the-rolling). Still, he is one of the Tragic Seven, so I might as well post the full version of his life story here.

Lewis Brian Hopkin Jones was born in Cheltenham, Gloucestershire on February 28, 1942 to Lewis Blount Jones and Louisa Beatrice Simmonds. He was the eldest of three children. First, there was Pamela, who was born on October 3, 1943. Sadly, just two years later, she died of leukemia on October 14, 1945. According to some sources, his parents told him she’d been sent away for misbehavior (which probably fucked Brian up for life), and according to Paul Trynka, her very existence was kept secret, to the point where even family friends had little to no idea of the fact that Brian had ever had a sister named Pamela. His other little sister, Barbara, was born on August 22, 1946.

However, at some point that same year, Brian suffered a bout of croup that left him with lifelong asthma.

Growing up, Brian performed very well in school, but he was often rebellious and despised the rigid conformity imposed by the headmasters, as well as the uniforms. In fact, in 1967, he confided to a psychologist that he was frightened by conformity in males. He even got suspended on two separate occasions for “inciting rebellion.” On one of his report cards, his teacher wrote, “Suffers from a domineering father and has to show off to compensate.” In addition, his childhood friend, Dick Hattrell, later said of him, “He was a rebel without a cause, but when examinations came he was brilliant.” Brian reportedly had an IQ of 130, and achieved nine O-levels and two A-levels and aced his 11-plus exams. (Please don’t ask me to elaborate further; I’m American and have very little knowledge of British schooling).

If Brian’s home life was lacking in parental love, then it definitely wasn’t lacking in music. Lewis was an aeronautical engineer, but he was also a piano teacher, and Louisa played piano and organ, in addition to leading the church choir. When Brian was eight, his mother started teaching him piano, but he soon needed teachers with more advanced skills as his own grew very quickly. In fact, it was later said of him that he taught himself to play the sitar, a notoriously difficult Eastern string instrument, in roughly an hour. He also learned the clarinet and was a choir boy.

In 1957, he first heard the music of Julian “Cannonball” Adderly, and developed a love for jazz and eventually blues as result. However, his parents greatly disapproved of this newer music, and were outraged when he sold his clarinet in lieu of a soprano saxophone. On the other hand, though, they did get him a guitar for his seventeenth birthday.

Brian’s life took another turn later on in 1959 when his girlfriend, Valerie Corbett, fell pregnant with his child. It should be noted that Laura Jackson’s book, Brian Jones, The Untold Life and Mysterious Death of a Legend, states that Brian blatantly refused to wear condoms (contraception was still a relatively new concept back then), and beyond that, various sources disagree on whether Valerie was just fourteen or seventeen when she got pregnant. In either case, it was a scandalous affair. Brian’s solutions for this seem to have ranged from suggesting a shotgun wedding to encouraging Valerie to get an abortion (which was illegal at the time). The situation reportedly worsened when Valerie’s father died of a heart attack, apparently tied to stress from the situation as a whole. What is clear though, is that Brian spent a portion of 1959 in Germany, and when Valerie gave birth to Barry David Corbett in early 1960, Brian wasn’t allowed anywhere near his son, and Valerie gave the child up for adoption, likely being forced to do so by her family (because back then, the fate of the child would usually be decided by the mother’s family).

Of course, Brian didn’t learn his lesson. In August 1960, a married woman gave birth to his daughter after a one-night-stand in late 1959.

Trust me, when it comes to illegitimate children, the mothers always get the short end of the stick.

After some time spent in Germany, Brian returned to Cheltenham. He subsequently began dating Pat Andrews, who was sixteen at the time, and on October 22, 1961, she gave birth to her and Brian’s son, Julian Mark Andrews. Brian named not one, but two of his sons after Cannonball Adderly (the other being Julian Brian, his son with Linda Lawrence), while in this instance, Pat chose the name Mark because of its simplicity. Reportedly, on the day his son was born, Brian sold four of his records, his most prized possessions, and bought an extravagant flower arrangement for Pat and clothes for his newborn son.

Sadly, this little family arrangement was not to last.

Brian had longed to leave Cheltenham, and he saw his chance when, on a trip to London, he first met Alexis Korner, a blues purist who led the band Blues Incorporated. The older musician was impressed by Brian’s musical skills and knowledge, and as time went by, Brian started making more and more trips to London, staying with Alexis and his wife on such weekend excursions. Eventually, Brian moved to London, promising Pat he would send for her and Mark once he had the means to provide for them.

Unfortunately for her, this would be one of many promises that Brian wouldn’t keep.

It seems, in general, that Brian only set his sights on music, solely focusing his efforts on improving his skills. Laura Jackson’s book stated that, at one point in his life, Brian had held down 24 jobs in two years (😲). Among the various jobs he held were coal miner, factory worker, record store clerk, archivist, and bus conductor (despite his hatred of public transport, he loved buses and trains). However, none of these jobs lasted very long, with some lasting merely a week, or even less than that. He also tried applying to university, if only to placate his parents by telling them he’d get a job involving optics, but his application was withdrawn after someone (likely a landlord pissed with Brian after he fell behind on the rent) wrote to the school, calling Brian an “irresponsible drifter.”

On April 7, 1962, Brian, taking the stage name Elmo Lewis, performed as a guest with Blues Incorporated along with Paul Pond (later known as Paul Jones of Manfred Mann). By now, Brian was skilled with guitar, piano, clarinet, harmonica, saxophone, and most notably, slide guitar. It was on this night that two eighteen-year-olds, Michael Phillip Jagger and Keith Richards, first saw him. In 2010, Keith wrote, “We first met Brian Jones at the Ealing Jazz Club. He was calling himself Elmo Lewis. He wanted to be Elmore James at the time. ‘You’ll have to get a tan and put on a few inches, boy.’ But slide guitar was a real novelty in England, and Brian played it that night. He played ‘Dust My Broom,’ and it was electrifying. He played it beautifully. We were very impressed with Brian. I think Mick was the first to go up and talk to him, and we discovered that he had his own band, most of whom deserted him in the next few weeks.” Reportedly, Keith even kept nudging Mick and another friend, Dick Taylor (later of the Pretty Things), and whispered “It’s Elmore James! It is man! It’s fuckin’ Elmore James!”

The next month, Brian put an ad in the paper for aspiring blues musicians. The first to show up was pianist Ian Stewart, and before long, they were jamming to Robert Johnson’s “Sweet Home Chicago.” Then there was Mick, who agreed to join if Keith could come along. Initially, there was also Geoff Bradford and Brian Knight, but they left soon after, refusing to perform the works of Chuck Berry. They were replaced by Dick Taylor and Tony Chapman.

I’ve gone into more detail about this in the past, but when Blues Incorporated got a spot on a radio show, Mick and Brian agreed to hold down the fort. However, while Brian was trying to place an ad for the gig in the papers, he was asked to give a name for the fledgling group. Desperate, Brian saw a Best of Muddy Waters compilation on the floor, and Side 1, Track 5 was “Rollin’ Stone Blues.”

And thus, the band became “The Rollin’ Stones.”

They played their first show on July 12, 1962.

The next month, Mick, Keith, and Brian moved into a flat called Edith Grove. They would remain in the dingy flat until September 1963, and since then, that period of their lives has become simultaneously famous and infamous (Mick and Keith even commented upon it recently: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wNRKTFCA7c0&t=205s)

For now though, Brian and Keith spent their time developing what Keith later dubbed “guitar weaving,” where the guitarists would play off each other to the point where two guitars sounded like one). It’s a tradition that’s survived through to this day, including through several line-up changes within the Rolling Stones (this is likely seen in other bands to one extent or another too).

The band also fought through the winter of 1962/63, one of the coldest in Britain in over a century. In December, Bill Wyman replaced Dick Taylor on bass, and in January, Charlie Watts replaced Tony Chapman on drums. Early in 1963, Brian managed to get the group a residency at the Crawdaddy Club, after the Dave Hunt Group couldn’t make it due to the terrible weather and abysmal road conditions. By the end of March, the group had cut their first recording sessions.

And then, in April, Andrew Loog Oldham and Eric Easton made their presences known.

Motherfucking Andrew Oldham .

I believe my reasons for hating his guts will become a bit more clear as I continue with this.

In May, Andrew became the band’s manager, whilst Eric Easton became the band’s financial advisor. Because Andrew was 19 and under the age of 21 (age of majority in Britain at the time), his mother had to co-sign on just about every contract he signed, and he also couldn’t obtain an agent’s license.

Quickly, Andrew set his sights on Mick as the band’s golden boy (I mean, come on, those dance moves), as opposed to the kid who actually had blonde hair....

Begrudgingly, I will admit that if it wasn’t for Andrew, the Rolling Stones probably never would’ve found the level of success they did. He definitely got the publicity ball rolling (pun intended) with headlines such as “Would You Let Your Sister Go With a Rolling Stone?” For a while, he also served as the Stones’ producer on albums.

However, make no mistake, he, Mick, and Keith were terrible to Brian. I’ll try and go into more detail as I go along, but Andrew led a whispering campaign against Brian, Mick and Brian shared an intense rivalry in just about every aspect of their lives, and if Paul Trynka’s book is to be believed, Keith would throw things at Brian to the point of causing physical pain, or he’d otherwise pick fights with Brian.

Let’s also not forget that in 1963, Andrew made the callous decision to cut Ian Stewart from the band on the basis of him not fitting in with the others (he had a square chin and a 50′s haircut) and his belief that the fans would never remember more than five faces (we Linkin Park fans would beg to differ).

Look, I respect Mick and Keith as songwriters and entertainers, but it’s very hard for me to extend that same respect to them as people.

In either case, the Stones’ first single, a cover of Chuck Berry’s “Come On”, was released on June 23, 1963. From there, the band slowly but surely gained a following, and for a time, Brian retained some of his initial leadership role.

And then, while the band was touring in October 1963, they found out that Brian had an agreement with Eric Easton, and was receiving an extra £5 for every show.

Keep in mind, Bill Wyman later wrote that, at that point, they were earning £193 a week. Even accounting for inflation (and in my case, currency exchanges), that’s less than ten percent of what the band was earning.

Still, because everyone had been under the impression that they were earning the same amount of money per member, it caused the first rifts between Brian and the rest of the band, and laid the foundations of his eventual ousting from the band he’d worked so hard to create.

By June 1964, the Stones had gained a respectable following on their home turf, but they had a harder time gaining a following in America, largely due to the fact that they hadn’t had a major single yet, and not helped by how people like Dean Martin made fun of their “long” hair (let’s face it, by today’s standards, their hair would generally be considered short nowadays).

They started to gain that following with the release of the songs “Time Is On Our Side” and “It’s All Over Now.” It only increased with their performance on the TAMI show in late 1964.

There’s a couple things I should note now. First, a couple months before, Andrew made the push for Mick and Keith to start writing songs (his reasons for focusing on the Dartfordian boys are beyond me). See, originally, the Stones were a Blues cover band, and in his earliest days as their manager, he tried to market them as a Beatles counterpart (complete with matching suits and hairstyles), which horrified the Beatles, who were actually good friends with the Stones even in their early days. However, he soon eschewed that in favor of marketing the Stones as the “anti-Beatles” (even though both bands reportedly even timed album releases so that neither’s success would encroach on the others’). Even so, with this move, Andrew was clearly taking some inspiration from the Lennon-McCartney partnership in trying to push for a Jagger-Richards partnership. Keith claimed years later that Andrew locked them in a room until they could come out with some songs, but Mick has denied that this ever happened. In either case, one of their earliest songs would be made famous by Marianne Faithfull: “As Tears Go By”.

Second, there is a lot of debate as to whether Brian could actually write songs. Mick, Keith, Ian, and Andrew have all basically said that Brian couldn’t write a song for shit. However, Brian’s girlfriend in 1964, Linda Lawrence, said that she and her mother saw Brian writing songs, but when he tried to bring up his ideas to the other Stones, he would be coldly dismissed, with Keith once saying, “It sounds like a bloody Welsh hymn!”

(At this point, I’d like to ask, “What’s wrong with Welsh hymns?”)

youtube

Some sites on the internet allege that Brian did write songs, a couple were recorded, and one even features him singing! Trust me, aside from the above examples, Brian singing lead or co-lead on any song is woefully rare. However, if the acetates in question do exist, then they certainly haven’t been released.

To this day, the only writing credits Brian has to his name are a jingle for a Rice Krispies commercial and the soundtrack for Mord Und Totschlag, which has never been officially released (more on this later). Also worth noting is that in the 90′s, one of Brian’s poems was set to music, but that’s a very loose example, since he is only credited with the lyrics (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8gEE4I7ORlY).

In any case, as time passed, Brian became more and more alienated from the Stones, Sometimes, it was because he missed out on concerts (make no mistake though, he only missed 12 out of some 930 Stones shows in his lifetime, and it could usually be chalked up to health problems). Other times, it’d be because of something Brian said or did, such as when Brian disappeared for a few days when he was contemplating leaving the band due to the stress and bullying in April 1965.

There’s many other things, big and small, that I could talk about. In either case, it seems that whether Brian did something or not, it’d invariably come back to bite him in the ass.

Also during this time, he had his last two confirmed children. First, there’s the aforementioned Julian Brian, his child with Linda Lawrence born in 1964. Linda and Pat later tried to file lawsuits against Brian for child support, and in both cases, they received either a lump sum or payments from the government. Later on, in 1970, Linda married Brian’s friend, Donovan Leitch. Then, while he was dating Linda Lawrence, Brian was having an affair with 19-year-old Dawn Molloy. When she became pregnant, Andrew told Brian to stop seeing her. Andrew later coerced Dawn into signing an agreement that she would never tell the press or the public that Brian Jones was the father of her baby, which was witnessed by Mick Jagger of all people. In addition, she also received £700 for her silence. She later gave birth to Brian’s fifth child, Paul Molloy, in March 1965 and was forced by her parents to give the baby up for adoption. Fortunately, this tale of woe does have a happy ending in that mother and son were reunited in 1994, and both have since spoken out about their experiences. Paul (renamed John Maynard) later stated, “First, I'd probably hit him for what he did to Dawn. Then I'd brush him down and ask him if he wanted a coffee. I'd like to chat with him. To get to know him and for him to get to know me. He'd like me, I know he would. I'd want him to be proud of me. To be honest, I'd just want him to be my dad.”

On September 14, 1965, Brian met German-Italian actress Anita Pallenberg. She apparently went for him because he was the most popular member of the Rolling Stones at the time, and they also were both fluent in German, so part of their early connection was built on that.

The Who’s Pete Townshend later stated, "We hung out a lot from about 1964 to 1966. Part of the time he was seeing Anita Pallenberg. She was a stunning creature. I mean literally stunning. It was quite hard to maintain one’s gaze. One time in Paris I remember they took some drug and were so sexually stimulated they could hardly wait for me to leave the room before starting to shag. I felt Brian was living on a higher plane of decadence than anyone I would ever meet.”

Many Stones fans who know of Brian’s story tend to hate Anita to varying degrees (based on personal observation). As this progresses, I hope that at least some of the reasons will become clear.

According to Paul Trynka, Anita gave him the confidence to go up against Mick and Keith, and it was her that helped him become the fashion icon he is remembered as today (and that’s how I also know he’d apparently wash his hair up to five or six times per day). Though, in general, Brian started to act a bit more willfully, if not a bit irrationally at times.

However, their relationship was far from a healthy one.

Actually, it’s probably comparable with Sid Vicious and Nancy Spungen and Kurt Cobain and Courtney Love in terms of how messed up it was.

For me, the morally objectionable part isn’t that they were apparently into S&M, but rather that they abused each other, both physically and mentally. More often than not, though, Brian will invariably get most of the flak.

Take, for example, this quote from Keith Richards, “I would hear the thumping some nights, and Brian would come out with a black eye. Brian was a woman beater. But the one woman in the world you did not want to try and beat up on was Anita Pallenberg. Every time they had a fight, Brian would come out bandaged and bruised.”

In addition, one of the most circulated stories about their tumultuous relationship was the time Brian broke his wrist in September 1966.

Reportedly, Brian told the press that he’d broken his wrist in a stupid accident. However, most others say that Brian broke his wrist during another fight with Anita, either on a metal window frame or on her face (sources vary).

Bill Wyman has this to state about the matter: “While Charlie and Shirley were on holiday in Greece, Brian made plans to take a holiday in Morocco, a country that fascinated him, with Anita and antique dealer Christopher Gibbs, a friend of his as well as of Mick and Keith. The party flew to Tangier on 28 August, but the trip was quickly marred by tensions between Brian and Anita. This couple, so magnetically drawn together, began squabbling about almost everything- both in the privacy of their room and publicly in restaurants. There were stories of fights and after seven days Brian returned to London with a broken left wrist in a plaster cast. Various reasons were given. First Brian said he broke it while climbing; Christopher Gibbs declared that Brian tried to hit Anita, missed, and hit the metal frame of a window; and finally Brian stated: ‘I fell on a slippery bathroom floor and trapped my hand under my hip and the bath. That’s the real story.’ Nobody who knew Brian’s record of fisticuffs with women doubted that the broken wrist was traceable to an altercation with Anita.”

I should mention that before this incident though, 1966 was one of the Stones’ most musically innovative periods, with Brian almost entirely eschewing the guitar for most of the rest of his career with the Rolling Stones. He brought the sitar to “Paint It Black”, dulcimer to “Lady Jane”, marimba to “Under My Thumb”, and so on. In fact, in his lifetime, Brian had learned many instruments, including piano, clarinet, saxophone, guitar, harmonica, slide guitar, mellotron, bass guitar, rhythm guitar, marimba, euphonium, recorder, dulcimer, recorder, drums, vibraslap, autoharp, congas, harpsichord, vocals, tambourine, maracas, organ, koto, double bass, kazoo, oboe, trumpet, tanbura, harp, flute, clavinet, vibraphone, banjo, accordion, glockenspiel, xylophone, and trombone.

And like I’ve said, I can’t even play the piano yet (or harmonica for that matter).

In 1966, Anita got a leading role in the movie Mord Und Totschlag (A Degree of Murder), and Brian asked the director, Volker Schlondorff, if he could do the soundtrack, and agreed to do it for free. The director and the musician apparently became pretty good friends during this time, and Brian also brought in Jimmy Page (guitars), Nicky Hopkins (piano), Kenney Jones (drums), Glyn Johns (engineering), Peter Gosling (vocals), and Mike Leander (orchestra) for an assist. Even if lyrics were a stumbling block for him, it is this that shows that Brian had the potential to be a great songwriter. However, while on set, Brian could be difficult. For one thing, he procrastinated (I can relate). In addition, his insecurity often bubbled to the surface. Schlondorff himself later stated, “He was driven by this narcissistic need, to be recognized, to be loved, for attention. And Anita was stronger than he was at that moment. She could control things, by giving attention, or withholding it, or by treating him in a very condescending way. Then he’d get nasty, in the sense that he’s the one who’s got the money or whatever, so he’d punish her that way. And I’m certain he’d treat her physically badly, too. So he already was, in some ways, an unhappy and pathetic figure”

Even so, the film premiered at Cannes on April 19, 1967, though by then, Brian and Anita had split. While the movie finally got a DVD/Blu-Ray release fifty-two years later, in 2019, the soundtrack still has yet to be released.

On February 12, 1967, Keith’s home, Redlands, was raided after the tabloid News of the World (thankfully defunct now) tipped off the police that drugs were being done at a party. Mick was charged with drug possession and Keith was charged with allowing his home to be used for the smoking of cannabis.

Not long after, Andrew fled to America, and was fired in September 1967, being replaced by Allen Klein in the process.

On the advice on their lawyers, Mick, Keith, Brian, and Anita left the country.

I should note that by now, Brian was addicted to alcohol, nicotine, LSD, marijuana, cannabis, prescription pills, and god only knows what else.

At this point though, Brian was far from being fit to travel. In March, as the group made a stopover in Gibraltar, Brian (probably high) got it in his head to play the soundtrack for Mord und Totschlag for some Barbary monkeys. The monkeys, being monkeys, didn’t take too kindly to that, and scampered off. Brian didn’t take this very well, and between having an asthma attack (which Anita and Marianne apparently thought he was faking for sympathy) and screaming profanities that would probably make hardened sailors blush, he was weeping, reportedly shouting, “No one likes my music!”

Yes, at first glance, the incident would seem comical, but all I see is a man truly beginning to fall apart at the seams.

In Toulouse, Brian fell ill with pneumonia, and had to spend several days in the hospital, including his 25th birthday. Keith and Anita went on ahead, and started up an affair behind his back.When Brian was able to finally rendezvous with the rest of the group, the affair between Keith and Anita did not go unnoticed by him. The only certainties about what happened next are that Brian paid for the services of two prostitutes, and something happened between him and Anita.

Trust me, it’s best not to use the movie Stoned as a source for this.

In his autobiography, Keith had this to say about the events of that fateful night: “And of course Brian starts his old shit again, in Marrakech in the Es Sadi hotel, trying to take Anita on for fifteen rounds. His reaction to whatever he sensed between Anita and me was more violence. And once again he breaks two ribs and a finger or something. And I’m watching it, hearing it. Brian was about to sign his own exit card and help Anita and me on our way. There’s no point to this noninterference anymore. We’re stuck in Marrakech, this is the woman I’m in love with, and I’ve got to relinquish her out of some formality? All of my plans of rebuilding my relationship with Brian are obviously going straight down the drain. In the condition he was in, there was no point in building anything with Brian. I’d done my best... Now it was just unacceptable. Then Brian dragged two tattooed whores- remembered by Anita, incidentally, as “really hairy girls”- down the hotel corridor and into the room, trying to force Anita into a scene, humiliating her in front of them. He started to fling food at her from the many trays he’d ordered up. At that point Anita ran to my room.”

Byron Gysin, who was with the Stones during their stay in Morocco, had this to say: “Expensive ladies. This one cost Brian a packet, the whole packet: Anita and the Stones, his life as a musician, and eventually his life.”

Upon what was done, Keith similarly had this to say: “I thought Anita wanted out of there, and if I could come up with a plan, she would take it. Sir Galahad again. But I wanted her back; I wanted to get out. I said, ‘You didn’t come to Marrakech to worry that you’ve beaten up your old man so much he’s lying in the bath with broken ribs. I can’t take this shit anymore. I can’t listen to you getting beaten up and fighting and all this crap. This is pointless. Let’s get the hell out of here. Let’s just leave him. We’re having much more fun without him. It’s been a very, very hard week for me knowing that you’re with him.’ Anita was in tears. She didn’t want to leave, but she realized that I was right when I said that Brian would probably try and kill her.”

And so, the next day, Keith, Mick, and Anita hightailed it out of there, leaving Brian stranded in Morocco.

About this, Gysin states, “Less than half an hour later, Brian is on the blower to me, sobbing: ‘Come! Come quickly! They’ve all gone and left me! Cleared out, I don’t know where they’ve gone. No message. The hotel won’t tell me. I’m here all alone, help me. Come at once!’ I go over there. Get him into bed. Call a doctor to give him a shot and stick around long enough to see it take hold on him. Don’t want him jumping down those ten stories into the swimming pool.”

Brian never forgave Keith.

Brian’s father blamed Anita for breaking his heart, but those who were closer to Brian, such as Linda Lawrence, said that it was the betrayal of Mick and Keith, the men he’d once considered brothers, that really broke him.

In either case, Brian slipped into a downward spiral from which he’d never recover.

On the subject of Brian’s drug use, Mick later stated in the 2012 documentary Crossfire Hurricane, “Keith and I took drugs, but Brian took too many drugs of the wrong kind and he wasn’t functioning as a musician. I don’t think he was that interested in contributing to the Rolling Stones anymore.”

On May 10, just as Mick and Keith were being formally charged with various drug offenses, Brian’s home was raided by police. They found marijuana, cocaine, and methamphetamine in his house. He confessed to marijuana use, but denied he used stronger substances (I’ll leave it up to you guys whether you believe that’s true or not).

Mick and Keith were sentenced to various prison sentences in June, released on appeal shortly after, and in July, Keith’s sentence was overturned entirely, while Mick was given a years’ probation. Their release was in large part due to the public outcry that resulted from the trials.

But where Mick and Keith seemed to blossom in the aftermath, Brian seemed to only wilt.

Against his lawyer’s advice, Brian plead guilty. On Allen Klein’s advice, he isolated himself from the Stones even further. Above all else, he didn’t take the matter as seriously as he could or should have.

On October 30, Brian was found guilty of cannabis possession and allowing his home to be used for the smoking of cannabis.

He was sentenced to a total of twelve months in prison.

Reportedly, during the night, Brian was taunted by guards, who threatened to cut the long, blonde hair he was so proud of.

He was released awaiting appeal the next day, but he’d been deeply shaken by the experience. In December, his case went on appeal, and because his defense testified that he had an “already fragile mental make-up” and his doctor said that Brian was “anxious, considerably depressed, and potentially suicidal”, Brian was fined, given three years’ probation, and given strict orders to seek professional help.

Even so, Brian’s health, social, mental, and physical alike, continued to decline.

Another anecdote that lends credence to this: in January 1968, Brian (by now sporting a beard that even die-hard fans tend to recoil from in horror), joined his friend, Jimi Hendrix, during the recording sessions for “All Along the Watchtower.” (Prior to this, Brian had introduced Jimi to an American audience at the 1967 Monterey Pop Festival). Brian’s first attempt at contributing to what would become Jimi’s most iconic song (even impressing Bob Dylan, who originally sang/wrote it) was to attempt a piano line. However, Brian was incredibly drunk at the time, and could only produce off-key clunking.

For once in his life, Brian’s musical abilities had failed him.

It got to the point where Jimi shot sound engineer Eddie Kramer a look that said “Can we get him to stop?” At that point, Eddie ushered Brian into the control room, where he fell on the floor and passed out.

Brian did eventually contribute percussion in the form of the vibraslap, which can be heard in the opening bars of the song. (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TLV4_xaYynY)

In May, a little over a year after his first arrest, Brian was arrested for cannabis possession for a second time. Sources disagree on whether or not Brian had been trying to get clean, but those who believe Brian was making that effort lean towards the opinion that this time, the cops planted the dope on Brian (including myself).

This time, Brian plead not guilty, and though his defense argued that the evidence against Brian was circumstantial at best, the jury found him guilty regardless. This time however, the judge was much more lenient and decided to let Brian off with a fine and a stern warning to not appear in court again, offering him the same treatment he would’ve gotten had he not been famous.

From here, most of the remaining anecdotes paint a bleak, contradictory picture of Brian’s life, showing him as a man continually absent from recording sessions. If and when he would show up, he’d generally be too intoxicated to properly contribute (his most likely vices at this point likely included alcohol and Mandrax).

The last Rolling Stones album to feature him as a major presence was Their Satanic Majesties Request (1967).

His last major contribution to one of their songs was the slide guitar on “No Expectations.”

For more context, I will take a paragraph from Paul Trynka’s book, “Other insiders share [George] Chikantz’s perception of a hardness at the heart of the Stones, most notably Jack Nitzche. Throughout 1965 and 1966 he’d noted rancour during the band’s RCA sessions. When he resumed work with the band towards the end of 1968, he reckoned the atmosphere had changed- for the worse. His vignette of seeing Mick with Brian is chilling. “Brian came up to me, looking pretty shaky, and asked me what I thought he should do- he didn’t know where he fit[ted] in. I told him to just pick up a guitar and start playing. Then he walked over to Mick and asked, “What should I play?” Mick told him, “You’re a member of the band, Brian, play whatever you want.” So he played something, but Mick stopped him and said, “No, Brian, not that- that’s no good.” So Brian asked him again what to play and Mick told him again to play whatever he wanted. So Brian played something else, but Mick cut him off again- “No, that’s no good either, Brian.”’”

Of this time period, Mick stated, “ You certainly didn't know if he was going to turn up and what state he was going to be in and then, what he was going to be able to do in that state. What job could you give him? And then, one time, when we sat around, on the floor, we played, in a circle, playing "No Expectations". And he picked the guitar and played a very pretty line on it which you can hear on the record. And that was the last thing I remember him doing that was Brian. Or, the Brian that could contribute something very pretty and sensitive and it made the record sound wonderful.”

The Who’s Pete Townshend, also stated, “When we played The Rolling Stones’ Rock and Roll Circus I was very upset about Brian’s condition. I was upset at Keith Richards’ green complexion, too, but he seemed in good spirits. Brian was defeated. I took Mick and Keith aside and they were quite frank about it all; they said Brian had ceased to function, they were afraid he would slip away. They certainly were not hard-nosed about him. But they were determined not to let him drag them down, that was clear. Brian certainly slipped away that evening. He died soon after.”

Keith himself later stated, “We didn’t even expect him to be there. If he turned up, we’d find something for him to do I'd ask him, "You got anything?" You know, "What do you think about this? Want to put something over this?" Or, but, eh, by then he was already in Bye-Bye Land. “

By now, it’s clear to me that Brian was either unable or unwilling to seek proper treatment for his addictions or mental health ailments, and very few, if any of the people in his company were willing to either help or intervene.

The Rock and Roll Circus was the last time Brian performed with the Stones.

The last songs he ever played on were “Midnight Rambler” (congas) and “You’ve Got the Silver” (autoharp).

Six months later, the Stones were making plans to go on tour for the first time since 1967. However, it was soon brought to the attention of their lawyers that Brian would be unlikely, if not entirely unable to get a work visa in the USA due to his prior drug convictions.

Due to this and Brian’s increasing lack of contributions to the band’s music, Ian Stewart suggested that they let Brian go.

Ultimately, it was Mick and Keith’s decision, and they decided to take Ian’s suggestion to heart. First, they brought on 20-year-old Mick Taylor as their new guitarist. Then, on June 8, 1969, Mick and Keith went to Cotchford Farm to give Brian the news, bringing Charlie along in case a fight broke out. Brian, however, decided to back out gracefully, and in various press releases, including Brian’s, it was made to appear as if Brian had elected to leave the band entirely of his own accord.

I should talk about the last photos of Brian ever taken, shot by Helen Spittal on June 23, 1969, nine days before Brian’s death. Most people would only really see the heavy bags under his eyes and the obvious weight gain and all they see is a man near the end of his rope. But for me, in some of the photos, I can still see a tiny spark of life in those sea-green eyes of his; the tiniest spark of hope that, if things had gone differently, he could’ve gotten better.

Maybe I’m just biased.

Either way, it was never meant to be.

Even now, there is considerable debate as to whether or not Brian was still doing drugs. Some say that Brian was making a decided effort to get off of drugs. Laura Jackson’s book even claims that Brian hated even taking prescription drugs by now. In her book though, his girlfriend at the time, Anna Wohlin, claimed that he’d been doing cocaine after Keith left some at his house as a gift (even though Brian had denied using cocaine just two years earlier). In addition, Brian had been prescribed Black bombers (durophet), Valium, Mandrax, and Piriton on top of his inhaler.

Even though the witness reports taken from the time are contradictory, they’ve been my most valuable source in my research. Besides, I remember seeing in a documentary called Killing Lincoln that of the hundreds of witness reports taken in the immediate aftermath of the assassination, none of them matched up. For me, it’s a matter of piecing together what generally correlates between the accounts. What is generally agreed upon in the case of Brian’s death is that he was with Anna, Janet Lawson, and Frank Thorogood, and he decided to go swimming in 80°F water. Frank was all for it, but Anna and Janet expressed concerns. Most of you reading this will know the rest.

Above, you’ll see Janet’s testimony, taken on the morning of Brian’s death. I know you can all read, but I’d still like to highlight a couple of her statements in particular.

“Brian guided us back to the house with a hand torch. It was clear that he was unsteady on his feet as the light was unreliable. He seemed to be talking quite sensibly, I believe about the drainage scheme. Nevertheless, it was obvious that he had been drinking. ...Brian attempted conversation, but it was a little garbled ‘and he excused it by saying, ‘I’ve had my sleepers’ or some such phrase. From this I gathered he had taken sleeping tablets.”

At this point, I feel it’s important to note that a, Janet was a registered nurse, and b, Mandrax and black bombers are no longer legal or distributed, and beyond that, some of the drugs Brian was taking at the time of his death feature side-effects such as seizures, drowsiness, unsteadiness and other problems with coordination, slurred speech, and others. Alcohol (equivalent to seven whiskeys) definitely wouldn’t have helped whatever cocktail of drugs Brian had taken that night.

In my not-so-professional opinion, whether he went swimming or not that night, Brian was several levels of screwed.

“I saw that Brian had great difficulty in holding his balance on the spring board. Frank was doing his best to assist him but not very successfully. Eventually, Brian flopped into the water and yet despite his condition seemed to be able to cope and made his strokes in the deep end. His movements were sluggish, but I felt reasonably assured that they all were able to look after each other.”

I think most doctors nowadays would tell you that in any event where someone’s been drinking, it’s best to have someone sober in the immediate vicinity to make sure nothing bad happens (like drinking and driving).

Of Brian’s death, Janet states, “I went out to the pool and on the bottom I saw Brian. He was facedown in the deep end. He was motionless and I sensed the worst straight away.

“I shouted under the open window of the bedroom to Anna who was speaking on the telephone. I ran into the house and shouted to Frank. Both joined me- I was by then in the water but realized I couldn’t manage him alone and I shouted to Frank to get into the pool to get Brian out.”

Still, she’s a registered nurse and she just left him on the bottom...? 😑

“I returned to the pool to get Frank to use the ‘phone and he and Anna were struggling to get Brian out of the water. I helped and we eventually got him out. He lay on his back and as Frank went to the house to ‘phone I turned the body over and attempted to pump the water out of him. It was obvious to me he was dead but I turned the body back and I told Anna how to apply mouth to mouth resuscitation as I applied external cardiac massage.

“I carried on for at least fifteen minutes but there was no pulse.

“The three swimmers were in such a condition that I was tempted to return to the flat but I had a moral obligation to keep an eye on them because I sensed they were all being very stupid- I suppose as a nurse I felt responsible.”

Brian Jones was pronounced dead early in the morning of July 3, 1969, though the coroner estimated that his death happened at sometime near or around 11:30 PM on July 2, 1969. Based upon the evidence that Brian’s heart and liver were twice as large as they should have been for a man of his age, he was suffering from pleurisy and other bronchial trouble, and the aforementioned quantities of alcohol and prescription drugs found in his system and noting the pink foam (sputum) in his nostrils and the lack of evidence of an asthma attack, it was ruled as a case of “misadventure.”

In layman’s terms, Brian had drowned due to a cocktail of prescription pills and alcohol.

To this day, however, theories persist that Brian’s death was either an act of manslaughter, perpetrated by Frank Thorogood in a bout of drunken horseplay gone terribly wrong, or that Brian was intentionally drowned, either for firing Frank, trying to start a supergroup with John Lennon and Jimi Hendrix (Jimi’s camp denies this), having an affair with Princess Margaret (yes, really), or for just about every other reason in the bloody book you can conjure up.

Really, though, I once again have to ask, if Brian was really murdered, then why is so much of the evidence circumstantial, and why did so many of the supposed witnesses fail to come forward for a good decade or three after Brian’s death. Seriously, I don’t think someone like Tom Keylock would have the sort of political reach to uphold an entire conspiracy. None of it makes sense, and I’ve been studying this case for five months.

Two days after his death, the Stones performed a free concert at Hyde Park. It was originally meant to be an introduction for Mick Taylor, but it became a tribute to Brian in light of his death. A giant picture of Brian sat on the side of the stage, Mick read two verses of Percy Bysshe Shelley’s Adonais, and thousands of butterflies were released, though by that time, many had died due to the boxes not being properly ventilated. The Stones in the Park Concert would never be regarded as their technical best, but it was still regarded as a success. Also interesting to note; before the concert, officials were worried about potential widespread property damage and general unruliness. But then, the night before the concert, fans started showing up, and since they were being quiet and respectful, police let them stay, even after the park’s usual closing time at midnight. Contrary to popular belief, the property damage only totaled £100, with the worst of the damage being inflicted upon a tree that had been planted the previous year. The fans even helped clean up the park after the show, and those who collected the most trash were rewarded with free Stones LPs.

Brian’s funeral was held on Thursday, July 10, 1969. He was buried in Cheltenham, though Laura Jackson’s book claims that he’d once told Helen that he wished to be buried at Cotchford Farm after his death. Even then, it’s doubtful that Brian would have wanted to be buried in the town he’d wanted to escape for so long, which is why people like myself and Caitlin Doughty (check out “Ask a Mortician,” it’s amazing) will advocate in favor of telling your family what you want done with your body after you die. The funeral was presided over by Canon Hugh Evan Hopkins. In my opinion, (this is not meant to be anti-religious) he made an ass of himself with the speech he gave: “He had little patience with authority, convention, and tradition. In this he was typical of many of his generation who have come to see in the Stones an expression of their whole attitude to life. Much that this ancient church has stood for in 900 years seems totally irrelevant to them.”

It might not be the worst speech I’ve ever heard about being delivered at a funeral, but dammit, no wonder Keith has never concerned himself with “petty morals.”

The only members of the Stones in attendance were Bill Wyman and Charlie Watts. Mick and Marianne were on a plane to Australia to begin shooting Ned Kelly. They later claimed that the people behind the film wouldn’t allow them an extension so that they could attend the funeral. Years later, Keith also had this to say: “It was going to be too much of a circus. And, anyway, I didn't ever go to my mother's funeral or my father's. We didn't have one. We're like that in my family. You know, my dad is now an oak tree. We put his ashes where there's an enormous oak tree growing and every year he gets a little bit bigger. And my mum, she said, "Don't make no fuss over me, boy." "I promise I'll make no fuss, mum." And Hyde Park was the funeral.”

We’ll just have to go with that...

Brian was buried in a silver and bronze casket that was allegedly paid for by Bob Dylan, wearing a powder blue jacket, white shirt, and black tie with his hair lightened and cut in its trademark bob. By all accounts, it looked as though he were sleeping. His parents had wanted to keep the whole affair private, but then somebody in the Stones’ management got a hold of the information and leaked the details to the press. The heartless leeches even wanted to get pictures of Brian lying in his coffin, but his parents managed to prevent that from happening, so there’s that at least.

In regards to the rest of the world, Jimi Hendrix dedicated a song to Brian on American television, Jim Morrison wrote the poem “Ode to L.A. While Thinking of Brian Jones, Deceased”, and Pete Townshend wrote the poem “A Normal Day for Brian, A Man Who Died Every Day.” By coincidence, Hendrix and Morrison later died at 27 within the next two years (but that’s a story I’ll have to talk about next time).

Two years after his death, Brian’s only solo album, Brian Jones Presents the Pipes of Pan at Joujouka was released in October 1971. It had been recorded on another one of Brian’s trips to Morocco in 1968, and aside from a few sound effects, he only served as the album’s producer. If nothing else, it truly shows how appreciative Brian was of Moroccan music in that he mostly just let their music speak for itself. (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LwEoDGeNyrE&t=613s)

Also, am I the only one who strenuously objects to the phrasing “In Affectionate Remembrance of...” on Brian’s and Pamela’s gravestones? No? Okay then...

According to one (possibly apocryphal) anecdote, Keith once said to Brian, “You’ll never make thirty, man.”

Brian’s response?

“I know.”

Death hasn’t been kind to Brian Jones. If anyone remembers him, it’s generally for his early death. The hatchet still has yet to be buried between Mick, Keith, and Brian. They rarely speak of him, and whether it’s a kind word is extremely variable. More often than not though, it’s not kind, emphasizing his faults of character over everything else. Bill is the only one who’s truly stood up for Brian over the years, and his portrait of Brian is one of the most nuanced we’ve gotten from the Stones’ camp: “ There were at least two sides to Brian's personality. One Brian was introverted, shy, sensitive, deep-thinking. The other was a preening peacock, gregarious, artistic, desperately needing assurance from his peers. He pushed every friendship to the limit and way beyond.” Many of Brian’s achievements have gone largely unnoticed, which is a shame, because I think that although Brian had major personality flaws, it’s important not to forget that he had a good side as well, and that he was a musical genius, and it’s a shame that we never got to see the post-Stones life Brian could have lived.

If nothing else, I’d like to leave this part off with a poem Brian wrote in 1968 that was featured on the back of the compilation album Through the Past, Darkly (Big Hits Vol. 2):

“When this you see, remember me

and bear me in your mind

Let all the world say what they may

speak of me as you find.”

Sources/Further Readings: https://www.upvenue.com/music-news/blog-headline/1026/the-27-club-musicians-who-died-at-27-years-old.html

https://coloradosound.org/27-club/

https://www.seattlepi.com/news/article/P-I-s-Writer-in-Residence-Charles-R-Cross-1229072.php

http://sciencenetlinks.com/science-news/science-updates/27-club-myth/

https://www.inquisitr.com/13488/stating-the-obvious-amy-winehouse-fears-early-death/

https://www.hse.ie/eng/services/publications/mentalhealth/media-guidelines-for-the-portrayal-of-suicide-3.pdf

https://www.samaritans.org/about-samaritans/media-guidelines/

https://spinditty.com/artists-bands/The-dead-at-27-Club

Remastered: Devil at the Crossroads

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=O-ppLCkvPJU

https://theconversation.com/the-27-club-is-a-myth-56-is-the-bum-note-for-musicians-33586

https://www.rollingstone.com/culture/culture-lists/the-27-club-a-brief-history-17853/robert-johnson-26971/

https://www.rollingstone.com/music/music-news/james-douglas-morrison-poet-dead-at-27-40343/

https://www.insider.com/27-club-celebrities-musicians-died-27-years-old-2017-9

https://coloradosound.org/27-club/

https://www.forever27.co.uk/hall-of-fame.html

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/27_Club

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Robert_Johnson

https://www.udiscovermusic.com/stories/devils-music-myth-robert-johnson/

https://www.robertjohnsonbluesfoundation.org/biography/

https://www.nytimes.com/2019/09/25/obituaries/robert-johnson-overlooked.html

https://www.biography.com/musician/robert-johnson

https://www.rockhall.com/inductees/robert-johnson

https://www.allmusic.com/artist/robert-johnson-mn0000832288/biography

http://musingsonmusic.com/2013/01/15/Robert-Johnson-as-told-by-Keith-Richards/

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=feIaNfFONWo

https://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/YMMV/RobertJohnson

https://www.nytimes.com/2014/11/17/arts/brian-jones-the-making-of-the-rolling-stones-a-biography.html

https://www.popmatters.com/jameselmore-skyiscrying-2495952033.html

https://www.arkansasonline.com/news/2019/jun/30/gone-for-50-years-stones-brian-jones-20/

https://www.rollingstone.com/music/music-news/brian-jones-sympathy-for-the-devil-182761/

https://books.google.com/books?id=4JD9fio-iLkC&pg=PA206&lpg=PA206&dq=Mick+Jagger+and+Keith+Richards+visited+the+Ealing+Club&source=bl&ots=U6uNKnlMDP&sig=T3iJowA4Zd-o_NkgGcKKS-3g3qA&hl=en&sa=X&ved=0ahUKEwiPr7Wawo7TAhUm5oMKHW6kCMgQ6AEIQjAJ#v=onepage&q=Mick%20Jagger%20and%20Keith%20Richards%20visited%20the%20Ealing%20Club&f=false

https://rockinsociety.wordpress.com/2013/01/19/200/

https://ultimateclassicrock.com/mick-jagger-keith-richards-met-brian-jones/

https://www.post-gazette.com/ae/books/2014/11/30/Paint-it-black-Brian-Jones-The-Making-of-the-Rolling-Stones/stories/201411300179

https://www.villagevoice.com/2019/07/03/when-the-angels-and-400000-others-said-goodbye-to-brian-jones/

https://books.google.com/books?id=SvuiDwAAQBAJ&pg=PT336&lpg=PT336&dq=brian+jones+five+pound+note&source=bl&ots=A2Z3-2WKrk&sig=ACfU3U25rObwcTlgfYBh_WvD_DqTQCSwpw&hl=en&sa=X&ved=2ahUKEwiT8NL66aflAhWVpp4KHU6PAGUQ6AEwFHoECAoQAQ#v=onepage&q=brian%20jones%20five%20pound%20note&f=false

https://books.google.com/books?id=SnjZCwAAQBAJ&pg=PA112&lpg=PA112&dq=brian+jones+five+pound+note&source=bl&ots=tJhp59sj7C&sig=ACfU3U3tjfdMLOmX8wisSoKI7zWDMgFAkw&hl=en&sa=X&ved=2ahUKEwiT8NL66aflAhWVpp4KHU6PAGUQ6AEwEnoECAkQAQ#v=onepage&q=brian%20jones%20five%20pound%20note&f=false

https://londonist.com/london/features/is-dartford-the-most-rock-n-roll-town-in-england

https://brianjonestimeline.wordpress.com/1964/03/14/melody-maker-would-you-let-your-sister-go-with-a-rolling-stone/

http://www.criminalelement.com/reich-and-roll-a-degree-of-murder-german-1967-film-movie-murder-cannes-rolling-stones-brian-jones-anita-pallenberg-brian-greene/

https://brianjonestimeline.wordpress.com/2013/07/06/anna-wohlin-talks-about-brian/

https://brianjonestimeline.wordpress.com/2005/11/16/anna-wohlin-talks-to-the-independent/

https://brianjonestimeline.wordpress.com/2005/03/31/dawn-young-interviewed-by-beatzenith-com/

https://brianjonestimeline.wordpress.com/1968/05/11/child-of-the-moon-promotional-video/

https://brianjonestimeline.wordpress.com/1981/06/23/suki-potier-passes-away-aged-33/

https://brianjonestimeline.wordpress.com/1985/12/12/ian-stewart-passes-away-aged-47/

https://brianjonestimeline.wordpress.com/

https://brianjonestimeline.wordpress.com/1965/09/14/anita-pallenberg-meets-brian-jones-backstage-at-circus-krone/

https://www.crfashionbook.com/celebrity/a22115807/anita-pallenberg-the-rolling-stones-brian-jones-keith-richards/

https://www.theguardian.com/music/2017/jun/14/anita-pallenberg-anything-but-a-passenger-on-the-stones-journey

https://www.rollingstone.com/music/music-news/why-anita-pallenberg-rolling-stones-muse-was-queen-of-the-underground-204744/

https://www.sandiegouniontribune.com/entertainment/music/sd-et-music-anita-pallenberg-20170613-story.html

https://www.telegraph.co.uk/women/life/anita-pallenberg-knew-swinging-sixties/

https://www.alainelkanninterviews.com/anita-pallenberg/

https://www.earcandymag.com/rrcase-brianjones.htm

https://www.theolivepress.es/spain-news/2016/09/20/rolling-stones-guitarist-brian-jones-played-to-gib-monkeys/

https://www.nytimes.com/1994/10/16/books/sex-and-drugs-and-mick-and-keith.html

http://www.angelfire.com/rock3/sixtiesfish/mybrian/briongysin.htm

https://ultimateclassicrock.com/brian-jones-jimi-hendrix/

https://borntolisten.com/2018/01/21/january-21-the-jimi-hendrix-experience-recorded-all-along-the-watchtower-in-1968/

http://www.angelfire.com/rock3/sixtiesfish/1menu.html

http://www.covermesongs.com/2014/03/the-story-behind-jimi-hendrixs-all-along-the-watchtower.html

https://ultimateclassicrock.com/45-years-ago-jimi-hendrix-records-all-along-the-watchtower/

http://www.angelfire.com/rock3/sixtiesfish/mybrian/montereypop.htm

https://borntolisten.com/2018/01/21/january-21-the-jimi-hendrix-experience-recorded-all-along-the-watchtower-in-1968/

https://www.drugs.com/sfx/miltown-side-effects.html

http://drugcentre.org.za/depressants/Mandrax

https://www.healthline.com/health/diazepam-oral-tablet

https://www.earcandymag.com/rrcase-brianjones.htm

https://books.google.com/books?id=Gjb4f0r-w-wC&pg=PA97&lpg=PA97&dq=brian+jones+pleurisy&source=bl&ots=NdTTzPABYY&sig=ACfU3U2YxBHFesJEFGLYfLiky7QV4Ju7BA&hl=en&sa=X&ved=2ahUKEwjanv3csLPlAhWIr54KHYhgClgQ6AEwF3oECAkQAQ#v=onepage&q=brian%20jones%20pleurisy&f=false

https://www.urbandictionary.com/define.php?term=Black%20Bombers

http://www.drugworld.co.uk/drugs-amphetamine.html

https://nostalgiacentral.com/pop-culture/fads/drugs-in-the-1960s/

https://www.drugs.com/valium.html

https://nostalgiacentral.com/pop-culture/fads/drugs-in-the-1960s/

https://www.netdoctor.co.uk/medicines/allergy-asthma/a7354/piriton-chlorphenamine/#side%20effects

https://tonydagostino.co.uk/history-of-amphetamine-methamphetamine/

http://www.keno.org/rolling_stones/brian_jones_keith_richards.htm

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Stones_in_the_Park

http://977rocks.com/bill-wyman-slams-jagger-richards-for-not-giving-brian-jones-his-due-06232015/

https://www.rollingstone.com/music/music-news/keith-richards-on-brian-jones-mick-jagger-and-the-new-memoir-life-52581/

https://www.drugaware.co.za/mandrax.html

27: A History of the 27 Club through the Lives of Brian Jones, Jimi Hendrix, Janis Joplin, Jim Morrison, Kurt Cobain, and Amy Winehouse by Howard Sounes

Life by Keith Richards

Stone Alone by Bill Wyman

Brian Jones, The Untold Life and Mysterious Death of a Legend by Laura Jackson

Brian Jones: The Making of the Rolling Stones by Paul Trynka

Crossfire Hurricane (2012) dir. Brett Morgen

https://findadeath.com/brian-jones/

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Brian_Jones

27: Robert Johnson by Chris Salewicz

27: Brian Jones by Chris Salewicz

https://www.thevintagenews.com/2018/01/20/crossroads-robert-johnson/

https://www.dailymail.co.uk/femail/article-1353783/Being-Brian-Joness-son-greatest-thing-happened-me.html

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Rolling_Stones

#27 club #robert johnson #brian jones #blues #rock and roll #rolling stones #mick jagger #keith richards #charlie watts #bill wyman #anita pallenberg #Marianne Faithful #cw: drug abuse #cw: death

8 notes · View notes

vrgamertc · 5 years ago

Link

John Prine was an Army veteran walking a U.S. Postal Service beat in Chicago and writing songs on the side when Kris Kristofferson heard him and helped spread the word about Prine’s gifts. Pretty soon, he resigned as a letter carrier; his supervisor snickered, “You’ll be back.” Nearly 50 years later, this January, he was given a lifetime achievement Grammy for his contributions to songwriting. The singing mailman almost always had the last laugh.

Prine, who died on Tuesday from complications of the coronavirus, was legitimately unique. He took familiar blues themes — my baby left me — but filled them with whimsy and kindness. He liked a saucy lyric, and wrote movingly, in character, of the quiet lives and loneliness of humdrum people. He seemed like a Zen sage and offered an uncynical live-and-let-live morality in his songs, writing in a colloquial voice that revealed a love of the way Americans speak. He showed how much humor you could put in a song and still be taken seriously. He had less in common with any other songwriter than he did with Mark Twain.

He grew up in Maywood, a western suburb of Chicago, and was reared by working-class parents from Kentucky, where he often spent summers with relatives and fell in love with country music and bluegrass. By 13, he was performing in rural jamborees. When he debuted in 1971, in his mid-20s, he sounded like an old man already, so years later, when he got old and went through two cancer treatments, he still sounded like himself. From his first to his last, he wrote songs that were tender, hilarious, and wise, without grandstanding any of these traits. Here are 15 of the best.

‘Angel From Montgomery’ (1971)

“Angel From Montgomery,” his best-known song, begins with a little declarative startle: “I am an old woman, named after my mother.” It’s an incisive and terrifying look at the dissatisfactions of a bad marriage and a woman’s sense of being economically trapped in her misery. Bonnie Raitt recorded it three years later and uncovered some of the song’s dormant melodies.

‘Your Flag Decal Won’t Get You Into Heaven Anymore’ (1971)

Prine’s self-titled 1971 debut album is a playlist all its own; it has more great songs than a lot of respected songwriters have in their entire careers. The moral stance of this sprightly folk-rock ditty is a response to what he saw as sham patriotism during the Nixon years, and it remains relevant: “Jesus don’t like killing/No matter what the reason’s for.” Prine, a former altar boy, stopped playing it live for a number of years, but when George W. Bush became president, Prine said, “I thought I’d bring it back.”

‘Hello in There’ (1971)

Some fans and critics are put off by this song and its slightly lesser companion, “Sam Stone,” which they see as performative displays of sensitivity toward the vulnerable, or what we now call virtue signaling. Yet somehow, we don’t ever criticize singers for signaling vices and meanness. Prine sings in the voice of an old married man with a dead son, who spends his days in silence and loneliness, and who at the end of the song, asks people to be kind to the elderly.

‘The Frying Pan’ (1972)

For his second album, “Diamonds in the Rough,” Prine assembled a small, mostly acoustic band and pursued a front-porch, Appalachian simplicity. Like a lot of his songs, this one takes a lighthearted view of domestic complications: A man comes home and discovers his wife has run off with a traveling salesman. He cries miserably, recounts what he loved about her (“I miss the way she used to yell at me/The way she used to cuss and moan”), and full of pride, comes to the wrong conclusion: Never leave your wife at home.

‘Please Don’t Bury Me’ (1973)

For people who love Prine’s music, there’s some small solace in listening to his songs about death, which have the same sense of mischief and acceptance as the ones about broken marriages. (Try “Mexican Home” or “He Was in Heaven Before He Died.”) The narrator is dead, and as angels explain to him how it happened, they also recap his last wish: to not be dropped into a cold grave, but to be put to practical use, as an organ donor: “I’d druther have ’em cut me up/And pass me all around.” A kind of recycling anthem from his terrific third album, “Sweet Revenge.”

‘You Never Can Tell’ (1975)

Almost like an apology, Prine concludes “Sweet Revenge,” a grieving, downhearted album, with an exuberant Chuck Berry cover, one great writer nodding to another. The Memphis R&B guitarist Steve Cropper produced the record and put together a crack horn section, which pushes ahead of some barrelhouse piano. Prine wasn’t a rocker, but he could rock.

‘That’s the Way the World Goes Round’ (1978)

Prine seemed to have an unlimited ability to expand and vary songwriting structures and perspectives. This track, which has been covered by Miranda Lambert and Norah Jones, has two verses: In the first, the narrator describes a drunk who “beats his old lady with a rubber hose,” and in the second, the narrator gets stuck in a frozen bathtub (it’s hard to explain) and imagines the worst until a sudden sun thaws him out. Both verses illustrate the refrain: that’s the way the world goes round. Even when circumstances are bad in Prine songs, he favors optimism and acceptance.

‘Iron Ore Betty’ (1978)

A lot of Prine songs celebrate physical pleasure: food, dancing and sex, which he gallantly prefers to call “making love.” The working-class singer in this soulful, up-tempo shuffle feels unreserved delight at having a girlfriend (“We receive our mail in the same mailbox/And we watch the same TV”), and wants us to know he and Betty aren’t just friends (“I got rug burns on my elbows/She’s got ’em on her knees”). OK guy, we get it.

‘Just Wanna Be With You’ (1980)

A stomping number from “Storm Windows” in the style of Chuck Berry, with the Rolling Stones sideman Wayne Perkins on guitar. Prine’s lyrics don’t distinguish between reality and absurdity — they don’t clash, they mix — and here’s one more way to say you’re happy and in love: “I don’t even care what kind of gum I chew.” And another: “Lonely won’t be lonesome when we get through.”

‘Let’s Talk Dirty in Hawaiian’ (1986)

Prine had a sideline in novelty songs, which give full voice to his comic absurdity, throwaways that are worth saving, including the 1973 semi-hit “Dear Abby,” and this now-problematic number from “German Afternoons” inspired by a paperback book called “Instant Hawaiian.” Prine and his co-writer Fred Koller began making up Hawaiian-sounding nonsense words full of sexual innuendo, and Lloyd Green added airport-Tiki-bar bar steel guitar for maximum faux authenticity. You can say Prine’s loving disposition makes the song OK, and you can also say it doesn’t.

‘All the Best’ (1991)

After five years away, Prine returned with “The Missing Years,” a Grammy-winning album produced by Howie Epstein, Tom Petty’s bass player. The singer in this gentle, masterly miniature claims to want good things for an ex-lover, but feelings aren’t simple: “I wish you don’t do like I do/And never fall in love with someone like you” twists the knife. Now recording for his own label, Oh Boy Records, Prine was about to hit a hot streak.

‘Lake Marie’ (1995)

Bob Dylan, who was a huge fan, called the haunted, mysterious “Lake Marie” his favorite Prine song, and who are we to disagree with Dylan on the topic of songwriting? Even though Epstein’s booming production draws too much attention to itself, “Lost Dogs + Mixed Blessings” is full of winners: the simple, loving ballad “Day is Done,” the rapid-fire doggerel of “We Are the Lonely” and the calm, ornery “Quit Hollerin’ at Me,” where Prine tells his wife that the neighbors “already think my name is ‘Where in the hell you been?’”

‘In Spite of Ourselves’ (1999)

Prine was diagnosed with cancer, and doctors removed a tumor from the right side of his neck, which took away his already-modest ability to project his voice. But incredibly, his stolid singing was now perfect for harmonies, and he cut a duets album called “In Spite of Ourselves” with female country and Americana singers. On its one original song, Prine and Iris DeMent trade backhanded compliments (“She thinks all my jokes are corny/Convict movies make her horny”) that read like a divorce complaint, but turn out to be only pillow talk.

‘Some Humans Ain’t Human’ (2005)

At seven minutes and three seconds, this track from “Fair and Square” is the longest song on any of his studio albums. A cloud of slide guitar keeps this soft waltz afloat and allows Prine to express his disapproval of, if not contempt for, so-called humans who lack empathy for others. There’s a couplet that is clearly about George W. Bush, and Prine noticed that some audience members were surprised by it. “I never tried to rub it in anybody’s face, but I thought it was pretty clear that I wasn’t a closet Republican,” he told the Houston Press.

‘When I Get to Heaven’ (2018)

In 2013, doctors removed the cancerous part of Prine’s left lung, which sidelined and weakened him. It’s hard now to listen to his final album, “The Tree of Forgiveness,” which was nominated for three Grammys, and not think that Prine heard the clock ticking louder. There’s so much tenderness in “Knockin’ on Your Screen Door,” about a man whose family left him with only an 8-track tape of George Jones, and in the elegiac, reassuring parental entreaty “Summer’s End.” In the last song, “When I Get to Heaven,” Prine describes his ideal afterlife: a rock band, a cushy hotel, a girl, a cocktail (“vodka and ginger ale”) and “a cigarette that’s nine miles long.” He removes his watch, and asks, “What are you gonna do with time after you’ve bought the farm?”

#IFTTT #WordPress

1 note · View note

captain-zajjy · 7 years ago

Text

Solstice, Chapter 29 - A Final Fantasy XV Story

Pairing: Ignis x Female Original Character

AO3 | Chapter 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26 27 28

A/N: FINALLY hitting the character moment for Ignis that I envisioned when creating this story way back when. I hope it works for you :)

Ignis had wanted to prepare a large breakfast using a few things he’d been saving for a special occasion, but Valeria insisted he do not waste them on her father’s account. So, he served their usual morning meal of dry toast with the thinnest smear of berry preserves. Before Ignis could apologize for the paltry spread, Mr. Soleil smacked his lips and let out a long, contented sigh.

“That sure hit the spot.” He even sounded like he meant it.

“I- it did?” Ignis blurted out.

“Couldn’t even tell you the last time I had bread, to be honest,” Mr. Soleil said. “All they had at Galdin was fish, fish, and more fish.”

After finishing his own toast, Ignis immediately went to the refrigerator and replaced the fish filet he’d set out to thaw with what remained of a behemoth steak Gladio had brought him weeks ago. It was barely enough for two people, let alone three, but Ignis had high hopes that a bit of red meat, however small, would go a long way in impressing the man. Valeria might not have cared what her father thought, but he certainly did.

And so, when Valeria left the two of them to have her first shooting lesson with Prompto, and Mr. Soleil asked Ignis if he’d like to accompany him on a stroll around the market, Ignis was left with a dilemma.

He desperately wanted to show her father that he was capable, that he wasn’t a burden to whom Valeria had to constantly play nursemaid. On the other hand, Ignis still struggled with the cacophony of the market; he hadn’t gone by himself since Valeria had joined him in Lestallum. Have I become too dependent on her? Even if he could manage by himself, short of forcing the man to wear some sort of bell, it would be impossible for Ignis to keep track of Mr. Soleil in the crowd.

Putting his pride aside, Ignis nodded. “I shall join you.” He wanted to spend time with this man, the father of the woman he loved, get to know him and, Gods willing, obtain his approval.

Ignis donned his gloves and took up his cane, easily following behind Mr. Soleil in the familiar confines of the apartment building.

When the stink of the city streets assailed his nostrils, Ignis cleared his throat and stuck out his hand, moving it up Mr. Soleil’s back to grip his shoulder.

“If it’s not too much of a bother…”

He felt Mr. Soleil shrug in response. “Not using that shoulder for much, anyway.” His body was tense at first, as it always went with people guiding Ignis for the first time, but quickly relaxed when it became apparent that the only thing Ignis required of him was to proceed as he normally would.

“I can usually manage on my own,” Ignis heard himself say. “It’s just that with the crowds and maze of the market, it’s difficult to keep track of one’s companion, and I believe Valeria would be very cross with me if I lost her father on his second day, so I-” He knew he was babbling, and clamped his mouth shut. “I very much appreciate the assistance.”

Again, Mr. Soleil shrugged. “Not a problem, son.” Did he really not care? He certainly sounded indifferent, but Ignis felt that old specter of self-doubt rear its ugly head once more. Was he not thinking, ‘this is what my daughter has to put up with every day?’ Blast you, Ignis said to the intrusive thoughts.

“So tell me - how does a son of Tenebrae come to serve the Lucian crown?” Mr. Soleil asked as they set out down the street.

It was a question Ignis had been asked many times before. “I was a small child when I immigrated to Lucis,” he explained. “It’s the only home I’ve ever known.”

“So you got out of Tenebrae before the Niffs moved in, huh?”

Ignis nodded. “Had I not, I suspect I would have perished during the Empire’s Purges.” That had always struck him as the bitterest irony: he was alive today because his parents had died then, before the Empire had taken the country and eradicated the ruling class.

“Blue blood, eh?” Mr. Soleil asked.

“A minor noble house,” Ignis admitted. “And now, a nonexistent one, since the Empire abolished all titles and seized all holdings.” He knew he ought to feel some kind of sadness when speaking of the fate of the country where he was born, but, in truth, he felt very little. His uncle had said nothing when the news broke back on that fateful day over a decade ago, but had appeared ashen-faced, cleaning their already-tidy apartment in an aimless, mechanical way, like the walking dead. Ignis had not been able to understand, not until another fateful day in the near-past, when Insomnia was taken.

“Damn,” Mr. Soleil muttered. “They even killed the kids?”

“Root and stem.” There was a logic in that - cold and cruel, as logic often was - and part of Ignis loathed himself for being able to see it.

“Did you like your job?”

Such a simple question, and yet it nearly knocked Ignis off his feet. Did I... like it? It was his duty; his personal feelings were irrelevant. And yet, here was someone asking, by all appearances in earnest.

“It...it was my whole world. For better or for worse.” Ignis knew that wasn’t an answer, but it was the best he could come up with.

Of course he liked it. Everytime Noctis asked for his counsel and heeded it, he liked it. Every time King Regis had favored him with an approving nod for a task completed, he liked it. Every time he did something that, in its own small, insignificant way benefited the people of Lucis, he liked it.

And he loathed it. Noct’s apartment covered in trash, the calls just as he’d finally settled into bed, the disparaging looks from the Lucian uppercrust at the foreigner who’d been chosen over their own flesh and blood to serve the Prince. At least he wouldn’t have to suffer that last one any longer.

“Never been one to hold down a job for long, myself,” Mr. Soleil said. “I know, I know - try to contain your surprise.” Now that they were in the thick of the market, he frequently stopped and paused, humming tunelessly to himself.

“May I ask what you’re shopping for?” Ignis asked.

“You can, but I ain’t gonna tell ya. It’s a surprise.”

Ignis frowned. “I believe Valeria will be rather vexed by a ‘surprise.’”

“Oh, yeah,” Mr. Soleil replied, flippant. “And this way, you can tell her you didn’t know anything about it.” He clapped Ignis on the back. “Just looking out for you, son. I know she can be nasty when she’s mad.”

Well, yes . Ignis knew better than to agree with him out loud.

“Still, not half as bad as her mother,” Mr. Soleil added offhandedly with a low whistle. “That woman, Gods rest her soul, could punch you in the gut, then kick you in the balls with a single sentence.”

Ignis lowered his voice. “You have my condolences on your loss.”

“We all lost something that day.” Ignis surmised that, glib as he was, Mr. Soleil’s former wife was an understandably sensitive subject.

“Indeed.” We all lost something....starting with our innocence.

“You’re probably wondering how someone like her ended up with someone like me.”

“Well, I wouldn’t want to pry…” But, yes. Ignis had wondered that from the moment he’d met the man all those years ago.

“Yeah, me too, kid. Me too. Ol’ Viv sure was a piece of work. Ambitious, smart as a whip - I didn’t mind living in her shadow - that was alright.” He cleared his throat. “Once the company started getting real big she changed - or maybe that was who she really was all along. Hell, I don’t know. I just couldn’t take being treated like one of her damn employees, you know? But, she was the mother of my child. And for that, Vivienne will always be important to me.”

Mr. Soleil stopped abruptly. “Ohh,” he said. “Here’s what I’m talking about.” Ignis sidled alongside the older man as he chatted with the vendor, trying to make himself less obtrusive to the aimless throng of passers-by. He didn’t think many people actually did much shopping anymore - the market was simply a place to go, to idle away the hours until one’s next paltry meal, to stave off the overwhelming sense of loneliness and hopelessness that pervaded the city’s population.

“Barter only,” the vendor said off to Ignis’s left, as something metallic clinked on the counter. “Don’t have any use for money these days.”

“A wise man,” Mr. Soleil crooned. “But this isn’t gil. This here’s ancient Solheim money, genuine, one hundred percent silver.”

“Don’t have much use for silver either.”

“Oh, but you will!” Mr. Soleil’s voice radiated confidence, assurance. “Silver’s an investment in your future. When all this is over, who knows what the gil will be worth, if anything. But silver? Always worth something! Way more than just these few things here.”

Ignis heard something rattle as it slid across the counter.

“Hmm…” the vendor responded.

“Alright, alright. You’ve got me.” Another coin clinked as it was set down. “Double or nothing.”

“Fine,” the vendor relented. Ignis tried not to chuckle at how thoroughly the man had been foxed.

“Thanks for doing business, my man.” There was the rustling sound of a paper bag, and then Mr. Soleil gave Ignis a nudge. Ignis placed his hand back on the man’s shoulder and they continued on their way.

“A silver tongue runs in the family, I see,” Ignis mused.

“Heh, well...I ain’t good at much - or anything, really. Just talking to people.”

“An extremely valuable skill, under any circumstances.”

“Eh. I guess.” Mr. Soleil paused. “Hey. Isn’t that my daughter’s necklace?”

“Oh.” Ignis resisted the urge to bring his hand up to the chain around his throat. “Well, I...she, er, gave it to me.”

“Ohhh.” The sing-songy way Mr. Soleil crooned reminded Ignis of Prompto. At least he isn’t angry. “You two go way back, then?”

“Since the Academy. First year.”

“That’s a good thing to have these days. Someone you know you can trust, that ain’t gonna go up and bonkers on you.”

“Indeed.” Ignis nodded, ruminating on just how fortunate he’d been in that regard. Not only did he have Valeria, but the Amicitias, Prompto, the Marshal - all people he’d known for years, people whose intentions he never had to second-guess.

With his shopping concluded, Ignis took Mr. Soleil to pick up his ration vouchers, explaining how Valeria had played a pivotal role in establishing the food bank that now fed the entire city. On the way home, they stopped somewhere - Ignis wasn’t entirely sure where, exactly - to sit on a curb and ‘people watch,’ which seemed like it would be terribly depressing, but since Mr. Soleil was apparently quite keen on it, Ignis went along.

Since he obviously could not watch the passersby, Ignis instead worked on drumming up the bravery to ask a very important question.

“Sir, I…” Ignis plucked at his collar, nerves suddenly causing his stomach to churn. “I would like to ask your permission to court your daughter.”

Mr. Soleil let out a hearty guffaw, and Ignis’s dark thoughts immediately began to swirl. Is that really such a laughable request? Have I read him all wrong?

“Damn, kid. You really are old-fashioned, aren’t you?”

“Er-”

Mr. Soleil clapped a hand on Ignis’s shoulder. “Here’s some advice - typically, you wanna ask that question before sharing a bed with the lady in question.” Ignis felt his face flush hot, stammering out something that was half-apology and half-explanation, making very little sense.

“You’re both adults,” Mr. Soleil went on, still chuckling. “Only person’s permission you need is hers. Besides, it ain’t like she ever cared what I thought before.”

“I care,” Ignis asserted, despite his embarrassment. He knew her mother never would have approved, and even less so now. But there was still hope for her father.

Mr. Soleil’s laughter tapered off into a lengthy silence. “Huh,” he finally said, sounding more surprised than amused. “You sure are an odd one. But if you want my blessing or whatever, then okay. I know people, and I can tell you’re one of the good ones. Odd, but good.”

Ignis felt relief flooding his limbs and warmth filling his chest. Good. A good person . He’d never really thought of himself as such; he was just someone who had the fortune to serve good masters.

“Er...thank you, sir. Thank you.”

Although Valeria had serious reservations about leaving Ignis alone with her father, it wasn’t in her nature to break off an appointment at the last minute, especially when Prompto had so generously offered his time and expertise, asking for nothing in return. Before leaving, Ignis had reminded her that he was able to advocate for himself - his very polite way of telling her to back off.

Valeria sighed as she made her way to the high school. What was the worst her father could really do to Ignis? Make a cruel joke at his expense? Maybe she was just projecting her own fears onto him. Because her father had hurt her, cut her down to the core, and he could absolutely do it again - if she let him. I’m not a little girl anymore, she reminded herself. I don’t need him anymore. What a lie that was.

Fortunately, Prompto provided a welcome distraction. “No Iggy?” he asked after greeting her.

“He’s entertaining a guest,” she replied, praying Prompto didn’t nose into the matter further. He whistled, but let it go, and she followed him to the school’s gymnasium.

“Got the place to ourselves for the next hour,” he said. Toward the back of the large room, a human-sized target had been strung up on a crude pulley system between the basketball hoops. Upon further inspection, she saw that the target was a photograph of an older man, blown up to life-size, its subject sporting auburn hair, a striped scarf, and a sickeningly smug grin.

“Ardyn,” Prompto explained, his usual sunny disposition suddenly uncharacteristically dark.

It took Valiera a moment to place the name. “The Imperial Chancellor.”

“Uh-huh.” Prompto had turned his attention to loading his special rubber bullets into a small revolver.

She turned back to the photo. “This guy is the Chancellor? He looks like a bum.” He wasn’t wearing a uniform, not even a badge of office.

“He is a bum. And a lot of other words Iggy says I shouldn’t say in front of a lady. So-” Prompto handed her the gun, then took a step behind her. “Put a couple between his eyes for me, will you?”

Valeria turned the weapon over in her hands and exhaled deeply, trying to recall what she’d been taught back in high school. Target shooting, along with archery and fencing, had been part of the physical education curriculum, not to train future soldiers or even for self-defense, but because, for Insomnia’s elite, such things were - or had been - considered leisure activities, sport, a way to pass the hours when you had no real obligations on your time.

She raised the gun, both hands on the grip, and took aim at the Chancellor’s forehead. After taking a few moments to calm herself, she squeezed the trigger. The noise and the recoil startled her, jerking her arms backward. After composing herself, Valeria turned toward the target, noting a small hole along the man’s hairline. Okay, not exactly between the eyes.

Valeria shook her head, let her heart rate come down, this time aiming lower. By the time the six rounds were spent, she had decent grouping in the target’s face.

“Hey, that’s pretty good!” Prompto handed her six more rounds, which she loaded much slower and more clumsily than he had. When she looked up, Prompto was behind her near the basketball hoop, tugging on a string.

“How about a moving target?” The cut out of the Chancellor danced along the rope as Prompto pulled it. Oh Gods …

Valeria tried to track the movement with the barrel of the gun, but her first two shots missed the target entirely. Then she tried leading it, but went too far, ending up with only two of the six shots hitting the Chancellor at all - in the side of his arm.

“Well, you winged him.” Prompto gave her an encouraging smile and handed over more rounds. They repeated this until his supply of rubber bullets was spent, and Valeria stared at the target in frustration as Prompto gathered up the spent casings and rounds to be reused. In all of that shooting, she’d hit the target in the chest exactly once, and the majority of her shots had missed it entirely.

“I’m terrible at this,” she said with disgust. There were few things she hated more than failure.

“What?” Prompto said. “It was your first time!”

“Yeah.” Valeria gestured at the target. “And I’m terrible.”

“Oh, come on. Nobody’s good at stuff their first time.”

I am, she thought. And if I’m not, I don’t do it again.

“You’re too tense.” Prompto pointed at the target, encouraging her to take aim with the unloaded gun. “See, your shoulders are up at your ears. Just relax.”

“How am I supposed to relax if this thing were trying to kill me?”

Prompto chuckled. “Just like Iggy. Overthinking everything. You just gotta keep practicing.”

Valeria handed the gun back over with a deep frown. “Thanks, Prompto. Sorry I’m such a crappy pupil.”

“Bah.” Prompto threw up his hands. “Don’t be so hard on yourself. Hey, you wanna see something cool I’ve been working on?”

“Okay,” she said slowly, wondering just what she might be getting herself into.

Prompto led her to a small classroom on the second floor. Most of the student desks had been removed or pushed aside, the teacher’s desk and floor were littered with an assortment of wires and electronics.

“Just gimme a sec to get it set up.” As Prompto scuttled about, Valeria turned toward the front of the classroom. Someone (likely Prompto) had drawn a chocobo pecking at a stick figure whose hair was reminiscent of Prince Noctis on the chalkboard.

Next to that was a bulletin board, the border of which was decorated with a colorful pattern made from layered construction paper and a various shapes of a hole punch. If something had been hanging there before, Prompto must’ve taken it down, and replaced it with photos that had to have been taken while he and the others had been on the road for Prince Noctis’s wedding.

Some were posed, many were candid, and Valeria was struck by just how content they all looked in one another’s company. A shot of all four of them with their car at Hammerhead Garage, Gladio leaning on Noctis outside of a diner, Ignis sitting by a campfire drinking his coffee. She knew that while these photos were taken she had been stuck in Insomnia, frightened and hurt, still reeling from the loss of her mother, but Valeria didn’t begrudge them their tranquility here. She was glad Ignis and the others had been able to have this time and these experiences together, knowing what misery the world had in store for them later.

“Those were the best times of my life,” Prompto said, standing next to her, looking at his photos with a faraway smile. “Sometimes I still can’t believe they let me tag along.”

Valeria tore her gaze away from the photo of Ignis and turned to him. “Is that why you joined the Crownsguard? Adventure?”

“Nah,” Prompto replied. “Noct’s my best friend. A job that’s basically just hanging out with him all the time? It seemed too good to be true, but it wasn’t.”

“It must be hard for you now.”

Prompto shrugged. “He’s gonna come back. Until then…” He gestured at the photographs. “And I’ve started tinkering with things to keep myself busy. Check this out.”

Prompto had cleared the teacher’s desk, leaving only two rectangular lights the size of her fist, crudely linked together with electrical tape, wires spilling out the back and hooked to a pair of large batteries.

“Are those...flashes? Like, for a camera?”

“Yup!” Prompto replied. “Studio grade. Super bright. My first idea was to convert them to something like a flashlight, but it drained the battery way too fast. So, I slowed down the timing on the flash so that it fires for a couple of seconds, instead of like, half of one. It still needs some tuning, but right now I can get about five shots out of one battery.”

“Huh.” Valeria took a closer look at the device. “For daemons?”

“Yep. Got the idea after we fought that monster one back at the Fort. A few seconds of light probably won’t kill the big guys, but it should mess ‘em up pretty good.”

Valeria imagined it was similar to dousing someone in boiling water - even if it cooled right away, the damage was already done. “So, you won’t have to be Gladiolus to finish them off.”

Prompto snapped his fingers. “Exactly. Here, let me show you.” She joined Prompto behind the desk, and he leaned forward to flip the switch. “Uh, you might want to cover your eyes.”

“Then how can I see how it works?”

“Just sayin.” With one hand over his eyes - and his face turned away - he flipped the switch. The room instantly filled with brilliant white light, so bright she felt it searing through her eyes and right into her brain. Valeria shrieked and brought her hands up to her face, but it was too late. Her vision swam with white and yellow and violet starbursts, her head throbbed, and she clung to the desk to keep herself upright.

“Gods, Prompto!”

“I warned you!” he said. “But...it’s pretty cool, right?”

Valeria rubbed at her eyes. Splotches of the classroom began to return here and there, but her vision still swam with the blinding light. “I think that ought to do it. Stars above,” she muttered. She was still seeing them. “Don’t you think you should have safety glasses or something if you’re going to work on this stuff?”

“What, like goggles?”

Valeria sighed, wiping her watering eyes. “Goggles, sure. They make them like normal glasses too - or, they used to anyway. You seriously work on electronics without any safety gear?”

“I like to wing it,” he replied with a grin. How are you even still alive ? “I think I might have put some gloves or something in the desk.”

Shaking her head, Valeria began to rifle through the drawers. She found a large amount of school supplies - markers, glue, paper punches in various shapes - and eventually pulled out a clunky pair of clear goggles missing the strap.

“I’ll take this stuff to the market,” she said, putting the things in her jacket pockets. “See if I can’t trade it for some actual safety gear.” Now that she was finally able to see clearly again, she favored Prompto with a smile. “This is a really good idea, Prompto.”

“Oh, well…” He rubbed a hand over his reddening neck. “Just messing around, really.”

“I’m serious. This can save lives. Just... don’t hurt yourself in the process, okay?”

Valeria returned home to find Ignis in the kitchen and her father in the window sill, the top half of his body concealed behind the blinds. Before she could even ask, Ignis greeted her.

“Welcome back, my dear. How was your lesson?”

“It was...not good,” she admitted, never taking her eyes from her father. The only thing worse than being bad at something was having to admit she was bad at something.

As Ignis began to offer some words of encouragement, her father chuckled and hopped out of the window. “So, what - you miss the target once or twice?”

“A lot more than twice. What the hell are you doing?”

“I asked several times,” Ignis said from the kitchen. “He wouldn’t say.”

“Yeah, so don’t yell at him.”

Valeria crossed her arms over her chest. “Just tell me.”

“This, pumpkin - this here is a gold mine.” Her father pulled up the blinds and lifted a terracotta pot almost reverently. A small lamp had been placed next to it on the sill, which she immediately identified as a UV lamp meant to mimic the lost light of the sun.

“A planter?” Valeria asked skeptically.

“Seeds.” Her father poked his finger into the soft soil filling the pot. “Tobacco.”

“Tobacco?” She let out a noise of disgust. “Really, Dad? Not food?”

“Alas.” Ignis let out a crestfallen sigh. “What I wouldn’t give for some fresh herbs…”

“Not half as what the nicotine addicts will pay when the cigarettes run out,” her father quipped, a shit-eating grin on his face. Just another one of his idiotic schemes.

“Like you’re not going to keep it all for yourself,” Valeria muttered.

“Well…” Her father winked. “You never know. Might be room for another pot or two here, too. As you’ll see,” he made an exaggerated demonstrative gesture, “everything’s tucked away, nothing underfoot. You won’t even notice it’s here.”

Except for the ridiculously bright lamp, Valeria thought with a frown, although she knew her father wasn’t really referring to her. All the things he’d acquired, even the bag of potting soil, were gathered on the window sill, and the cord of the lamp had been taped against the wall - an eyesore, but not a tripping hazard, and that was all she really cared about.

With no real reason to chastise her father further, Valeria was forced to relent. After he finished raving about their afternoon meal, she told both men about Prompto’s invention - and his apparent lack of safety concerns. The three of them spent the rest of the evening listening to the radio; Valeria and Ignis were beyond sick of the reruns, but her father laughed at every joke.

That night, laying in bed, she shamelessly watched as Ignis undressed, feeling her pulse quicken as the broad muscles in his shoulders and back worked and rippled as he moved. She remembered back in high school when she’d first noticed his shoulders and chest getting wider, noticed just how much taller he was becoming relative to her, and the multitude of strange, confusing feelings that accompanied those observations, feelings she had kept deep inside for so long. And now, if it hadn’t been for her damned father, already sound asleep and snoring a few feet away on the couch, she could have acted upon those feelings at long last.

Valeria couldn’t help her disappointment when Ignis covered his bare torso with a thin undershirt and crawled into bed alongside her. Swallowing all those things down, as she had time and again, she rolled onto her side, facing Ignis as he laid down on his back.

“Okay,” she began, her voice low. “Tell me how it really was being stuck with him all day.”

Ignis’s lips parted in concern. “Your father,” he whispered. “He’s...he’s right there.”

“Can’t you hear him snoring? He’s not going to wake up unless we start shouting. Trust me.”

“I suppose ‘snoring’ is relative, but if you say so,” Ignis muttered. “It was a perfectly pleasant day. Truly.”

Valeria’s eyebrows shot up. “Seriously?” She studied Ignis’s face, striped by soft orange light that filtered in through the slats in the blinds. He didn’t look like he was lying. “He didn’t call you names and do everything in his power to embarass you?”

“He can be a bit crass,” Ignis admitted. “But there’s no malice in it. Don’t you think you’re being a bit hard on him?”

Valeria frowned. “He left me. He abandoned me.”

“I’m not saying he hasn’t made mistakes in the past,” Ignis said, shifting so that he could wrap an arm around her back. “But given all that’s happened in the last year, I consider it a small miracle not only that you’re both alive, but have managed to find one another here.”

Valeria bit her lip. She knew he was right. “It scares me,” she admitted.

Ignis reached out with his other hand to stroke her cheek. “Why?”

“Because he hurt me. And I...if I let him in, what if he does it again?”

Ignis let out a knowing sigh and pulled her close. “You are strong. I suspect you can handle just about anything this world will throw at you. I admit I don’t know him well, but I believe he cares for you. I really do.” Valeria felt her lip begin to tremble and buried her face into Ignis’s neck. “Oh… Have I upset you?” He ran his fingers through her hair.

“It’s just a lot,” she said, managing to keep herself from crying. Valeria didn’t even fully understand all the overwhelming emotional baggage that accompanied the topic of her father, let alone possess the ability to articulate it. “I…” She’d already forced herself to face daemons - was her father really so frightening? “Okay, Iggy. I’ll try. But old habits might be kind of hard to break.”

“Ah,” he said after planting a soft kiss on her temple. “They really are, aren’t they? Even so, I’d daresay that if anyone can do it, it’s you.”

Valeria snorted. “I think your opinion of me is a little inflated, but thanks.”

Ignis smiled as they fell silent, appreciating the quiet comfort of each other’s company. After a while, he spoke. “Am I really your boyfriend now?”

Valeria couldn’t help but laugh. “That didn’t get past you, huh?”

“Few things do,” he replied with a smirk.

“Well…” Valeria nuzzled her head into his chest. “Of course you are - if you want to be. I love you. I’ve always loved you.”

Perhaps such an admission should have been accompanied by embarrassment, or apprehension that her feelings wouldn’t be reciprocated, but for Valeria, it was simply stating a fact. There was nothing to fear, because she knew Ignis felt the same. She turned her head to see him swallowing hard, adam’s apple bobbing at his throat.

“That is…” Ignis’s voice was trembling, and she could feel his heart pounding in his chest. The last thing she had expected was to distress him.

Valeria propped herself up on an elbow to get a better look at his face. “What is it?”

“I…” Ignis cleared his throat. “I never thought I was someone who could be loved.” Valeria began to speak, but he shook his head, so she let him continue. “All these years, I contented myself with being needed. I… I thought that would be enough. It would have to be enough, because I-” His voice broke.

“Oh, Iggy…” Valeria wrapped her arms around him, planting kisses along his scarred cheek. “You are loved - not just by me. Gladio, Prompto, Prince Noctis - they’re your friends. They don’t just need you; they love you. We all love you.” Different kinds of love, but one was no less valuable than another.

“When I was injured, my friends, they… I was helpless. I could do nothing for them, but they stood by me.” A tear formed in the corner of his right eye, and Valeria wiped it away with her index finger. “When they wanted me to stay behind - and I know it was only out of concern for my well-being - I couldn’t bear it. I knew it was foolish, and it was dangerous, but it was as if all my fears were being realized: I was useless, no longer needed. The only value I saw in myself was in what I could do for others. If I was needed, then at least I...I wouldn’t be alone. ”

Looking at the man now, Valeria could see the boy who still lived buried deep inside, small and frightened and solitary, and her heart broke for that child who had lost his parents and his home, thrust into a strange new city filled with unfamiliar faces. Even if her mother had sometimes made it feel like her love was conditional, even if her father had made it seem like his love was only available when it was convenient for him, Valeria still knew her parents cared. They were still there, in her life, even if it wasn’t always when and how she wanted them to be.

Ignis might not have had that as a child, but he had a family now. Her, and the Amicitias, Prompto and Talcott, and of course, Prince Noctis.

“You’re not useless, Iggy. I need you,” she whispered, rubbing his cheek. “I need you, and I love you.”

“You don’t need me,” Ignis said, sounding almost pleased. “If something were to happen to me, you might grieve, but you would get by. You could take care of yourself. You wouldn’t end up taking ill from the mound of trash accumulating in your living room.”

In spite of the seriousness of the conversation, Valeria giggled.

“That was only half a joke,” Ignis went on. “There was a time - a long time - when, if I didn’t do Noct’s chores, they simply wouldn’t get done. And I suppose I encouraged that, enabled his laziness in a way, to ensure that he continued to need me.”

“But he’s your friend.” Ignis’s hairstyle had begun to come undone, and Valeria pushed away the stray locks that had fallen forward into his face. “You don’t have to do anything like that so that he’ll keep you around.”

Ignis’s lips quirked upward in a smile, a smile that was tinged with sadness. “I- Yes. I understand that now. It certainly took me a while, but I understand, and I want to show him that when he returns. I want to thank him for being my friend.”

“I’m sure he knows.”

“And you.” Ignis turned his head toward her, his hazy right eye looking through her, into the darkness only he could see. “Thank you. Thank you. For loving me, and for showing me that I am someone worthy of love.”

Now she was crying. Despite her best efforts to keep them contained, the tears began to fall. Ignis held her and kissed her softly on the mouth, and for this moment, at least inside the space of their narrow little bed, it felt like everything was finally as it should be and all was right with the world. Like all the terrible things that she’d seen and felt were somehow alright, because they’d led her to this time and place, in the arms of the man she adored.

“When this is all over,” Ignis said, wiping the moisture from Valeria’s cheeks. “Well, I hope you haven’t grown tired of me by then.”

“What? What do you mean?”

“It is my job - my duty - to advise the King of Lucis. Not to do his laundry. Anyone can do those mundane chores.” Ignis paused for a moment before continuing. “He will be surrounded by sycophants and people trying to further their own interest. What Noct will require isn’t a servant, but a friend, with whom he can speak plainly, and trust to tell him the truth, to keep him grounded. Which is all to say, I will no longer be working sixteen hours a day. Of course, if you still want to-”

“No,” Valeria said quickly, grinning from ear to ear. “That was a life someone else wanted for me. I want to help rebuild Lucis, but I want to be with you, too. And since everyone else seems to be able to balance work with their personal lives, I think we’ll be able to figure it out.”

Ignis was smiling as broadly as she was. “Yes. Yes, indeed.”

#final fantasy xv #final fantasy 15 #ffxv #ff15 #ffxv fanfiction #final fantasy xv fanfiction #ignis scientia #ignis #ignis x oc #prompto argentum #prompto

16 notes · View notes

hogsmeadeshoneyduchess · 8 years ago

Text

My Favorite Fanfictions (Part 1)

I have read some truly wonderful fanfiction recently, so I thought I’d compile a list and share it with you all! (I linked to the stories; click on their titles to go to them)

Note to all: These are in no particular order, but they are ALL Dramione.

Note to these authors: I don’t know most of your tumblr names and/or if you’d like to be tagged. If you would like me to take you in this post, just message me! I tagged a couple of authors, in which case, click on their name to go to their tumblr home!

1) The Politician’s Wife - pir8fancier. I am OBSESSED with this story! I think I’ve read it about a dozen times since I first discovered it last week. Draco and Hermione are older in this story, and it’s a slow burn between them. Did I mention I’m obsessed with it? Here’s the official summary: Hermione hates Draco in the springtime, Hermione hates Draco in the fall, Hermione hates Draco 247. Rated M, Complete

2) Boggart - Flightglow32. This is a delightful story and I am always eagerly awaiting updates! It moves quickly, and it is such a fun read. The author introduced some pureblood rituals that I am fully hoping will be explored in more detail later on. Here is the official summary: Returning eighth year students have to face a boggart again. Hermione deals with the fallout of her boggart. Being looked after by the slytherin eighth years has far reaching consequences for her friends. Draco/Hermione, Blaise/Harry/Ginny, Theo/Neville pairings. Slow burn with later smut. Rated Explicit, Work in Progress

3) The Fever - Flightglow32. This was my first introduction to @flightglow32 work and I found it while looking at a list of sex pollen stories. It’s such a fun take on that idea and is a really fun read. Here is the official summary: After the war, due to the decimation of the wizarding race all the signs say a Fever is coming. All witches and wizards aged 17 to 21 will feel it. The Burning lasts until they find their match. The Ministry sends all those affected to Hogwarts.Hermione's concern about her match grows as she watches others around her succumb to the Fever. When one touch is all it takes and the Burning inside you wants it how much self control does it take to hold back and not give in to your most basic desires? Rated M for sexual content and mature language. Slow burn dramione. Rated M, Complete

4) The Wrong Strain - Colubrina. A fun and unique take on the Veela trope. Here is the official summary: Everyone knew what veela were. Veela were magical creatures, breathtakingly beautiful, who captivated men with a single look. It would have been nice to have been that strain. Instead, Hermione Granger was infected by another. Instead of captivating all men, she was captivated by one. She'd die without him. She was already in almost constant pain. DRAMIONE. Rated T, Work in Progress

5) Blood Traitor - Zalia. Another fun take on the Veela trope. This one is nice and long, but the chapters are on the shorter side, so it’s not overwhelming! Here is the official summary: Draco Malfoy has been living a lie to protect the girl he loves. He has inherited the Veela gene and on his next birthday he will become the first male Veela for three hundred years. Canon, (except the epilogue of HPDH). Rated M, Work in Progress

6) Drinking Buddies - MrBenzedrine. I adore @mrbenzedrine89, so I’m sure there will be more works in this list by them! I just want to eat this story up, I love it so much. All of MrBenzedrine’s work is phenomenal, so even what doesn’t make this list should be read. Here is the official summary: Hermione and Draco find solace in each other as drinking buddies, but so much more develops. Rated M for graphic lemons. Post Hogwarts. Rated M, Complete

7) Eros and Psyche - RZZMG. @rzzmg is my online mom, I love her to bits and pieces. She’s had a rough couple of years, but keeps plugging away at her AMAZING fanfiction. She updated this story recently, so I’m adding it to this list, even though it’s not a recent read for me. Treat yourself to all of her fanfiction - you won’t be disappointed!! Here is the official summary: Draco challenges Harry and friends to play EROS & PSYCHE, a scandalous card game with a dark, mysterious history. It's Slyth vs. Gryff, male vs. female, pride vs. desire in the ultimate game of hearts and amour! Pairings: Draco/Hermione,Blaise/Ginny,Ron/Pansy,Seamus/Lavender,Theo/Daphne,Harry/Tracey. AU 7th yr. Secrets, romance, angst, and sex await the turning of the first card... Rated M, Work in Progress

8) Better for You - toavoidconversation. Shameless plug for this fic, as I’m helping to beta it. But it’s so great, please check it out! It does bash Ron, so if that’s not your speed, there’s your warning. Here is the official summary: Dramione, Post-War: Draco and Hermione are working on a difficult case of alleged magical medical negligence: a child caught fire during an operation at St Mungo's. The two have to deal with aggressive media, new magic, and the less-than-subtle fact that Ron's drinking is taking its toll on Hermione. Will Draco prove that he's better for her? Will they win the case? Rated T, Work in Progress

9) If I’m Gonna Fall in Love - Colubrina. This story makes my heart happy. I love it when love hits people unexpectedly! Here is the official summary: Draco had made a list of everything he needed to fall in love. She had to be beautiful, and deferential, and from a good family. She had to be someone his parents would like, someone his friends would approve of. But how was he supposed to meet the perfect girl if he kept getting caught up in arguments with Potter's bushy-haired sidekick? Dramione. ONE SHOT. Rated T, Complete

10) The Closet Relativity Theory - MrBenzedrine. This story has a lovely kind of squirmy angst to it. Misunderstandings between Hermione and Draco make for intriguing reading! Here is the official summary: Draco Malfoy gets locked a closet with Hermione Granger at a party. But is that all to the story? Comedy, Romance, Mystery and so much smut to come. Dramione 3 part series. Rated M FOR A REASON (smut) -The unofficial sequel to A Touch of Bourbon. COMPLETE! Rated M, Complete

11) Sex Ed - MrBenzedrine. I love this story cause it’s a little silly and goofy and lovely. Here is the official summary: Hermione Granger comes to Hogwarts to teach a much needed Biology curriculum to the students. Draco Malfoy, the Potions teacher, doesn't approve of the sex ed. A bet ensues. Who will come out victorious? Rated M for lemons. COMPLETE. Rated M, Complete

12) Minimal Risk - galfoy. I love everything galfoy writes; this is NO exception!! Here is the official summary: This was not how she had imagined her year would end. Rated M, Complete

13) Split - OogieBoogie. This is such a fun take on Dissociative Identity Disorder. Here is the official summary: Hermione Granger by day, Something Else by night - IF she forgets to take her meds (or in this case, fail to work). She works at Gringotts by day and becomes some sort of vigilante at night - stealing from the wealthy and giving it to the poor. That's until her alter ego steals from Draco Malfoy, meets him, and decides she likes him. Rated M, Complete

14) Vibrations - Craft Rose. @craft-rose This may be my favorite fanfic of all time. I love some dirty talk! Here is the official summary: After three years of a mundane, sexless existence and far too much wine, our favourite brunette happens upon the magic equivalent of a sex line. There, an intriguing, deliciously devilish caller manages to pique her interest. Rated M, Complete

15) Bite Marks - provocative envy. Oh. My. Word - I could not love this story more if I tried. It’s a non-magical AU and it is so beyond. @provocative-envy writes the best non-magical stories. Just read them all! Here is the official summary: TWO-SHOT: "So—you're upset," he says with a nonchalant nod and discreet adjustment of his slightly too-tight khaki corduroys. She blinks at him, her expression alternating between indignation and incredulity and flat-out fury. He had been right about her being pretty beneath the intimidation tactics. HG/DM. (Companion to 'Punch Drunk'). Rated M, Complete

16) The Alkahest - Shadukiam. I can’t with this story. @shadu-kiam is amazing, and this story is all the feels and wonderful! Here is the official summary: The Marriage Law, once enacted, has the power to destroy Hermione's perfectly normal life. Luckily, she and Ron are already planning to obey the horrific law together as a team... Until a Malfoy-shaped wrench gets thrown into the works. Dramione. Rated M, Work in Progress

17) The Hedgehog’s Dilemma - Shadukiam. This story. I broke my own rule of only Dramione for it. It’s a Dramione x Harry triad story. And it is SO GOOD!! Here is the official summary: Hermione is Harry's best friend, and Draco is Harry's long-term boyfriend. The problem, of course, is that he's sort of in love with both of them. The Age of Aquarius has finally met its match. Draco/Harry/Hermione triad fic. Rated M, Work in Progress

18) First Thursday - hogsmeadeshoneyduchess. I can’t not req my favorite story I wrote. I wrote it for @rzzmg and enjoyed the heck out of writing it; check it out and let me know what you think! Here is the official summary: Draco and Hermione have a standing hang out on the first Thursday of every month. In the midst of all this time together, what will happen when they develop more than friendly feelings for each other? Can they overcome the odds stacked against them? Please take heed of the rating - this story earns its MA. Language and sexual content ahead! Turns out Hermione has a dirty mouth! Rated M, Complete (at least for now. It’s possible I’m working on a sequel of sorts)

Okay, that’s enough for now. To all these authors: I love you SOOO much! Thank you for writing these stories and for loving Dramione enough to write them stories that twist my heart and turn it to goo. I adore you.

118 notes · View notes

genderrise3-blog · 6 years ago

Text

SPECIAL REPORT: Sex, Apps – and Bingo

The fountain in the Stuyvesant Apartments’ oval is gurgling, competing with the giggles of little children splashing. Flowers are blooming under a golden sun. One of the first queen bees of spring buzzes by.

Love is in the air, but Millie Furkell can’t grasp it.

Love, after all, is ethereal.

Furkell is sitting on a park bench, wearing a black sleeveless shirt, white Capris pants and a silver sequined tennis visor. She is 75, but with her pink lipstick and smooth cocoa skin, she could easily pass for 60.

A widow, Furkell has been interested in her husband’s friend for about a year. She is planning to visit her love interest in the next few weeks. It’s decision time.

“I think he’s interested, but he might be too set in his ways,’’ says Furkell. “Nothing works these days. Nothing. But I don’t want to give up. I won’t give up. Maybe I’ll try internet dating. Oh dear, internet dating. What am I 30?’’

The internet is a silver lining for seniors

Furkell might be surprised to learn she is about to join a vibrant segment of society that is taking new approaches to finding love in their silver years. And that includes online dating.

Only 1 percent of seniors 65 and older had tried online dating in 2015, according to Statista. By 2017, 15 percent of seniors 60 and older reported that they looked for dates online.

Why Do Seniors Try Online Dating?

The numbers vary depending on how the demographic is sliced. The American Association of Retired Persons (AARP), for example, found in 2012 that 35 percent of the 60-69 demographic used websites and apps to find a companion.

A recent Pew Research Center study found that 12 percent of singles in the 55 to 64 demographic were surfing the web for companionship in 2015, twice the amount of web daters in this age group in 2013, the second highest jump of any age group.

“It’s the fastest growing segment of online dating,’’ says Melani Robinson, author of “1 Year of Online Dating at 50.

Robinson, who went on more than 100 online dates, thinks she knows why.

“Going to clubs or bars, or rock-climbing, we don’t do that like younger people do on a regular basis. There are very little places for us to meet people in that age demographic.”

Old standbys such as bingo games, bowling leagues and book clubs continue to offer silvers social interaction. But those activities now are viewed as fraternal, not opportunities to meet partners, say silvers.

“It’s the same people at the same games every week,” said Phyllis Gallagher, 73, of Manhattan, who attends a bingo game on the Lower East Side every Tuesday. “A lot of people go from game to game, telling the same stories. They’re lonely.

“Some don’t have any family. Their husbands or wives passed away and they’re not interested in dating. This is something to do, not somewhere to meet the love of your life.’’

But the internet can be that somewhere.

In interviews with dozens of seniors, sociologists, professional matchmakers, documentary film makers, authors and law enforcement officials we found that online dating has opened new dating doors. And silvers are briskly walking through them.

And online, they’re finding dozens of sites dedicated to their specific demographic—Elite Singles, OurTime, SeniorPeopleMeet, SilverSingles and ZooskSeniors—have consistently been rated as the most successful in matching seniors, according to DatingAdvice.com, an online firm that tracks dating sites.

Most sites use the same business model: It’s free to join and fill out a profile. Once clients want to contact potential matches, the monthly fees range from $15.95 to $31.95.

The explosion of online dating has also forced professional matchmakers (not your aunt or next door neighbor) to adapt.

Christie Nightingale, the owner and founder of Premier Match, which has offices in New York, Philadelphia and Washington, D.C., has married online dating with a personal touch, which she calls ‘hybrid matchmaking’.

“In 2012-13 we started to see much more interest in dating in 50, 60 and 70-year olds,’’ says Nightingale. “Some had turned to the internet but found it impersonal. We created a hybrid model. We have our own search engines but we offer a full-service approach.

“I meet with every client to really understand who they are and that they’re looking for. We help write their profiles, choose their photos and advise them about going on their first date. It’s the best of both worlds.’’

For Silvers, online dating has been a social gold rush

Once silvers decide to try online dating, the first question most ask is, ‘What am I looking for?’’’ It isn’t a clear-cut quest.

“They’re looking for ways to attract a compatible match whether it’s for long-term or short-term,’’ says Krissy Dolor, an executive at The Worthy One, a lifestyle coaching firm for women. “They may be widowed or divorced and don’t know who they want.’’

At least with online dating they can expand their search, and perhaps narrow it down to a select few.

“In general, if they’re in my age range and live in Manhattan and their profile doesn’t have something really creepy in it, I’ll say, ‘Yes,’” says MarySue Lundy, 57, of Manhattan, whose husband died 12 years ago.

Lundy has been dating for about five years. “I had a job where I worked from home so I seriously never met anyone. My kids were 9 and 12 so it wasn’t like I was going to go out to bars,” she says.

Her willingness to put herself out there represents the online dating gap between women and men. AARP found that 57 percent of women 50 and over use online dating, compared to 43 percent for men. Those numbers create a supply and demand conundrum. All the experts we spoke to agreed there are more women than men in the dating pool. With more women than men going online, it’s like an all-female college that decides to go coed.

“I didn’t like the idea before,’’ says Patricia Mason of Virginia who says she’s in her 60s and her marriage was annulled in 2007. “I don’t drink, I don’t smoke, and I’m on a limited budget so I don’t go anywhere. I wasn’t seeing anyone at church I was interested in. The only way I could find prospects is to do the online dating thing.”

Which was also true for Ken Smith, 70, a widowed police officer who knew just about everybody in Leicester, England, and had no prospects that interested him. Smith says he was out of touch with current dating and was accustomed to making the first move. He met his wife, Elaine, online. The couple might not have met if Elaine didn’t initiate contact. That’s not surprising, since many sociologists say women are better at the ‘dating game.’

“When I was younger, we are talking about the 1960s, it was a different era then, it was all Beatles and rock and roll and it was a different way of picking up a young lady,’’ Smith says. “But things have changed now from the 60s.’’

Thanks to online dating, Ken and Elaine have spent the last four years traveling the world. In fact, they were interviewed in Bryant Park while on holiday.

“I’ve got someone to push me around in my wheelchair, so I’m alright,’’ he says.

Are Niche Sites Better for Finding Love?

Should older daters look for love on the bigger sites or on smaller, more targeted ones? Opinion is divided.

of 60+ silvers use online dating

of seniors over 65 are sexually active

Millions Lost in Sweetheart Scams

Niche sites are a silver’s best friend (or are they?)

Digital dating worked for Ken and Elaine, but taking the virtual step into online dating isn’t for everyone.

Many seniors interviewed expressed concerns about having to learn new technology to get online and trying to figure out how and what to post about themselves “I think it’s a pain in the ass,’’ says Judith Chusid, 70, of Manhattan. “I’d rather go to a dinner party, I’d rather have people fix me up, I’d rather have my friends at the synagogue say, ‘We met this guy and we want him to call you.’ I’d rather do that than this.’’

Many say they also had doubts about the authenticity of possible matches and worried about scams by online stalkers that have bilked thousands of victims out of millions of dollars.

But there’s a reason more songs have been written about love than any other topic. Sociologists say we are social creatures and the desire to connect conquers most fears.

The AARP found that 74 percent of silvers are looking for a serious relationships or companionship. Which is why the digital dating business for silvers is booming.

To get an idea of how big a business this is, consider this: According to IBISWorld, a Wall Street industry research firm, online dating is a $3 billion industry with 2,080 businesses employing more than 5,000 workers. And a report by NASDAQ analysts predicts the online dating business will continue to grow at about 5 percent annually for the next five years.

No wonder there are now more than 2,500 dating sites in the United States, according to Forbes. Match.com, one of the biggest, launched in 1995. EHarmony followed five years later. Today? There’s an online flavor for everyone, including silvers.

“Most singles who I work with, usually end up on three sites,’’ says Julie Spira, a digital matchmaker. She recommends using at least one mainstream site (Match, eHarmony) for the search features and then suggests mixing in some niche sites. “It’s not one or the other, I believe in casting a wide net,” Spira says.

Online dating has also spawned robust cottage industries:

Need someone to write your profile? Done. Just interested in sex? There are experts to advise silvers on issues from erectile dysfunction to vaginal discomfort. Getting married for a second time? Try a wedding planner that specializes in silver nuptials.

Heartbroken & Broke

She thought it was strange that he immediately started calling her “baby,” “honey” and “my queen”, but she attributed it to his Belgian roots.

Tarnished Silvers

With billions of dollars fueling a worldwide business, inevitably there is going to be a seedy side to online dating.

Silvers and sociologists say that people using outdated pictures and/or embellishing on their profiles is common. That’s merely bad taste, something MarySue Lundy, an online dater, says ticked her off.

“People who lie,’’ she says. “They show up and their pictures are 10 years old, or they put their age as 10 years younger than their actual age. They show up and they’re like my grandfather, and I’m like, ‘What the hell?’”

But the more serious and heartbreaking problem is that there are some very bad people trolling internet dating sites looking for the lonely and lovesick. They prey on these silvers with the cunning and effectiveness of a pack of wolves. The predators here are scammers. They convince their victims, mostly women, of their affections and then begin to ask for financial assistance, offering up dozens of believable excuses:

They have suffered a business setback. They need money for their visa. A close relative died and they need funds for the funeral.

The FBI says there were about 15,300 complaints categorized as romance scams or confidence fraud in 2017. The losses associated with those complaints exceeded $210 million.

“The internet makes this type of crime easy because you can pretend to be anybody you want to be,” FBI Special Agent Christine Beining says in an FBI press release. “You can be anywhere in the world and victimize people.”

Sophisticated scammers will take months, even a couple of years, said law enforcement officials, to bilk their victims.

“The thing that’s really impressive is how patient they are,” Brooklyn-based attorney Carrie Goldberg, who specializes in online scams, says. “These scams take months, sometimes longer. They’re very patient.’’

What Are Seniors looking from Online Dating?

Sex and the silvers

The search for companionship that makes some silvers vulnerable to scams helps satisfy their libido. While many are only seeking a movie night out, or a visit to the Guggenheim, some are just looking for sex. But trying to convey that in an online dating profile can be as awkward as having sex for the first time.

“How do you portray that you are still a sexual being, this is one of the hardest things, say people in my workshop,’’ says Joan Price, the author of “The Ultimate Guide to Sex After 50.”

“There are also plenty of people who have given up on sex who don’t care about it, who are just looking for companionship but for those of us, and it’s a huge number, who still want to be sexual and are looking for our companion to be sexual, how do you get that across without coming across as creepy.”

According to a 2018 University of Michigan study, 40 percent of silvers ages 65-80 say they are sexual active. Yep, grandma and grandpa are getting busy.

“Think of all the ads you have seen for drugs like Viagra and Cialis,’’ says Price. “What age do you see pictured there? It’s usually 45 to 50, we don’t see over 60 and we certainly never see anyone over 70.”

Confessions of a serial dater

Melani Robinson has been on more than a 100 dates in one year. She hasn’t found love yet.

Remaining single and silver can be golden too

Silvers who divorce or lose their spouses long for companionship—and many hope they’ll find another partner with whom they can spend their golden years. Experts caution against trying to find the perfect sequel.

“I tell them to be very open about the possibilities of dating someone completely different from their ex or deceased spouse,’’ says matchmaker Spira. “Look at it as a fresh digital palette with the opportunity to expand their social circle. Maybe they’ll make a friend, maybe they’ll meet a business partner or maybe they’ll fall in love.”

And if they don’t, all is not lost, says the blogger and author Robinson.

“It’s okay to be alone,’’ said Robinson. “I think at this stage of my life what feels really good is to be comfortable being alone and to accept the fact that perhaps this is the way it’s going to be for the rest of my life.’’

It might be. But as more silvers decide to wade back into the dating pool, they find they have an ocean of possibilities because of online dating.

As Wired Magazine put it back in 2002:

“Twenty years from now, the idea that someone looking for love won’t look for it online will be silly, akin to skipping the card catalog to instead wander the stacks because ‘the right books are found only by accident.’”

Sex and Seniors: Q & A with a sexpert

Studies and experts say those over 65 still seek out sex, but many just want companionship. Sex isn’t just for the young. Nearly 40 percent of people between 65 and 80 report being sexually active, a recent study by the University of Michigan found. People between 55 and 64 are also the fastest growing demographic that is turning to online dating. The numbers might surprise many—they shouldn’t. Joan Price, 74, the author of three books about senior sex including “The Ultimate Guide to Sex after 50,” shared her thoughts and advice on the subject with NYCity News Service.

Why is there a general notion that older people are asexual?

Think of all the ads you have seen for drugs like Viagra and Cialis. What age do you see pictured there? It’s usually 45 to 50, we don’t see over 60 and we certainly never see anyone over 70. If a man is portrayed as being sexual as an older man, he is laughable. You don’t see him as a positive role model. It is very difficult to come across an accurate and sexy portrayal of an older person. There is only so much Helen Mirren can do. She doesn’t have the time to be on everything. She had a beautiful photo taken in a bathtub, she is beautiful and sexy and she doesn’t hide her age. I can count on one hand, the number of role models we have for that.

How open are people in the older demographic about sex?

How do you portray that you are still a sexual being, this is one of the hardest things, say people in my workshops. There are also plenty of people who have given up on sex, who don’t care about it and are just looking for companionship. However, for those of us who still want to be sexual, and are looking for our companion to be sexual, and it’s a huge number, how do you get that across without seeming creepy. May be it is not the kind of thing to add to your online profile. I suggest they bring it up after they meet. The women who do it upfront are going to be hearing from all these people they don’t want to be hearing from. So maybe subdue it a little bit, but don’t say anything that rules it out. Say things like zesty and lively and physically active and sensual, and then once you are meeting over coffee, if there is a spark, talk about where might this be going.

What are the unique problems people of an older demographic face in online dating?

One of the unique issues for older people is that we want to be sexual, but sex may not be working the way it used to. We may have trouble with intercourse because of vaginal discomfort, or we may not be able to keep an erection for long enough, we may not have erections at all. We may have prostate cancer, treatments, side effects, there are so many things that have gone on in our lives already. We may have some limitations and one of the things I do is teach people how to have great sex, not despite the limitations but around the limitations. Instead of saying, “Oh, I don’t know that this is going to go anywhere because I have ED”, if he said, “I can tell you that I may not be able to have an erection but I can explore all the other wonderful ways I can pleasure you,” that’s a different attitude!

What are the fears holding back people over 55?

We are worried that we are no longer desirable because our society tells us that only young people are desirable. The fear that, “Oh I have to post a photo and what if nobody wants me?” that is a very tough thing to overcome. Then there are the fears of being duped. This does happen and we have to be pro-actively careful because there are bad guys out there that want to take our money. As we grow older, we also have medical conditions and people are dying, we don’t want to be looking for someone we are going to have to nurse. We want to have a vibrant social and sex life, intimacy, laughter and all of those wonderful things, but we worry about what we are getting into with a new person.

How are the insecurities of men different from that of women?

Women are more worried about how they look and men are more worried about how they perform.

Do sex-related problems make it difficult for men to find dates online?

I think older men have an easier time. They are easily outnumbered. When I do my dating workshops, I tell women, if you see a man whose profile looks interesting, don’t wait for him to discover you. Message him because men have so many people going after them, they do not even have to go out of their way to find people.

SEX, APPS & BINGO is a product of the NYCity News Service at the CUNY Graduate School of Journalism.

Source: http://sexappsandbingo.nycitynewsservice.com/

0 notes

roman-catholic-mass-readings · 6 years ago

Photo

15th January >> Mass Readings (Europe, Africa, New Zealand, Australia & Canada)

Tuesday of First Week in Ordinary Time

Saint Ita, Virgin (Ireland).

Tuesday of First Week in Ordinary Time

(Liturgical Colour: White)

First Reading

Hebrews 2:5-12

The one who sanctifies and the ones who are sanctified are of the same stock

God did not appoint angels to be rulers of the world to come, and that world is what we are talking about. Somewhere there is a passage that shows us this. It runs: What is man that you should spare a thought for him, the son of man that you should care for him? For a short while you made him lower than the angels; you crowned him with glory and splendour. You have put him in command of everything. Well then, if he has put him in command of everything, he has left nothing which is not under his command. At present, it is true, we are not able to see thateverything has been put under his command, but we do see in Jesus one who was for a short while made lower than the angels and is now crowned with glory and splendour because he submitted to death; by God’s grace he had to experience death for all mankind.

As it was his purpose to bring a great many of his sons into glory, it was appropriate that God, for whom everything exists and through whom everything exists, should make perfect, through suffering, the leader who would take them to their salvation. For the one who sanctifies, and the ones who are sanctified, are of the same stock; that is why he openly calls them brothers in the text: I shall announce your name to my brothers, praise you in full assembly.

The Word of the Lord

R/ Thanks be to God.

Responsorial Psalm

Psalm 8:2,5-9

R/ You gave your Son power over the works of your hand.

How great is your name, O Lord our God,

through all the earth!

What is man that you should keep him in mind,

mortal man that you care for him?

R/ You gave your Son power over the works of your hand.

Yet you have made him little less than a god;

with glory and honour you crowned him,

gave him power over the works of your hand,

put all things under his feet.

R/ You gave your Son power over the works of your hand.

All of them, sheep and cattle,

yes, even the savage beasts,

birds of the air, and fish

that make their way through the waters.

R/ You gave your Son power over the works of your hand.

Gospel Acclamation

James 1:21

Alleluia, alleluia!

Accept and submit to the word

which has been planted in you

and can save your souls.

Alleluia!

Or:

cf. 1 Thessalonians 2:13

Alleluia, alleluia!

Accept God’s message for what it really is:

God’s message, and not some human thinking.

Alleluia!

Gospel

Mark 1:21-28

Unlike the scribes, he taught them with authority

Jesus and his disciples went as far as Capernaum, and as soon as the sabbath came he went to the synagogue and began to teach. And his teaching made a deep impression on them because, unlike the scribes, he taught them with authority.

In their synagogue just then there was a man possessed by an unclean spirit and it shouted, ‘What do you want with us, Jesus of Nazareth? Have you come to destroy us? I know who you are: the Holy One of God.’ But Jesus said sharply, ‘Be quiet! Come out of him!’ And the unclean spirit threw the man into convulsions and with a loud cry went out of him. The people were so astonished that they started asking each other what it all meant. ‘Here is a teaching that is new’ they said ‘and with authority behind it: he gives orders even to unclean spirits and they obey him.’ And his reputation rapidly spread everywhere, through all the surrounding Galilean countryside.

The Gospel of the Lord

R/ Praise to you Lord Jesus Christ.

—————————

Saint Ita, Virgin (Ireland)

(Liturgical Colour: White)

First Reading

Song of Songs 8:6-7

The flash of love is a flame of the Lord himself

Set me like a seal on your heart,

like a seal on your arm.

For love is strong as Death,

jealousy as relentless as Sheol.

The flash of it is a flash of fire,

a flame of the Lord himself.

Love no floods can quench,

no torrents drown.

Were a man to offer all the wealth of his house to buy love, contempt is all he would purchase.

The Word of the Lord

R/ Thanks be to God.

Responsorial Psalm

Psalm 44(45):11-12,14-17

R/ Listen, O daughter, give ear to my words.

R/ The bridegroom is here! Go out and meet Christ the Lord.

Listen, O daughter, give ear to my words:

forget your own people and your father’s house.

So will the king desire your beauty:

He is your lord, pay homage to him.

R/ Listen, O daughter, give ear to my words.

R/ The bridegroom is here! Go out and meet Christ the Lord.

The daughter of the king is clothed with splendour,

her robes embroidered with pearls set in gold.

She is led to the king with her maiden companions.

R/ Listen, O daughter, give ear to my words.

R/The bridegroom is here! Go out and meet Christ the Lord.

They are escorted amid gladness and joy;

they pass within the palace of the king.

Sons shall be yours in place of your fathers:

you will make them princes over all the earth.

R/ Listen, O daughter, give ear to my words.

R/ The bridegroom is here! Go out and meet Christ the Lord.

Gospel Acclamation

John 14:23

Alleluia, alleluia!

If anyone loves me he will keep my word,

and my Father will love him,

and we shall come to him.

Alleluia!

Or:

Alleluia, alleluia!

This is the wise virgin whom the Lord found watching;

she went in to the wedding feast with him when he came.

Alleluia!

Or:

Alleluia, alleluia!

Come, bride of Christ, and receive the crown

which the Lord has prepared for you for ever.

Alleluia!

Gospel

Matthew 19:3-12

Husband and wife are no longer two, but one body

Some Pharisees approached Jesus, and to test him they said, ‘Is it against the Law for a man to divorce his wife on any pretext whatever?’ He answered, ‘Have you not read that the creator from the beginning made them male and female and that he said: This is why a man must leave father and mother, and cling to his wife, and the two become one body? They are no longer two, therefore, but one body. So then, what God has united, man must not divide.’

They said to him, ‘Then why did Moses command that a writ of dismissal should be given in cases of divorce?’ ‘It was because you were so unteachable’ he said ‘that Moses allowed you to divorce your wives, but it was not like this from the beginning. Now I say this to you: the man who divorces his wife – I am not speaking of fornication – and marries another, is guilty of adultery.’

The disciples said to him, ‘If that is how things are between husband and wife, it is not advisable to marry.’ But he replied, ‘It is not everyone who can accept what I have said, but only those to whom it is granted. There are eunuchs born that way from their mother’s womb, there are eunuchs made so by men and there are eunuchs who have made themselves that way for the sake of the kingdom of heaven. Let anyone accept this who can.’

The Gospel of the Lord

R/ Praise to you Lord Jesus Christ.

0 notes

the-elenari · 8 years ago

Text

OC Interview Meme

1. Pick an original character!

2. Fill in the questions/statements as if you were being interviewed for an article and you were the character/muse.

3. Tag people to do the same: @galadrieljones, @youaremynewdream, @nesahak (not sure if you all have done this or not) and I also tag anyone else following me that wants to do it. I was tagged by @shanayxd (thanks for tagging me!)

My Inquisitor - Isara Lavellan

(I’m going to say that this interview takes place post-Corypheus defeat, and pre-Trespasser.) 1. WHAT IS YOUR NAME?

She gives a small smile and a polite nod.

I am Isara of the Lavellan clan.

2. NO SERIOUSLY WHAT IS YOUR REAL NAME?

She shifts in her seat, but maintains her composure.

I have given it.

3. DO YOU KNOW WHY YOU WERE CALLED THAT?

She glances upward as if deep in thought.

I was named for an ancient Elvhen river, the name itself meaning “the wild”. My grandmother, Keeper Deshanna, suggested the name. My mother was quite fond of it.

4. ARE YOU SINGLE OR TAKEN?

Her smile fades a bit, and she hesitates.

I try to keep my private life... well... private. So I would prefer to skip that question, if you don’t mind.

5. DO YOU HAVE ANY ABILITIES OR POWERS?

I am an Elemental Rift Mage, which means I’ve dedicated myself to mastering the Fade, as well as magics that relate to fire, ice, and storms. I chose to specialize as a Rift Mage due to my history studying the Fade, and also because of this mark on my hand.

She raises her left hand, and it surges with verdant light.

With this mark, I am able to close rifts, and have some other unique abilities associated with it.

6. STOP BEING A GARY STU.

She raises an eyebrow in confusion.

Excuse me?

7. WHAT IS YOUR EYE COLOR?

She gives a sly smile.

You can’t tell? They are blue with an amber star around my pupils.

8. HOW ABOUT YOUR HAIR COLOR?

Some would say it’s black, and while it does appear so, it is actually very dark brown.

9. HAVE YOU ANY FAMILY MEMBERS?

She nods, and crosses her legs, cupping her interlaced fingers over her top knee.

As I mentioned, my grandmother is the current Keeper of Clan Lavellan. My mother’s name is Mila, and we write back and forth frequently. I did not really know my father...

She trails off.

10. I SEE… WHAT ABOUT PETS?

She smiles wide, clearly animals is a good subject for her.

I cared for an abandoned baby fox when I was about 12 or 13 years old. He was the sweetest thing, and I would have done anything for him. As such, I had to set him free when he was old enough to fend for himself. It broke my heart... but captivity was no place for a free-spirit like him.

She looks down but is still smiling, and adjusts her long dark hair behind a tapered ear.

I truly love animals, and wildlife in general. I haven’t had many pets due to my lifestyle, but I currently have a hart named Iyla. She was my mount during all of our travels with the Inquisition, but I see her as my companion. I’m blessed to have her at my side.

11. TELL ME ABOUT SOMETHING YOU DON’T LIKE.

Giant spiders.

She lets out a chuckle.

Really, you’d think I’d have gotten used to them. I don’t think I ever will.

12. DO YOU HAVE ANY HOBBIES/ACTIVITIES YOU LIKE DOING?

I love to play my harp. It was carved from Sylvanwood by my grandfather and was passed down to me. I also love to paint, cook, and garden. I was an herbalist for many years...

She smiles.

13. EVER HURT ANYONE BEFORE?

I think it’s needless to say that I have hurt many people while leading as the Inquisitor. Regardless of who they were, however much they deserved it, I have robbed people of their future.

She swallows thickly, while looking down at her sleeve.

It is not something I take lightly. But I will say, I have never harmed someone intentionally.

14. EVER…KILLED ANYONE BEFORE?

She looks up, slowly.

Yes.

15. WHAT KIND OF ANIMAL ARE YOU?

I’ve always been compared to a wolf by my clanmates.

She smiles slightly, as if pondering.

It was a compliment, for which I’m grateful. Wolves are loyal and beautiful creatures. A symbol of spirit and guardianship. I suppose it fitting due to my task of guarding Thedas as the Inquisitor.

16. NAME ONE OF YOUR WORST HABITS.

She lets out a deep sigh.

That would be... overthinking. And suppression. I don’t often share what I am feeling, and the weight of my emotions becomes so heavy.

17. DO YOU LOOK UP TO ANYONE AT ALL?

Very much so. I look up to my advisors. Especially Cassandra. We have had differing views about certain things, but we get along so well because we communicate well. I truly admire her determination and how she has remained free from corruption. She is a gem, truly.

All of my companions have become dear friends. Those that are still with me...

Her eyes become watery, but she blinks it away.

...And those that have moved on... I look up to all of them, because they were with me through this. They have all contributed to who I am today, and knowing them has changed my life.

18. SEXUAL ORIENTATION?

I fall in love with a person’s heart.

She gestures to her own heart with both hands.

That is all I will say.

She gives a genuine smile, though it’s tinged with melancholy.

19. DO YOU GO TO SCHOOL?

I never attended a formal school. We received lessons from various elders in the clan. My lessons were a bit different due to my apprenticeship as the Keeper’s Second.

20. DO YOU EVER WANT TO MARRY AND HAVE KIDS ONE DAY?

Her gaze seems to go right through the interviewer, and she shrugs.

Who knows? My life is very different from that of a wife and mother. But I won’t rule anything out.

21. WHAT ARE YOU MOST AFRAID OF?

She looks slightly uncomfortable, but again maintains composure remarkably well.

Failure... and loneliness.

22. WHAT DO YOU USUALLY WEAR?

I prefer things that are comfortable, and light. I wouldn’t say armor is the most comfortable, but as you can imagine, that has been a major part of my wardrobe for quite some time. If I had my way, I’d be barefoot and naked all day in the forest.

She laughs heartily.

I’m sorry, was that too much information?

23. DO YOU LOVE SOMEONE?

She smiles, and her eyes water.

I do... Always...

24. WHAT CLASS ARE YOU? (HIGH/MIDDLE/LOW)

I am Dalish, so I think I am considered of the lowest class, if any at all. But I do not see it that way. I see all people equally.

25. HOW MANY FRIENDS DO YOU HAVE?

She settles in her chair, seeming more relaxed.

More now that I ever expected to have in my life. I am... a solitary creature. But I am fortunate to have found friends that I now consider my family.

26. THOUGHTS ON PIE?

Is it apple?

She smiles.

27. FAVORITE DRINK?

For all my life, I had been so used to spring water or simple teas. But the cook here in our kitchens makes me the most delicious coffee with hazelnuts. That, and I tried this Orlesian red wine that was quite remarkable. Though I have to be careful with spirits.

She laughs.

I am a lightweight.

28. WHAT’S YOUR FAVORITE PLACE?

She seems wistful, and deep in thought.

The forests... The Emerald Graves and The Temple Of Mythal in The Arbor Wilds. Those places long forgotten, or not touched by man.

29. WOULD YOU RATHER SWIM IN THE LAKE OR THE OCEAN?

In a lake. I have been swimming in my fair share of lakes.

30. ARE YOU INTERESTED IN ANYONE?

She smiles and looks down.

You just keep going there, don’t you? My heart does belong to someone, yes.

31. WHAT’S YOUR D.CK SIZE?

She squints her eyes, her face twisting in utter confusion.

Are you serious? The last time I checked, I was female.

32. WELL, WHAT’S YOUR TYPE?

The type that doesn’t ask strange questions.

She lets out a chuckle, but still seems confused.

AND WHAT ATTRACTS YOU?

She looks through the interviewer again, forlorn and pensive.

Someone with a good heart and a brilliant mind... that prefers deep conversation to small talk. A person that does not see things in black and white. And beautiful eyes...

33. ANY FETISHES?

Her face lightens, and she gives an almost wicked smile.

Pass...

34. SEME OR UKE? TOP OR BOTTOM? DOMINANT OR SUBMISSIVE?

I don’t understand the first part of that question. I’ll let you guess the rest of it.

35. CAMPING INDOORS OR OUTDOORS?

Outdoors. I am so used to it that I often feel closed in from sleeping indoors. I often open up all of the windows and doors in my chambers in Skyhold. I love to look at the stars... and feel the breeze coming off of the mountains as I sleep. Camping in Emprise Du Lion could change my mind about that though. We couldn’t get warm enough.

36. ARE YOU WANTING THE QUIZ TO END?

Well, I would say you have learned quite a bit about me today. I admit that I wasn’t prepared for certain questions, but this was... interesting.

She smiles politely.

#oc interview #Dragon Age: Inquisition #isara lavellan #oc interview meme #my lavellan #this was a bit of a challenge #but so fun to get into character

2 notes · View notes

owlsfreedom · 8 years ago

Link

Hedgerows are the living boundaries of our landscape. They create an invaluable habitat, rich in pollen, nectar, fruit, leaves, and berries, and provide essential resources for a range of bird, mammal, insect, and invertebrate species. Hazel dormice (one of our rarest small mammals), shrews, bank voles, hedgehogs, stoats, badgers, bees, butterflies, spiders, bats, and a range of birds such as tits, yellow hammers, wrens, robins, chaffinches, and whitethroats, find food and shelter in their green embrace. They also act as windbreaks, help prevent soil erosion, and form 'wildlife corridors', which species can use to move from one isolated habitat to another. The more diverse a hedgerow, the more species it can support and so our ancient native hedgerows, containing green and growing hedge plants such as blackthorn, hazel, hawthorn, dogwood, oak, ash, wych elm, wild cherry, elder, birch, crabapple, blackberry, honeysuckle, rowan, traveller's joy, and field maple, are to be treasured ~ although they have suffered a marked decline as field sizes and monoculture farms have increased. It is telling that, in a recent study, it was found that bumblebees foraging in hedgerows would rather stay on the side of a busy road than on the side of a field farmed using modern methods. There are around 28,000 miles of hedgerow in the UK, many of which are considered to be ancient or 'species-rich'. Aside from their trees and creatures, they also support a rich diversity of wild flowers; common mallow, dog rose, red campion, hedge bedstraw. bluebells, bugle, common vetch, henbit deadnettle, common woundwort, cow parsley, cowslip, foxglove, dog violet, garlic mustard, dandelion, meadow crane's-bill, ragged robin, meadowsweet, nettle, dog daisy, self-heal, teasel, meadow buttercup, yarrow, yellow rattle ~ even their names are a meditation and a prayer. Hedgerows hold many echoes of our far-away history. The first hedgerows were created in the Neolithic Age, 4,000 to 6,000 years ago, some still date from the Bronze and Iron Ages, and many more were created during the enclosures of the 18th and 19th centuries. It has been estimated that many of the hedgerows thriving in our countryside today are more than seven hundred years old, having been planted in the medieval period. Many are built on older banks, ditches and earthworks. Not all of that history is kind and the Enclosure Acts led to the ending of many traditional rights to mow hay & graze livestock and to open fields and commons being divided up by hedgerows and fences and taken from the people to be held in ownership by the few. It is a deep grief to me that we have been divided from the land in this way and that our wild, anarchic hawthorn, so deeply connected with the otherworld and faery lore, has been one of the most common trees used in hedgelaying and therefore used against us to keep us from our beloved earth. But all of that history matters if we are to understand where we have come from and are truly to be the 'people of the land'. And I like to believe that the hedgerows, rather than taking the land away from us, have retained just a little bit of wild that we might otherwise have lost. Boundaries, whether physical or psychological, are difficult and tricksterish things and these wild edge places are never going to do what they are told or be what they were intended to be. Which brings me very beautifully into my second 'B', the Welsh goddess Blodeuwedd, who certainly carries that shapeshifting trickster energy within her, and if I was asked to choose a 'Goddess of the Hedge' it would most certainly be her. When I first heard the Wild Feminine calling to me it was through her story and she has been a constant companion and deep teacher since. Like the history of the hedgerow, her story as it is presented to us is not an easy one and, just as the hedgerow has been used against the people of the commons, she has been used against women. The story of Blodeuwedd, whose name in English means 'Flower-Face' (also an ancient Welsh name for an owl), can be found in the fourth branch of the Mabinogi, a collection of Welsh mythological tales written down by monks in the 13th and 14th centuries but which carry within them a much older oral tradition. In the tale she is created out of nine flowers; the oak, broom, meadowsweet, bean, burdock, nettle, chestnut and, my favourite anarchist, the hawthorn, as a wife for Llew Llaw Gyffes, who has been cursed by his mother to never marry a human woman. In order to gain kingship over the land, Llew must marry a woman as representative of the sovereignty of the land. However, like a hedgerow, Blodeuwedd, with her dual nature of flower and owl, is not so easily tamed. Although she marries Llew she falls in love with another man, Gronw Pebyr, and they plot to kill her husband leading to a train of events in which Gronw himself dies and Blodeuwedd is turned into an owl as a 'punishment'; “You will not dare to show your face ever again in the light of day, and that will be because of enmity between you and all other birds. It will be in their nature to harass you and despise you wherever they find you. And you will not lose your name - that will always be "Bloddeuwedd (Flower-face)." ('The Four Branches of the Mabinogi, Will Parker). A fuller version of her story can be read on the Welsh & Celtic Myths and Legends page here. It is possible to write a whole book about the layers and depths of meaning contained within Blodeuwedd's story. However, for now, I am mostly interested in her role as a 'boundary keeper' and in how we have so often made attempts to tame her. When I first mentioned my new devotion to Blodeuwedd to a Pagan friend her immediate reaction was to say, “Oh, well she is a warning to women about our unfaithful nature”! Even then I found it hard to believe that this was all that the wildly spinning vortex of petals and owl feathers that was the Blodeuwedd I had come to know was about. In our culture we are very used to thinking in a fixed and dualistic way, with everything being either/or, good/bad, dark/light and this is how we create our boundaries of mind. A healthy and living boundary must be permeable, allowing new ideas in and allowing old ones to fade. This is the same whether we are talking about the boundaries that we use in our own lives to keep ourselves safe or a boundary in a field, which would be a poor one indeed if it didn't allow a dormouse or two through! In our dualistic way of thinking we find it very easy to label Blodeuwedd's 'flower self' gentle, sweet, non-threatening, and 'good', whilst her owl self is considered dark, murderous, frightening, and 'bad'. Like the domestic apple we have tried to tame Blodeuwedd and make her manageable but this interpretation shows little understanding of the nature of flowers or owls. If we are truly people of the hedge/edge, then we will certainly not leave it at that. First, let's consider the nature of flowers. Of course, we humans find them very beautiful and, as they bloom throughout the year, they carry us along on an enchanting tide of smell and colour. And the enchantment that we feel is a clue to the purpose of a flower, which is to 'enchant' or to lure pollinators. Blodeuwedd is indeed 'the honey to the bee' and flowers, just like the goddess created from them, are not there just to be pretty. Flowers are the sexual organs of plants, employing any means at their disposal to ensure that the egg is united with the sperm. Indeed the blossom of the hawthorn, one of the primary beings of the hedge and also one of the flowers used to create Blodeuwedd, are said to have the smell of a sexually aroused woman and have the reputation of being an aphrodisiac in Arabic erotic literature. We have only to look at the art of Georgia O'Keefe or Judy Chicago, both of whom used flowers to represent female genitalia, to see a different aspect of what a flower might be. Perhaps, in exploring the deeper nature of flowers, we are beginning to break down the dualism that has controlled Blodeuwedd's story and see through some tiny gaps in our richly fertile hedge? So to the owl, Blodeuwedd's second nature. In the story her transformation into an owl is explained to us as a punishment for her betrayal of her husband and certainly owls have a challenging reputation in many cultures. In some African tribes, owls are linked with death, bad luck, and evil. These same associations exist through Native American, Mesoamerican, and Arabic mythology. However, in the West, the owl is more often seen as a bird of wisdom, whilst retaining some associations with death and bad luck. Many of these 'darker' aspects are also associated with femininity and with women, as is wisdom which in Christianity is given the feminine name of 'Sophia'. Maria Gimbutas traces the veneration of the owl as a goddess to the culture of Old Europe, which refers to a time between the Mesolithic and Bronze Age periods from roughly 7,000 BCE to 1,700 BCE. My own fondness for owls was increased when it was pointed out to me how low they fly when they are hunting and I have come to think of them as our own 'hedge-riders'. And so we see that, if we are hedge-conscious, it is impossible to pin anything down to one meaning. In the hedgerow, which was once devised to control nature and the people of the commons, there is also a song of such chaotic, joyously disordered, and wilful wildness that it, and the people who love it, can never be controlled. And in the goddess, who was conceived of by monks to give us dire warnings about the treacherous nature of women, is a being of wanton beauty shining with nectar and looking at us with the wise, deep eyes of an owl (and maybe with a sharp talon digging into our flesh). Both teach us of the edge, in ourselves and in our society, between what is domesticated and tamed and what is wild and unbound. I pray that we will all ride that hedge with our wild wisdom intact and that our thoughts will always allow through a dormouse or two.

1 note · View note

purrcraze · 6 years ago

Text

20 Facts That Will Make You Want A Siamese Cat

Whether you are reading this list to find out if a Siamese cat is right for you, or if you already have Siamese cats but just want to find out more about them, you’ve come to the right place. Be warned, this list could make you want to get another Siamese cat!

Let´s start with where Siamese cats came from, which could also be linked to their loyalty and love for humans, as well as some other personal traits that they have.

1. Siamese are one of the Oldest Recognized Cat Breeds

Originating from Thailand, formerly known as Siam. There are two versions of the Siamese cat: The original/traditional breed, which is known as the Thai cat, and the modern Siamese cat. The Thai cat’s features are considered to be ‘old style’, having a more rounded head and body.

Whereas the modern Siamese has a more triangular head shape, triangular ears, and an elongated, muscular body.

Their first appearance can be found in a book, referred to as ‘Tamra Maew’, The Treatise on Cats, or also the Cat-Book Poems. It is a class of manuscripts which was published in 1330.

The book is one of the world’s oldest books as well and is owned by the National Library in Bangkok. In the book, we can see cats with piercing blue eyes, dark points on their tips, and they are also shown as pets of royal families.

Siamese Cat (Blue Point)

2. Their Original Name is Poetic

So, since the Thai cat is basically the ‘older’ version of the Siamese, they are closely related, yet still distinct from one another. Knowing this, I think that it’s safe to say that the original name counts for them both.

The Thai cat is also known as ‘Wichien-maat’, which roughly translates to ‘Moon Diamond’, or ‘Diamonds and Gold’. Most likely it was their elegance and beauty that had earned them the name right away.

3. The Royal Cats of Siam

When the Siamese cats found their way into the Western hemisphere they were often referred to as the ‘Royal Cats of Siam’, or ‘Palace/Temple Cat’.

This nickname reflected the legend that they were the pets of the King of Siam himself. Not only his pets but also his companions and protectors.

They would guard him by his throne, and should anyone threaten the king they would immediately wish they hadn’t, as the Siamese would pounce down and attack.

4. Siamese Cats Appeared at the First Crystal Palace Cat Show

In July of 1871, two Siamese cats from Southeast Asia, brought by a Mr. Maxwell, can be found in a catalog from the first Crystal Palace Cat Show in London.

The male was named Pho and the female was Mia, and they were the first Siamese cats to leave Siam and were known by their names, and also had a litter together later on.

They were brought to America in 1878 and were received by President Rutherford B. Hayed and his wife Lucy as a gift, from the American Consul who was stationed in Bangkok, Thailand.

5. They are Very Loyal

Perhaps it has something to do with their history and origins. Do you think they remember once protecting a King? They sure do act like it.

Siamese cats tend to become very emotionally attached to their humans and are known to be one of the most devoted and loyal of the cat breeds.

Sometimes a Siamese cat will prefer to make strong bonds with one particular person, and even follow them around.

Siamese Cat (Lilac Point)

6. They are Great with Children, Families, and Other Pets

Siamese cats are clever, and they are able to understand that a baby or child is part of the family, and may even become their guardian.

Provided that the child is taught how to treat a cat with kindness and respect, it will be returned by the Siamese tenfold.

Siamese cats will not tire from getting plenty of affection and play time from different members of the family. They will also love having their own play pal, such as another cat or dog.

7. The Color of their Fur is not Determined by Genetics

Siamese cats are a natural breed, and the pattern of their fur is not determined by genetics, but rather by a temperature-sensitive enzyme.

When a Siamese cat is born, they come out completely white. Siamese kittens won’t develop their markings until they are several weeks old.

This is because the womb would have kept them very warm, and they would need to be exposed to a different atmosphere for a little while first before any pigment can begin to show.

Siamese cats are essentially temperature-sensitive albinos. When their bodies drop below a certain temperature (100.4-102.5 F / 38-39.2 C, which is the standard temperature of a cat), the albinism is blocked, and the modifier gene, which inhibits pigment in the fur, is activated.

The nose, ears, paws, and tail are usually at a cooler temperature, which is why this is where the majority of pigment lies.

Therefore, Siamese cats which live in warmer climates will have a lighter color fur than the ones which live in colder climates.

8. Their Fur is Easy to Groom and Maintain

Like most shorthair cat breeds, they are excellent at taking care of their fur and keeping it clean and beautiful. This also means that they shed less.

It is a common misconception that Siamese cats are high maintenance or difficult to care for. Perhaps this is true when it comes to keeping them preoccupied, but definitely not when it comes to grooming.

A good brush once a week would be enough to keep their coat looking glossy and gorgeous. You’ll probably find yourself doing it more often than that though, as the affectionate Siamese usually loves it, and the both of you will most likely have an enjoyable time.

9. They Come in Several Colors

We all know the signature Siamese to be a light cream color, with very dark brown points. This is known as the ‘Seal Point’ Siamese. There is also the Tabby Point Siamese.

The Cat Fanciers Association (CFA) also recognizes three other colors:

Blue Point: a light gray body with cool, steely grey points

Chocolate Point: Similar to the Seal Point, but with a lighter brown shade

Lilac Point: a much lighter and warmer shade of grey points

10. Siamese are Known for Living Long

The average Siamese can live between 15-20 years. So long as they are cared for well, and fed properly, there have been many Siamese which surpassed this age. If you’re looking for a close companion to have around for a long time, a Siamese cat would be perfect for you!

One example of this would be Scooter the Siamese, who lived to be 30 and was even declared the new world’s oldest living cat by Guinness Book of World Records.

Siamese Cat (Chocolate Point)

11. They have Unmistakable Voices

Siamese cats are known for being talkative, very opinionated, and having the ability to keep a conversation going all day long.

They’ll be sure to greet you when you come home, and enthusiastically tell you all about their day. The birds that they saw, how much food they ate, how much they slept, and so on.

Keeping to the theme of nicknames, nowadays the Siamese cat is often referred to as ‘Meezer’. This comes from them being extremely vocal and having a distinct, loud yet low-pitched, and demanding voice.

12. They are Highly Intelligent

Siamese cats are one of the most intelligent of cat breeds, as you will find them in the top 10, in any list, of most intelligent cat breeds that you search for. This includes the ‘Animal Planet’s Smartest Cat Breeds’ list.

This also means that they can easily learn how to do many tricks, such as high-fiving, playing fetch, walking on a leash, and many other tricks like maybe even how to use the toilet and flush.

If they aren’t provided with enough stimulation, such as cat mazes, teaser games, and other puzzle toys, expect to come home and find that your Siamese has rummaged through anything they can. Don’t be surprised if they have found out how to open doors, cupboards, etc.

13. They are Outgoing and Loving

Siamese cats are known for getting on well with other pets, in families with children and/or elderly. They love playing, especially as kittens, but even as adults they enjoy to keep active.

It shows in their slender and slim build, so having some perches and cat trees would be useful. Siamese will often make up their own games, such as playing hide and seek.

They are even more enthusiastic for cuddles and affection, as they are for interactive playtime. My Siamese would sleep with me in my bed almost every night. Very often her head would be on my pillow and she’d snuggle up under the covers with me.

14. They will Supervise Everything you do

Although they are very outgoing and loving, they do tend to form very strong bonds with one particular person. It is not uncommon for them to follow their owner around, watching and supervising everything that they do. They even try to help sometimes!

You can be assured that a Siamese will never ignore you. I think that this is just one of many examples which makes them excellent companions.

If they’re not just watching, then they’re probably trying to play or get in your lap for a cuddle. Some would refer to this as ’needy’ behavior, and it is partly true because without someone to keep them company they will get lonely and depressed.

The fact that they are so needy for company is the reason that most breeders will only sell Siamese in pairs.

Another Chocolate Point

15. They Enjoy Water

All cats are attracted to the sound of running water because it’s their instinct to find fresh water, but most of them hate being wet.

However, a Siamese cat might not have any problem. Aside from the running water thing, they are also extremely curious and playful. So, their instinct is to find out what’s going on, and then find a way to play.

16. Crooked Tails and Crossed Eyes

Originally, Siamese cats had a kink in their tail and crossed eyes. The cross-eyed condition is also related to the enzyme that causes their point coloration.

When Siamese cats were brought to the west, many people found these unattractive and began to breed them out. Despite this, you can still find Siamese cats with crossed eyes and kinked tails.

The reason that they chose to breed these out of them is purely for aesthetic reasons because Siamese cats with crossed eyes have no problems seeing or focusing, so there is nothing to worry about if you have one.

There is yet another legend which explains this. Prepare for another story time.

It is said that many years ago, a war broke out in Siam. Buddha’s golden goblet had been left behind unprotected, as all the men had left to fight in the war, and two Siamese cats were chosen to guard it in the sacred temple. The female’s name was Chula, and the male was Tein.

After some time, Tein left Chula alone to try and find a new priest to care for the goblet. Chula, nervous and uneasy, wrapped her tail around the goblet. It is said that she never took her eyes off of it, which caused them to become crossed.

Chula had a litter of kittens, which all turned out with kinked tails and crossed eyes as well.

17. Famous People have Owned Siamese Cats

Not only have Siamese cats dominated in the movie industry, most likely because they look so elegant and beautiful, but there have also been many famous celebrities who have owned Siamese cats.

Before we had celebrities, Siamese cats were only owned by members of nobility back in 10th century Japan. They would be kept in grand pagodas, and would often be used to guard previous manuscripts.

In no particular order, some famous people who have owned Siamese cats are:

Frank Zappa (American musician, composer, songwriter, and record and film producer)

Andy Warhol (American artist, leading figure of pop art)

Anthony Perkins (American actor and singer)

Elizabeth Taylor (British-American actress)

Marilyn Monroe (American actress, singer, and model)

Kesha (American singer, rapper and songwriter)

Laurence Olivier & Vivian Leigh (English stage and film actors)

Monica Vitti (Italian actress, best known for Michelangelo Antonioni from the 1960s)

Jean Cocteau (French writer, designer, artist, filmmaker, and playwright)

Syd Barrett (English musician, composer, singer, songwriter, and painter)

Michael Landon (American actor, writer, producer, and director)

Dorothy Provine (American singer, actress, dancer, and comedienne)

James Dean (American actor)

Ellen DeGeneres (American comedian, TV host, actress, writer, producer, and LGBT activist)

John Lennon (English singer, songwriter, peace activist, and co-founder of the Beatles)

18. All Siamese Cats Have Blue Eyes

Okay, so this may be an obvious fact to some people, but do you know why all Siamese cats have blue eyes?

As mentioned previously, Siamese cats are temperature-sensitive albinos. Well, albinism extends to eye color as well.

For both humans and cats, there are two layers in the iris of the eye which determine what color your eyes are. These two layers are the stroma and the epithelium.

Usually, cats have pigmented cells scattered in both layers. But for Siamese cats, there is no pigmentation in the stroma.

Most cats with blue eyes would at least have pigment in the lower layer, but here lies the reason that the blue eyes of a Siamese are so seemingly unique.

The reason that Siamese seem to have such a particular and distinct color of blue in their eyes is because of the lack of pigment in both of these layers, not just one.

19. Two Siamese Cats Helped Foil Espionage

The entire plot of the movie ‘That Darn Cat’, where a Siamese cat helps stop a kidnapping, is based on a similar true story that happened in the 1960s.

Two Siamese cats would not stop meowing and clawing at the walls of the building of the Dutch embassy in Moscow, Russia.

Their owner knew right away that the cats must be hearing something that a human’s ear can’t, so they investigated it.

Sure enough, 30 small microphones had been hidden behind the wall, which had been planted by Russian spies.

I’m sure their owner must have been really grateful for being a cat lover.

20. They are very Active

If you’re an energetic person, or one of the members of the family is, that is perfect.

The Siamese cat is an active one and is known for having an unusual amount of energy for a cat. If they are not exercised, they could gain some weight.

Their legs are not made to carry weight so this could be dangerous for their health. So, you get to train your Siamese cat how to walk on a leash, which I’m sure will be fun for both cat and owner.

I do hope that this list inspires somebody to go out and get a Siamese cat for themselves. From my own experience, they really do make amazing companions and have unlimited love. It is indeed true that two are better than one.

0 notes