#and pray that i can get to their grooming appointment on time

[resol-nare]

About to go to bed and I'm absolutely giddy that I'm going to be able to get up tomorrow and download Veilguard and finally create my Rook!!!!

[dfroza]

(Listen, I promise it’s all true. I’m not lying.)

Today’s reading of the Scriptures from the New Testament is the 2nd chapter of the letter of 1st Timothy:

So, first and foremost, I urge God’s people to pray. They should make their requests, petitions, and thanksgivings on behalf of all humanity. Teach them to pray for kings (or anyone in high places for that matter) so that we can lead quiet, peaceful lives—reverent, godly, and holy— all of which is good and acceptable before the eyes of God our Savior who desires for everyone to be saved and know the truth. Because

There is one God and one Mediator between God and us—

the man Jesus, God’s Anointed,

Who gave His life as a ransom for all

so that we might have freedom.

The testimony was given to me at just the right time. This is exactly what I was appointed to do—tell everyone His story—as a herald, an emissary, a teacher of the outsiders in faith and the truth. (Listen, I promise it’s all true. I’m not lying.)

So here’s what you tell them; here’s what I want to see: Men, pray wherever you are. Reach your holy hands to heaven—without rage or conflict—completely open. Women, the same goes for you: dress properly, modestly, and appropriately. Don’t get carried away in grooming your hair or seek beauty in glittering gold, pearls, or expensive clothes. Instead, as is fitting, let good works decorate your true beauty and show that you are a woman who claims reverence for God. It’s best if a woman learns quietly and orderly in complete submission.

Now, Timothy, it’s not my habit to allow women to teach in a way that wrenches authority from a man. As I said, it’s best if a woman learns quietly and orderly. This is because Adam was formed first by God, then Eve. Plus, it wasn’t Adam who was tricked; it was she—the woman was the one who was fooled and disobeyed God’s command first. Still, God, in His faithfulness, will deliver her through childbearing as long as she remains in faith and love and holiness with self-restraint.

The Letter of 1st Timothy, Chapter 2 (The Voice)

Today’s paired chapter of the Testaments is the 3rd chapter of the book of Ezekiel:

The Voice (to Ezekiel): Son of man, eat what you find here—consume the scroll you see before you. Then go and preach to the people of Israel.

So I opened my mouth, and He fed me the scroll.

The Voice: Son of man, swallow this scroll I am giving you, and let it fill your stomach.

So I ate it, and these words of God tasted as sweet as honey in my mouth.

The Voice: Son of man, go to the people of Israel and preach My message to them. You are not being sent to a far away nation with an unintelligible language. I am sending you to the people of Israel. But if I had sent you to foreign peoples with unintelligible languages, surely they would listen to you. But the people of Israel will refuse to listen to you because they refuse to listen to Me. As I told you, the Israelites are a hard-headed, stubborn-hearted people. But I have set your jaw just as tightly and furrowed your brow just as deeply as theirs. I have made your head as hard as any rock. Do not be scared or intimidated by them, even though they are a rebellious lot.

Son of man, take to heart all the words I am speaking to you. Listen carefully to what I am saying. Now go to your people, the exiles in Babylonia, and give them My message. Proclaim to them, “This is what the Eternal Lord has to say.” It doesn’t matter whether they listen to you.

Suddenly the Spirit picked me up, and I heard a loud rumbling sound behind me—it seemed to say, “May the glory of the Eternal One be praised in His holy place!” The sound I heard was the sound made by the wings of the four living creatures brushing up against one another and the rumble made by the spinning wheels beside them. The Spirit picked me up and carried me away. I was at once resentful and impassioned, but I couldn’t escape because the hold the Eternal had on me was strong.

The Spirit took me to a group of the exiles who lived by the Chebar Canal at Tel-abib. I sat there among them in a daze for seven days.

After those seven days of confusion, the word of the Eternal finally came to me.

Eternal One: Son of man, I have appointed you a sentry for the people of Israel. Listen to what I say, then deliver My warning to them. If I send this message to a wicked person—“You will die”—but then you fail to warn him or help him to reconsider his wickedness so that he may not die, then he will die as a result of his evil deeds. It will be your fault for not warning him. His blood will be on your hands. But if you do forewarn a wicked person and give him My message, and yet he does not change his wicked thoughts and actions, then he will die as a result of his evil deeds. But you will have saved your own life by doing what I directed. Or again, when a righteous person turns his back on righteousness and falls into evil, then I will place a stumbling block before him, and he will surely die as well. Since you haven’t alerted him, he will die for his evil ways. None of the righteous things he did will be remembered, and I will hold you responsible for his death. But if you do forewarn a righteous person not to give in to sin, and he does not sin, he will certainly live because he listened to your warning, and you will have saved your own life by doing what I directed.

There the hand of the Eternal came upon me, and His voice spoke to me:

Eternal One: Get up, and venture out to the plain near Tel-abib. I will speak to you there.

So I stood up and ventured out to the plain where I saw the glory of the Eternal looming there—the same glory I had seen earlier by the Chebar Canal. I was overwhelmed, so I fell down with my face on the ground. The Spirit entered me, lifted me to my feet, and spoke to me.

Eternal One: Go inside your house and shut the door behind you. Son of man, they will tie you up with ropes so that you cannot get out of your house and walk among your fellow exiles. I will stick your tongue to the roof of your mouth so that you cannot speak to warn them because they are a rebellious lot. But when I speak to you the next time, I will reopen your mouth, and you will proclaim to them, “This is what the Eternal Lord has to say.” At that point, it’s each person’s choice whether to listen. Some will listen; others will refuse because they are a rebellious lot.

The Book of Ezekiel, Chapter 3 (The Voice)

A set of notes from The Voice translation:

The scroll Ezekiel is handed is a transcript of what he will report about Jerusalem’s fate to his fellow exiles in Babylonia. Although scrolls typically have writing on only one side (the front), the prophet sees that this scroll is covered with writing on both sides. This signals not only the overflowing anger that God harbors for His people but also the scope of the disaster that will overwhelm God’s rebellious nation.

The name Ezekiel means “God strengthens.” God makes Ezekiel strong enough to face many challenges and accomplish his mission, but his strength is no match for God’s.

A link to my personal reading of the Scriptures for monday, October 30 of 2023 with a paired chapter from each Testament of the Bible along with Today’s Proverbs and Psalms

A post by John Parsons about the “Seed” of peace:

Abraham is the “father of all who believe” in the miracle of the Promised Seed (הזרע הבטיח), that is, in the Coming Deliver who would bring redemption and healing to the whole world (see Gal. 3:16; Rom. 4:1-5:1).

The Torah states that God chose Abraham because he would faithfully teach his children to guard "the way of the LORD" (דֶּרֶךְ יְהוָה), by trusting in God's acts of "righteousness and justice” (צְדָקָה וּמִשְׁפָּט) that He would perform according to his promise (Gen. 18:19). God regarded Abraham as faithful to retain His promise, and therefore He would manifest salvation (יְשׁוּעָה) through his descendants.

The “way of the LORD” refers to Yeshua, "the way and the truth and the life" (הַדֶּרֶךְ וְהָאֱמֶת וְהַחַיִּים), the Promised Seed that would crush the head of the serpent in the battle for our redemption (Gen. 3:15). Abraham’s faith was directed toward the Deliverer to come, as Yeshua said: “Abraham rejoiced to see my day; and he saw it and was glad" (John 8:56). Likewise we guard the way of the LORD as our father Abraham did – namely, by trusting in God's promises given to us in Yeshua our Messiah.

We are chosen to embody the same heart, vision, and mission of Yeshua our LORD, to exist as "extensions of his presence" in this world, and therefore we are also called to walk uprightly, as he walked... Indeed, the Hebrew word derekh (דֶּרֶךְ), usually translated as "way," metaphorically refers to the journey, manner, or course of your life. Because God is tov v'yashar (good and upright), he teaches his children to be yesharim (יְשָׁרִים), i.e., those who walk uprightly. Note that, the way of the LORD (דֶּרֶךְ יהוה) is defined as “doing acts of charity and justice” (לַעֲשׂוֹת צְדָקָה וּמִשְׁפָּט) (Gen. 18:19). This is the "straight way" (derekh ha-yashar), or the “narrow path” that leads to life (Matt. 7:14).

====

Psalm 25:8

טוֹב־וְיָשָׁר יְהוָה

good and upright is the LORD

עַל־כֵּן יוֹרֶה

therefore he will teach

חַטָּאִים בַּדָּרֶךְ

sinners in the way.

====

Note that the verbal clause “he will teach” (i.e., יוֹרֶה) used in this verse comes from the root yarah (ירה) -- the same root used in the word “Torah” (תּוֹרָה). Because the LORD is good and upright, He gives us Torah (direction) for our lives. God educates us for eternity by imparting to us moral and spiritual truth. As King David taught, "Happy is the man who delights in the Torah of the LORD and meditates upon it day and night" (Psalm 1:1-2).

[ Hebrew for Christians ]

========

Psalm 25:8 Hebrew audio:

https://hebrew4christians.com/Blessings/Blessing_Cards/psalm25-8-jjp.mp3

Hebrew page:

https://hebrew4christians.com/Blessings/Blessing_Cards/psalm25-8-lesson.pdf

10.28.23 • Facebook

from yesterday’s email by Israel 365:

We are facing a spiritual challenge. Prayer is a way to unite hearts and minds, channeling the combined strength of good-hearted people worldwide. With such collective power, we can achieve great things if we direct this force toward noble and just causes.

Today’s message (Days of Praise) from the Institute for Creation Research

October 30, 2023

Man’s Grief and God’s Compassion

“For the LORD will not cast off for ever: But though he cause grief yet will he have compassion according to the multitude of his mercies. For he doth not afflict willingly nor grieve the children of men.” (Lamentations 3:31-33)

The five chapters of the unique book of Lamentations, written by Jeremiah in his grief over the destruction of Jerusalem, are all written as acrostics, with each verse of each chapter beginning with successive letters of the 22-letter Hebrew alphabet. That is, verse 1 of each chapter begins with the letter aleph, verse 2 with beth, etc. (like A, B, etc. in English). The middle chapter is written in acrostic triplets (the first three verses beginning with aleph, and so on). Thus, chapter 3 contains 66 verses instead of 22.

The three verses of our text are right at the midpoint of this middle chapter, comprising the final triplet of the first half of the book, and thus uniquely constituting its central theme. As such, it could well also be the heart cry of every saint in any age experiencing God’s chastening hand.

Although Jeremiah himself had not sinned, his nation had grievously sinned, and thus all Israel had finally come under the rod. Nevertheless, the prophet could assure his people that God still loved them and would renew His compassion even in the midst of their grief. God does not willingly send affliction, for He is “not willing that any should perish, but that all should come to repentance” (2 Peter 3:9).

When we suffer, or our nation suffers (as it surely will if it continues its present rebellion against God), it is well to remember His promise. “He will not always chide: neither will he keep his anger for ever” (Psalm 103:9). It is true that “no chastening for the present seemeth to be joyous, but grievous: nevertheless afterward it yieldeth the peaceable fruit of righteousness unto them which are exercised thereby” (Hebrews 12:11). HMM

[my-moo-moo]

more to grow (chapter 1/4)

All throughout her life, Mina has always been the smallest and shortest of her class. She had hoped and prayed for a growth spurt once she reached puberty. That never happened. In fact, she stopped growing at fifteen, landing her at a permanent height at under five foot tall. 

As she got away from her adolescent years, she began to learn to love her body the way it was. Though, she never would’ve expected that she could’ve attracted a Scandinavian hunk who was quite well over a foot taller than her. 

Sometimes they would get weird looks when they would walk down the streets hand in hand. “People must think you’re grooming a teenager…” Mina pouted to her boyfriend. 

“I double-checked your driver’s license on our first date, so you’re good,” her boyfriend, Axel teased. 

Mina slapped his thickly corded biceps and whined. “I know I shouldn’t feel this way anymore, but there’s a small voice in the back of my head that wants to know what it’s like to look like a woman— to have boobs and curves for once. And not have to be under the knife to get it.” She shuddered. 

“You’re adorable just the way you are, but…” He grabbed her entire left butt cheek in his palm and pulled her close enough that she could feel his breath against her ears. It garnered a wrinkled face of disgust by an older couple walking past them. “I know a way we can get you what you want,” he whispered lowly in her ears. She raised her brow slightly now that he garnered her attention. “When I put my baby in you, your body will quite naturally change to accommodate...” 

Axel pulled away laughing and Mina let out a nervous chuckle. He said it as a joke, but ever since it was suggested, she couldn’t get the idea out of her head. 

.

It took Mina weeks to gather the courage to tell her boyfriend that she wanted to get off birth control. They weren't married yet and her cafe was just taking off. Axel agreed, figuring it would take at least a couple months for them to conceive like they had heard from their friends. 

They had decided to let nature take its course, but it didn’t stop them from fucking like bunnies after the decision was made. She swore her boyfriend had a deep-buried breeding kink from how easily he was turned on now that he knew she could get pregnant at any time.

Perhaps this was the reason why only one month later her nipples were on fire from rubbing against her cotton t-shirt all night. She ripped her shirt off in a haste and was confronted by her figure staring back at her through the mirror. Not only was her breast tissue swollen and puffy, her normally slate flat stomach had a softness to it. She knew right away they had succeeded, but she peed on three pregnancy sticks just to make sure.

They were all positive.

.

Thankfully, Mina did not suffer from morning sickness. In fact, she had grown a good appetite which was kind to her otherwise underweight frame. Ever since she first discovered her pregnancy, she had been steadily gaining weight. The weight went primarily to her abdomen. By the time she was ten weeks pregnant, she looked like she had a few too many burger meals in a day and washed it down with a pint of beer. That was why she wore an oversized sweater to her first ultrasound appointment. “I thought pregnancy was going to make me feel beautiful, but I just feel pudgy right now.”

“Be patient, my love.” Her boyfriend tucked a piece of her ebony hair behind her ear. “By the rate you are growing, I am sure you will be out of the awkward phase soon.”

Axel’s words were backed up by her doctor, Doctor Jones, who noted she looked like she was around 4 to 5 months pregnant.

“Our baby is really growing strong and healthy.” Mina smiled to herself with a hand to her stomach. Apart from her own self consciousness, she is proud of this at least.

Axel hummed. “It’s my baby after all. I was a solid eleven pounds at birth, along with the rest of my siblings.”

Mina’s eyes widened. It was probably not as big of a problem for his mother who was a much larger woman than she was. She didn’t want to think about how her scrawny body would push a baby that size out. “Hopefully our baby will inherit some of my compact Asian genes.”

Doctor Jones, who had been focused on the ultrasound screen, said, “You better be hoping for that for both of your babies.”

Mina whipped her attention to the screen. Turned out she had not only fallen pregnant immediately, but with two babies.

.

Mina should really listen to her boyfriend more because true to his words, in the following months, her body had grown from prepubescent boy-like to the Hollywood actresses she drooled over endlessly. Her narrow torso was accentuated with her newly widened hips and fattened behind. 

Her boobs have ballooned from an AA cup size to a good C. For someone who found bras an unnecessary hassle before, she found herself browsing lingerie sites during her free time. When her boyfriend saw the credit card bill afterwards, he couldn’t complain after she shushed him up with an unforgettable ride on his dick in her new black leopard print bra that made her cleavage pop impeccably. Her sex life has never been more active. 

And of course, her baby bump had grown relentlessly week after week. She couldn’t get enough of it— poking at the divets where her babies greeted her and hands stroking her bump absentmindedly all day. She looked like she was ready to pop any day and the customers at her cafe never failed to let her know that. She got many comments of concern as they watched her waddle through the cafe cleaning tables, making drinks, and lifting boxes. She would just laugh and say she had 3 months left to go and watch their faces pale. She couldn’t afford to take maternity leave so soon when her cafe was barely scraping by. 

.

At 30 weeks pregnant, it became glaringly obvious to everyone that Mina was not horribly overdue, but heavily pregnant with twins. Some would even say she looked like she was at full term for twins already, but she had 2 months left of growing. 

At her ultrasound appointment, Doctor Jones measured the babies at 5 pounds each. She noted that it was impressive they had a high weight percentile for their gestational age even though it wasn’t a singleton pregnancy. “You could have the babies any day now and they would be fine. I could schedule you for an induction or a c-section in a couple weeks if you’d like to end your suffering.”

Mina politely declined. “I can handle it. I would prefer if my labor progressed when my babies are ready to come out into the world.” And she wouldn’t admit out loud but, she was not ready to let go of her body just yet. She’s never felt more beautiful in her life. 

“I like that attitude. And maybe your babies’ growth will slow down as they run out of space.” Doctor Jones said.

Rather than slowing down, she swore that her babies were having a growth spurt. Her torso was naturally quite short. After filling out vertically, her belly shot outward to make more room to accommodate the growing babes, adding an inches per week. She went from having a tiny 25 inch waist to more than doubling her size within eight short months.

Barely any of the maternity clothes she had bought fit her anymore.  It made sense because her belly resembled more an oblong jackfruit sized mass, than the cute round bump most people had at full term. She couldn’t even pull the stretchy band of her maternity jeans over her overextended bump. At home, she would forgo any clothing (to her horny boyfriend’s favour), but that wasn’t appropriate for work. She resorted to wearing the same rotation of stretchy clothes that hugged every single curve of her body. No one could keep their eyes off her and her confidence boosted with every whistle she heard. She relished in the compliments, because that was something she never experienced before.

.

Everyone around her was saying she could go into labour at any time. Twins normally came early, they told her. At 38 weeks, her navel began to droop downwards, but she wasn’t sure if it was because of the sheer weight of the belly being pulled down by gravity or if it was because her babies have finally dropped into position. 

Nevertheless, her hospital bag was packed and ready in the trunk of her car. And her fretting boyfriend was always within hearing distance from her. She was still working in the cafe everyday and her boyfriend decided to quit his job to help out. It still wasn’t enough though. One of her main baristas quit recently, so she couldn’t take a maternity leave, let alone a day off, even if she wanted to. 

You would think that being busy on her feet all day and being pounded by her boyfriend at night would have gotten her labour going, but she only started experiencing sporadic Braxton Hicks. 

When her doctor saw her for her scheduled appointment, she only smirked at her figure and said, “You know when you first came in here and we discovered you were having multiples, I was concerned if you’d make it to term because you were just so itty bitty like a fairy. But now, I am assured your body is made to stretch.”

And stretch, she definitely has. Every night she sat in front of her floor length mirror, as she religiously rubbed her collection of lotions over her skin, not missing a spot. Her skin was stretched taut like a drum, especially around the rounded torso that spilled over her lap, but to her relief, she hasn’t found stretch marks yet. It was as if her milky white skin was meant to be pulled this size all her life. She trailed her hands obsessively over and over the distinct mounds on her figure. She hoped and prayed that her new curves were permanently molded on her frame even after pregnancy. Now that she saw how beautiful and decadent her figure was this way, there was no way she was going back to being stick thin.

[nanaminokanojo]

Play the Game | Nanami Kento X You | Part 3/8

CHARACTERS: Nanami Kento X You (fem!reader | PLEASE READ THE NOTES BELOW*) | Gojo Satoru | Geto Suguru | Shoko Ieiri | Utahime Iori | other JJK Characters CHAPTER COUNT: 3/8 WORD COUNT: 4,000+ GENRE: romance | fluff | slight angst | eventual smut | ooc depictions | female reader with described appearance* | modern au | rich people au | aged up characters CHAPTER TRIGGER WARNING: profanity | age gap | strong/mature/suggestive language | mentions of murder/crime/dying | mentions and use of drugs SPOILERS: n/a

collection masterlist

one - two - three - four - five - six - seven - eight

"Play the Game" Masterlist

"Do you remember the last time I was in your car?"

The hitch immediately started with that one question. It seemed innocent enough with the way you said it in nonchalance while you let your eyes roam the ivory interior of the Lexus. The two of you were only halfway out of the highway when you asked out of the blue, ultimately pissing Nanami off.

At the reminder, his knuckles immediately turned bone white on the steering wheel, his expressions turning dark as he glanced at you, mouth set in a thin line.

He couldn't remember a darker time in his life than watching you almost die from the rear view mirror of his car as you lay shivering on the backseat, unresponsive even if he struggled to both drive, not to crash and keep you conscious. The glassy look about your blue eyes and the way your pupils had blown up to more than twice their size making him shiver. It was safe to say it scarred him for life.

It was a day like any other. He had just gotten off work after a long day at the court, a mix of sadness and elation coursing through him after winning the case for a teenage girl who was brutally murdered. He finally put the man responsible for it in jail for good. It felt good to see the relief on the faces of the grieving parents; to finally put an end to the daily misery they have to go through, having to be reminded of what has become of their daughter.

But as he was resting in his study, a damp towel draped over his tired eyes and throbbing head, his phone suddenly rang. It wasn't yet 10 o'clock in the evening so he opted to answer it, surprised when he saw your name on the screen. You never really called, and the last time you did, it didn't bode well.

"Hello?"

"Suguru..." came your hoarse voice from the other end of the line, your shallow breaths and wheezes evident in each syllable followed by the sound of faintly splashing water.

"You've reached the wrong person, sweetheart," he muttered, reminding him just how Geto was your favorite among Gojo's friends. He did not resent that, but to say he wasn't the tiniest bit jealous was a lie.

Nanami called your name several times but there was no response, just loud rustling and what seemed to be the device falling on the floor with an echo.

"I fucked up big time," you managed to choke out when you spoke again, your tone slurred, and you seemed to be having a difficult time speaking.

"Where are you?"

"I n-need you... p-please..."

"What's going on?" Nanami was already on his feet, dashing out of the study and picking up his keys, still coaxing you to respond when he heard a ding on his phone. You managed to send your location but you weren't speaking anymore.

He was not religious, probably did not believe in a higher being, but as he drove towards your location, thankfully only half a mile away to the suburbs, he found himself fervently praying for your safety.

When he finally got to the address, he found a modernistic structure, a house, and there seemed to be a party going on. He saw some familiar faces, the gallery manager from the previous exhibit of your recent collection and some art connoisseurs he recognized from the same event.

He barged into the house, being handed a champagne flute the moment he entered, everyone welcoming him but he didn't see your face among the people. He refused, asking instead where you were, sprinting up the stairs in large strides when he was told you went upstairs with some people.

Nanami pretty much kicked every door open until he finally found you in one of the upstairs bathroom. He thought his knees would give out as his heart literally stopped at the sight before him.

There, on the half-filled bathtub was you, soaked to your chest. Your white hair was matted over your forehead while the tips floated on the water. You turned your head when you heard him enter, revealing bloodshot eyes, your lips blue and you looked like you didn't have any blood left with your almost greyish pallor.

Hurriedly, he took you out of the tub, carrying you downstairs much to the curiosity of the guests. "You will be okay. Stay with me," he kept telling you.

Despite your state, you managed to smile, tears springing from your eyes. "Nanamin..." you said weakly, making his heart swell that you were at least happy to see him.

He seriously thought you were going to die, but apparently, you did not necessarily overdose on the cocaine you had taken in as he would later find out from the doctors themselves. You had a bad trip and had to be weaned off the substance for the next twenty four hours.

"Are you drug dependent?" he asked when he picked you up from the hospital, opting not to tell Gojo about the matter until he got his answers.

"You won't tell Satoru, will you?" you asked.

"That depends on your answer and whether you're telling the truth," he told you gruffly, fighting hard not to be angry seeing as how fragile you looked. He hadn't slept and he felt as if his nerves were frayed.

You shook your head. "That's the first time. I promise you it won't happen again. I know it's stupid, but I was just curious."

"Your devil-may-care attitude will kill you."

"I know."

He didn't say anything more no matter how much he wanted to scold you and beat some sense into you. He never brought it up and neither did you. That was an unspoken agreement between the two of you. It was your secret which he will carry to his grave and for the last three years since then, nothing like it happened again. You voluntarily cut your ties with the people who were in that party and since then, you had been well.

"Don't remind me," he snapped at you, keeping his eyes on the road.

You’ve reached the shop that Utahime had instructed you to go to for your fitting, but before he could kill the engine, you spoke again.

"Come to think of it, I've never properly apologized for it, and I haven't said thank you enough for saving me that day."

Nanami shot you a sharp look. "I don't want to talk about it."

You sighed and held his hand as he was taking off his seatbelt. "I don't mean to make you angry, but I am sincerely apologizing for it. I am sorry because I put you through that."

Nanami held you by the wrist instead, meeting your gaze with a cold stare. "If you are, then I hope you also realized what a selfish person you are. You're right. You put me through hell. What could I have said to your brother if you died on me that night?"

You didn't say anything, appearing contrite for the first time.

"Gojo would have lost you. Your friends would have lost you." He sighed heavily, holding your hand properly, his expressions softening at how tiny yours looked in his. "I would have lost you."

At his last statement, you nodded and chuckled quietly. "I wouldn't refute that if it saves me. Still, I wanted you to know that it was a big deal for me." You smiled at him. "But that's not all. I could have lost you, but you're still here. So, thanks." And in a surprising turn of events which left him dumbstruck, you lifted both your hands and brushed your lips on his knuckles before disembarking from the car and skipping to the couturier's shop.

His mind wandered throughout the time he was being assisted into the suit that the bride- and groom-to-be had chosen for him to wear on their wedding. He had to give Gojo props for choosing well and suiting the ensemble’s piece to his preference. But he couldn’t quite concentrate on the task at hand when the scene in the car kept playing in his mind. The back of his hand still tingled where you kissed it.

All he wanted to do was see you, but you were a room away, also being pricked and pinned. He wanted nothing but for the fitting to be over so he can be with you again, regardless if it was just for the short drive going back to Gojo manor. Your course of action and words fueled something in him he thought never existed, and he wanted nothing more than to be able to see you, hear you, smell you, touch you. He wanted you, wanted to have you for himself come Gojo or high water. He already knew that, but he never felt as strongly as he did for you than at present because he also knew, that for the first time, you were being yourself and not playing games with him.

Nanami vaguely heard the tailor say something to him, but he didn’t quite catch it, but his image on the mirror suddenly became clearer as he was interrupted from his daydream. His brows furrowed together as he assessed what the man said, but before it could drag on for too long, his cluelessness, he said, “I’m sorry, you were saying?”

“Is the fit just right, Mr. Nanami?” the man asked again, expert eyes scanning over his figure.

“It’s perfect. Thank you,” Nanami stated hurriedly. He couldn’t care less about the suit, but it was already great. He didn’t see any reason to prolong the appointment. “Can I get changed now?”

“Certainly, sir,” the tailor said. “I will leave you to get dressed.”

He just nodded and carefully shed the suit off before changing back into his clothes, meticulously folding the sleeves of his shirt before he set out in search of you. He knocked on the door he was directed to, hearing music playing on the other side of the door along with some voices, one of which was yours.

The door opened and his eyes immediately met those cool blue ones through the mirror. You had your arms spread out to the sides as three women worked around you. “Done already?”

Nanami felt heat creeping up his neck as he averted his gaze. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know you were far from finished.”

“Oh, shush. I need your opinion.”

He snorted. “Yeah. Like I know anything about this.” At odds to his words, he sat down.

“Your boyfriend is handsome,” the couturier commented with a flirtatious giggle as he sized Nanami up.

“I –”

He was about to protest when you cut him short and said, “Isn’t he?”

“That coming from the person who said she didn’t feel like drawing my face,” he said, feigning annoyance.

“Oh, baby. I can’t draw your face if its saves me.” You flashed him a seductive smile. “You’re too perfect.” You winked at him through the mirror while he just sat down and shook his head in amusement, picking up a magazine but not really reading through it. He just watched as you were directed like a doll to pose whichever way the stylist wanted and he could have sworn he has seen nothing more beautiful.

“Just another pin right here,” the couturier said flamboyantly, fastening this and that around your sides, “…and we’re done!” He clapped his hands, standing back as he admired his handiwork. “What do you think?”

“I think it’s fine,” you said, tilting your head to the side.

“Hmm,” Nanami butted in, closing the distance between him and you. He came closer behind you, silently ordering everyone else out of the room with a succinct jerk of his head before he stood there, eyes on your bare back. He placed both hands on either of your shoulders, towering over you.

You quietly observed what he was doing from the mirror, your expressions unchanging even when he traced your spine with his finger. His lips curled at the corners ever so slightly when you slightly jerked forward when he reached the small of your back, relishing the smoothness of your skin against his calloused digit. He lingered there, drawing circles as he met your gaze on your reflection.

“Isn’t this too low?” he asked, his breath hitting the shell of your right ear. “You’re attending a wedding anyway.”

“Oh?” You twirled around so that your back was to the mirror, while you looked over your shoulder to check what he was saying. The plunging style of the dusty rose gown dipped all the way to your waist. “You think so?” You looked up at him, noticing how his face was just inches away from you. “I think it’s okay.”

“Okay for everyone to see?”

At that, you smiled smugly at him. “And you don’t like that, do you, Nanamin?” you asked sultrily.

“I am your boyfriend after all,” he teased. “While I’d like to brag about you, it wouldn’t sit right with me to know everyone’s seeing what’s supposedly only for my eyes, now would it?”

“I never took you for the jealous – whoa!”

Without preamble, he wrapped a strong arm around you, pulling you close so that you were flush against his chest, a devious smirk playing at the corners of his mouth. He wasn’t even concealing his enjoyment anymore. He liked having you close like that, your intoxicating scent dominating his senses.

“Why did you say that to the stylist?” he asked, leaning closer and reveling at the fact that you were caught off guard, eyes wide in surprise.

“It’s easier to just say so than explain, isn’t it?” You leveled your bearing with his. “You didn’t do anything to disagree either.”

“First, you kiss me in front of your brother, flirt with me like it’s normal and say things like that. What are you playing at?”

“Is this one of your games?” you asked, returning his question to you the previous day. You reached up and cupped the side of his face, eyes lingering on his mouth. “Cause I’ll play, Kento.”

He has never quite thought of his name before, whether he liked it or not. It was given to him and he couldn't imagine being called anything else. But he has never liked the sound of it as much as he did when it was rolling out of your tongue. It brought out a strange feeling, spurring him on to give in to his desires instead of holding them back like he usually does with you.

It was all the encouragement he needed. Fuck everything, he thought, dipping his head lower to close the distance between the two of you until he was touching your lips. A quiet gasp left your mouth when he pressed his lips onto yours in an experimental touch, gentle as a zephyr. Your ocean eyes stared at him, taken aback when he pulled away but the dazed look you had was the same one that drew him back to you, landing pecks several times, each one lingering longer than the last.

"Are you teasing me, Nanamin?" you breathed out softly, the laughter in your voice dying out when he captured your lips, this time shutting you up for a good while, coaxing you to respond to his ministrations. He knew he won over you when he felt your fingers grabbing fistfuls of his shirt, pulling him closer, your chest rising and falling against his in shallow breaths, making his heart thrum wildly.

His senses were already heightened whenever you were in the same breathing space as he was, but it was always a different story when you were touching him. Hyper aware. There wasn't a better word that would describe how he felt at that moment. He seemed to see everything he wouldn't usually notice; hear his heart thrumming over every other thought in his brain; almost touch the tension in the air and feel that intense heat blooming from his chest outwards.

But at the same time, nothing mattered but the person in front of him, kissing him and making him feel all sorts of ways. He was a gonner and he knew it but he didn't want to fight it either.

You moaned into the kiss when he gently darted his tongue into your mouth, seducing yours in a fiery dance that united your breaths. His hands made their way up your shoulders, the feel of your soft skin awakening carnal thoughts, making him think of nothing but ways to own you, mark you until he was satisfied. He cupped your face in his large hands, holding you in place, unable to get enough of your taste and the sensations you gave him. They made him crave like a man starved and deprived and he wants to take, take, take.

By the time he pulled away, he was a panting mess, eyes closed as he leaned his forehead against yours, willing himself to calm down. He couldn't help the smile that graced his lips the moment he opened his eyes to find you flushed, lips swollen from his kisses. But that was short-lived when he heard a clinking sound on the side of his head and a wicked grin stretched over your mouth. When he followed the sound, he saw the keys to his car dangling on your fingers.

"What –"

You took a step back when he tried to reach for it, effectively holding it away from him. "Prestidigitation," you declared, sounding victorious. "I'm driving. No arguments."

Nanami sighed, his senses still fuzzy from your kiss and the sight of you whirling around in chiffon and taffeta. He just gave in to his affections for you in hopes of coming out the victor, but you still played him in his own game. "Fine. You win."

You stood on your toes and pecked him on the cheek, stepping off to the side to ring the bell for the shop staff. "I promise not to crash your car."

**

Nanami sat on the passenger side of the car, glancing at the fair-haired villain who stole his car keys, currently driving him to some surprise place of your choosing. He had protested when he noticed how you were going to the opposite way from the manor, taking the highway that led well away from the town. Thrice, he told you to turn back and for every reason he cited, you had a counterattack, not necessarily valid but enough grounds for you to get your way.

"I need to read through the case file and take down notes to make up for the time I'm missing at the firm," came his first excuse but you effectively shot that down by pointing at his briefcase neatly tucked at the backseat.

"Yeah, cause as anal as you are about your job, you don't keep spare copies in your car in cases of emergency."

He jerked on his seat at your comment. "Hey, I'm not anal about my job! I'm just being prudent."

You laughed at the way his voice was raised than usual. "No need to get defensive. Besides, Your initial hearing isn't going to be in two months and by the looks of it, you have everything almost done."

"How did you –"

"I saw them the first day you arrived." Shrugging, it was your turn to shoot him with an annoyed gaze. "You keep forgetting that I have photographic memory. I'm cursed to remember everything."

Truth was, he seemed to be forgetting whose sister you were, letting his guard down and kissing you the way he did. He knew he could have done more if he completely let go of his reins. You were just too tempting, too beautiful and brimming life and infinite galaxies in your eyes which devoured him and made him lose of all sense of time, space and just sense in general.

"Satoru will be looking for you," Nanami attempted for the second time which only earned him an imperious look from you. You said everything in that single action: one, that you didn't care and two, that he was behaving ludicrously.

For the final time, he tried to appeal with something which you would actually give a damn about. "Don't you want to spend time with your friends?"

"Seriously, Nanamin, they're the least of your problems. We're going camping tonight. Besides, they know –" You deliberately stopped talking, your ears turning red, evidently flustered.

"They know what?" he prompted, leaning forward to have a better look at your face to assess your mood.

But then you said, "You're distracting me."

"And you're being evasive."

"If you don't want to spend time with me, just say so." In an abrupt swerve which made his life flash before his eyes, you pulled over to the side of the road, letting go of the steering wheel after you killed the engine. "Drive us home then."

You motioned to remove your seat belt, but Nanami stopped you, shaking his head. Why anything never went right when he was dealing with you was beyond him. "That's not it at all."

"Then what?" you snapped.

Damn, he thought. If the two of you were already fighting the way you are at present, he couldn't imagine how things would be once you were in an actual relationship. Then again, maybe it was the confusion as to what was happening that was causing the unwarranted tension between you two.

He sighed. "You're just too erratic. I can't keep up."

"And you're too fucking vanilla!" you growled.

Nanami was appalled that you would say that same comment in such a way. Leveling his ire with yours, he spat, "That's rich coming from you. Didn't you date that Kamo kid?"

You were stunned at his citation of your former relationship, even more so at his childish attempt at spiting you. It was so atypical of him. "You..." You jabbed a finger at him, about to spit fire when you realized that he cared enough to notice. Your brows knit together. "How did you know about that?"

"You think I wouldn't notice that he's been following you around like a lovestruck puppy during last year's autumn festival?" Nanami scoffed, sneering. "A person like you with someone more boring than the vanilla you claim that I am?"

He was being petty, he knew it, too. The look on your face as you just ogled him in stunned silence says it all. It was as if you never expected him to ever retort the way he did. It was really unusual if he would say so himself since he never really indulged you enough to actually argue with you the way the two of you were doing at the moment.

Out of the blue, you burst out in a fit of giggles, the corners of your eyes watering. "Come to think of it, he acts more like an old man than you do..."

"You dare call me an old man?" He knew your argument was over, but he couldn't help but say it. There was an out of place sense of satisfaction that engaging you in a word joust gave him no matter how unintelligent and shallow it was about.

When you finally calmed down, you said, "I want you to have fun and have a sense of adventure for once. I swear I won't throw your dead body to the ocean."

His left eye twitched at your sentiment. "Well, if you put it that way..."

"Just say yes to me for once."

"I always say yes to you if you haven't noticed by now."

You snickered, starting the engine. "I want you to say yes to me now."

Nanami felt something tug at his chest. "Yes."

"Good." You leaned over and poked him on the cheek.

Nanami sat there, rolling down the window as you drove, letting lose and enjoying the scenery the car passed by on the way to the sea. For the first time in a long time, his face ached from smiling too much, unable to help it.

He knew it and he didn't care if he was doomed. He was in love with you, always have been and always will.

-end of part 3-

*I used “you” here, but since my character is Gojo’s little sister who is established to be his female clone for reasons essential to the plot, she possesses the same blue eyes and white hair. I did not exactly want to create an OC (although technically, I did by describing Y/N), but I opted for the best of both worlds in this fic, leaning more towards the literary aspect of it as opposed to it just being reader/you-oriented. I hope this isn’t iffy to anyone, and yeah, i’m not being exclusive or whatever.

Thank you so much for reading. Likes, comments and reblogs are deeply appreciated! Hope you enjoyed it.

© ORIGINAL WORK BY nanaminokanojo. CHARACTERS ARE INSPIRED BY GEGE AKUTAMI'S “JUJUTSU KAISEN.” [20210716]

PHOTO/IMAGE/GIF/FANART CREDITS TO THE RESPECTIVE OWNERS.

[lovingthekpoplife]

Meeting McDreamy

Doctor!Jin x Reader

Word count: 2.5k

Warnings: medical procedure, embarrassment, and very slight alluding to oral sex.  

Storyline: Doctor AU, where Jin is your gynecologist. You meet him for the first time that day, and are utterly shocked and embarrassed. Annoying but endearing flatmate Jungkook, and fluffy ending!

...........................

You sat in the waiting room of the clinic, biting your nails as you impatiently waited for your name to be called. Your eyes were fixated on the clock on the wall opposite you, counting every second that passed. Truth be told, you didn’t want to be there, and you thought your reluctance was perfectly reasonable. After all, no person enjoys a visit with their OBGYN. There’s something particularly embarrassing about another person grilling you for information on your sex life, and your genitals, before they sit you on that dreaded table. You always feel so vulnerable when your legs are propped up on those damned stirrups, with your privates displayed for anyone to see. There is nothing dignified about that position.

You swing your legs a little, as your eyes still stare at the hands of that damned clock clock on the wall, hoping somehow that you can fast-forward time until after your appointment. Anything to bypass the awkwardness. And you know, you know that the doctor will have seen plenty of other “bits” in their career, hell, they have probably had at least 10 other patients that day alone, but you still feel embarrassed. 

“Miss Y/N L/N,” The nurse calls you over, with a warm smile. You notice something about her eyes that makes you hesitate, but you stand up and walk over nonetheless.

“Yes?” You ask, feeling that nervous feeling in the pit of your stomach. You have to fight the urge to bit your nails again.

“Ah… Dr. Oh has had to leave due to a family emergency just now, we have another doctor on call if you would like to switch?” She explained hesitantly.

“Yeah, sure” anything to get out of there as quickly as possible. 

She smiled with relief, and walked you down the hall, to a door with a plaque on the front that read “Dr. Kim”. You knocked, and let yourself in. 

And then it all made sense to you. You suddenly wanted the ground to open up and swallow you whole. You wanted to cover yourself from head to toe with a blanket, and cocoon forever. You would never ever be able to forget this appointment.

“Ah, Miss L/N, nice to meet you, I’m Dr. Kim Seokjin and I will be your physician today” Said the most handsome man you had ever seen. Not even in your dreams could you have conjured a face as beautiful as his. He looked like he belonged on a medical drama, not in your very real doctor’s office. He looked handsome, beautiful, ethereal, god-like, dreamy. McDreamy…. Where had you heard that before? You were probably infringing some form of copyright. 

“H-hi” You croaked out. You could feel yourself begin to sweat. Why. WHY?!

“If it’s okay with you, I will close this curtain so you can remove your jeans and underwear, and when you are done sit on this bed. If you can do it on your own, put your legs on the stirrups and scoot down as far as you can go without falling off the bed!” He explained, chuckling at his own joke. You laughed along nervously, your voice shaky and your heart thumping in your chest. 

He closed the curtain around the bed, and left you to your own devices. You wanted to scream. Why Dr. Oh? WHY?!

You quickly removed the clothes on the lower half of your body and thanked the heavens that you had kept your legs and your privates reasonably well groomed. You sat on the bed, and did as Dr. McDreamy told you, before grabbing a modesty blanket that you quickly covered yourself with. Ah, Grey’s Anatomy! Well, Derek Shepherd has nothing on Seokjin. Oh boy, how your heart raced at the thought of your doctor’s perfect features. 

“I-I’m done here sir!” You called out, voice shaking. You readied yourself, hands clenching around the modesty blanket. Your eyes focused on your hands, because you knew that if you took one look at that beautiful face, you would blush so red you might faint.

“Okay!” He called out, his warm, soothing voice doing everything but put you at ease. Even his voice was beautiful.

He quickly moved the curtain aside so he could enter, and closed it again before walking towards your spread legs. He sat on a small stool, and began examining you with gloved hands. You felt yourself tense. His hands on you were doing things to you that were verging on sinful. You prayed he didn’t notice.

“Are you over 25 Y/N?” He asked, you squeaked out a weak ‘yes’

“Have you had a pap smear done yet?” He asked, looking up towards your face. Your eyes flickered towards his briefly, and you immediately looked away.You shook your head vigorously.

“Is it okay if we do one today? It’s recommended to start getting them done regularly after the age of 25.” He told you, and you froze. Your eyes opened wide, like a deer caught in the headlights.

“It doesn’t hurt, it’s a little uncomfortable I have been told, but it shouldn’t be painful” He explained quickly, looking a bit flustered by your reaction. You sighed.

“Okay…” You nodded your head firmly. He nodded back, and moved away to gather the tools. 

He showed you all of the tools and explained what they were and what they would be used for. He then talked you through the whole procedure, and explained each step as he was taking it, cracking terrible dad jokes in between. All in all, you ended up feeling relatively relaxed. As relaxed as a woman who was a mad crush on her gynecologist who she just met can ever be anyway. 

“Well, I think that should be it. I’m going to go over and log your file and let you get dressed” He explained, as he pushed the cart with the specimens aside. You quickly dressed yourself up again, and both hoped you would never see Dr Kim again, and also hoped he would fall madly in love with you somehow. Part of you wanted to imagine he would ask you out on a date before you left the door. But you also knew he would get into huge trouble if he did. You sighed, maybe you were just never meant to be. 

“The results should be out in 4 weeks, we will send you a letter, but it seemed okay visually. Other than that, you seem to be in good health. For your next visit you should be back with Dr. Oh, she is your regular doctor. It was a pleasure meeting you Miss L/N” He told you with a dazzling smile, that made your heart flutter and your stomach fill with the soft flutters of butterflies. 

“It was lovely meeting you too, Doctor,” You spoke honestly, although your cheeks blushed a deep red. You bowed to him, and walked out of his office as elegantly as you could muster, which was not very elegantly at all. 

You rushed back home, feeling utterly embarrassed, but also like you were floating on air. When you got back in, you slammed the door shut behind you and squealed into your hands.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” Jungkook asked you from the sofa, where he was playing some shooting game you didn’t care to remember the name of.

“I had my appointment today, and… IT WAS A MALE DOCTOR!” You screamed, as you plopped down beside Jungkook on the sofa, and squeezed a pillow tightly in your arms.

“So? I thought you didn’t care about that stuff,” He asked, side-eyeing you, as he continued to play his game.

“I don’t but this guy was HOT! I am talking, mouth watering, earth shatteringly hot. Like a Greek God incarnate. He made my insides quiver. He made my legs shake just from looking at his face” You explained exasperatedly. 

“Gross,” He replied, scrunching his nose. 

“Oh come on, don’t be such a butt. I see you drool all over that poster of IU in your room” You tell your roommate, who turns to look at you wide eyed and utterly offended.

“For starters I do not DROOL! And secondly, it is gross that you have a crush on your vagina-doctor. He just looked at you all clinical down there” He complained, just as he died in the game. He tossed his controller aside, crossed his arms and turned to look at you with a huff.

“And that’s precisely why it’s so tragical. Maybe if I met him at a cafe like a normal human being, he would fall in love with me and we would ride off into the sunset and have absurdly perfect-looking children” You threw yourself over Jungkook’s legs dramatically.

“You’re such a weirdo” He pushed you off him, rolling his eyes.

“But you loooveee me” You teased, poking him in the chest. He smiled at this.

“I have no choice, you have been glued to my side since preschool, you eventually kind of grew on me squirt” He retaliated, ruffling your hair.

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

About two weeks later, Jungkook and you met at a cafe outside his office for a quick, after-work snack. You noticed he was already waiting in line, and rushed over, nudging him with your shoulder.

“Ugh, you again” he teased, rolling his eyes. You stuck your tongue out at him.

“You should pity me, I have to deal with seeing your ugly face all the time” You bit back, smirking. He narrowed his eyes at you, puffing his cheek, as he pushed your shoulder lightly with his hand. 

It should have been a light, harmless push. I mean, it didn’t even hurt. However, you lost your footing, slipped, and bumped into the person waiting in line in front of you. 

“I’m so sorr-” Your words were cut off in your throat when you looked up, and your eyes met the beautiful brow eyes of none other than Kim Seokjin. He was smiling at you like he had just won a prize. 

“Oh… Dr. Kim, I’m so sorry!” You apologised profusely, bowing your head. 

“Ah! I’m not in the clinic, so I’m just Seokjin now,” He smiled, shrugging, and rubbing the back of his neck. His eyes quickly flickered towards Jungkook, and his expression stiffened ever so slightly. You immediately noticed. You might normally be a dumbass, but you are fantastic at reading body-language. You would have been a detective, had your lack of interest in keeping fit deterred you from even trying to join the police force.

“Ah, Doc- Seokjin, this is my flatmate Jungkook,” You introduced your friend, pointing towards him with your whole hand.

Jungkook’s lips immediately broke into a gigantic Cheshire grin, the wheels in his brain turning. He knew all about your appointment with Dr. McDreamy. You knew that look, and knew it meant nothing good.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you Seokjin, I’ve heard a lot about you” His voice dripped with sugary sweetness. You gave him a warning glare, but Jungkook’s smile only widened.

“Ah, is that so?” Seokjin’s eyes flickered back to you, and he raised an eyebrow. You could see a slight cheeky smirk begin to form on Seokjin’s face.

“Oh, look it’s your turn Seokjin!” You immediately pointed towards the barista calling for the next customer. Perfect deflection technique, God Y/N, you would make a perfect Ninja.

“Oh shoot!” Jin called out, before shuffling over. You took the opportunity to pinch the life out of the inside of Jungkook’s bicep.

“Ah ahhhh what the fuck!” he hissed, as he swatted your hand away. You did a slicing motion on your neck with your index finger, then pointed straight at his face. He gulped slightly, remembering that time he tried to prank you, and you took revenge by putting hair removal cream in his shampoo.

Once Seokjin had finished ordering, you walked up to the barista, and ordered your and Jungkook’s drinks to go. You needed to get out of there stat. She rang them in, and you readied yourself to put your card in the card reader when a large hand stopped you.

“Ah, let me” Seokjin told you, his cheeks blushed pink, but the rest of his face remained impassive. 

“Oh no, it’s okay, you don’t have to” You quickly tried to push your card in the machine. But his grip on your hand tightened. 

“Please?” Seokjin begged, and you relented. His eyes lit up beautifully. You couldn’t help but smile. He looked like a child on Christmas day. Super cute doctor is trying to give you free coffee? Could you be any more pleased?

When your coffees were ready to go, Jungkook quickly picked his, and began walking towards the door.

“Ah, I forgot I left this thing at work. I have to go get it before they close. Thank you for the coffee Seokjin!” He called, before darting out the door and sending a cheeky wink your way.

“What the hell did he forget?” You muttered to yourself.

“I think it was a trick to leave us alone,” Jin explained, grinning over the edge of his coffee mug.

“W-what?” You stuttered.

“Ah, Y/N, I know this is probably awkward because I was your doctor for a day. But I am technically not YOUR doctor, so it’s not unethical, but I was kind of, maybe, wondering if you’d like to go out with me some time?” He asked, awkwardly, shyly, nothing like the man who had told you silly jokes during your appointment.

“You want to go out with me?” You asked dumbly. He nodded.

“Of course. You are beautiful, and silly, and I love it when you blush. I just wish I could see you blush from something I did, and not because the situation is awkward” He explained, making you blush a deep red. Yep, nothing more awkward than having a beautiful man with his head stuck between your legs, examining you instead of… you know.

“That’s what I’m talking about!” He laughed to himself. And suddenly you were able to hear it, a distinctive windshield wiper sound to his laugh. It was so comical it made you start laughing yourself.

“And are you sure you won’t get in trouble?” You asked him, and he nodded.

“As long as you aren’t my patient from here on, it should be fine” He explained.

“Well, I say we could start our first date now, no?” you cheekily replied, taking a sip from your coffee.

“Good! I know the best seat in this cafe” He told you, as he guided you towards a table by the window, where you could spot Jungkook waiting at the bus-stop, looking at you and giving you two thumbs up. You rolled your eyes, but returned the thumbs up. Oh boy, Jungkook was never going to let you forget he is the best wingman on Earth.

[freddiesaysalright]

Tale as Old as Time - Chapter 2

Rami!Prince Adam x Reader

Summary: A prince cursed. A young woman aching for adventure. The classic tale of seeing beauty within. 

Word Count: 5.1k

Tag List: @psychosupernatural​, @someone-get-a-medic​, @bensrhapsody​, @deakyclicks​, @crazylittlethingcalledobsession​, @minigranger​, @crazyweirdocalledfriday​, @the-moving-finger-writes​, @assembledherethevolunteers​, @rose-writes-prose​, @queenlover05​, @26-7-49​, @drowsebaby​, @im-an-adult-ish​, @xviiarez​, @rogerina-owns-me​ If you’d like to be added, let me know!

A/N: The second part of our Beauty and the Beast AU! The adventure really begins in this chapter :)

Warning(s): None!

Moodboard

Prologue  Chapter 1

Chapter 2 here we go!!!

The next day, you were making your breakfast after your morning trip into town. More toast and preserves. You found yourself missing your father, but at the same time grateful for his absence. It was really your last hope against marrying Victor. But your father was a constant comfort to you. You always missed him - even if he did snore. 

You began cleaning up from your meal when you looked across the counter and saw it - your father’s medicine. He had left it behind. Worry shot through your heart. Could he make it a whole day without it? You had never tried since Lyle prescribed it. You could always ride into the city yourself, but you weren’t sure of the way, and it was dangerous to go alone as a young woman. You briefly considered asking Victor to escort you, but you didn’t want to put your father in the situation of having to explain why he wasn’t thrilled with your decision. 

With a sigh, you carefully wrapped up the medicine and headed out to the stable to fetch your horse. You would go alone. It may be dangerous, but it was not a terribly long journey, especially since you weren’t hauling a well-built wood chopper behind you. 

You placed the medicine and some bread into your saddlebag. Your horse, a sweet palomino named Dotty, nipped your shoulder affectionately after you put the bit in her mouth. You giggled as you led her out into the open. Just as you mounted, you heard another horse clopping up to you. You turned your head and held back a groan. It was Victor. 

“Y/N!” he said. “I must have missed you in town this morning.”

“I wasn’t long, my father is in the city today,” you told him.

“How did he take our big announcement?” he asked, raising his eyebrows. 

“Quite well,” you lied. “He said he shall miss me terribly, but if it’s what I want, then…”

“Good, good,” he said. “Well, I’ll make a formal announcement today and -”

“No, don’t!” you cried hastily. 

He shot you a quizzical look and you cleared your throat. 

“It’s just...I don’t want everyone to know just yet,” you said. “Let’s make the announcement after we set a date.”

“My darling, you are a tease!” he chuckled. ‘Very well, we’ll do as you please for now. Just don’t go into our marriage thinking you can get your way all the time.”

“Of course not,” you said, holding back on your sarcasm. “But the wedding is about the bride. The marriage is about the groom.”

“That’s a good girl,” he said. “Where are you off to?”

“Oh, I’m bringing my father his medicine,” you said. “He left it by mistake.”

“Allow me to escort you,” he said. “It’s dangerous in those woods.”

“I’ll be alright, Victor, really,” you insisted. “Don’t fret about me. Besides, the rest of the village will miss you.”

“I do have quite a few appointments today that I really shouldn’t reschedule,” he said, touching his chin with his forefinger. “Alright, Y/N. Shall I come again tomorrow to see your father?”

“If it pleases you,” you said. “He won’t be back until the evening, though.”

“I’ll be here then,” he told you. “Good luck!”

“Thank you,” you replied. 

He galloped away and you released a relieved sigh. You weren’t sure how long you could dodge him if you had to be in town, so you were grateful for the errand. With a nervous gulp, you headed into the woods.

For a while, you thought it would be easy, since the wagon had made tracks in the soft mud from the storm. But eventually, things got messy. Your father had evidently turned around several times, which confused you. You approached a charred tree and found Phillipe’s scattered hoof prints.

“What happened here?” you wondered.

You dismounted to more closely examine the ground. There were no tracks leading in the direction of the city. It was north of  the village. It appeared the next set of tracks went east. Remounting Dotty, you urged her on. 

The trees thickened along your track. The ground squished beneath Dotty’s hooves since the sun could not dry it out. You saw splinters of wood scattered along the trail from where the wagon must have barrelled over the roots or struck the trunks of the trees. Worry clawed at you some more. You weren’t sure what you would find at the end.

As the trees thinned out, some hope was restored to you. The sun was brightly shining on what appeared to be a clearing. Only, when you got closer, you realized it wasn’t. You had come upon the entrance to a massive garden.

It was difficult to see over the wall, but through the gate, you could clearly see roses. They were beautiful, but you couldn’t focus on them. They only reminded you more of your father. You heard a soft whinny to your left and whipped around.

“Phillipe!” you cried.

He stood back in the brush, shivering and still damp from the rain. You scrambled off of Dotty and hurried to him. He shrunk back, but you placed a comforting hand on his neck.

“Phillipe, it’s alright,” you soothed him. “I’m here now. Where’s Papa?”

You looked around for any sign of your father. Phillipe still had the wagon hitched on, but the seat was empty. There didn’t appear to be anyone lying on the ground around you either. You looked back toward the garden. Had your father maybe gone in to try and fetch you a rose?

You tied Dotty to a branch near Phillipe to ease him further. Then you went to the gate. With shaking hands, you reached toward it. The iron was cold from the wind of the storm and the chilly morning air. You shivered. Then, you gave it a push.

To your surprise, it opened. There was a loud, rusty squeak as it moved, but you couldn’t worry about that. You saw - down the path - your father’s hat.

You gasped and darted over to retrieve it. A million questions went through your mind. Especially after you spotted his pocket knife and a cut rose just a few feet away.

Gathering the rose and knife along with the hat, you forced yourself forward into the garden. The pathway was clear and free of debris, so someone was clearly maintaining it. If it was a garden, then it had to be attached to a building of some kind. You prayed it was a hospital and that someone was caring for your father.

The path wound through the hedges. With each step, your nerves only grew. You had to find your father, but what happened once you did? Would you be able to find your way back out of here? What was this place? Where were the people?

A building began to take shape in the distance. It hit you all at once where you had to be. The old palace. It made your stomach drop to think about. The palace was rumored to be haunted, and you didn’t know if you believed in ghosts, but any abandoned building with such a mystery around it gave you the creeps. Could your father really be in there? If so, why?

At the end of the garden was a courtyard. The courtyard had a magnificent water fountain in the center, but it wasn’t running. On the other side of the fountain was a set of large, oak front doors. Elaborate gold knockers were on each side, shaped like lion’s heads.

You glanced around once more, hoping beyond hope that your father was somewhere outside and you could hurry away from here together. There was still nothing.

With a deep breath, you knocked. The door fell slightly ajar, making you jump. You gathered yourself and pushed further, poking your head in first. The entryway was magnificent - the ceilings were as high as the clouds, a wide staircase led up and away, with plush red carpet up the middle. Everything was finely decorated. Only, it was all faded. Like an antique shop. A thin layer of dust sat atop each item like a sheet. It felt abandoned, which was a stark contrast to the garden.

“H-hello?” you called out shakily. “Hello, is anyone there? Papa?”

Your voice echoed in the chamber-like hall. Hesitantly, you stepped over the threshold. No one seemed to be answering your call, so you went further in.

“Hello?”

Still nothing but your own voice coming back to you. A light came on in the corridor to your right, so you hastened to follow it. 

“Papa!” you cried desperately.

When you looked down the hall, there was still no one there. Confused and even more frightened, you continued on.

“Please, is anyone there?” you tried again. “I’m looking for my father!”

A whisper came from further down the hall. You walked more. At the end of the hall, there was a staircase. One led up, and the other led down. Making a split second choice, you headed down. There were more lights on that way. As you made your way down, you gulped.

About halfway down the winding staircase, you got nervous again. The silence was overwhelming. And although you couldn’t see anyone, you felt like you were being watched. You could sense curious eyes on you and it made your skin crawl.

“Papa?” you called out one last time.

“Y/N?” a weak voice croaked back at you.

Then you heard a violent coughing fit.

“Papa!” you shouted, and flew down the rest of the flight of stairs.

You came into a dungeon. You father was behind bars on a cold stone floor. His face was pale, but his eyes were watered with the effort of his coughing. You saw blood seep between his fingers covering his mouth.

“Papa!” you gasped, kneeling in front of him. “What’s happened? Who did this to you?”

“Y/N, get out of here!” he returned wildly. “You’ve got to go now before he finds you!”

“Before who finds me?!” you wondered, hurt and confused.

At that moment, the torch above you went out. You gasped again and turned around, searching the darkness for whatever had moved. You saw a large shadow in the corner.

“Who are you?” you demanded, sounding far braver than you felt. “Let us out of here!”

A low growl made the hair on your neck stand up.

“I’m the master of this castle,” a gravelly voice replied. “That man committed a punishable offense.”

“What offense was that?” you insisted.

“He cut my roses,” the voice said.

“So you locked him in prison?!” you challenged. “That punishment doesn’t exactly fit the crime!”

“What do you know?!” the voice shot back. “This is my castle, and I’ll run it however I please!”

“Whoever you are, I beg you to let my father go,” you said, softer now. “He’s sick, and he’ll die in here if he doesn’t get help.”

“That’s not my concern,” he snapped.

Tears welled up in your eyes. Had you come this far only to have to say goodbye?

“Please,” you said. “Don’t you know mercy? Compassion?”

“The world has shown me no mercy or compassion, why should I?” he barked.

“There must be something I can do….” you trailed off.

An idea came to you, though you hated to do it. It meant the end of your life as you knew it.

“Let me take his place,” you said.

“No, Y/N, you can’t!” your father burst out. “I won’t let you!”

You shushed him. The creature in the corner turned to look at you. You could just barely see his eyes from the glow of the torch down the hall.

“You would surrender yourself for him?” he questioned.

“Well - of course I would, he’s my father,” you said simply. “I can’t let him waste away in here.”

“I won’t let you, Y/N!” your father repeated. “I’m an old man, I’ve had my chance at life. You deserve to be free to live yours!”

“Papa, don’t you understand?” you replied. “I’m a prisoner no matter what. At least this way...I’m not his wife.”

“Y/N, don’t!” Paul pleaded. 

“I’m offering you myself,” you said to the creature. “Just let him go.”

“Done,” he said harshly, and you squeezed your eyes shut, hoping you hadn’t made a mistake.

The creature moved past you to unlock the cell door. You finally saw it close up. He was a monstrous looking beast, with thick, dark fur, sharp fangs, and horns. He walked up on two legs, but hunched over so much, his front paws could have touched the ground. You clapped a hand over your mouth to hold back another gasp.

He grabbed your father by the collar and yanked him from the cell before slamming it shut again. He dropped Paul in front of you.

“I’ll give you a moment,” he said.

You blinked, surprised at the sympathy he showed before turning his back. Then you turned your attention to your father.

“Y/N, please,” he begged. “Don’t do this. You’re my child, I’m supposed to sacrifice for you. We’ll figure something out, but you can’t -”

You put a finger to his lips to silence him. “It’s done, Papa. I could never live with myself if I left you here.”

“And how am I to live with myself leaving you behind?” he argued. 

“This is my choice,” you reminded him gently. 

His lip trembled and he pulled you into a hug. You sagged against him, etching the feeling of his embrace into your memory, for you would never feel it again.

“I’ll come back for you with help from the village,” your father whispered. “You aren’t stuck here.”

You returned with only the slightest of nods. With a sniffle, you pulled away.

“I love you, Papa,” you said.

“I love you more, my darling girl,” he replied.

With that, he allowed himself to be led away by the beast. He disappeared. You gave yourself a moment to cry. You were alone and scared, and you had no idea the nature of this beast. You thought he must be cruel to lock up an old man for a flower. But then, he allowed you to say goodbye. And those eyes...you had never seen such anguished eyes.

You wiped your eyes and got to your feet, waiting for the beast to return and put you in a cell. He was taking a long while.

“Prince Rami,” said Mrs. Carson gently as she followed him back from the front door. “I think you ought to give the girl a proper bedroom.”

“I agree,” said the butler, Thomas. “What if she’s the one to break the spell? She can’t fall in love with you if she feels like a prisoner.”

“She is a prisoner,” Rami argued. “Besides, did you see her? A girl that beautiful could never...don’t trust a hope.”

The pair looked at their master a moment while he released a sigh.

“Show her to her room and let her know when dinner is ready,” he said heavily. “I...I can’t face her right now.”

“Yes, sir,” said Mrs. Carson, and she headed back to where you were waiting.

You heard footsteps coming back down the hall, but the shape that appeared before you was not the beast. It was a kind looking old woman. She smiled at you and held up a lantern so you could see better.

“Alright, love,” she said. “Let’s show you to your room.”

“My room?” you questioned. “I thought I was a prisoner.”

“The master’s had a change of heart,” she told you. “Since you’ll be here permanently, he wants you to be comfortable.”

That puzzled you, but you didn’t dare question it further. So, you followed her up the stairs and down through the main hall again. Then you went up more stairs, heading for a tower on the east side of the castle.

“I’m Mrs. Carson, by the way,” the woman said. “I’m the housekeeper. I’ll be your first resource for whatever you need.”

“I’m Y/N,” you said. “Can I ask you something, Mrs. Carson?”

“Certainly, dear.”

“Is this the place where the king and queen were killed all those years ago?” you asked.

She stopped and turned to face you.

“Sadly, it is,” she answered, looking grim.

She kept walking. 

“Did you work for them?” you wondered.

“I did,” she said.

“How did they die?” you pressed. 

“I don’t know,” she said. “I didn’t see it happen. There was an attack, but I don’t know by whom or for what reasons.”

“Do you know what became of the prince?” 

She halted again, but this time, did not look at you.

“I do,” she said.

Your eyes widened. “W...what happened?”

“I’m not really at liberty to say, dear,” she said, and you thought you heard her voice break over her words. “It’s too horrible.”

“I’m sorry,” you said. “I don’t mean to pry, but -”

“I understand,” she cut across you. “But I can’t betray them. You’ll more than likely learn what happened for yourself, but whatever the master wants you to know must come from him.”

“How did he get control of this place?” you wondered. “If the royal family is gone?”

“It’s his home,” she said simply. “I can’t say any more than that.”

It was a cryptic and strange answer, but you decided to drop the issue and keep walking. Mrs. Carson led you up to a beautiful bedroom with a regal looking bed and fine mahogany furniture. It still felt as suffocating as the cell in the dungeon.

“I’ll send Anna up in a few minutes to prepare you for dinner,” Mrs. Carson said. “She’ll attend to your daily needs such as clothing and hair.”

“I don’t need -”

“It’s best not to argue,” she interrupted sweetly. “Besides, she hasn’t had a beautiful lady to dress in years!”

You chuckled in spite of yourself. Mrs. Carson closed the door behind her. You expected to hear her turn the lock, but she didn’t. That was a relief. But it hit you suddenly how much you were losing by remaining here. Every dream you’d ever had of traveling, all your hopes of falling in love and marrying, each day you could spend reading as your father worked beside you. All of it was gone.

You collapsed on the bed and let yourself cry some more. You didn’t regret your decision. But you were mourning the loss of a life you had loved. And had taken for granted.

You grieved for about an hour, and when you had collected yourself again, there was a soft knock on the door. Even so, it made you jump.

“Who is it?” you asked.

“It’s Anna,” the voice on the other side replied. “May I come in?”

“Of course,” you allowed.

The knob turned and in walked a middle aged blonde woman with a wide, comforting smile. Draped over her arms were three dresses.

“I thought you could choose what you’d like to wear for dinner,” she said. “These are some of the queen’s old things, so they may not fit exactly right, but I’ll alter them for you as needed.”

“Oh, that’s very kind of you, but I’d rather not,” you said. “I don’t want to have dinner with your master. I need some time.”

Her expression softened as she looked at you. “I completely understand. I’ll tell Mrs. Carson.”

“Thank you, Anna,” you said.

“Of course,” she replied.

She retreated from the room. When she closed the door she heaved a sigh.

Rami was pacing in the dining room. Anxiety made him feel impatient and irritable. He was already feeling guilty about his actions, something he had not experienced in many years. But something about you made him feel...shame. 

“You must settle down, sir,” Thomas said. “I’m sure once the shock has worn off, things will go alright.”

Rami huffed. “Easy for you to say.”

The door cracked open. Rami stiffened and faced it. Only, you did not emerge. It was Mrs. Carson.

“She’s not coming to dinner,” she said. “She said she needs more time.”

Rami sighed. He supposed he should have expected as much. 

“I understand,” he said. “Have her food sent to her room.”

“Yes, sir,” she replied. “May I suggest something for tomorrow?”

“Sure,” he said.

“Invite her in person,” she told him. “The only way she can get to know you is by presenting yourself to her.”

Rami opened his mouth to tell her it wasn’t even worth it, but he knew she would still encourage him to try. She had never given up hope that the curse could be broken, even if he had.

Even though it was fairly early, you decided to change and get ready for bed. You didn’t wait for Anna since you were used to changing on your own anyway. Just as you stepped out of your dress, there was a knock on the door. It started off loud, then a hesitation, and then a softer knock. Brow furrowed, you went to the door. On the floor sat a tray of food. It was a whole spread of cheese, bread, salad, soup, an entree, and even wine. Surprised, you looked and saw a furry paw disappear around the corner. You heard his steps padding away. The beast had brought you dinner himself.

With your spirit lifted, you took the tray into your room.

In the morning, you woke early. You almost forgot the events of the previous evening until your bleary eyes took in your surroundings. The large bedroom, the down pillows beneath your head, and the satin sheets covering you. You were in the palace. And the prisoner of the beast who ruled it.

You sat up. The tray for your dinner had already been removed and replaced with some breakfast. Steam rose from the cup of hot tea. 

“Well, this is the most luxurious treatment for a prisoner,” you said to yourself.

You ate in bed and then got up, wondering what on earth you were going to do to occupy yourself. There had to be plenty to discover in a castle like this, but you had so much time to do it. Part of you was also tempted to stay in bed and mope.

“Y/N,” said Anna’s voice as she knocked on the door. “It’s Anna. Would you like some help getting dressed?”

“Come in,” you said, unsure how to answer her. “You don’t have to dress me, you know.”

“I don’t mind, it’s my job,” she replied. “Besides, I think the queen’s old things might not be familiar to you.”

“I have my own dress,” you argued.

“I’ve washed it,” she returned simply. “It’s still drying.”

“Oh,” you said. “That was kind of you.”

She smiled. “Here. Let’s get you into something for the day.”

She held up a gown that was much nicer than anything you had ever owned. Feeling awkward, and a little guilty, you let her help you into it. It fit surprisingly well, but you weren’t sure it suited you. You almost felt like you were playing dress up. Then you looked in the mirror.

The dress was a simple, day dress, but still beautiful. You looked like a grown woman in it, a feeling you were still adjusting to. The way it hugged your curves and accentuated your body was incredibly flattering. You had never felt more like royalty.

“It’s too much,” you said.

“Nonsense, it’s a day dress,” Anna reminded you.

“Still,” you said. “It feels…”

You paused, words failing you. 

“You look lovely,” she said. 

“Are all prisoners treated this nicely?” you wondered.

She chuckled. “The master would rather you not think of yourself as a prisoner. You’re his guest now.”

“A guest is free to leave,” you retorted.

“Not before they’ve properly met their host,” she replied.

You sighed. Shortly after, Mrs. Carson arrived to give you a tour of the castle. She showed you everywhere you were allowed to go from your room to the kitchen, to the main hall, to the garden. The garden was your favorite so far, as it was much less intimidating in the sunlight. Across the courtyard, you watched the beast come into view. 

To your great shock, he was talking to the plants. You couldn’t hear what he was saying, but it was such a tender thing to do, it nearly knocked you off your feet. How could a creature who would lock someone up over a rose also be so nurturing? Those roses must mean something more to him.

You didn’t get the chance to figure it out before Mrs. Carson led you away from the gardens and into the vegetable patches. There was a slim, young woman on her knees in the dirt there, puttering around among the growth.

“Daisy,” said Mrs. Carson. “Good morning to you.”

Daisy looked up. She had a sweet, round face with mousy brown hair falling around it. 

“Morning, Mrs. Carson,” she said. “Just gathering some things for dinner.”

“I’m glad,” Mrs. Carson replied. “Daisy, this is Y/N. She’s come to live at the palace now.”

Daisy got to her feet, brushing her hands on her apron before offering you one to shake.

“Nice to meet you, m’lady,” she said brightly.

“Just Y/N is fine,” you assured her, shaking her hand.

“Y/N, Daisy is our cook,” Mrs. Carson said. “She came here just a few years ago.”

You started to ask a question about that, but Mrs. Carson just moved on. You followed her back inside. As you headed to the dining room for lunch, you passed a set of large double doors. There was a padlock on them.

“What’s that?” you asked.

“The library,” Mrs. Carson said. 

“Why is it all locked up?” you wondered.

“The master used to spend a lot of time in there,” she told you. “But after everything that happened to him, he closed it off. It reminded him too much of painful memories.”

“What painful memories?” you pressed.

“They aren’t mine to share, I’m afraid,” she said. 

You huffed in annoyance. There was so much going on around here and none of it could be explained. Especially the so-called master. How had a beast inherited this castle?

On your way down the hall, one painting in particular made you stop. It was clearly of the royal family - the king, the queen, and their son between them. The king and queen looked regal and stoic, but the prince had a smile on his face. And his eyes. His eyes were so alluring and bright, even depicted on a canvas. It felt like you might have seen them before, but you couldn’t place it.

A sudden, horrifying thought came to you. Was the beast the cause of the deaths of the royal family? Had he killed the king and queen? If so, where was the prince? Was he also a prisoner here? Locked away somewhere no one would ever find him? Was that why the beast had so easily gained control of the castle and the servants?

You stopped.

“Mrs. Carson, would it be alright if I explored on my own for a while?” you asked. “I’m not very hungry.”

“Sure,” she said. “But you are not to enter the west wing. That’s the master’s private chambers.”

“Okay,” you agreed. 

She gave you a nod and you jogged away, heading straight for your room. You were becoming overwhelmed and scared again. When you got to your tower, you shut the door and sank to the floor, feeling a lump in your throat. Only now, you were no longer grieving for just yourself. You also wept for that little family torn apart in a single day.

You remained in your room until the evening. You spent most of the afternoon sulking and gazing out your window. Then Anna came to help you change into a dinner dress. You weren’t sure you wanted to go to dinner, but you feared refusing the beast anymore.

“Anna,” you said.

“Yes?” 

“What is the master’s name?”

She stopped tying the laces of the dress and looked at you.

“He’s very private, Y/N…” she began.

“Well, if I’m his guest, I ought to know the host’s name,” you said. “I can’t just call him ‘the master’ all the time. It sounds so odd, especially since I’m not his servant.”

“Why don’t you ask him yourself?” she asked. “He might tell you.”

“I don’t think he would,” you said. “Why can’t you tell me?”

“To be honest, he’s forbidden everyone except Mrs. Carson from saying it,” she admitted. “He wasn’t always like this, you know. He doesn’t like to be reminded of the past.”

She finished with the dress, and you examined yourself in the mirror, once again becoming startled by your elegant appearance.

“Are you coming to dinner?” she asked.

“I haven’t decided,” you said. 

“Very well,” she conceded. “Just ring for me when you’re ready for bed.”

You waited a few minutes after she left. You sat at the vanity and sighed, weighing your options. You could go to dinner, but it seemed reckless. This beast was cruel - he’d arrested your father, taken you prisoner, and he might have been responsible for the tragedy of the royal family. On the other hand, if you refused, you might enrage him. He could bring you your dinner and allow you to wear the queen’s dresses, but that did not make him kind.

A cautious knock brought you out of your trance. 

“Y/N.”

It was the growly voice of the beast.

You swallowed and went to answer the door. You had not been near him since the previous night, and you were struck once again with the sheer size of him. He towered over you like a mountain.

“I have come to personally request that you join me for dinner,” he said nervously.

“Um…”

You looked up and met his eyes. Those poor, sad eyes.

“On one condition,” you said.

His brow furrowed. “What condition is that?” 

“Tell me your name,” you said. 

He stiffened. “Why?”

“Because you know mine,” you said. “It’s only fair.”

“Life isn’t fair,” he retorted. 

“Well, if you’re going to be stubborn about it,” you said, and started to close the door.

He slammed his paw against the wood, stopping you, but making you jump.

“Sorry,” he said, retracting the paw. “I...I wish to continue negotiations.”

“I’ve named my terms,” you reminded him, raising a challenging eyebrow.

He shot an annoyed glance over his shoulder and let out a long breath.

“Rami,” he said. “My name is Rami.”

You smirked and extended your hand.

“It’s nice to meet you, Rami,” you said.

With a bashful smile, he shook your hand. Then you placed it in the crook of his arm and allowed him to escort you to the dining room.

[chimpukampu]

Bonheur

Happy Valentines day @galaxyofconstellations! I’m so happy when I got your name, and more when I read your prompts! You have no idea how I love Marichat and Adrinette, and I hope this oneshot met your expectations

Huge thanks to @tog84 for beta-ing this!

Summary: It was a night before her wedding when a certain cat dropped by not only to say hi but also to ask about her future. 

It’s been years since Marinette slept in her old bedroom.

She was surprised that her parents didn’t replace the pink wallpapers, or even dared to remove the old Jagged Stone poster that was plastered near her old study table. Her outdated desktop computer was still there covered in a thick, white cloth, as well as her sewing machine that had pricked her fingers multiple times.

It was worth the pain, she thought fondly as she rubbed her calloused fingers, bumping the silver band of her engagement ring with a nostalgic sigh.

Aside from her old items like her mannequins, self-made teenage clothes, and textbooks that were boxed and stacked neatly to the corner, she also found some baking equipment and matching ceramic wares from China, which prompted her that her room has been transformed as some sort of storage. Yet despite it, her room was comfy and dust-free.

Glancing around, she noticed the faded squares that marred the walls. It reminded her of the photographs and drawings she used to tack there when she was in collège, and even though she removed all of it as soon as she moved out for université, the discolorations caused by the lack of light exposures were barely muted.

She might be in the mood of reminiscing the past, but she didn’t have the energy to take out her old belongings and poke on them one by one. Her Maman might scold her if she cluttered up the floor, and besides, she has an early appointment with the Mayor in the morning, and a garden wedding in the afternoon, so she couldn’t pull out an all-nighter and be a living zombie afterward.

After all, tomorrow is her big day.

But sleep was rather difficult for the young designer. It might be from the nerves, or the fact that she was sleeping on her bed alone, she wasn’t sure anymore. She didn’t want to disturb Tikki, her adorable kwami who was sleeping soundly on her pillow, for a midnight stroll, and the herbal tea that she was coddling wasn’t effective enough to lure her to bed.

After giving her blanket a second look, Marinette decided to climb to her balcony for some air.

The summer wind immediately kissed her exposed skin as she opened her skylight, then smiled adoringly how her flowery plants and ornamentals thrived under her father’s care. She also spotted her foldable chair under the still-functioning fairy lights, and her wooden centerpiece table minus the teapot set she often uses after a tiresome patrol.

It was a new moon, and the stars twinkling behind the cloudy Parisian sky were blending well with the bustling city lights from afar. She could barely see the bricked walls and the flying buttresses of Notre Dame from her spot, same with the ever-serene Seine and the empty alleyways near Rue Gotlib.

Such peaceful scenery wasn’t new to her, but the sight gave her a jab of memories that made her wonder the things she must’ve done in her past life to end up so lucky.

“Bonsoir, ma Purr-incesse.”

Marinette almost spilled her hot drink and hurled the cup towards the intruder’s face when a pair of strong hands caught her on time. Her bluebell eyes immediately trailed off from the curves of a familiar dark catsuit to the emerald hues of a blond man that were twinkling with mischief and euphoria.

“C - Chat!” she sputtered with a blush. “Y-You scared me, you idiot!”

“A-paw-logies fur that,” the superhero responded unabashed “But this cat was simply curious why a pretty lady like you was so lonesome tonight.”

She rolled her eyes indignantly “Still flirty as ever.”

“Just fur mew.”

“I’m taken, you know?” she raised her left hand to show him the ring “You can’t flirt with a promised woman anymore, Chaton.”

“Woe is me!” the superhero gasped, clutching his heart theatrically while balancing himself to the rails “And to think that you confessed your undying love to me!”

She couldn’t help but snort at that “You rejected me, remember?”

“But still!”

“Dream on, mon Minou,” she chuckled much to his chagrin. “To what do I owe this surprise visit?”

“Says the person who hasn’t been here for years.”

“What can I say,” the dark-haired woman shrugged, leaning her back to the balcony rails “I’m an independent girl who wants to live her life to the fullest.”

“Oh really,” he drawled with a narrowed look. “Then pray do tell why an independent girl like you is back to her parent’s house?”

“Because,” she scowled, mustering all of her strength not to push the blond and let him plummet to the ground. “We want to stick to the tradition that the groom must not see the bride a day before their wedding.”

“By kicking you out of your house?”

“Okay, first of all, this is also my house. My home,” she emphasized without giving him the pleasure of seeing her irritated face. “And my future husband has to stay there and maybe, I dunno, enjoying his bachelor’s party - which I believe, his best man is now plotting his murder - or having a beauty sleep?”

“Hmm. Your future husband sounds like a handful.”

“You have no idea.”

“So tell me, Purr-incess,” he asked with his back touching hers. “What made you decide to accept his proposal and spend the rest of your life with him?”

“That’s a very tough question, Chaton,” she admitted. “Aside from being a handful, he has a very bad sense of humor.”

“Ouch.”

“He puns a lot too, and there’s this pick-up line he always uses to piss me off. Oh, and he didn’t know some adulting stuff like cooking and doing the laundry. I even had to teach him how to use the microwave!” she chuckled as she narrated the disasters that happened in her relationship. “He has a horrible sweet tooth and cries like a baby at stupid rom-com movies. He’s a neat freak. He spends too much time in the shower, and he hoards the blankets during winter. He’s literally a child in an adult body.”

“Yet despite his imperfections,” she went on, tilting her head towards the sky with a smile. “He makes me happy.”

“I’m sure you make him happy too,” the feline hero muttered, and even though Marinette couldn’t see his expression, she could sense the endearment on his tone.

The two remained in companionable silence as they looked at the night sky until Marinette yawned.

“Your bed is calling you now, Purr-incess,” Chat Noir chuckled, nudging her shoulders gently as he walked her to the trap door. “Why don’t you get your beauty sleep so you can sweep your Prince off his feet tomorrow?”

“You’re leaving now?”

“Oh my, is that an invitation, Marinette?” he wiggled his brows suggestively much to her annoyance. “As much as the offer is tempting - “

“Chat!”

“But I can’t risk my status and tarnish my name by such scandalous act. Don’t get me wrong - you’re an amazing girl, and I’m an awesome man. I mean, you know, I would marry myself if I could.”

The designer flashed him a deadpan look “We’re not talking about that shit.”

He pouted “You’re no fun, Purr-incess.”

After downing her almost cold tea, Marinette slipped inside the room as Chat Noir took the cup and opened the trap door for her.

“Make sure to check your bedding for a pea.” the feline hero reminded her cheekily.

“Yeah, yeah…” she grumbled, then patted her bed sheets with a scowl when the superhero shot her a look. “Happy now?”

“Very.” he flashed her a toothy grin, and with a saucy wink, he lowered the door. “Bonne Nuit, ma minette.”

Before he could shut it closed, she called out to him “Chaton?”

He poked his head inside “What is it, Purr-incess?”

“Thank you,��� she smiled earnestly. “Thank you for being there with me all the time. For the hardships and trials. For joy and devotion.”

His green eyes were unreadable as she continued “Thank you for the patience and understanding, and I know that sometimes - no, most of the time - my stubbornness drives you crazy, but you still remained by my side. Through thick or thin, I must say, even though I don’t deserve it at all.”

“You are worth fighting for,” he assured her. “You deserve everything, you deserve the world.”

“You deserve everything, too.” she said as she yawned again. “I think that’s it for tonight. Bonne Nuit, Chat Noir.”

“Erm, Marinette?”

“Hmm?”

“You’re the best thing that ever happened in my life,” he confessed in a somber tone. “My first for everything - in love, in relationship...and now that we’ll be facing a new chapter in our life, I would like you to know that...that I am blessed that you chose me to be your partner.”

She bit her lips to control her emotions. “Sounds like your vows, you’re supposed to say those to your soon-to-be wife.”

“Well,” he rubbed his neck cutely with flustered cheeks. “I’m afraid I might stutter and blank out during the ceremony, and I don’t think flash cards are allowed at the altar, so I’d rather recite my wedding vows before I forget everything.”

“You’re ridiculous, you know that?”

“You mean ‘your ridiculous’?”

Chat Noir barked out a laugh when he dodged a pillow thrown to his way. “Hey, that’s domestic violence!”

“I hate you, Adrien!”

“Love you too, My Lady!”

Their teasing banter went on until dawn, and by the time Sabine walked upstairs to wake her daughter up, she screamed bloody murder at the sight of the two love birds cuddling in each other’s arms, and soon the two would realize how late they were for their civil wedding, and how absurd they would look on their photos as they sported a matching eyebags and dopey smiles.

[maricofviana]

𝐂𝐑𝐎𝐖𝐍𝐒𝐇𝐐𝐒 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐋𝐋𝐄𝐍𝐆𝐄  /  𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐈𝐎,  𝐏𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐂𝐄  𝐎𝐅  𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐔𝐑𝐈𝐀𝐒.

crownshqs  challenge  iii  /  character  study. word  count  :  2.7k   /  point  count  :  30.

001.  describe  your  characters’  relationship  with  their  mother  or  father,  or  both.  minimum  word  count:  150.

his  relationship  with  his  father  was  strained.  it  was  rumoured  that  the  late  king  of  aragon  believed  his  youngest  son  to  be  borne  of  his  wife’s  transgressions  with  a  noble  in  court   ---  whether  or  not  this  is  true  never  came  to  light,  and  so  he  died  plagued  with  doubt  and  mistrust.  their  relationship  was  one  predicated  on  what  mario  could  do  for  king  and  country;  how  best  he  could  serve  both  entities  until  they  fused  as  one.  the  prince  of  asturias  was  glad  to  comply,  finding  use  in  servitude  until  it  now  no  longer  served  him  and  he  now  itches  to  be  the  head  of  the  cobra  that  rises  most  gloriously  from  the  trastamara’s  indignant  depths.  in  doing  so,  deliberately  transgressing  against  his  father  and  the  vow  he  made  to  him  upon  his  death  bed  to  protect  his  brother’s  dominion. 

on  the  other  hand,  his  relationship  with  isabel  of  navarre,  his  mother,  was  strong  and  openly  faithful. 

mario  mourns  her  loss  keenly  as  he  relied  upon  her  sage  wisdom  during  the  rudimentary  years  of  his  youth.  isabel  was  one  of  few  to  understand  her  husband’s  temper  and  used  this  understanding  to  her  advantage.  some  say  she  was  just  as  important  to  the  crown  as  he,  having  bestowed  unto  it  the  realm  of  navarre’s  vast  wealth,  though  upon  her  death  the  king,  besieged  with  grief  and  an  emotional  outpouring  entirely  alien  to  him,  sought  to  bury  all  reminiscences  of  her.

002.  what  are  your  characters’  most  prominent  physical  features?  what  is  a  feature  that  they  are  most  insecure  about?  what  are  they  proudest  of?

his  features  are  delightfully  archaic  -----  low  brow  bone;  dark,  almond - shaped  eyes,  his  mouth  is  wide  and  lips  thin;  his  cheeks  are  entirely  hollow,  his  jaw  razor  sharp,  his  temple  is  angular,  bones  slightly  protruding,  hairline  horizontal.  vanity  is  a  sin,  and  whilst  mario  is  far  from  observant  of  the  faith,  he  also  isn’t  particularly  vain  and  has,  since  his  youth,  been  supremely  critical  of  himself.  

his  lofty  height  (  an  oddity  in  medieval  spain  )  is  something  mario  has  used  to  his  advantage  upon  both  the  battlefield  and  in  court,  and  would  likely  constitute  the  feature  he  is  proudest  of  ----  though  in  actuality,  it  is  simply  the  feature  he  finds  most  useful.

003.  how  vain  is  your  character?  do  they  find  themselves  attractive?  what  is  their  worst  flaw,  and  are  they  aware  of  it?

mario  is  not  vain  in  a  physical  sense;  he  will  not  put  his  own  attraction  on  airs, though  he  does  believe  himself  to  be  a  capable  man.  cunning,  artful,  intelligent.  his  political  acumen  and  militaristic  savvy  outweighs  the  few  squabbles  he  holds  over  the  physicality  ----  as  he  does  not  give  much  thought  or  care  into  his  appearance  other  than  appearing  clean,  neat,  and  #unapproachable.  save  for  the  numerous  jewels  and  heirlooms  gracing  his  fingertips,  mario  does  not  dress  ostentatiously  and  deliberately  keeps  his  attire  minimalist  and  shadowy.

004.  what  is  your  character’s  ranking  on  the  kinsey  scale?

4  /  6  :  this  makes  you  homosexual  with  more  than  incidental  heterosexual  tendencies.

005.  describe  your  character’s  happiest  memory.  minimum  word  count:  150.

his  happiest  memory  is  entwined  with  a  sense  of  bittersweet  loss.

the  prince’s  relationship  with  his  long  time  mistress  simonetta  de  medici  was  fading  into  nothingness  by  the  time  her  lying  in  had  begun,  and  had  all  but  extinguished  when  she  was  delivered  unto  a  son,  christened  with  the  name  mauricio  somaglia  de  medici,  sometime  in  november  of  1435.  

although  the  relationship  was  of  a  carnal  nature  (  and  thus  a  pointed  affront  to  the  trastamara’s  papal  ties )  the  bastard’s  birth  was  soon  publicized  high  and  low,  from  cordoba  to  naples,  when  the  couple  appointed  mario’s  eldest  nephew,  the  prince  of  aragon,  as  godfather.  it  was  the  first  time  mario  felt  intense,  true  devotion  that  was  not  directly  linked  to  fear  and  the  desire  of  power,  and  though  his  affections  for  simonetta  had  blatantly  dwindled,  his  love  for  his  boy  burrowed  into  his  soul  and  has  remained  rooted  there  ever  since.

the  king  of  aragon  eventually  bestowed  a  title  and  duchy  upon  mauricio,  the  queen  accepted  him  into  the  fold  of  the  family,  and  to  mark  yet  another  first,  mario  began  to  fathom  what  it  meant  to  truly  protect  the  things  one  loves.  at  eighteen  years  old,  he  became  a  father;  at  eighteen  years  old,  he  swore  to  defend  his  son  with  his  very  life.

006.  is  there  one  event  in  your  characters’  life  that  they  would  like  to  erase  from  their  past?  why?  minimum  word  count:  200.

there  is  an  immediate  guilt  in  his  soul  that  the  first  thought  that  springs  to  mind  is  not  his  wife’s  death,  but  rather  their  marriage  in  the  first  place.  

carolina  de  sousa,  daughter  of   the  duke  of  balsemão  and  relation  to  the  king  of  portugal,  was  pretty.  that  is  what  mario  was  told  upon  their  betrothal.  and  indeed,  she  was.  her  hair  a  brilliant  ruby  shade,  her  eyes  the  hue  of  the  adriatic.  she  was  young,  though  not  much  younger  than  he,  and  sprightly  and  clever.  her  future  was  radiant  and  her  groom  grim,  untouched  by  her  beauty. 

it  was  clear  that  she  did  not  accept  the  presence  of  her  husband’s  son  in  her  court,  but  she  tolerated  it  with  prim  forbearance.  

the  marriage  was  short - lived  and  grew  tumultuous  when  it  was  revealed  that  mario  did  not  share  in  her  deeply  rooted  catholic  faith;  they  fought  endlessly,  she  feared  for  their  souls  and  prayed  feverishly.  the  news  of  her  pregnancy  was  soured  by  the  inhabitable  nature  of  their  marriage,  and  ended  in  the  death  of  both  her  and  the  child;  a  girl.  childbed  fever,  the  physicians  assured  him,  had  taken  her  shortly  before  her  body  was  interred  in  the  cold  ground  in  a  private  ceremony.  the  royal  family  of  aragon  publicly  offered  their  condolences  to  portugal,  though  no  further  statement  was  made,  and  mario  was  soon  conscripted  into  spain’s  militaristic  forces.

carolina’s  place  of  burial  was  later  ravaged  and  ruined  by  cordoboan  forces,  the  site  of  her  final  resting  place  and  that  of  her  child’s  consigned  to  oblivion.

but,  strangely  enough,  it  is  not  the  day  of  her  death  he  wishes  to  wipe  out.  it  is  that  their  marriage  ever  took  place  that  he  regrets  most.  

007.  let’s  talk  favourites!  what  is  their  favourite  colour,  food,  and  season?   what,  in  a  modern  setting,  would  be  your  character’s  favourite  song?  

black  or  scarlet;  gazpachuelo,  a  spanish  stew;  winter  or  fall.  his  favourite  song  ...  remains  to  be  seen  (  or  heard?  )  though  he  would  be  fond  of  opera  and  traditional  spanish  hymns. 

008.  can  you  define  a  turning  point  in  your  character’s  life?

the  most  obvious  answer  would  be  when  his  brother’s  crown  was  knocked  off  by  the  emir  of  cordoba  and  his  armies,  several  thousand  strong.  but  a  new  epoch  in  his  life  began  when  he  decided  to  usurp  his  brother,  and  right  the  wrongs  done  to  his  country.

009.  is  your  character  an  early  morning  bird  or  a  night  owl?  at  what  time  do  they  get  most  of  their  work  done?

both.  he  is  early  to  rise  and  late  to  retire.  his  work  is  completed  in  the  shadows,  when  the  world  is  still,  on  tenterhooks.  when  the  moon  has  just  risen  beyond  the  clouds  and  the  sun  threatens  to  spill  across  the  starless  sky.  on  the  other  hand,  when  mario  was  conscripted  into  the  military,  many  of  his  battles  were  won  beneath  the  scorching  heat  of  the  spanish  sun  and  his  diplomatic  duties  seen  to  once  twilight  had  vanquished  the  earth. 

010  a.  what  other  character,  a  npc  or  someone  apart  of  the  rp,  is  your  character  completely  real  with?  who  knows  them  best,  has  seen  them  at  their  most  vulnerable,  knows  their  innermost  and  basest  fears?   b.  if  your  character  does  not  have  this  person,  why?  do  they  long  for  one?

there  isn’t  anyone,  really,  barring  his  son  and  even  then  mario  keeps  secrets  from  him  merely  to  protect  both  his  youth  and  his  life.  the  same  goes  for  joan,  ignorance  is  bliss  and  safer  in  hindsight,  with  the  added  fear  that  she  will  share  what  little  he  entrusts  her  with  in  her  society  of  women  or  with  her  brothers,  whom  he  does  not  trust.  there  is  no  limit  to  the  wags  of  her  tongue  in  his  mind  and  if  he  were  to  grant  the  de  guise  family  an  inch  they  would  take  a  mile.

mario  does  not  long  for  one;  he’s  a  solitary  creature  by  nature,  and  yet,   as  his  writer,  i  believe  it  would  be  beneficial  for  him  to  have  a  shoulder  to  lean  on,  an  individual  who  can  quell  the  mania  festering  within  him  to  reclaim  and  assume  the  aragonese  throne.

although,  again,  he  is  a solitary  creature,  this  should  not  discredit  the  stalwart  bonds  he  has  with  his  family  and  nephews.  there  is  little  he  would  not  do  for  them  and  he  has  an  archival  history  of  protecting  them  and  their  father.  family  over  everything.

011.  is  your  character  a  neat  or  messy  person?

neat  to  a  fault.  despises  clutter  and  disorder  as  it  precludes  him  from  productivity  and  preys  upon  his  subconscious. 

012.  does  your  character  have  any  irrational  fears  or  phobias?

rooted  in  a  widespread  fear  of  sickness,  he  holds  an  apprehension  for  childbirth  and  childbirth  related  illnesses,  obviously  not  for  himself  but  for  his  wife,  joan  of  asturias,  as  his  first  princess  consort  was  lost  to  childbed  fever  in  1438.  hence,  after  eight  years  of  marriage,  the  couple  is  childless  (  not  only  for  this  purpose,  but  i’ll  delve  into  that  later. )  furthermore,  he  fears  losing  the  portuguese  royal  family’s  generosity,  having  been  milking  their  familial  ties  and  gilded  coffers  whilst  in  exile,  and  pins  his  hopes  on  the  idea  that  his  rueful  aspirations  to  usurp  the  throne  will  not  be  revealed  before  his  designs  are  set  into  motion,  as  it  would  most  certainly  lead  to  the  execution  of  himself  and  his  wife.

013.  does  your  character  have  an  underlying  passion  or  trait  that  influences  all  aspects  of  their  life?

unwavering  loyalty  once  to  the  crown  of  aragon,  and  now  to  its  decimated  country.

014.  what  might  your  character’s  ideal  romantic  person  be?

he  doesn’t  hold  romantic  notions  and  albeit  he’s  been  through  his  fair  share  of  both  women  and  men,  none  constitute  as  ‘ideal,’  perhaps  purposefully  flawed.  this  is  something  mario  has  strongly  cleaved  to  in  his  life  -------  he  believes  perfection  is  rooted  in  hypocrisy,  and  has  zealously  enjoyed  unraveling  joan’s  once  immaculate  exterior  in  the  years  of  their  marriage.  he  prefers  those  with  interest,  those  with  stories  to  tell  or  hoard,  anything  remotely  consummate  is  undesirable  in  his  eyes. 

moreover,  it  is  unlikely  that  mario  has  a  fully  formed  idea  of  romance  --------  he  believes  that  it  ultimately  serves  no  purpose,  considers  it  superflous,  and  concedes  that  even  his  beloved  joan’s  place  in  his  life  and  at  his  side  is  the  result  of  gingerly  plotted  foreign  politics  on  his  behalf. 

015.  describe  your  character’s  hands.  are  they  small,  long,  calloused,  smooth,  stubby,  dexterous  or  clumsy?  do  they  wear  any  jewelry  and  would  they  wear  polish  in  a  modern  setting?

the  structure  of  his  hands  diverge  somewhere  between  having  notable  feminine  qualities  (  well  -  groomed,  soft,  pale  white,  thin  and  dexterous  )  and  being  exceptionally  masculine:  worn  by  years  of  warfare,  bony,  raised  knuckles,  his  palm  wide  and  concave,  fingertips  lean  and  long,  nails  neatly  trimmed.  the  veins  curling  around  his  wrist  and  upon  the  back  of  his  hand  are  made  prominent  by  his  porcelain  skin,  a  blue  rivulet  running  beneath  the  surface,  and  his  wrist  is  thick  yet  flexible.   

his  hands  move  freely,  despite  being  adorned  by  copious  rings  and  precious  stones,  metal  heirlooms  that  clash  against  the  prince’s  unpretentious  attire.  there  is  a  certain  beauty,  an  exquisite  appeal  to  them,  though  they  are  not  the  hands  you’d  grasp  if  you’ve  fallen  on  your  luck.  

they  are  the  hands  around  your  throat,  pad  of  his  thumb  brushing  against  the  leap  of  your  pulse.  they  are  the  hands  that  sign  death  warrants,  the  hands  that  hold  the  knife  lodged  into  ceasar’s  spine.  they  are  the  hands  that  roll  the  die.

016.  how  does  your  character  smell?  what  is  their  favourite  scent?

the  prince’s  personal  fragrance  is  minty;  fresh  basil,  sharp  and  slightly  nauseating  cologne.  rather  than  being  pleasant  perfumed  he  is  announced  by  his  scent,  a  blend  of  oils  made  from  myrhh  readily  available  within  the  aragonese  court.  his  favourite  scent  is  the  smell  of  dawn,  the  crisp  lushness  of  grass  after  the  rain.

017.  how  would  your  muse  describe  their  religious  beliefs?

though  mario  leans  toward  religious  agnosticism,  he  promotes  catholicism  on  a  mere  political  proviso  and  will  continue  to  do  so  until  his  dying  breath.  he  strongly  believes  that  piety  strengthens  the  monarchy  and  breathes  life  into  its  supremacy.  as  such,  he  has  had  little  difficulty  supporting  aragon’s  contentious  religious  crusades  and  is  himself  involved  in  the  spanish  military  and  it’s  fervent  campaigns  to  expand  christendom  into  the  ottoman  and  russian  empires. 

018.  what  rules  does  your  muse  live  by,  if  any?

‘learn  the  rules  like  a  pro,  so  you  can  break  them  like  an  artist.’

019.  does  your  muse  overshare,  or  are  they  more  private?

he  is  a  private  person  both  deliberately  and  by  nature.  he  shares  only  what  he  must  and  what  would,  if  gone  unspoken,  bring  harm  unto  those  he  deems  close  or  the  crown.  in  essence,  ‘i  would  rather  bleed  out  than  sit  here  and  talk  about  my  feelings.’  he’s  made  the  mistake  of  loosening  his  tongue  around  men  --  typically  compatriots  --  before  and  will  not  do  so  again  without  demanding  bloodshed.

020.  is  your  muse  a  gossiper?  are  they  more  likely  to  argue  with  their  fists  or  tongue?  what  does  their  voice  sound  like?

he  is  the  first  to  criticize  gossipers  and  openly  supports  a  scold’s  bridle  (   a  medieval  instrument  of  punishment,  as  a  form  of  torture  and  public  humiliation,  for  gossiping  )  so,  no,  he  isn’t  one  to  needlessly  pry  open  his  jaw.  both,  although  days  of  warfare,  in  recent  years,  seem  behind  him  in  the  public  eye.  mario’s  voice  is  deep,  gravelly,  and  husky.  slightly  sensual,  placed  upon  it  is  a  rich  and  distinct  castilian  spanish  twang  (  yes,  that  does  mean  that  little  lisp  is  present  when  he  speaks  in  his  mother  tongue.  )  yet,  too,  his  voice  is  stately  and  unforgiving;  at  times,  as  warm  as  an  iberian  summer,  as  other  instances  cold  as  the  winter’s  frost,  purposeful  and  outright,  he  does  not  beat  around  the  bush.

021.  is  your  muse  a …  pessimist  or  optimist …  lover  or  fighter … believer  in  happy  endings …  believer  in  love  at  first  sight?

he  is  a  pessimist   who  does  not  believe  in  predestination  or  divine  intervention.  a  fighter,  by  personal  selection;  a  lover  when  it  suits  his  ends.  he  is  not  a  believer  in  happy  endings,  but  as  with  harry,  a  believer  in  the  endings  one  settles  for  and  is  content  to  live  with.  and,  strangely  enough,  he  is  a  believer  in  love  at  first  sight ...  only,  in  a  different  and  more  idealistic  world.  if  it  exists,  he  is  yet  to  step  a  foot  into  its  territory.

022.  what  sense  of  humour  does  your  character  have?

dry,  dark,  slightly  callous,  often  morbid  and  seldom  at  his  own  expense. 

perhaps  difficult  to  pin  down  as  ‘humour’  and  not  simply  ‘personal  attacks  that  he  seems  to  find  amusing  but  come  across  as  mildly  threatening.’  but,  as  morose  as  mario  has  a  tendency  to  be,  if  he  does  kid  around  with  you  ---  that  means  your  presence  is  somewhat  tolerated  and  you  should  definitely  rebuttal,  but  watch  your  ground,  because  he  strikes  at  other’s  weaknesses.

023.  what  bad  habits  does  your  character  have?

he  grinds  his  teeth  quite  a  bit  and  suffers  with  oral  discomfort  as  a  result.  he’ll  also  shut  himself  out  and  act  as  a  recluse  if  tormented  with  ominous  thoughts.

024.  how  does  your  character  feel  about  growing  old?

the  thought  of  growing  old  is  an  unpleasant  one,  especially  without  a  legitimate  heir  to  secure  his  claim  to  the  throne.

025.  does  your  character  prefer  adventure  to  safety  and  security?

adventure,  certainly  ---  though  that  is  a  personal  preference.  as  a  husband,  father  and  prince,  he  must  take  their  needs  and  safety  into  account  and  as  he  climbs  in  age  he  finds  himself  leaning  toward  security  if  only  for  their  benefit.

[whatscallion]

best friend au that definitely think they're best friend until someone mistakenly says "you two make a cute couple, reminds me of my husband and i when we were young" and ofc trying to deny it but all of the guy-bro friends point it out too 'you two dig each other' and now the guy realizes that he has feelings and oh no its awkward now becAUSE SINCE WHEN WAS SHE THAT PRETTY

//- i tweaked this a tad because of TWO YEARS worth of shipping, brainstorming, writing, and friendship demanded it so. you’re my best friend, so it only made sense to write this for you.

-romanogers, 2.6k word count, medieval au.

Times had been tumultuous to say the least, the earth quaking in seemingly endless wars. It seeped with the blood of friend and foe alike, all for the sake of words spoken and beliefs upheld. In a land bound by tradition, change often came in the bloodiest of manner, paying with the lives of those who believed or were forced to. The mentalities of kings and queens all generally ran in the same greedy course of river, wanting more land, more people, more gold - all for the sake of carrying the bigger stick.

Even Avalon didn’t escape the sticky tendrils of materialistic gluttony. Its toxin fed through the peasants scraping by in the mud, crawling its way through the ranks to stain the pristine armor the knights wore. Even the most noble fell prey to the darker thoughts laying an overcast to their shining kingdom.

But much like the weather, there were rays of the purest light to shine down on those deemed worth enough to behold.

Through the storms that plagued the minds of opposition and the clashing of metal on metal, bonds were forged through the fires of violent trust, and in doing so, walls long ago erected began to crumble despite every effort otherwise.

A glance lasting a heartbeat longer than necessary.

The subtle curl of a smile.

A seemingly unbiased nature becoming the opposite.

Despite the mystery shrouding that of the noblewoman Natalia ( though it was safely assumed she’d endured the worst childhoods at that table ), things were coming to light only to those who were clever enough to see. Beneath the fabric stained crimson and obsidian, a beating heart grew warm despite everything it’d been through, despite the cracks created, despite the lack of recognition it received. Every beat since seeing baby blues and valor brought a hue of warmth normally disregarded as weakness.

No, this wasn’t weakness. Yet the revelation only continued in stoicism, particularly in the company of others. Should it not pertain to her duties in serving Avalon, then the information would fester away within the folds of a mind long ago groomed for efficient violence. At first, there’d been an almost petulant way in which she ignored the creeping sensation prickling at the center of her chest when he came around.

He. Him. This Knight and his Shield.

Forcibly, she’d pinpoint the exact ways in which to end his life, ranging from the poisons she’d used on those undeserving of grizzly ends to the brutality of war overcoming him like a tide. Rather than find something pleasant in an imagined demise, the Widow was greeted only with the faintest of scowls. The Order would’ve been most displeased had they ever been privy to this growth as it was far too human for an Instrument, thus hindering what was created to be marred perfection.

It made sense for there to be distance at first, but the results had been the opposite of what was intended - she had missed him, to put it plainly.

It was peculiar, for there was nothing particularly profound between them. Perhaps that had been the trick. Most allowed her preceded reputation to speak for her, often veiling words in the barest fear that she may appear before them with less than pure intentions. But with him - this Knight - he had treated her minutely different. There was a brightness in his eyes despite being worn from conflict, and he spoke to her not as a woman nor a threat - but an equal. It was jarring at first, and comforting at last. Slowly, others of the Table had followed his example, albeit cautiously so. That would be for the best. The Widow had long ago accepted her role in this world, in this kingdom, at this Table, so the severe lack of surprise had been the only thing she could take solace in.

But now, solace moved to that of a bond she couldn’t quite ignore. It was almost frustrating at times, the unseen voices of her past telling her this would be her untimely demise. That his hand would sever the thread of her life. And yet, she couldn’t quite pay attention to the damning warnings heading her way, her thought process laiden with honesty and softness - both unheard of in the legacy of her wake.

Geneviere had been the first to touch upon what others only spoke of in hushed tones outside of shared presences.

“The way you look at one another, it reminds me so much of what I’ve endured in my younger days.” It was a statement that drew the taciturn to face the fairest presiding over the kingdom. It was unprompted, yet somehow, unsurprising. She was slipping in her indifference.

“I know not what you mean, my Queen.” It was an expected answer, it’d seem, as the low hum of a chuckle came from royalty, eyes averting as if the weight of the world rested in her gaze.

“Please,” Geneviere spoke in a candidly hushed tone. “You may fool the others at the Table, but you do not fool me, Widow. A coldness exudes from you, but only those who have felt the warmth of love can feel it as well.”

The Queen was met only with silence as her answer, and in that silence came an acceptance - an admission that the woman was right in her assumptions. And in doing so, the Queen continued.

“I’m not in a position to control your thoughts, Natalia, but I can offer a piece of … hardfought knowledge. This is not a kind world, of that I’m sure you’re aware of, but when we find the things that make it a little bit better, we mustn’t let the opportunity slip by, no matter how selfish it may seem.” Truth lingered in every syllable spoken, and there was no denying it. Thus, silence reigned supreme as a simple nod of acknowledgement was given to her Highness before the noblewoman slipped from the presence she’d not deserved.

It’d been frustration at the obviousness of the situation that had compelled her to leave the grounds in which she inhabited, venturing out on her own for time with her thoughts and nothing else.

And she remained a ghost for an entire fortnight.

During such time, no one held a concern towards the disappearance of their most prolific of duty-bound.

No one, save for one.

“The Widow always disappears for reasons we don’t know,” a friend spoke, taking his time in peeling the skin off a roasted turkey leg. “What makes it any different now? It’s not as if she’s reverting back to the old ways - she knows the consequences of those actions.”

Around the table they sat, three knights from differing corners of this untamed world. Two ate without hesitation while one merely poked at the food presented before him. His head was held within his hand, boredom mixed with concern to paint a scowl along angular features. Sir Steven was unamused at his company, and further unamused at the food he held no appetite for.

“It’s not as if she’ll die out there. She’s cheated death what - three times?” The good Knight Wilson spoke with nonchalance, a bit more concerned than that of the third, Sir James.

“No, only the one time with the mage,” corrected Sir James, still taking his time with the fowl skin. He’d argued before that it was where all the nutrients were, hence why it was so tasty. “If you count the Burning of Rifthelm, then sure. Twice, but I don’t think there’s a third time.”

“The cliff,” Sir Steven finally said. “The one at the river’s birth in the Northlands. The Dead King nearly had her join his ranks there.”

“And she came back just fine,” Sir Wilson added, as if that alone would wipe the woes away from the knight’s disposition, but it only seemed to solidify it. This forced both the lounging knights to lean forward, a seriousness veiling them to simmer the humor away into nonexistence.

“Steven-”

“Sir Steven,” the blonde knight corrected.

“Shut up, we grew up together. I can call you a whore without fear of getting beheaded,” Sir James spoke with unheard of liberties taken.

“Not publicly, no,” Steven said with a sigh. This had Sir Wilson rolling his eyes to the heavens above, as if the angels he prayed to would deliver him from this bickering stupidity.

“Anyways, Sir Steven-”

“Continue.”

“-You’re making this affliction very obvious.” James gestured frivolously at Steven sitting there, forlorn like a wife with a husband in battle.

“Affliction?” The blonde spoke as if he had no idea what was being implied. This furthered Sir Wilson’s eye roll, suddenly wishing for something - anything - to take him away from these two. Instead, it was he who would shed light on what was already discussed between he and James.

“Your feelings for the Widow, Sir Steven. Don’t play dumb. Sir James and I have definitely witnessed this thing between you, and I’d bet my last gold piece that she feels the same about you.” The confidence in Sam’s tone would leave his words as unshakable truth - irrefutable in every standard possible.

And the worst part of all of this was that they’d seen it so plainly, so easily, that Steven could not deny them their bragging rights. Rather than fully admit to it, he merely sank in his chair somewhat, his broad shoulders slumping in dismal defeat before calloused hands came up to cover his face, hiding away the warmth in his cheeks.

“What am I to do? This is inconvenient and impossible,” he lamented into his palms, bringing James and Sam to exchange looks, as if appointing the other repeatedly to console their friend. In the end, it was James ( perhaps the least capable of this ) who would lead his friend down this awful road that was lined with an awkward and sweaty love. Sam merely wandered away, casual in the fact that this was no longer his ordeal to handle.

“Impossible? She’s a woman and not a half bad looking one. It’s very possible,” James tried.

“She’s more than that, James.”

“How come I have to call you Sir, but you don’t have to call me Sir? I’m a knight,” James pouted.

“You’re beneath me in ranks,” Steven spoke, still hiding behind his hands. James couldn’t argue with that logic, so he let it go.

“But continue. How is she more and how is this impossible?” With Steven hiding away behind his hands, James went back to gnawing on the drumstick, but remaining attentive to his friend.

“She has conviction. Lethal. Deadly. Beautiful. Have you seen her fight? It’s as if she’s dancing. As if it’s the most graceful way one could hope to be killed - by her hand.”

“That’s her training, honestly.”

“No, it’s more than that. It’s a natural aptitude.” Steven had dropped his hands, coming to the defense of a woman he couldn’t quite ignore, no matter how many times he told himself it was the worst idea imaginable. “Music flows through her-”

“So, you like her because she’s pretty and she can kill with ease? I know at least five women like that.” That earned James a harsh glare from Steven, but it was to be expected. James wasn’t necessarily the best when it came to alleviating the weight of a situation.

“That’s not it, James. There’s so much more, but I can’t even begin to put it into words. Is it obvious?”

“Yes,” James answered too quickly, bringing Steven to hide behind his hands once more.

“Do you think she knows?”

“Yes,” he answered once more, once again too quickly. Steven made a noise akin to that of a horse falling into a well, which only made James chuckle at his supposedly awful situation.

“Love is an awful thing, Sir Steven. Worse than any war you could fight, but it is exquisite when it’s perfect.” As if this man knew a thing or two about love. “I suggest you do something before she disappears and doesn’t come back. She may be of Nevihe descent, but even they die.”

Again, that noise came forth from Steven, capping the conversation with a pat on his back. It was in that time alone in the Great Hall that Sir Steven mulled over the choices he had before him, all of which he was certain would end in despair, pain, anger - all of it giving him more than enough reason to cower away from what others were, undoubtedly, eager to behold.

But Sir Steven was never one to shy away from a challenge, even if it was one unto himself. Rather, he patiently waited for her to appear, or even the Raven often announced her arrival. For days on end, distraction found him, festering knowledge away to hollow out his own commitment to the task at hand. It made for sloppy training, sloppier penmanship, and sloppiest mannerisms. He’d even been dismissed from the Table one evening because his lack of focus was bothersome to the Queen.

Little did he know that she knew exactly what wavered his sight so much, and it was her intent to do something about it - a guiding hand to remove whatever imaginary obstacles resided between the two.

It was as he traversed the long halls to get back to his chambers that he was greeted with an instinctual urge to glance to his side as halls intersected. The shade of crimson drew him to a slow stop - the Widow was back, yet she’d not been at the Table. How long had she been back in the kingdom? Was she okay? Questions plagued him as his course of trajectory changed, and legs carried him closer and closer towards a confrontation he wished he could avoid.

“Natalia,” he had started, unsure in the slightest of what to say afterwards as she turned to him. Emerald met cerulean and in the depths of an oasis created between them, they drowned in sublime admiration, affection, love.

“Steven,” she replied, but it was all she spoke before actions too precedence over their meeting. Never had she been one for words, often claiming there were far more understanding ways of relaying a message, and this moment was no different than the rest.

A step forward was taken.

Steven’s eyes widened the slightest, yet baby blues darkened in the slightest.

Natalia’s hands fell upon the broadness of his chest, the same hands that had taken the lives of countless - both innocent and guilty.

On her toes’ tips, she stood, and his hands found the curve of her waist beneath the leather adorning her.

Seamless were these movements, culminating to bring their lips together in a kiss almost too innocent for either to fall victim to. Both, coated in the blood of battles and wars fought, and yet in one another, a peace was created.

A peace that would only reside between them in an intimacy unmatched.

[dfroza]

“This is exactly what I was appointed to do—tell everyone His story—

as a herald, an emissary, a teacher of the outsiders in faith and the truth. (Listen, I promise it’s all true. I’m not lying.)”

do you see how the spirit is reborn by coming to “believe…” in the heart about the True illumination of the eternal Son and speaking of this faith through the lips by declaring (a pure confession) that Yeshua (Jesus) is Lord, who is both Messiah (Christ and Savior) and the heavenly King of kings (& queens) of earth?

and do you see that welcoming the entrance of the Spirit is an internal baptism (inside, Anew) who has promised rebirth of the body, transforming what is physical into eternal?

and that a baptism of the body in earth’s water is a sign of what has taken place in (the inner room)

this is the beautiful simplicity of (A new covenant of grace) that doesn’t take any “work” on our part, just the bravery of trust and the courage of hope in what has already been done for us by our Creator’s Love through cleansing us of the curse of sin and death

(to be redeemed from the death sentence of being separated from God)

Today’s reading of the Scriptures from the New Testament is the 2nd chapter of the letter of 1st Timothy:

So, first and foremost, I urge God’s people to pray. They should make their requests, petitions, and thanksgivings on behalf of all humanity. Teach them to pray for kings (or anyone in high places for that matter) so that we can lead quiet, peaceful lives—reverent, godly, and holy— all of which is good and acceptable before the eyes of God our Savior who desires for everyone to be saved and know the truth. Because

There is one God and one Mediator between God and us—

the man Jesus, God’s Anointed,

Who gave His life as a ransom for all

so that we might have freedom.

The testimony was given to me at just the right time. This is exactly what I was appointed to do—tell everyone His story—as a herald, an emissary, a teacher of the outsiders in faith and the truth. (Listen, I promise it’s all true. I’m not lying.)

So here’s what you tell them; here’s what I want to see: Men, pray wherever you are. Reach your holy hands to heaven—without rage or conflict—completely open. Women, the same goes for you: dress properly, modestly, and appropriately. Don’t get carried away in grooming your hair or seek beauty in glittering gold, pearls, or expensive clothes. Instead, as is fitting, let good works decorate your true beauty and show that you are a woman who claims reverence for God. It’s best if a woman learns quietly and orderly in complete submission.

Now, Timothy, it’s not my habit to allow women to teach in a way that wrenches authority from a man. As I said, it’s best if a woman learns quietly and orderly. This is because Adam was formed first by God, then Eve. Plus, it wasn’t Adam who was tricked; it was she—the woman was the one who was fooled and disobeyed God’s command first. Still, God, in His faithfulness, will deliver her through childbearing as long as she remains in faith and love and holiness with self-restraint.

The Letter of 1st Timothy, Chapter 2 (The Voice)

Today’s paired chapter of the Testaments is the 26th chapter of the book of 1st Chronicles about various assigned duties for the Temple and guarding it:

The duties of the Levite gatekeepers were performed by the Korahites, specifically by the descendants of Meshelemiah (Kore’s son, of the sons of Asaph).

Meshelemiah fathered sons: Zechariah the firstborn, Jediael the second, Zebadiah the third, Jathniel the fourth, Elam the fifth, Johanan the sixth, and Eliehoenai the seventh.

God blessed Obed-edom, another gatekeeper, with sons: Shemaiah the firstborn, Jehozabad the second, Joah the third, Sacar the fourth, Nethanel the fifth, Ammiel the sixth, Issachar the seventh, and Peullethai the eighth. Obed-edom’s son Shemaiah fathered sons who ruled their family, for they were mighty warriors. They were Othni, Rephael, Obed, and Elzabad, whose brothers (Elihu and Semachiah) were valiant men. These and their relatives were the lineage of Obed-edom; all were capable men with strength for the service in the temple, and 62 from this family served.

Meshelemiah had other sons and relatives, 18 valiant men.

Hosah (one of the sons of Merari) fathered sons who served as gatekeepers: Shimri the first (although he was not the firstborn son, his father made him the primary inheritor), Hilkiah the second, Tebaliah the third, and Zechariah the fourth. These sons plus Hosah’s other brothers numbered 13.

All these divisions of gatekeepers, the chief men, performed specific duties (similar to their relatives’ duties) when ministering in the temple of the Eternal. Like the other divisions, the weak and the mighty, the students and the teachers, used a system of lots to determine which gates they would guard according to their family lineage.

The eastern gate went to the family of Shelemiah. Since his family was larger than Obed-edom’s and Shuppim’s, Shelemiah’s son Zechariah also drew lots for control of a gate. Zechariah, a prudent counselor, received control of the northern gate. Obed-edom received control of the southern gate, and his sons went to work the temple storehouse within the gates. Shuppim and Hosah were together given the western gate (which is near the gate of Shallecheth, on the ascending road). The guards stood side by side at their posts. Each day six Levites guarded the east side, four guarded the north, and four guarded the south. The storehouses were guarded in shifts, two by two. At the Parbar, a building adjacent to the temple on the western side, four guarded the highway and two guarded the Parbar itself. These were the duties of the Korahite and Merarite gatekeepers.

Other Levites, relatives of the Korahites and Merarites, were over the treasury—both the temple’s treasures and the sacred treasures. The sons of Ladan (son of Gershon), specifically the Jehielites, were the leaders of the families descended from Ladan the Gershonite. Jehieli’s sons, Zetham and Joel his brother, were in charge of the treasures in the temple of the Eternal. The Amramites, the Izharites, the Hebronites, and the Uzzielites performed other duties in the temple. Shebuel (son of Gershom, the son of Moses), was the ruler of the treasures. His relative, Eliezer, had five sons in the service of the treasury: Rehabiah, Jeshaiah, Joram, Zichri, and Shelomoth. Shelomoth and his relatives were in charge of all the dedicated treasures which King David, the tribal leaders, the commanders of thousands and hundreds, and the commanders of the army had dedicated after their battles. Part of their spoils won in battles were used to repair the house of the Eternal, which was the congregation tent at that time. Others who dedicated spoils to the treasury included Samuel the seer, Saul (son of Kish), Abner (son of Ner), and Joab (son of Zeruiah). All of the holdings of dedicated gifts in the treasury were cared for by Shelomoth and his relatives.

The Izharites acted as officers and judges throughout Israel. Chenaniah and his sons were given the duty of protecting the people outside of the temple.

The Hebronites oversaw Israel’s duties east and west of the Jordan River. Hashabiah and his relatives—1,700 capable men—performed such duties for the Eternal and in the service of the king to the west of the river. The Hebronites who were led by Jerijah were evaluated according to their lineage during David’s 40th year as king. Many of them were deemed great men, especially those at Jazer of Gilead. Jerijah and his relatives, these capable men, numbered 2,700 and were the leaders of their families. Because of their exceptional abilities, King David made them overseers of the Reubenites, the Gadites, and the half-tribe of the Manassites, all located east of the Jordan River, watching how these tribes behaved toward their God and king.

The Book of 1st Chronicles, Chapter 26 (The Voice)

A note from The Voice translation:

One of the most interesting and indeed essential observations from these tribal and ancestry lists is the organic and symbiotic nature of the Israelite community. Every person in every tribe has his or her responsibility for the community as a whole. If certain persons are not guarding the various gates of the city, then marauders and bandits can easily attack. If certain persons are not playing instruments or singing, then the community is without leadership in corporate worship and praise of the Lord and His many benevolent and redemptive acts toward Israel. In the following sections, the specific lists of persons indicate roles both in the worship ethic and in the military life of Israel.

A link to my personal reading of the Scriptures for Sunday, february 12 of 2023 with a paired chapter from each Testament of the Bible along with Today’s Proverbs and Psalms

A post by John Parsons about a “surrendering” to grace:

Sin is defined as the transgression of Torah (i.e., ἀνομία) in the Scriptures (1 John 3:4), and at root such rebellion comes from an unwillingness to trust that what God wants is your deepest happiness. Because of this, sin goes “out of bounds” and expresses itself as the desire to control one's life, to define "the good" (or the bad) on its own terms: to “eat of the tree of the knowledge of good and evil” (Gen. 2:17).

Surrender, on the other hand, gives up control and relies upon God's care. It relaxes because it accepts God's love as a gift and not as something to be earned. Meister Eckhart said it this way, "God is not attained by a process of addition to anything in the soul, but by a process of subtraction." In other words, we don't need to do anything to be free, though we must "get out of the way" for the Holy Spirit to do the work in us. "If the Son shall set you free, you shall be free indeed" (John 8:36). Set us free, O precious Lord!

[ Hebrew for Christians ]

SHABBAT SHALOM FRIENDS!

========

Proverbs 3:5-6 reading:

https://hebrew4christians.com/Blessings/Blessing_Cards/prov3-5-6-jjp.mp3

Hebrew page pdf:

https://hebrew4christians.com/Blessings/Blessing_Cards/prov3-5-6-lesson.pdf

2.10.23 • Facebook

Today’s message (Days of Praise) from the Institute for Creation Research

February 12, 2023

The Gospel of Prosperity

“Making request, if by any means now at length I might have a prosperous journey by the will of God to come unto you.” (Romans 1:10)

This mention of the word “prosperous” is the first of the only four occurrences of the Greek word enodoo (meaning literally “good journey” but translated “prosper” or “prosperous”) in the New Testament. Here, it is actually rendered “prosperous journey.”

It is obvious that Paul was not praying for his journey to prosper financially, for the next verse indicates his long desire had been to “impart unto you some spiritual gift, to the end ye may be established” (Romans 1:11).

However, the word has come to include any kind of prospering, as in 1 Corinthians 16:2, when Paul urged Christians to provide financial help for other Christians in need. “Upon the first day of the week let every one of you lay by him in store, as God hath prospered him,” he said.

The term can also refer to physical and spiritual health. Its two other occurrences are in 3 John 1:2: “Beloved, I wish above all things that thou mayest prosper and be in health, even as thy soul prospereth.” Unfortunately, certain teachers of these latter days have taken the biblical teaching of spiritual prosperity to mean financial prosperity, which they teach is the right of every Christian. But this “prosperity gospel” is so clearly unscriptural that it is merely a testimony to the greed of the Christians who believe it. “They that [desire to] be rich fall into temptation and a snare, and into many foolish and hurtful lusts,” warned Paul (1 Timothy 6:9). And to whatever extent God does prosper us financially, it is strictly for the purpose of helping others, not to indulge ourselves. “Charge them that are rich in this world, that...they do good, that they be rich in good works, ready to distribute” (1 Timothy 6:17-18). HMM

[anxious-and-absurd]

I guess I just need a place to vent so here it goes

This morning my mom called me to tell me that our cat of 10+ years is real sick. We dont know exactly how old she is. The humane society said she was maybe two when we got her, so now she's maybe 12? 13 even? Her name is Phoebe (nicknames include; Bebe, Ceecee Bebe, Phoebe Bebe, Beber, Phoeber Von Beber, Wee Bitten Kitten, Bag of Bones, and Grumpy Old Lady) She is a very small blue tabby with bright green eyes and a spotted tummy. She is also the softest damn kitten that ever kittened, like a silky cloud I tell you. She had been on the streets for however long before the humane society picked her up, so she was very skittish and nervous and (just plain grumpy) for a very long time. A couple of years after we adopted her, she began to chill out around us and let us pick her up more often and would occasionally actually sit on our laps. She loved being outside and wandering through the woods, unfortunately she also liked to pick fights with the neighbor cats, mostly resulting in infected cuts and scratches on her instead of the other cats. After a couple of those incidents we stopped letting her outside so much, which made her even grumpier.

We moved a couple times over the years and adopted another kitten, an adorable tabby/siamese mix with big blue eyes. We named her Memphis and Pheobe did not like her at all at first, but slowly built up a tolerance for the rambunctious kitten. They sometimes even cuddle together and pheobe will groom her every once in a while. we let her outside more often when there weren't neighbor cats to mess with. She still loved it, she'd just sit in the sun and roll in the dirt and sometimes my brothers and I would throw gumballs from gumball trees across the yard for her to chase and pounce. I'm pretty sure she likes my mother the best, although I like to think I'm a close second. In the afternoons mom will sit on the couch and watch tv or scroll through social media and pheobe will come up and play across her chest and just purr (the quietest purr you can imagine).

But the past couple of years we noticed her not eating as much and losing weight, she was just getting old. So last night mom noticed phoebe breathing real heavy and her legs are swollen, along with just behaving like she's exhausted. After bringing her into the vet this morning and getting xrays and bloodwork done, the vets tell us that there is a whole bunch of fluid around her lungs and into her abdomen and her lungs dont look good at all. They say they could drain all the fluid but it is most likely to just come right back the next day or so. The thing is, she's still alert and eating and going to the bathroom and able to move around and jump up on counters and all that. She just seems uncomfortable and gets out of breath a lot quicker. So we decided to see how she does these next couple of days and spend some time with her and if she gets worse we're gonna go ahead and make an appointment to put her down before she gets into too much pain.

We're gonna give her lots of tuna and milk if she wants it and lay outside in the sun with her. She has the funniest quirks though, when she's comfortable and the house is calm, she'll sprawl out on her back and just lay in the middle of the floor with her front paws all curled up on her chest. In the mornings after someone's finished eating cereal, we'd leave the leftover milk in the bowl for her to dip her paw in and then lick. And at night when she forgets that people are still home she'll start meowing really loud, despite almost never being vocal at all, it's kinda freaky lol. We also like to let all of our pets sniff things just to see how they react to it, and one day my mom was pouring my brother a little cup of nyquil. Naturally my mom let's pheobe sniff it, and this silly cat sticks her tongue in it like it's a cup of milk. We all freaked out and she kept like scraping her tongue on her teeth and kinda foaming and stuff. She was fine the next day though, I just cant imagine how the smell of nyquil would prompt this cat to lick it. Just the other day I had come home with a bag of arby's, and she had actually stuck her head in the bag and stole a fry and ate it, even though she usually hates people food lol

Anyway, I'm really gonna miss this cat. I hope and pray to any higher power that might be out there to make these next few days gentle on her.

I love you Pheobe Bebe ❤

[lovingconnie-blog]

God Winks, Part I

Sleep chaser. That's what I've been calling myself, privately- silently. The past few months my life has boiled down to attempting to get enough, and by enough I mean minimal needed for basic survival, sleep; helping Hubs to the bathroom and then cleaning up; fixing or, many times just warming up, our meals; physical therapy stretches and basic grooming. It's felt like a burning off of what's not important to bring into focus the sacredness of a simple life. My Course in Miracles teacher, who is also a caregiver to her husband, gave me some really powerful and deep advice. She said to treat every day as if it's the First Day of this caregiving journey. The repetitiveness can be exhausting and frustrating, if I allow my mind to go down that thought path. When I think about how much Love and resolve I had in those First Days of caregiving, I find that I'm more patient, centered, graceful with Hubs and with myself. I can experience and give love as a verb. It's been my deepest work the past couple months. Accepting and embracing this simple life, noticing that emotional triggers that are coming up, feeling the feelings, doing my best to manage my stress, and loving myself and Hubs through it. All this sleep chasing brought me to search out overnight respite care for Hubs. I didn't even know that overnight respite is a thing. I toured a few places and called many others. Most memory care centers require a minimum of a month which is too long and too expensive. However, I found 1 place that has no minimum overnights, affordable, well rated and has a good vibe. I know all the other stuff is really important, but if I don't sense good vibes it's a no go. That goes for pretty much everything in my life now. Deciding to explore overnight respite brought up lots of emotions and beliefs to work through, shift and heal. What I always come back to is this: taking the absolute best care of myself is crucial especially as a 24/7 caregiver. When I realized that I haven't been able to or even willing some days to give myself that level of care, I knew I needed more outside help. My mentor encouraged me to visualize and pray for droves of people to help and support me. I've been doing that every day for weeks. They are arriving and it's lusciously wonderful. God is winking. I decided a couple weeks ago to start the admittance process for Hubs at the memory care center with overnight respite.The Executive Director wanted to fax over the application to the VA PCP, but after a few days of trying to get the VA doc's office to give her, or me, their fax number I took the matter into my own hands. I went to the memory care place, way across town, and picked up the doc's packet so I could hand deliver it at our next VA appointment. I was supposed to go on a Tuesday, but it didn't work out. So I went on Wednesday. On my way there I ended up right behind a friend of mine that I rarely get to see at a red light. I called her and she was going someplace across the street from the memory care place. She said she would come over to hug me after her errand. God Wink. I got to the memory care center and there was a lady behind the front desk who I didn't recognize (though I'd only been there once before). She was talking with a potential client's caregiver when I came in. She was explaining that the dementia day care hours were flexible. The caregiver was listening intently, and expressed concerned that what the front desk lady was saying would be honored by the actual day care workers. The lady said that SHE is the owner so she knows. ha! Boom! She was so kind and patient... really loving energy. Then she talked to me and easily found the envelope I needed. But the owne, Mrs. A started a conversation. She asked what prompted me to start bringing Hubs in, and told her about how he stopped sleeping through the night a few months ago. She went through the usual suggestions and asked if I had asked his doctor for a sleeping aid pill. I told her that I've asked, begged, cried and asked again, but the VA psychiatrist who is in charge of his meds doesn't seem to fully grasp what's happening with Hubs and won't give him anything for sleep. She said, "that's criminal". And it hit me. It IS criminal. It IS ridiculous and insane that my requests for help from Hubs' VA doctors isn't being heard. And a fresh resolve bubbled up in me. My perspective of the care that Hubs has been getting at the VA shifted. I realized that he deserves better. I think I hadn't let myself come to this realization clearly, because I didn't know there alternatives. Mrs. A could easily stand for Angel. Then Mrs. A starts telling me about this wonderful doctor who comes to the memory care center. She raves about how much he cares about patients and how he's always available. She and her husband have the doc's personal number. She assures me that this doctor would help with sleeping at night, and probably more. I wrote down the doc's name. I chatted with Mrs. A for another couple minutes and felt so much compassion from her. Another God wink. I left and met my friend outside. She hugged me and we chatted a few minutes. I felt so cared for and supported in that moment. A simple hug from friend who showed up at the precise right moment, by no mistake was love as a verb to me. It meant so much that she was willing to take a few minutes out of her day to wait by my car to hug me. I have to say, too, that I honor myself for allowing myself to be hugged, cared for and loved. Instead of not wanting to bother my friend and telling her to just go on with her day, I accepted her offer with grace. Love expanded and God winked.

[galacticnewsnetwork]

Everything We Know About the Unfinished TCW Episodes

To start, I'm going to point out that Pablo has said everything that has been publicly released about these episodes is canon, so all the info in this thread is likely canon. The full scripts for the episodes are not always canon, because some remain unfinished or in early stages. We'll look at them arc by arc. I am excluding anything from Crystal Crisis on Utapau, Dark Disciple, Son of Dathomir, or The Bad Batch because they have already been released in full. Here is a link to the eight story reels. Dark Disciple animatics can be found in the video I will be linking below repeatedly. All following arcs are confirmed to be 4 episodes long.

Spoilers ahead if they ever decide to finish these in any form, and spoilers for the Ahsoka novel.

Bounty Hunter Arc

This arc would have featured Cad Bane and Boba teaming up. Cad wanted to know who was the better bounty hunter, Jango or Cad, but Jango died before he could ever find out. He starts grooming Boba so he can finally know the answer. Bossk, Embo, and Aurra, among other bounty hunters, would have appeared as well. Cad would have gotten a new ship, the Justifier.

Here are the art and models we have for the episodes.

For the animatic of the episodes we have watch from where I link to 2:16.

In summary, Boba allows himself to be captured by Tuskens as part of a plan the two of them have for Cad to track Boba to the Tusken village. The episode would have been about Cad and Boba teaming up to rescue a child kidnapped by Tuskens.

Ahsoka's Walkabout

This would have been the first time we really saw Ahsoka since she left the order, adjusting to being a normal person, living in the Underworld. She would have gotten a new speederbike and met a smuggler named Nyx Okami on Level 1313.

Here are the art and models we have for the episodes.

For the animatics of the episodes we have watch from where I link to 6:20.

In summary, Ahsoka has speeder troubles and meets Nyx, who she rescues from someone harassing him over his debts.

Kashyyyk Arc

This arc would have shown some of the reason Yoda has an established relationship with the Wookiees in Episode III. It would also have featured the return of the Bad Batch. It would have had a very large role for Chewbacca and contained references to the Holiday Special. The Wookiees would have had the ability to summon giant tree gods and ride them, but it would have been religious for them and they didn't like to ride them into battle.

A Trandoshan leader would have been working with the Separatists to attack Kashyyyk. In order to get them out of city, the Wookiees would need to burn a portion of the forest. It would have been practical for the clones, but upsetting for the Wookiees. Tarrful would have prayed to the trees for permission.

Here are the art and models we have for the episodes.

For the animatic of the episode we have watch from where I link to 12:02.

In summary, Wookiees and the Bad Batch fight kinraths.

Rex and R2 Arc

This arc would have been a bit of a Top Gun homage. One of the early episodes would have featured a rivalry and squabble between the Clone ground forces and the pilots, and later episodes would have featured Rex and R2 being forced to pilot a fighter together in a chase and being stranded on one of the moons of Ryloth with a reprogrammed B2 battle droid after Rex crashes them. WAC and the astromechs from the D-Squad arc would have appeared.

Here is the art we have for the episodes.

Return to the Jedi

This arc would have had Ahsoka return to the Jedi to investigate the depths of the Jedi Temple, where deep below there exists a long buried Sith Temple powerful in the Dark Side. Sidious would have attempted to get through into the holocron vault, but Ahsoka would have held him back through the door as seen in the art.

Here is the art we have for the episodes.

Yuuzhan Vong Arc

Very little is known about this arc. It would have been an alien abduction in the style of X-Files with a scout ship trying to asses the strength of the Republic, and per George's request the Yuuzhan Vong would not have been immune to the Force.

Here is the art we have for the episodes.

Mon Cala Arc

This arc would have been a return to Mon Cala for Padme and Anakin, and they would have met with Lee Char and Tikkes.

A large amount of the first episode is known thanks to a short image from a bonus feature on The Lost Missions Blu Ray, which I recorded here.

In summary, Anakin and Padme land on Mon Cala and meet with Lee Char and Senator Tills, who inform them that they will not vote to 'throw out Palps', but Tikkes will. The Grand Vizier has been murdered and Tikkes has been appointed as provisional leader in his place. They meet with Tikkes, who expresses his frusterations with Palpatine.

Here is the art we have for the episodes.

The Siege of Mandalore

This arc would have returned to Mandalore and featured Ahsoka and Maul. Anakin and Obi-Wan would have been called away to rescue the Chancellor, Anakin would have told Ahsoka how proud he is of her and left her in charge of Rex and a group of clones with helmets painted to resemble her tattoos. Ahsoka would have appointed Bo Katan provisional leader. Ahsoka and the clones would just have captured Maul when the clones would have turned on her because of Order 66. Rex somehow had/has his chip removed and he and Ahsoka escape, pretending they killed each other, and go their separate ways.

Here is the art we have for the episodes.

Bonus: Young Ahsoka

An early story concept was about Plo Koon finding Ahsoka and taking her to the Jedi. In a unique take on Jedi recruitment, her village would have been excited about her going to the Jedi. A bounty hunter character named Latrans, who seemed beautiful and kind, would have posed as a Jedi to kidnap Ahsoka. The real Jedi, Plo Koon, appeared more sinister and creepy. Latrans' design evolved into the Zygerrians.

Here is the art we have for the story concept.

Edit: Brent Friedman, writer of some of these episodes, retweeted this.

Written by: MarvelStarWars Source: Reddit.com

[thenameisel]

People.

Two weeks ago someone called the store I work in to book a groom for his dog. Like most people do. We don't book appointments directly, due to overbooking issues, so we take down prefered dates and times, number, name, breed, ect and pass everything on to the groomer, who calls the customer back and books something. Depending on the day, this process can take half an hour, or a couple days if it's the groomers day off. He understands this. All is good. Two days later the groomer texts me. She's called the guy five times over different times of day and no answer. Oh well. Wouldn't be the first time customer gave us the wrong number.

Fast forward a week, and he calls us on a Saturday, got the part timer who was the only one in. And proceeds to chew her out. Calling her specifically, as well as the store, quite a few horrible things. From being incompetent employees and business, to some things I'm not repeating here. She told me later she did her best to get a word in elsewise and he kept talking over her.

I passed this all on to the groomer, who's older and has no filter. She immediately, on her day off, called the guy, asked him what right he had talking to the part timer like that, and that she'd tired to call multiple times.

"oh my phone line has been unplugged. My maid does it"

Wtf. Really??? First off who does that? Second it's not a maid. I've seen this guy. It's a social worker. He's got mobility issues.

So, she flat out told him he wants an appointment with her(she's pretty popular in the area) he owed the part timer an apology. He said reluctantly he would. So they booked an appointment. Like most people do.

Fast forward another week to the day before his appointment. Groomer gave him a reminder call, that she will do with many customers who might forget. Yes I'll be there he says.

Today, his appointment time has come and gone, no call, no explanation, and, unsurprisingly, no one is picking up the phone.

Not surprised. At all.

Unfortunately, while this is the first time he's been aggressive, this isn't the first time he's done this. And probably won't be the last. But next time I pray if hes going to be aggressive he gets me. The part timer doesn't need that. And I would love to trade some words with him at this point.

[fan-clan-fun]

So you want to build a clan? Chapter 6, Culture Part 2: Ceremonies

Okay so originally this was supposed to be ceremonies AND holidays, but then it got really long, so I'm just splitting it up.

With the religion part out of the way we can discuss another major part of your clans culture, ceremonies and holidays.

As I have mentioned on the blog before, I think that personalized holidays and ceremonies would do great deal to improve Canon and make each clan unique.

We already see a little bit of that in how River clan sometimes calls their cats to meeting, “Let all cats old enough to swim gather…” but there is so much more to work with. So let's talk about Ceremonies and holidays.

Ceremonies

In any clan, naming and aging ceremonies are absolutely vital to both clan culture but also clan development. Whenever (and how) each ceremony was created and implemented show how each clan came to be as one. Each ceremony is a sign of respect and growth in the clan, and is intrinsically connected with naming and how it came to be as well.

So let's start with the possible ceremonies a clan may have.

Birth/naming Ceremony-- something curiously missing from Canon is any line of birth or naming ceremony. Of course the kits wouldn't remember but a ceremony celebrating the birth of kits in the clan would help improve morale and follow with the pattern of all the other ceremonies.

When it is held depends on the clan and the level of realism of the story. The wise approach would be to do it while the kits are still young but not too young that they might die. For my clans this is usually between 4 and 6 weeks, depending on if they follow the schedule of the moon. Usually this means that kits who are sickly will probably have died already, so that the clan will be less likely to have to collectively mourn a kit who has been named before the clan. The mother may have named the kits beforehand, but only she and the other queens (and perhaps the father/partner if they are close) will know the names.

Naming ceremonies are about presenting new members to the clan. At this point whoever is naming the kits (be it the traditional mother or another cat such as the elder, leader, oredicine cat) would reveal their names. It would be good to have the kits participate in some kind of ritual that cements them to the clan. In my water clan, they take their “first water steps.” The young kits are held above the water, and if the instinctively paddle it is considered a sign of health and strength in the kit as well as an indication of good clan blood. Other clan might have different approaches. Another clan of mine rubs the heads or their kits with dust and herbs, connecting them with the earth which is so important to the clan, as well as the herbs which are a hope of health and endurance for the kit.

The ceremony should definitely be deeply tied to the clans values and what they consider important, because it the very first ceremony they will ever participate in.

Apprentice Ceremony-- the first Canon ceremony I'm a cat's life, this is when they pass from being a kit to an apprentice. In Canon it's a simple process: the leader acknowledges the kits age and personality, and then calls forward the mentor that they have chosen, and they touch noses.

These are the bare bones of the ceremony, but it might be interesting for your own clans if you made it more personal.

For example, let's say that for the first few moons of apprenticeship that all of the younger cats are trained as a group. Instead of assigning a mentor at that stage, one clan has the apprentices called forward and named and then an elder agrees to sponsor each apprentice, or if there aren't enough elders, an elder sponsors the group. It's a symbol of respect for the youth of the clan and also offers the young cats a chance to have someone to confide in and seek advice from someone. The apprentices in the ceremony offer gifts to the elder in gratitude.

Or, if the clan is highly religious or superstitious, an apprentice ceremony could involve the medicine cat. Maybe the medicine cat examines them in front of the clan (not in an invasive way) and declares them healthy and fit to be apprentices. Or maybe they pray over them or bless their training.

It could also involve elements of the clan territory or terrain. Maybe for a water based clan, kits becoming apprentices have to show they can swim a certain distance to prove they can make it in certain areas of the territory. Or they have to climb a tree or cliffside to reach the area where the ceremony is being held. It wouldn't be a major test prep anything but it would be a small achievement, something to mark their move from kit to apprentice.

In any case it doesn't even have to be a big change. Maybe every clan or leader has a different way of working the ceremony, or a different order. Like lining up all of the apprentices, or all of the mentors. Or the clan responding at different times in different ways.

What this does is gives each clan a unique way to welcome their kits as apprentices.

Warrior ceremony-- very similar to the previous one. This is the ceremony though that welcomes youth as full adults. It should be treated with great respect and celebration, particularly for the new warriors.

We know that Canon at least has one attempt at this, in the form of the vigil, but it's a custom which doesn't always fit the clan culture. Personally I think it fits Thunderclan well. They are neighbors with Shadowclan, known to be more at home in the dark, and even perform ambush attacks. The vigil likely remains from the early days when ambushes might have still been common, and would be a symbol of trust, that the clan believes that they can sleep and rest because these cats are now warriors and adults, and understand their duties. But like I said it fits Thunderclan better than the other clans.

Let's say in Windclan that instead, their warrior assessment, or their first task, is to take down a large bird. Like in Tallstar's Revenge, it would show that the cat is capable of protecting their clan from the more common threat, a threat from the skies. A warrior brings back the kill and the clan feasts on it, and the warrior gets to keep the feathers, the sign and memory of when they became a warrior.

This is another element. You might have two separate aspects of the warrior ceremony. The initial assessment which proves that the cat is a capable warrior, and then their first task. Or you could have only one. Either way it is just more details to add richness to the story.

Of course you have the actual ceremony as well, which could be changed. It might involve the Canon way, or you could have other options. Maybe it's the mentor who presents their apprentices warrior name, their final act of passing on the culture and teachings of the clan. Or again if the clan is religious the medicine cat or seer presents the name as a religious blessing. Or maybe an elder or immediate family member, the cat who has been closest and means the most to the apprentice. (Reminds me of the idea of first salute which my husband had as an officer). The warrior might offer a gift or a gesture of gratitude.

Again there are lots and lots of options to work with here. I would suggest working with themes, like a water based clan having water based ceremonies, a more religious clan having certain religious rituals, a nature based clan involving nature, etc. Basically the most cohesive a clans symbolism the easier it is to relate and organize.

Leader ceremony-- this one partially depends on if you have a Starclan and how they interact with the clan. But Canon has always been a bit odd about this. They sometimes show the actual ceremony in Starclan, but the clan themselves hardly seems to have any kind of reaction or involvement. So what if they had their own ceremony/celebration? This could be before visiting Starclan or after.

If it's before you could potentially have the clan preparing their new leader. Maybe a collective grooming, or hunting for the new leader or preparing a new nest in the den for them. The clan is preparing for the transition by both honoring the previous one, maybe by telling stories of their exploits, and simultaneously bringing in the New leader with great fanfare.

If the celebration is after, maybe the new leader holds their first clan meeting, cementing their position, or a feast is held on their honor after the fast they made in order to unicate with Starclan. Their closest friends and comrades tell tales of their good deeds, of how they earned their leadership position. The leader tells the clan of their intentions and plans and gives a speech. Then they announce their deputy and they are included in the celebration.

This could but does not necessarily include deputy ceremonies. Depending on how a deputy or even leader is chosen the ceremony will of course be different.

For example in one of my clans in order to become deputy, there is something of a battle Royale event. The winner would be treated to a huge feast, and groomed and their wounds tended to before the clan. If possible, they encouraged to stand and take their place beside the leader while every cat cheers their endurance and strength.

I could give plenty of examples, but you get the idea. A deputy appointment should be treated with joy and celebration just as much as any leaders.

Medicine cat Ceremony-- another ceremony I believe is somewhat ignored is the medicine cat ceremony. Again it is mostly relegated to the Starclan aspect without any involvement from the clan. It would be very nice if they got some recognition at least once, considering normally how separate they are from the clan. If anything this would be the perfect opportunity to show the medicine cats that the clan supports them. For wither a day before or after the medicine cat would be pampered, and for the first time in a long time (maybe ever) the clan would be taking care if them instead if them caring for the clan. They might be groomed and decorated with flowers, offered their favorite prey, and other things they might desire.

I actually don't have too much to say on this one, since i haven't given it too much thought. But it definitely would be nice to have them have a day of gratitude and recognition.

Elder Ceremony-- I hate how Canon treats elders, absolutely detest it. If elders are supposed to be a position of respect, they deserve a ceremony for it.

Maybe cats tell their stories, or warriors come and thank them for the different things they have done. Maybe the leader awards them with titles based on their life experiences, or their old apprentices give them gifts. The whole clan helps build the new elder a nest in the elders den, contributing materials and sentimental things. Maybe the first story they tell, is their own story, or they retell the very first story they heard from an elder, continuing the cycle of stories and knowledge.

Maybe elders are announced at the warriors last gathering so that all clans can address them with respect and gratitude, because becoming an elder is a feat and a privilege and they deserve respect no matter where they are from.

In any case there is so much more you can do beyond Canon.

A few questions to guide you when thinking through these:

Do your clans have a script for different ceremonies? Are they different from Canon? Are they different from each other?

What role do families play in the different ceremonies?

When do kittens receive their names? Who names them? Who presents their names to the clan?

How are mothers involved with the naming and presenting of their kits?

Is there any way which kits are blessed or integrated into the clan when they are named?

Do apprentice ceremonies have any special elements to them? Are they private or public? How does the clan celebrate them?

Are there any special tasks or rituals which the clans have to integrate their apprentices into the clan?

Do the clans have any specific assessments which apprentices have to complete to become warriors?

Who presents the warrior with their new name? What role do mentors play?

Is there any action of gratitude involved in the ceremony? (Like from mentor to apprentice, apprentice to mentor, mentor to leader, apprentice to leader, etc)

Is there any assigned task for new warriors (like a vigil)?

How do the clans celebrate a new leader? And a new deputy?

How does the clan celebrate a new medicine cat?

[cabiba]

Occasionally, my nine-year-old son and I indulge in something we call the “Misunderstanding Game”.

Thomas: “Mom, I want another round of Among Us.”

Me: “Of course, darling, you are absolutely welcome to be among us, you know you don’t have to ask.”

Thomas, giggling and rolling his eyes, patiently explains yet again that there is a computer game called Among Us. In other words, he wants more screen time. I carry on pretending not to understand what he wants. Games, I say, what a good idea. Which one would you like to play? On and on it goes, as I keep on deliberately misunderstanding him.

I do, of course, have a hidden agenda: all this time that he is fooling around with me means less screen time. He also enjoys the maternal attention. I think of it at times as a useful activity, at times as amusing and entirely harmless.

When I listen to people discuss today’s encounters between Islam and the West, I am reminded of this game. The only problem is that these conversations are rarely useful and not in the least amusing. Quite often they lead to more harm than good.

The best illustration of this Misunderstanding Game relates to the issue of immigration from Muslim countries and how European societies should absorb Muslim immigrants.

The first deliberate misunderstanding is the pretence that unskilled immigrants with little formal education are absolutely necessary for advanced economies. With Europe’s shrinking populations and falling fertility rates, the woke and Leftist enablers say, surely no one can argue that enticing young and vibrant people to immigrate is a bad thing. Those terrible xenophobes who fixate on cost/benefit exercises — how much, in monetary terms, immigrants cost society versus how much they contribute — simply don’t get it. Those who point out the large-scale welfare dependency of those immigrants and even of their children a generation later, let alone the emergence of an underclass of ethnic and religious enclaves, are met with cheerful accounts of benefits that cannot be quantified in material terms: the cuisine, attire, sights and sounds of new exotic cultures that locals can now sample at leisure.

Related to this wilful misunderstanding is the argument of compassion. Let’s reject the economic immigrants, say some, and only allow in those who qualify for asylum. In any case, it is just a temporary measure until their countries return to normal. But this approach raises myriad questions. How on earth do we design a vetting process that can distinguish those in search of economic opportunity from those who are true victims of civil strife? When will their countries return to normal? What will they do in the meantime? And who will pay for it all?

Those adept at playing the Misunderstanding Game, however, have some very compelling distractions. Empathy is required, they say. Imagine if it were you or your family who had to endure the ravages of war and upheaval. It wasn’t that long ago that Europe was going through such turmoil. Would you have turned away Jews fleeing what would become the Holocaust?

In any case, we’re told, it is our own fault that these societies are falling apart because we colonised them in the first place. Worse, we even profited from the slave trade before and during the colonial years. Here the conclusion of the Misunderstanding Game is made clear: the moral atonement for historical wrongs is more compelling than any rational attempt to analyse the issues on the table.

A third version of the Misunderstanding Game is the assertion that immigrants are all the same. This approach is partly a response to those such as Dutch sociologist Professor Ruud Koopmans, who has questioned why is it so much harder for immigrants from Muslim societies to integrate into Western countries. Why, for instance, are Lebanese Christians Lebanese more likely to become fully assimilated in Australia than Lebanese Muslims when their circumstances of arrival and departure are practically the same? Or why do Bangladeshi and Pakistani immigrants struggle to integrate in the UK, while their Hindu and Sikh counterparts flourish and, in some cases, even do better than the natives?

Koopmans has compelling data to explain these trends. But who is interested in such questions, let alone such tedious things as data? The game is to misunderstand, to mix up and muddle. So Mr Koopmans, they say, let’s talk about your intent. Your work may be empirical but it is your underbelly that matters: for even though you claim to be a Social Democrat, you are in fact a racist. Busted. You can’t hide behind that pro-labour façade when you defame the true workers of the world with your anti-social science.

Finally, when played at its most mischievous, the Misunderstanding Game simply insists that we all want the same things. We all want to be free and equal; we all want to abide by the law; we all share the same basic values and we all want to respect the dignity of others. For those of us who are men and women of faith, in the end we all pray to the same God. For those of us who are secular, we are all led by our reason. Save for a subset of misfits — and every society has those — we are all just human beings.

To this kind of argument, I always have the same response: not everyone’s concept of God is identical. How else would you explain the existence of Islamist sermons of hatred? Or the harassment of women, gays, Jews and others? What would you say to the victims of the Pakistani Muslim grooming gangs or the Muslim girls who are forced into marriage? If we all pray to the “same” God, then what about the knife attacks, the beheadings and the use of trucks as weapons of murder by perpetrators screaming Allahu-Akbar? What about ISIS and Al-Qaeda? Radical views exist and we urgently need to grapple with them.

Hold it right there, the misunderstanders reply. Didn’t we already make it clear? There are misfits in every society, including ours. Sexual violence against women is universal. And look at the latest report from the UK Home Office. It concludes clearly — after an allegedly long and rigorous research process — that the whole gory business of grooming gangs had nothing to do with Pakistanis and absolutely nothing to do with Islam.

So who is playing this Misunderstanding Game? A class of undergraduates doing a workshop on Public Policy? No. It is in fact our elected political leaders, as well as senior editors from highly regarded news outlets, professors from reputable universities and think tanks, senior civil servants and, at times, EU leaders. These conversations on the thorniest issues facing Europe are taking place in parliamentary committees, debating chambers, international seminars and on national television.

Scrutinise the transcripts of these talks, replay the recordings, read the numerous reports, books and articles generated over the last three decades on immigration, Islam and integration, and the picture that emerges is the same: it is an endless version of the Misunderstanding Game.

Meanwhile, the numbers of immigrants in Europe from Muslim-majority countries has swelled to… who knows? In 2017, the Pew Research Center projected that the Muslim share of Europe’s population could rise from 4.9% to between 7.4% (if there is no more immigration) and 14% (if there is a lot) by 2050. Even if there is less blitheness today about the wonderful ways immigrants from Muslim countries will enrich Europe — especially in France — an end to immigration is not in sight. Europe’s borders continue to be porous, the reasons that compel people to leave their countries get increasingly compelling.

It is, perhaps, a disappointment to those who have always insisted that we humans are all the same to see so many Muslim groups form organisations and movements with the objective of isolating their communities from the rest of society. In some countries, like France, they have succeeded enough to alarm the president to introduce new legislation that signals he has had enough of the Misunderstanding Game. And yet President Macron can hardly be said to be leading a Europe-wide change of sentiment. In most countries, the Misunderstanding Game goes on. Why?

One theory is that there is a genuine desire within the European political elite to atone for the past; today’s leaders don’t want to repeat the mistakes of their ancestors. Another possibility is that Western leaders have simply lost confidence in Western Civilisation. It has all been one long tale of horrors: slavery, oppression, colonialism, genocides, misogyny and massacres. Hence there are no values to protect from large numbers of outsiders and certainly nothing worthwhile to ask immigrants to integrate into. A third explanation is that some European leaders genuinely wish to do away with borders. For them it is a matter of principle and they couldn’t care less who pays the price for the pursuit of a borderless planet.

But I believe there is one more reason: incompetence. Quite simply, none of the leaders whose job it is to resolve the issues of Muslim immigration and integration has a clue as to how to go about it. These politicians around the table who do have the right sort of principles but lack the ability to persuade the others. Some grasp the fine details of the issue but are incapable of seeing the big picture. And as with all policy areas of this magnitude and complexity, there are also those leaders who parrot the interests of organised groups who benefit from the status quo. It is they, I assume, who enjoy the Misunderstanding Game the most.

The incompetence of each set of leaders is often masked by an eye-catching political photo-op expressing a grand gesture or a soundbite along the lines of “history will be our judge”. But, as they know all too well, history does not vote; it does not promote or appoint a politician to a senior level. So let it judge away.

In the meantime, the flow of migrants has abated somewhat in the past few years, but large numbers of people still attempt to reach Europe, even during the pandemic. Last year Europe saw more than 336,000 first-time asylum applications and, from January to November, 114,300 illegal entries.

Looking forward, it seems inevitable that as European countries emerge out of Covid lockdowns and their economies reopen, some countries in Africa will face food shortages and other economic problems arising from pandemic-induced disruption. You don’t have to be a sage to foresee masses of young men heading towards Europe. As they attempt to cross the Eastern and Southern points of entry into the EU, be ready for European politicians to speak of a sudden surge and an unforeseeable crisis.

Then watch them play the Misunderstanding Game once again.