#like what do you MEAN youre not doing a majority of the housework waking up at night when your wife just GAVE BIRTH

[cowboatbeeboat]

That one misogynistic coworker no one likes

[the-masked-ram]

Blurred Lines- Chapter Three

CW: NSFW, College AU, Roommate AU, Dom/Sub Undertones, Gambling, Friends with Benefits, Enemies to friends, Hate sex, Impact play, Mild Breath play, Drugs, Alcohol, afab! reader

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Chapter Three: The Sandwich is a Lie

Classes had been kicking your ass if you were honest. As someone who majored in environmental studies, who eventually wanted to help work to change the world for the better, your classes were many and exhausting. Add your work to that, and now taking care of Touya’s housework and food, and you were running on very little sleep.

The thing was, what you thought would be easy when it came to keeping the flat clean, was just another front Touya put on. If he had been left to his own devices, the apartment would never had been that clean to begin with. He had apparently been paying for a maid service.

No, the usual amount of filth, dirty laundry, junk lying around, and just general grossness, was astronomical. It’s like he didn’t know how to pick up after himself or didn’t care to. More likely the second. The meal planning at least was normal and stuck right to the rules and expectations.

However, because of your lack of sleep, you’d forgotten about the whole confusion and worry of who Touya really was, not just his name since you were positive you’d heard it before, but also why he was so secretive. You were running yourself ragged, and in the process sleeping far deeper and longer than you usually did when you actually managed to catch a few hours. Your alarm was not working as well anymore and often you either missed it or swiped it to turn off instead of snooze.

Thankfully the day you truly overslept, so much so that minutes turned into hours, was a day you didn’t have class- thank you flu season- and didn’t have work. So, you didn’t wake from paranoia plaguing your dreams, no… instead you were awoken by your incredibly rude, asshole of a roommate banging open your door and sitting on you.

Touya expected you to follow the rules, but he tended to take liberties with them a lot of the time. It’s a wonder how he hadn’t walked in on you naked yet.

You flailed awake, only to realize that your squirming body was pinned down by an annoyingly heavy weight, so you rolled, and he fell up against the wall on the other side of your body.

“What the fuck do you think you are doing, Touya?” you snarled, voice still gravelly with sleep but clearly conveying your irritation.

“Me? I was just worried about my wonderful roommate, obviously. I mean usually she’s up at the crack of dawn and today she’s almost slept in ‘til noon,” his blue eyes glittered mirthfully.

You rubbed a hand across your eyes as you checked you phone, he was right it was almost twelve. Damn, you’d wasted so much time. But you body wasn’t aching like before. You were surprised he hadn’t come in earlier.

“Did you just wake up too? And realize there wasn’t any coffee or something?” you groaned as you sat up, the shirt that you’d worn to bed twisting and exposing your cleavage.

“Naw, I’ve been up for hours now,” he said, eyes narrowing and sliding across your skin so obviously that you couldn’t ignore it even in your sleepy state.

“Touya… Can you go wait for me outside my bedroom?” you asked patiently.

He hummed, but moved off the bed, probably in the most inconvenient way. He rolled over you, taking care to brush about every inch of his body over yours that he could without it seeming too obvious. Though honestly, he didn’t succeed in staying incognito. Sometimes he was such a jerk, he had to know how he affected you. You felt your heart ramp up eagerly, and you sighed, flopping back against the pillow until you heard the door click shut.

“Asshole,” you groaned as you covered you face with your arm.

Your life with Touya had become very strange. He now openly flirted with you, not just eye fucking you. It was becoming harder and harder to keep your cool around him as he continued to up the ante. You couldn’t deny that, though you had very little time to yourself, you had far more money than you’d had in ages, and you were actually saving a small amount every week. Also, you were eating actual food.

You definitely felt grateful he’d let you sleep in. It would be rather normal for your roommate to wake you up when he’d awoken and then you’d be even more sleep deprived. You wondered if he’d noticed how exhausted you’d been lately. Snorting in amusement you stood and slipped on a pair of sleep shorts. Even if he did, Touya wouldn’t let you sleep if he wanted you awake, it wasn’t his style.

You yawned, rubbing a knuckle across your eyes as you stumbled from your room. You half expected Touya to be waiting for you, maybe waiting to scare the shit out you. But he wasn’t, so you wandered into the bathroom to do your daily care routine and make yourself look mildly presentable for the day.

Touya was sprawled out on the couch texting aggressively on his phone. He glanced up when you walked in, and once again you could feel the prickling heat of his teal eyes wander over your legs. You suppressed a shiver, refusing to let him have the satisfaction of affecting you.

“Ah, I’m sorry I wasn’t up to make you a breakfast or lunch or anything,” you murmured sheepishly.

“There’s food leftover if ya want it?” he slurred lazily, rolling over to prop his chin on the arm of the sofa.

“Wha-?” you said and when you stepped into the kitchen you saw not just food left over but a plate carefully wrapped that held a simple meal.

It wasn’t anything special, just a sandwich with some fruit on the side. But it didn’t stop the warmth from unfurling in your chest, it didn’t stop you from biting your lip and breathing deeply to stop the sudden rush of overwhelming tears. You were exhausted, emotions threatening to break the dam, and here Touya was being… considerate? It wasn’t fair.

“Thank you,” you breathed, feeling like someone had punched you in the gut.

“It’s just a fuckin’ sandwich,” he mumbled, and you didn’t look over because you could hear the embarrassment in his voice.

“I know,” you whispered.

It was just a sandwich, but that single act of kindness meant he had noticed, and that he was a decent enough of a human being to want to ease your burden for a moment. To make that soothing rush of serotonin take over so that the rest of the week would go easier.

You grinned as you sat down and revered the sandwich as if it were a steak. While you slowly went about enjoying your first meal of the day, Touya joined you at the kitchen island. He stared at you for several minutes and for those several minutes you were able to ignore him, until he cleared his throat and you sighed.

“Yes, Touya?” you asked around the mouthful of bread and fillings.

“I have a party this weekend,” he responded.

Your chewing slowed as you sifted through your fogged memories, you knew there was something specific you should remember about this word. Party… There was something you didn’t like that was part of your--.

“You mean on the day I have off?” your eyes narrowed, subtle irritation tightening your muscles.

“Yeah, think so,” he murmured as if he didn’t have your schedule written out on his phone.

“So, what… was this sandwich some form of apology? Or some way to get me to comply with your stupid rule for the parties?” you aggressively took another bite.

“If you wanna see it that way, sure,” Touya shrugged, already turning back to his phone with narrowed eyes.

He was typing away on the screen before you even had a chance to snap back at him, instead choosing to finish off the food that had brought you such joy earlier. Even now though, you couldn’t deny the simple meal had tasted far better than it should have. Maybe you had been running yourself thinner than even you were aware.

Spending the night in your room, finishing up homework, watching a show, or reading a book might not be so bad. Perhaps Touya was giving you a blessing in disguise. Forcing your overworked mind and body to relax. Yet, you still felt a petty anger directed toward your roommate as you went back to your room to get dressed.

 

---

It was during coffee that day, with you good friends Mina and Tsuyu, gossiping and laughing away, that you learned once again the Todoroki name. Where you learned just who you were staying with. Suddenly, everything seemed to flip on its head, and you felt your hands clench on the cardboard cup you held, and it crushed under your fingers. What had you gotten yourself into?

-Taglist-

@arvandus

[zekejeagrs]

hi rita! may I pls request an AoT male matchup? :)

I'm an ISFP, Raveclaw, ♏ girl (she/her) who loves to sing! I'd be the type to sing to my s/o, maybe sing them to sleep or something hehe~ I'm quiet, polite, and appreciative, but also very stubborn & short-tempered (tho I forgive just as quickly). I'm a loner since my shyness and awkwardness often get the best of me, but I like my time alone anyway :') I'm actually very friendly though, and love being silly around family (whom are very important to me!) I'm a bit on the sensitive side, I don't like showing it though. I'd prefer a family-oriented, understanding, and patient s/o! Can you also possibly write about my matchup as a spouse? I love domestic stuff :D

Thank you so much! Please take all the time you need! Stay safe and healthy~ (*´˘`*)♡

— AOT MATCHUP

i hope you enjoy <3 !major spoilers for s2-s4!

i match you with...

Bertholdt Hoover!

you and bertholdt started off as acquaintances in the 104th. he would notice that you’re often by yourself and not talking to people so he would offer a seat next to him in class or in the dinning hall (mainly because reiner would keep bugging him since he noticed how much bert stares at you). bertholdt, being the shy and reserved person he is, would be a bit quiet once you started sitting next to him. reiner would have to be the one starting the conversation and your friendly nature would continue it. bertholdt would be relived since he wants to get to know you but didn’t know what to say.

after spending more time with you, bertholdt would get to know a lot more about you and how much your family means to you. he’d understand why they matter so much to you because he joined the warrior program for his father to be able to get the proper care he needs. once bertholdt gathered the courage to ask you to be his girlfriend he would gain some confidence. he wouldn’t be as shy but he’d still be very respectful. you would probably have to take the lead most of the time. bertholdt is the type of boyfriend to give you tiny gifts like flowers he found and thought you’d like or maybe some hand written notes about how pretty you look. bert would also love cuddling up together under a tree and hear you sing to him. it would help calm him down and he just loves your voice. if you guys fall asleep, you’d most definitely wake up to him in a weird position, like two arms around you and the rest of his body is tangled in the sheets lmao. i feel like you’d invite him to meet your family and he would just be so amazed to see how much you open up when you’re with them. and he’d love your family so much but he’d be so nervous about making sure he makes a good impression .

in a different universe where things are different, you two would end up married and maybe move somewhere close to your family so you’d be comfortable knowing your family is close. bertholdt would do anything to make you happy and would cherish your relationship so much.

bertholdt as your spouse

| bertholdt would be a nervous wreck trying to ask your family for your hand in marriage. he could know your family for ten years and he’d still be nervous. he just loves you so much and understands how important your family is that he’d need their approval to spend the rest of his life with you.

| once you two get married, you’d move in near your family so you two can have your independence but not be too far from home.

| berty would be the sweetest husband, he’d try to do all of the housework so you don’t have to. of course, you don’t let him since relationships should be 50/50 but he’d still insist.

| whenever you get angry at something, he would try to calm you down. he’d be like “ahh! okay no need to be angry!! please don’t get mad at me too!”

| if you two ever choose to be have kids, he would also be the sweetest dad. he’d love his kid(s) so much and would have a whole family album he made himself. in a modern au, he’d record your singing and play it when you’re not there and the kid(s) need to sleep.

| if you’re off at work and he has time off i feel like he’d just pop by your family’s house and chill with them?? like he’d gossip with your mom or grandma lmao.

| ahhh bertholdt would just be so gentle and kind and tall and a great husband.

your runner up: marco bodt

i hope you enjoyed! i had so much fun with the headcanons. <3 @ne-nene-ne

[steves-on-a-plane]

Run. (Pt 2)

Run.

Part One / Words: 2051 Pairing: Tony Stark & Reader  Timeline: Pre-Iron Man [2008] Other Info: Run AU  Summary: Reader has been living with her longterm boyfriend, Michael, and their eight-year-old daughter Serina. One afternoon, her life has finally become too much and she remembers an old promise Tony had made to her years ago. 

February 2008

You sat in the edge of your bathtub. The bathroom door was locked and you were alone. Dinner was cooked and set at the table. Your eight-year-old daughter was playing with her dolls in her room and her father would be home any minute. Your right leg bounced up and down nervously and your heart felt like it was pounding out of your chest. You shakily held your cellphone in your hand, three letters already typed up on the small screen. R U N

If you thought much longer about it, you’d lose your nerve. You sent the text message and put your phone down. You brought your hands to your mouth and breathed deeply. You stared at your phone and waited for Tony’s response. You thought your anxiety might cause you to pass out if he didn’t answer you soon. After an agonizing three minutes a text message came through.

Come to my place for the weekend and think it over. Malibu. Bring the kid. -T.

We’ll have dinner and then drive over. You texted him back. Shaking your head, you stood up and unlocked the bathroom door. You went across the hall and poked your head into your daughter’s room.

“Hey, Serina, wanna go visit Uncle Tony after dinner?” You asked her, leaning against the doorframe.

“Uncle Tony.” She looked up at you suddenly with a large joyful smile. “Yeah!” She nodded excitedly. “Can we go swimming?”

“Maybe.” I’m gonna pack some stuff for you in case we stay overnight, “okay? You can just keep playing.” Without hesitation your daughter went back to playing. You took a backpack out of her closet and packed a week’s worth of clothes for her. You hung the backpack on her bedroom doorknob and were about to start packing a bag for yourself when you heard Michael calling up the steps.

“I’m home! Dinner smells great.” He shouted.

“We’ll be right down!” You answered back. “C’mon kiddo, you must be hungry.” You held a hand out to Serina and she took it happily. You walked down the stairs together and joined Michael in the dining room. Everyone got settled and soon the room was filled with a chorus of tings as forks touched plates. “How was your day?” You asked quietly.

“Fine.” Michael answered his mouth full of food. He reached for his cellphone and started typing a message to someone. You looked down at your plate, willfully not watching as the father of your child continued to chew with his mouth open.

“Mama says we’re gonna go see Uncle Tony later.” Serina announced proudly. You heard his cellphone hit the table and then his fork tap against his plate. You stole a sideways glance in Michael’s direction and saw him glaring at you.

“Did she now.” He asked leadingly.

“Well Tony only just offered a little while ago and tomorrow’s Friday so it’s the start of the weekend.” You rushed out the reasonable explanation you’d be rehearsing in your head.

“You know I have that large account that I have to finalize this weekend.” Michael sighed. “I can’t drive to Malibu just because it’s the weekend.”

“I know.” You nodded quickly. “And I know how important that account is, so that’s why I was thinking maybe just Rina and I would go. We could go and stay with Tony for the weekend and be out of your hair for a few days.”

“So you’d leave me here alone?” Michael scowled. “What about your chores? How would I eat? Who would do the laundry?”

“Well, there are plenty of leftovers in the fridge. You could eat those. And I’m sure I could do the laundry or clean whatever needs to be done when we get back.” You tried to inform him with a level tone.

“So, you expect me to live in squalor until you get back?” He grumbled, picking up his fork again. “Do whatever you want. We both know you’re going to anyway.” He added louder. “Just don’t expect me to lift a finger to help out when you get buried in your housework on Monday.”

Serina looked cautiously between you and Michael. She wore the uncomfortable expression that children often had when their parents disagreed in such a way. She didn’t like it when you fought or said meanspirited things to each other and you tried to avoid it whenever possible. But avoiding a rise from Michael was getting harder and harder these days.

You ate the rest of your dinner in silence. Serina tried to inject the awkward air with anecdotes about her day. Michael grumbled the occasional growl of acknowledgement in her direction in between bites. By the time the meal concluded you couldn’t wait to get out of the house. You washed the dishes, cleared the table, put away the leftovers and any other signs of dinner. It was about seven o’clock when you finally stuffed a suitcase full of clothes and collected Serina from her room again.

You strapped your kid into the back seat and tossed your bags into the back hatch of your minivan. After driving two hours you arrived in Malibu. Tony was pacing outside his front door when you arrived at his beach house. When he recognized your silver minivan in his driveway, he sprinted over towards you.

“Where the hell have you been?” he asked you impatiently. “How long does it take to eat dinner? I’ve been calling and calling. I was worried.” He confessed.

“I’m sorry.” You apologized, getting out of the van. “I think my phone must have died.”

“At least you’re okay.” He sighed with relief. “You are okay, right?”

“Yeah, in all the ways that it matters.” You promised. “I brought someone to see you.” You and Tony walked to the back of the van and you slid open the side door. Your daughter had already undone her own seatbelt.

“Uncle Tony!” She leapt out of the van and at Tony as soon as she saw him.

“There she is!” Tony beamed, catching her in his arms. “My Serina Ballerina!”

“Uncle Tony, I haven’t seen you in forever!” Serina lamented. You walked to the back of the van and collected your bags before closing the hatch.

“You just saw me a month ago for your mama’s birthday, baby girl.” Tony cooed carrying her inside.

“That was a long time ago.” She yawned.

“You tired Rina?” You asked, motioning for Tony to hand her over to you. He waved you off,  already walking up the stairs towards one of his guest bedrooms.

“I want to go swimming!” Serina protested, her eyelids growing heavy. She was asleep before Tony put her down mattress. You tucked your daughter into bed. You drew the fluffy comforter up around her shoulders and planted a kiss on her forehead. You watched Serina sleep for a few minutes. When you were satisfied that she wouldn’t wake up again, you shut the door behind you and joined Tony in his kitchen.

“I made you this, but it’s a little melted now.” Tony placed a glass with a straw in front of you. You inspected the glass carefully.

“Did you make me a milkshake?” You asked.

“Well, I tried.” Tony shrugged. “Who knows if it’s any good.” You sipped the milkshake cautiously at first, but you quickly realized there was nothing wrong with it. Just a standard strawberry milkshake whose only major flaw was being somewhat more melted than desired.

“This is the best milkshake I’ve ever had.” You announced with a second sip.

“It’s sweet of you to lie to me.” He smirked.

“I noticed on the way in your bags are packed. Did you have plans to go back to New York this weekend?” You questioned.

“No.” Tony shook his head. “Actually, I have to go to Afghanistan in the morning. The company needs me to go for a weapons demonstration.” He rolled his eyes. “Just a small thing. I should be back Saturday afternoon. Then I can spend  all day Sunday with my girls. I heard someone wants to go swimming.”

“She’s on a swimming kick right now.” You laughed. “Last week it was unicorns and the week before that it was tea parties.”

“When I went up for your birthday, it was T-Rexes.” Tony recalled.

“How could I have forgotten?” You nodded.

“So, are we gonna talk about it or are you going to make me wait until I get back from my trip?” He asked. Tony leaned forward with his elbows on the counter. He put his head in his hands and waited for an answer.

“I just don’t know if I can do it anymore Tony.” You confessed, raking both your hands through your hair. “He’s insufferable.”

“Yeah well, now you know why I told you not to marry him.” Tony shrugged. “I’m sorry, that was mean.”  He added as an afterthought. “C’mon you’ve been with the guy what? Seven years?”

“Eleven.” You groaned out. “If you count the three years we were together before Serina was born.”

“Okay eleven.” Tony nodded. He stood up straight, pushing himself up off the counter. He turned to the fridge for a bottle of water. “In another ten Rina will be eighteen. All you have to do is making twice as long as you already have.”

“I don’t think I can make it another ten months let alone ten years.” You frowned. The idea of living with Michael for another decade made you want to throw up “He’s just…a jerk. Like tonight for example when I told him we were coming to visit he immediately was like ‘Well I can’t go to Malibu just because it’s the weekend!’ and then I lied and told him that I thought he would like to have the house to himself to work. So he started asking me how is he supposed to eat? And who’s going to clean while I’m gone? And I know I’m going to get back to a pile of dirty dishes in the sink and laundry across the bedroom floor. I’m not even married to the guy but he thinks I’m a 50s housewife. It’s just not who I thought I was going to be.”  

“You know that you’re always welcome here.” Tony reminded you. “Or New York, or wherever you want to live. You and the kid.”

“I don’t want to do that to you, Tony.” You disagreed. “I don’t want to suck you into my mess of a life and you don’t want to have us here getting in the way. Stepping on a LEGO at three am hurts a hell of a lot more when you’re hung over.”

“Well two things, bold of you to assume I don’t own my own LEGOs and that haven’t stepped on them at three in the morning. Don’t look at me like that, lots of grown men own LEGOs.” Tony smirked. “And you wouldn’t be sucking me into anything. It would be fun to have you and the kid kicking around. You’d never have to lift a finger here if you didn’t want to. And I could cut back on the partying, probably.”

“I should just go home right? This is crazy. I’m being crazy.” You shook your head as if the act alone would unscramble your thoughts. Tony leaned forward and placed one of his hands on yours. He looked at you, his brown eyes softening as he thought of the perfect thing to say.

“You’re not crazy.” He spoke very seriously. “You’re allowed to not be okay with the way things turned out. You’re allowed to change your life too.”

“What times your flight?” You asked, changing the subject. Tony glanced down at his watch and sighed.

“Three or four hours.” He shrugged. “Don’t worry, I can sleep on the plane. You on the other hand look positively exhausted. Why don’t you go lay down, you can sleep in my bed. I know how much you love silk sheets.”

“Tony I’m not going to kick you out of your own bed.” You argued.

“I already told you, I’m not going to sleep before my international flight.” He said. “You’re going to rest and relax here for the next three days. Then you can decide what you want to do.”

[snippychicke]

Aftermath--Chapter Four

Chapter Four

Rating: Everyone

Warnings: Mentions of violence?

Fandom: Umbrella Academy; The Swedes specifically 

Note: slight word difference than the AO3version because I did some minor editing and I’m too lazy to update both. Nothing major, this may just flow better. 

First | Previous

Otto didn't have anywhere to go anywhere, but even if he did, Otto questioned if he would. Not unless he had his family back.

He missed his brothers and thought of them regularly. Oscar would be giving him such a hard time over everything, from struggling to adapt to having just one eye to how fond he was of his new housemate. There were times first thing when he woke to the subtle smells of breakfast that his hazy mind thought Axel was downstairs cooking. Then Lorelei would chasten one of the cats, and reality would crash down on him.

But for the first time since his childhood, he felt protective of someone outside his family. He wasn't used to it, mostly since she was far more outgoing than his brothers. 

Even before The Commission, he had gone through life not caring much about anyone outside his family. All that mattered was family; the rest of the world was not his problem.

Lorelei seemed to think the exact opposite. People drifted to her house for medical advice or just to gossip. Raymond was far from the only person who dropped by just for a cup of coffee on her days off to simply catch up. Despite his uninterest in the gossip, he found himself lingering nearby out of both habit and paranoia. 

Such as the Friday night when the quiet evening was interrupted by pounding on the front door again. Soon the living room was full with three teenage boys and two girls; the girls were huddled together on the couch, their makeup running lightly from tears while two of the boys were barely containing their pent-up energy as they paced the living room. The third was sitting backward in the straight-back hardwood chair as Lorelei carefully stitched up the knife wound to his back. (Too shallow to do any damage, Otto mentally scoffed at whoever attacked him. The wound still healing on his leg from Oscar was deeper.)

"We need to go find those punks," one of the two boys finally broke the tense silence. "I'm sick and tired of them damn white boys thinking they can do whatever they please. No offense," he tacked on as Otto shifted from his place leaning in the doorway to the kitchen, feeling on guard with this many people in <strike>their</strike> the house. Especially when the younger men seemed itching for a fight.

Otto just stared at the young boy. The teen quickly looked away, scratching his head as he turned away and drifted back towards his friends. No. There was no way the child would have the strength or guts to act out revenge. His threats were as empty as the food dish once Poyo finished. 

"The hell you are," Lorelei apparently agreed as she finished the knot and snipped the string free. "You are all going to go home and stay there. And if you see that gang of punks again, you're going to turn the other way and leave."

"You want us to run away?!" The second boy protested, his eye swelling shut from the black eye since he kept taking the frozen bag of peas away from his face. "They'll really have no respect for us if we do that!"

"If you three get in a fight," she countered as she dabbed away the blood with plenty of hydrogen peroxide, not even bothering to look up, "no matter who started it, and no matter who ended it, you three will be painted as the villains. And it won't help the Movement any either," she continued as the boy opened his mouth to protest, glancing up with a strong look. "Sometimes, you have to lose a battle to win a war."  

The teen ground his teeth but kept silent as Lorelei finished her bandage. "Now, all of you, go home. Ask your parents for some aspirin, and then get some sleep. Got it?"

 Otto thought for a short moment  that things would settle back to normalcy for a short moment after the teens shuffled out the door until Lorelei’s fist slammed on the doorframe as soon as it was closed. "I am going to find those damn brats and give them a piece of my mind!" Lorelei seethed as she glared at the old oak. "Stabbing a boy with his back turned! What kind of yellow belly snake does that?"

The mood whiplash caught Otto by surprise. He tilted his head slightly as he watched her storm back to her workspace and angrily picking up the dirtied rags and instruments. "I'd show those brats. I want to say I'd drag them home by their ears and tell their mothers what they did, but knowing this damned town, they'd probably see nothing wrong with it!"

Otto was rather intrigued by the flare of rage; it was his first time seeing Lorelei angry. It was rather cute seeing the snarl on her lips as she continued to mutter to herself, almost as if she had forgotten he was there. 

After a moment, he crossed the room and took the bundle of bloodied rags from her silently. The faint blush on her face as she quietly thanked him proved he had guessed right. She had forgotten he had been watching. 

"...why do people hate each other like that?" She whispered as they worked together to handwash the rags in the kitchen sink a few minutes later. "I never understood why skin color made any difference. Nana Chestnut and her family were so much better than my real kin growing up. But people just hate on them without ever even trying to figure out what kind of person they are."

Otto was silent, unsure if there was a right answer, or even if Lorelei was looking for one. And to be honest, he didn't understand it either. He had seen it through the years but had ignored it as another part of the civilian life he would never understand. A part he had no interest in understanding. "I could hunt them down?" He offered quietly, though he highly doubted that's what she really wanted. 

Sure enough, the dubious expression on her face confirmed his thoughts. All that anger, but she was far too soft to act against another. Or even have someone else do it for her. 

He tried not to think of when he was willing to do something for someone else when there was no benefit for him. Because if Lorelei had said yes, his target wouldn't see the next sunrise.

The frown smoothed away into a slight smile as she shook her head. With her hands covered in red-stained suds, she rested her head against his arm. "...no. But thank you for listening to me crab." 

He was silent, but enjoyed the warmth that soaked through his shirt from the contact. Enjoyed the warmth that bloomed in his chest as she smiled up at him. 

                                                        --+--

"I have so many concerns," Raymond commented the next time he came over and saw not only the cats happily making themselves at home, but Oscar who was once more practicing his aim on the garage, though this time with small hatchets which she wasn't sure where he had found. 

"Hey, you were always worried about me living by myself," Lorelei replied as she busied herself with pouring some tea, hoping to drag Raymond away from the kitchen window where he watched Otto. (Partially so she wouldn't be caught ogling the man, stripped to just a simple cotton shirt despite the early December afternoon, sweat sticking to his muscles….) 

Raymond opened his mouth, closed it, sighed, and ruffled his short hair as he turned and joined her at the kitchen table. "I was thinking more along the lines of a guard dog, Lei. Or maybe an actual husband. Not a dozen cats and a would-be murderer."

"I think I prefer Otto." She grinned at his dark look. "Look, I get you started on the wrong foot…"

"Attempted murder is hardly the wrong foot!"

"But he's a decent guy, I'm telling you," she continued as if she didn't hear him. "He cleans and does a better job than me. How many men you know are willing to split housework?"

"That's what you're focusing on?" He spluttered while gesturing towards the back yard. "Not him throwing hatchets at your garage? Or the fact he barely speaks English? Are you just going to support him?" 

"Just because he's quiet doesn't mean he can't speak our language," she retorted, her eyes narrowing. "And that garage is one good storm away from being a pile of tinder anyways, and it's working on the hand-eye coordination after losing half his vision!" 

Raymond gritted his teeth, forcing himself to take a breath. Getting in a shouting match was not good for either of them. "Look. I just worry about you. Can you blame me for not trusting him? After what he did to Allie and me?" 

The reminder struck her hard. Otto was someone entirely different for her than who Raymond saw. She couldn't exactly blame him for his feelings of mistrust and suspicion. Yet, at the same time, it was getting harder and harder for her to see Otto as the violent man Raymond saw. Not when she's seen him tugging yarn around for the cats to play with. Or relaxing on the couch with a cat curled on his chest and another on his stomach. Or splitting the clean up after their meal. 

Or seen him through the cracked door of his room, holding that milkman hat and looking so absolutely heartbroken. Hearing him waking up from a dead sleep with a shout of fear and grief. 

"There's more to him than that," she finally said quietly, looking away. 

"But it's still a part of him. Do you even know anything about his past? Why did he and his brother attack us? Where is he even from? Why is he staying with you?" 

She stayed silent, eyes focused on her glass of tea. She didn't. She pointedly didn't ask and tried not to wonder. 

Raymond sighed as he stood, the chair scratching against the hardwood floor. "I'll be the first to admit that there was a lot to Allie I didn't know. A lot of questions I should've asked but didn't. I wanted to be happy, so I turned a blind eye. And it cost me a lot more than I expected. Are you willing to pay that same price?" 

Silence hung in the air once more as she refused to lift her gaze from the table. Raymond sighed again. "Look, I know you're a grown woman, and you want to live your own life, but just… think about it, okay?"

She nodded her head, still unable to look up even as he left, the door sticking as it shut behind him, making the whole house rattle as he forced it close. Only then did she move, standing and wrapping her arms around her. For some reason, her feet lead her to the back door, opening it with a hard pull and stepping out into the chilly air. The steady thunk of a blade against wood was oddly soothing as she settled on the cement step, Raymond's words swirling in her mind. 

Who was Otto? Was that even his actual name? What was he doing in Dallas? What was he doing with her? Had she been so lonely that she had just accepted it? 

Where did he get the cats from? 

She was broken from her thoughts as Otto's well-worn leather boots appeared in her vision. She looked up, meeting his silent but understanding gaze. She rubbed her eyes, knowing it looked like she was on the verge of crying. "Sorry, did I break your concentration?" 

He glanced at the improvised target before back to her and offered a hand. She frowned slightly but accepted it, unsurprised about how easily he pulled her to her feet, and more surprised that he led her to where he had the six hatchets laying on an old stump. Wordlessly, he positioned her in the marks in the dead grass made by his boots and put one of the hatchets in her hand. 

"What? You're kidding me, right?" She gave a slight disbelieving laugh as he stepped back. "I-I'm not; I can't…"

"Try," he said as she trailed off weakly. She looked down at the tool in her hand; the wood handle still warm from his grasp, the blade polished and sharpened to a fine point (just like every knife in the house now). She looked back at him, a little lost, but he just tilted his head toward the garage. 

"This is such a bad idea," she muttered before mimicking a baseball player's stance and giving her best. The hatchet made it maybe halfway before falling onto the grass.

"See, I told you…" she trailed off as he picked up the next one and stepped towards her. He placed it in her hand before silently adjusting her stance. She was pretty sure her face was red as he guided her hips and legs before standing behind her and covering her hands with his. 

"Aim like this," he spoke softly, positioning her arm. "Feel how the weapon balances in your hand. Focus it on finding its mark. Inhale," he commanded as he pulled her arm back, and she couldn't help but obey before he gently mimicked a pitch. Her heart was pounding in her chest, and she was sure her face was red. She had never heard him talk so much and hadn't quite realized how deep or smooth his voice was until he was all but murmuring in her ear. "And exhale. Now try." 

She missed his warmth as soon as he stepped away and automatically looked back at him. He simply gestured towards the garage wall. Lorelei turned around, trying to focus and remember his words and less of his warmth and gentleness. 

This time, the blade stuck in the ground less than a foot from the garage's foundation. Seeing the metal buried in the grass sent a thrill of pride as she grinned.

And then Otto gave her another hatchet. “Again.”

                                                         ---+---

The sun had set below the horizon by the time Otto allowed her to quit. Her arms were sore, and her fingers stiff as she fell back on the cement step, rolling her shoulders tenderly as he settled beside her. 

But a single hatchet was buried in the faded white paint wood panel. She hadn't felt that much pride in a long time as when she finally made her mark. Or when Otto gave her a proud smile and clapped her on the shoulder.

"Better?" 

"Sorta," she admitted truthfully, though now her body was at rest, her mind started its questions once more. "Can I...Can I ask you a question?"

She hesitantly met his good eye. No matter what they were doing, she inevitably ended up on his good side. Maybe she did it unconsciously, or maybe he planned it that way. Perhaps he didn't trust her enough to leave her in his blind spot. 

There was doubt in his expression, but he shrugged slightly anyways. "Were you...were you really trying to kill Ray and Allie?"

His look quickly darkened, the warmth in his expression disappearing as he looked away from her. "...Yes." 

Even though she knew the answer, it still felt like a sucker-punch to her gut. "Why?"

"It was our job," he answered simply. 

Job? "...Do you still plan on killing them?" She whispered after. A long moment. "Are you...are you just here to try again?" Was she just a pawn? Was she being played like a fiddle after all? 

"No." He answered, his hand finding hers as it clutched at her knee, carefully encouraging her fingers open so he could thread his fingers with hers. "I...have no one." He admitted, and this time he was the one unable to meet her gaze but kept his eye focused on their joined hands. "My brothers are gone. But if you want me to leave, I will."

There were tears in her eyes when he did finally look up at her, the hurt she had seen shadows of once more open and bared for her to see. 

"Please don't. Don't leave me." She said, echoing the expression written so plainly on his face. "I don't have much. This place is a wreck. And I know we barely know each other, but…"

"I'll stay." 

                                                         ---+---

Icy rain tapped on the window, the aged wood of the house occasional creaking from the chill, lulling him to a semi-sleep. Otherwise, the house was silent, with only the occasional whisper of sound as the cats padded in or out of his room. Not the tiny room on the first floor, but one of the ones upstairs. 

It had taken a good couple of days for both of them to sort through the mess of the two spare bedrooms on the second floor, turning one into a proper bedroom and the other an organized storeroom. (Lorelei kept apologizing because of the mess, but he was more distracted by seeing her hair covered by a colorful kerchief, the stray strands sticking to her flushed face, that he barely heard her.) 

He slept better on the slightly larger bed. It felt less like a temporary room and something more permanent, though habits were hard to kick. He had his bag still packed with necessities and sitting underneath his bed. But he allowed himself to set the few pictures he had usually carefully packed away to sit on the nightstand in frames Lorelei had found for him. 

(No questions were asked when she saw the pictures of him and his brothers, though he could see the curiosity on her face. Someday he wanted to be able to talk to her about them. Share his memories of his family. But the pain was still too fresh, so he was thankful she respected his silence.) 

A sharp crack of thunder broke the silence, and the split-second flash of light had given him enough warning not to jump. 

It hadn't prepared him for the ear-splitting scream of terror. He had grabbed the gun beneath his pillow in one quick motion and was running across the hall, breaking the door down to Lorelei's room, eye searching the darkness for an intruder. 

Instead, it was just her hunched in her bed, hands over her head as she flinched away from him; her hazel eyes widened with fear. 

Of him. 

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry," she gasped as she shook. "I didn't--I didn't…"

He lowered his gun quickly, guilt turning his stomach. "Lorelei," he started, "I--"

"Otto?" She interrupted, relaxing somewhat, the wild look leaving her eyes. "I-I thought…" another flash of light and a crack of thunder, and he watched her turn as stiff and panicked as deer in headlights before shaking herself out of it a moment later with a whimper. '"I'm sorry," she whispered as she turned back to him, "I didn't mean to wake you up." 

Otto hesitated before carefully entering, watching her for any signs of fear. Instead, she shifted in her bed to make room for him. The mattress sunk as he settled next to her, giving her room yet close enough to feel her warmth radiating into the cold room.  

She wasn't as timid as usual, scooting close enough to press against his side. He could feel her tremble as thunder cracked once more. "I am a grown-ass adult scared of thunder," she spat abysmally. "How pathetic is that?"

He was at a loss for what to do. Fear was not something familiar to him; not personally, and he couldn't recall the last time he saw his brothers scared.

How did someone go about comforting another? If it was his brothers, he would have gone after whatever had dared to frighten them. 

Without thinking, he offered the automatic rifle he had brought. She stared at the gun before looking up at him with a quizzical expression. "...I don't think shooting anything is going to help."

"Wouldn't hurt," he countered and earned a slight smile and faint chuckle before she sank into his side. He allowed the gun to rest on the bed and wrapped his arm around her back, holding her to him. They were both quiet as the clock ticked on. Gradually a few of the cats strayed in, looking rather inquisitive. Everytime the thunder cracked and she flinched, his hold would tighten, his thumb rubbing circles on her arm.

"Who were you scared of?" He finally asked the question brewing in his mind. Who had she seen standing in the doorway that terrified her? Who had ingrained in her the need to apologize for screaming out in fear? 

Lorelei was silent, though a glance assured him that she understood what he meant. Her expression was drawn as she soothed Nala's thick orange coat as the kitten settled on her lap. "My dad," she finally answered. "He hated it whenever I woke him up. He's been dead for years now, and I still…." 

"Good." He said after she trailed off. 

"Good?"

He shrugged, "You'd get upset."

She stared at him before realization set in. To his astonishment, she snorted and chuckled. "Is it horrid of me if I said I'd choose you over him?" 

Otto felt something twist in his chest at the admission. Family to him was everything. It was nothing more than a hypothetical statement, but… for her to put him before her father meant a lot to him. 

She meant a lot to him. He thought back to the terror on her face, the sharp pain in his gut when he thought she was scared of him. He had thought most of that guilt and dread was behind him. Granted, most of the ones he had killed were often less than innocent, but…. "Don't...ever be afraid of me." He said softly as he brushed a stray strand away from her face, carefully tucking it behind her ear. 

Her freckled cheeks turned pink as she smiled. "I don't think I could. I know you wouldn't hurt me." 

He had lost count of how many people he had killed. There was no way to total the number of bystanders that ended up as casualties because of him. A trail of blood followed him and his brothers wherever they went.

And yet….

His fingers traced the curve of her face, his gaze drawn to her lips as they shifted from a smile to being slightly parted.  His nose brushed hers as he leaned down, his eye closing before…

A cold water droplet fell right on his nose.

Both of them jumped back, the moment broken. Lorelei cursed another drop of water fell on her forehead before jumping to her feet and dashing off for a bucket, curses following her down the stairs. Otto glared up at the ceiling where the roof was leaking. 

If that wasn't Oscar haunting him, he would eat his boot.

                                                        --+--

Back in the hospital, John Doe sneezed.

Next

[firesoulstuff]

Okay, from the 101 family prompts: "No one helps me around this house" with Frost in the 'What's mine is yours' universe🤭

“No one helps me around this house!”

Frost snaps her eyes open, her body jolting as she leans up. Through the darkness of her room she can make out the sight of the crib across from her, and she sighs. Stupid dream. Still, it wasn’t wrong, and she isn’t in the mood to get into an argument with her subconscious.

So, she gets up.

It’s easier now to get up and down three weeks post-birth, but she still feels like she’s moving slower than she used to. Of course, that could just be due to the fact that it’s 4:00 in the morning. She peers over the edge of the crib and checks on Aaron still sleeping soundly, though she knows he’ll likely be up within the hour and demanding her attention. That’s fine, she just asks that he allots her the next ten minutes or so.

She tiptoes out into the main living area of the apartment and turn on the light, her eyes squinting and mouth grimacing in an automatic protest. Oh well.

She yawns and makes her way to the sink that is full of dishes from the past two days, because Caity has been busy at S.T.A.R. Labs and between the two of them they finished off the last of the frozen lasagna.

She squeezes some soap onto a sponge and turns on the water, running it hot to the point she has to pull her hands away at first and then ease them into it. She starts scrubbing at the lasagna pan right away, growling when she realizes how caked on some on the previously frozen burnt cheese is.

She isn’t quite sure how long it is when she hears a yawn behind her, but she knows it hasn’t been more than a few minutes.

“What are you doing?”

She glances over her shoulder briefly. Caity is standing just inside the kitchenette; her hair a rumpled mess and her eyes squinted so much they’re almost closed.

“Dishes.”

“Why?” Caity practically moans. “It’s four in the morning.”

“So why are you up?”

“I heard the sink.” Caity says, coming closer and rubbing at her eyes as she does so. Frost shudders and returns her attention back to the pan.

“I didn’t mean to wake you, sorry.”

“It’s ok.” Caity says through a yawn, and then she suddenly seems much more awake. “But really, why are you doing the dishes at four in the morning? I told you I’d do them tomorrow.”

“Exactly.” She snaps, right on the heels of Caity’s words, and she growls at herself, she hadn’t meant to snap.

The sink is still running, her hands are still gripping both the pan and the sponge, but she’s stopped scrubbing and takes in a deep breath.

“I had a dream.” She begrudgingly admits. “Aaron was crying and we were both exhausted and we started fighting, and you were upset that no one helps you around the house.”

Caity hums, low and disapproving.

“It was just a dream.” She practically groans. “Yes, I’m doing the majority of the housework right now but you just had a baby, who despite what you seem to think does not make all that much of a mess yet.”

“I know.” She says with a frown. “But I still feel bad. Between letting me hijack your body for nine months and then letting me stay in your apartment you’ve had to pretty much rearrange your whole life because of me. The least I can do is wash few dishes.”

Caity huffs, “Frost.” She says in that gentle yet still scolding voice of hers. She then reaches over and turns off the faucet, then hands Frost a towel to dry her hands. “I love you and I love Aaron, and no offense but as much as I love you I really prefer you living in my apartment rather than in my head.”

Frost chuckles at that, a tiny smile forcing it’s way onto her face.

“I know your new to the whole family things here’s the short version of how it works. We don’t count debts, and we help in any way we can that does not involve washing a lasagna pan at four in the morning.”

Again she laughs, and this time she dries her hands with the towel Caity gave her.

“I’ll tell you what.” Caity says through a smirk. “Tomorrow I’ll take Aaron for a walk in the park, and you can clean the whole kitchen while we’re gone.”

[keeroo92]

Be My Nightmare Ch4

Focus

Welcome back, everyone!!! I am so, so sorry this took so dang long. I wanted this chapter to cover so much and yet it feels like nothing happens at all, a tough one to nail down. Anyway! Hope you enjoy!

Word count - 4,415

~~~Previous Chapter~~~

__________________

---Reader---

The rest of your weekend passed uneventfully. Once V was stable, he didn’t have any further issues and you were able to catch up on tedious housework. You kept rehashing his words in your mind, dissecting every possible meaning until you could barely see straight.

After so many years of boredom, it was a delight to have the murderous artist in your care. Staying engaged had always been a struggle for you, even as a child. Most situations and people simply didn’t hold your interest. It wasn’t always easy to hide, but you managed most of the time.

You knew from experience what it cost if you failed.

Don’t think about that. There’s no point.

You sighed and set down your bag, reaching over to power up the CPU on your desk. Time to get to work. It was Monday, so your first patient would be Kelly Williams.

A classic case of bipolar disorder, the poor woman had been stuck in a major depressive episode for three months. She was so predictable you probably could have written up your notes for the session before she even arrived, but you followed protocol and checked your email as you waited for Kevin to deliver her anyway.

You minimized the browser as she shuffled in, eyes downcast and limp hair hiding her frown. You pursed your lips as she settled on the couch with a morose sigh. Kevin gave you a nod and left, clicking the door closed behind him.

“Hello, Kelly. How are you feeling today?” you began.

I’d bet my next paycheck I know her answer.

Her sad grey eyes lifted to meet yours. “Hanging in there.”

Yep. This is going to be a long hour.

You covered all the same topics, reviewing her trauma and possible causes for her illness. Diligent notes filled your notepad, but the words didn’t stick in your mind. It might be worth shifting Kelly to another doctor, considering how little you cared about her treatment. Dr. Malphas wouldn’t be happy, but he’d understand. You only wanted to make sure she was receiving the care she needed, right?

A soft knock interrupted your musings as Kevin returned. You said your goodbyes and promised your patient some menial reward, nothing important but something that would be meaningful to her.

The moment the door closed, you released a deep sigh. Honestly, there were only two or three patients here that interested you. A man with detailed visions of the future that occasionally came true, a woman who spoke a language of her own creation, and your favorite murderous artist. The rest you could deal with in your sleep.

On that note, who’s next?

Jacob Miller. The infamous serial killer who targeted women that resembled his mother. How utterly mundane.

It didn’t surprise you to realize how little the well-known madman interested you. His spree of kills thrilled and horrified the state of Utah for months until he was caught, all from a scrap of fiber he’d missed when disposing of one of his victims.

But his profile was quite basic. A broken home, absentee father and disciplinarian mother. Run of the mill patterns of animal abuse and rejection from potential sexual partners, the same fuel that brought about the likes of numerous big names. There was nothing new or unique about him.

As Kevin brought Jacob in, you tried not to let your eyes glaze over in disinterest.

“Good morning, Jacob.”

“Hello, Dr. Waras. How was your weekend?” the twisted man replied.

You pursed your lips. His manners belied a twisted core. “Nothing special, but we’re here to talk about you.”

His lips twisted into a dark grin. The man was an arrogant prick, always happy to talk about himself. Sometimes you wondered how he managed to avoid death row, but it wasn’t your problem.

“What do you want to know, Doctor?”

About you? Nothing.

“Let’s talk about your childhood a bit more,” you said instead.

---V---

The ceiling truly was a monstrosity. He’d been staring at it for hours, trying to pinpoint exactly what about its beige visage disturbed him so much, and he thought he finally had it figured out.

It was the bumps.

Little dapplings of the plaster, random and unintentional. As if whomever built the room had no idea patients would spend almost all their waking hours staring at their work. A few sections resembled faces or vague outlines of familiar objects, but the majority was an expanse of rough mediocrity.

He wanted to splash blood across it in sweeping arcs of color, break the horrible monotony with crimson streaks of life.

At this point, he’d settle for sidewalk chalk.

Someone’s coming.

The artist tuned to the hallway and sure enough, the familiar scuffle of Kevin’s feet approached. It must be time for his meeting with you and he smirked. What perfect timing.

Remember the plan.

“Yes, I’m perfectly aware,” he replied to the insistent tone rattling in his skull.

He arranged his features in a neutral expression, feigning indifference as the heavy door creaked open. Kevin’s signature shuffle came closer and the strap at his left arm loosened.

“Time for therapy,” the orderly informed him.

He resisted the urge to strangle the bumbling idiot as his arm regained its freedom. “Wonderful.”

Moments later, the artist stood beside Kevin rubbing his wrists and cracking his neck. Someday he would tear the man apart for stealing his autonomy, but not today. Today, he needed to gain an ally.

“So… Kevin. How did you end up here?”

Watery brown eyes blinked at him in confusion. The artist’s fingers twitched.

Don’t do it…

He clenched his hands. Kevin’s day would come and what a delight it would be…

“I… uh… I transferred from the hospital a few years back.”

V hummed and held his hands forward for the damned cuffs. They clicked into place as he replied, “Fascinating. Do you enjoy the work?”

Broad shoulders lifted in a shrug. “It’s all right, I guess. Gets weird now and then.”

He followed Kevin into the hallway, white soles squeaking on the linoleum. Nine doors identical to his own dotted the walls, useful information for later. Clever emerald eyes paid special attention to where the guard’s hand went to buzz them through to the offices.

“You’ll have to tell me some of your more interesting stories sometime,” he replied with a convincing twist of his lips. Child’s play.

Kevin grunted and gestured forward, inviting V to lead the way. “We’ll see.”

The thick door to your office already stood open, welcoming him in like an honored guest. He smirked as you nodded at Kevin and dutifully cooperated as the man latched him to the wall. You looked lovely, as you always did. Pen tucked behind your ear, a hint of excitement in your eyes.

“Thanks, Kevin. See you in an hour,” you said, dismissing the man.

And then there were two…

Stay focused. You’ll need your wits for what’s to come.

You offered him a smile as the door clicked shut. He mirrored it with ease.

“So, V. How are you feeling after last week? I haven’t seen you since your episode.”

He hummed and leaned back, settling his weight onto the couch. It was impossible not to indulge his aching body in the soft cushions after the maddening position he’d been stuck in all day.

“Truthfully, I’m bored. One can only stare at the same patch of ceiling for so long before it grows tedious.”

You tapped your pen against pursed lips. How lovely you’d look in red…

Focus.

“I can definitely understand that. I may be able to help, if you’re interested,” you replied.

There was no hiding the curiosity in his eyes, nor did he bother trying. You were too smart for that. “Do tell.”

“I can give you an assessment, and if it goes well you might be cleared to be left unrestrained. All you have to do is answer a few questions and be honest.”

He smirked. How adorable. “I’m ready when you are.”

You picked up a clipboard and read the first question aloud. “You find a lost young boy one day, and he appears to have stolen property. Would you A, hug and reassure him; B, take the property by force and leave him there as punishment; C, pick his pocket and leave him to his fate; or D, lead him home and call the authorities?”

He almost laughed. The entire basis of the question was absurd; what action he took depended on what the stolen property was. Why bother taking the item if it wasn’t something that appealed to him? Not to mention the lack of a ‘keep walking’ option.

“A,” he said. You made a note and continued.

None of the following questions were any better, all based on faulty logic or lacking the detail needed to truly make a decision. He chose his answers based on what he imagined his mother would do, using her kindness and empathy as a model for normal behavior. With each response, you marked your sheet and nodded approvingly.

“Okay, last question. Your house is on fire. What do you save on your way out? A, your little brother; B, your prized collection of baseball cards; C, whatever clothing you can carry; or D, the family photo album? Assume that anything not chosen is destroyed.”

For heaven’s sakes, only an imbecile would fail this.

“A, of course.”

You made a final mark and your brows furrowed as you tallied his answers. He occupied himself with images of you with a blade to Kevin’s flabby throat, grinning as you slashed it open. Blood would stain every inch of your clothing; never would you look so beautiful.

“Interesting… According to this, you shouldn’t even be here, let alone in high secure,” you began. Suspicion bloomed in your gaze as you met his eyes. “You weren’t being truthful, were you?”

No shit, Sherlock!

He gritted his teeth to keep from shouting at Griffon, searching for the right words. How had he missed this, how could he be so foolish as to expect you to believe a good result?

Take it again. As many times as it takes.

He had to take it another three times before you surrendered with a deep sigh. Not once did his answers change.

“I’ll have to clear it with Dr. Malphas, but I can’t justify stopping you.”

He smirked. Victory was sweet, indeed. Even this tiny increase to his freedom would do wonders for his plans, not to mention he’d no longer need to bother Kevin for a bathroom trip to indulge himself. It didn’t matter that there was a camera in his room, watching his every move. He knew where it was, it would be easy enough to hide his activities from its view.

“Thank you, Y/N,” he said. A tiny smile graced your lips at his gratitude. Progress.

“Just doing my job. Now, let’s get back on track. Do you remember anything from last week?”

He brought his legs onto the couch, drawing his knees to his chin as was his preference. “Fragments.”

Ink marked his answer on your notepad and he almost growled in jealousy. His fingers itched to create, to design and defile. It took all his will power to remain seated and keep his hands from reaching for the pen. The sketches last week had left him needy and craving more time to hone his craft, the pull growing stronger with every reminder.

“Would you care to elaborate?” you asked.

He didn’t bother to consider the ramifications as he opened his mouth. The need was too strong. “I’ll tell you about it if you give me a pen and paper.”

You idiot! Now you appear weak, willing to succumb to her will if she only throws you a treat. What are you, a dog?!

He flinched. Vergil had a point; he should have been more careful. Somehow, he needed to shift the scales back in his favor, or at least back to equality. To let this stand would be unacceptable. But how?

The rumble of an opening drawer stole his attention as you withdrew the same hunk of charcoal he used before. A clipboard with several sheets of fresh paper occupied your other hand and his eyes glittered in excitement as you handed them over. He licked his lips and quivered in anticipation, considering his options and refining several ideas.

“May I make a request?”

His gaze shot to yours. A request? So, you wanted to see more of his work. It fed his ego and he nearly purred at the image of you begging him to draw you, dripping in viscous blood after your first kill.

“I cannot stop you,” he said. It wouldn’t do to betray his thoughts, not yet. Caution was a worthy ally.

“Can you draw Griffon, or Vergil? I’m curious what they look like,” you replied.

Don’t you dare!

Speak for yourself, asshat! You do your thing, Van Gogh.

Lips twisting in amusement, he nodded and drew the first line. Griffon was always interesting to draw, though he still hadn’t managed to get his eyes right. Something about the triple-iris was irritatingly difficult to capture. Not to mention how much he hated feathers.

Still. An enjoyable challenge.

“So, tell me about last week.”

Now’s your chance. Do not waste it.

The artist hummed in acknowledgement, eyes locked on his work. He kept his hand elevated so as not to smudge the charcoal unintentionally, his fingers swiping across the pristine page to leave shadowy streaks behind. But how to utilize this opportunity? How best to regain his control of the situation?

Perhaps a quid pro quo?

He smirked and lifted his eyes. You were staring at him. “I seem to be having trouble remembering. Maybe you can jog my memory?”

You pursed your lips and narrowed your eyes. He didn’t bother trying to hide his Cheshire-like glee. He had you, how could you possibly refuse him?

“What, exactly, are you suggesting?”

He leaned back, casually adding another series of marks to his artwork as if your suspicion meant nothing to him, as if he didn’t care if you went along with his ideas. “I’m suggesting, Doctor, that you provide me with incentive to share.”

“Such as…?”

“For now? Blue.”

You stared at him as if he were an alien. “You want… blue?”

“I cannot do Griffon justice without the proper color,” he replied with a teasing smirk.

An easy trade, a small token to get you used to the idea. What harm could there be in allowing him more colors to use in your own office? It was a simple request, one not worth refusing and as you reached for your drawer, he congratulated himself for his cleverness.

“I don’t think I have any blue pens or anything, let’s see…”

“I’ll make do with whatever you have available,” he replied as you rummaged.

The drawer looked moderately chaotic, as if you put some effort into keeping it organized but you didn’t care enough to maintain it. Post its and paperclips were strewn about, pens and highlighters shoved in the corner. A thumb drive resided amongst a collection of pins.

A single flash of sapphire drew his gaze. Your delicious fingertips hesitated at the item, but you pulled it out a moment later as nothing else offered itself up. He almost laughed as you held it out to him.

This will be interesting to work with.

A makeup compact, full of blue powder. The color was dark and rich, serendipitously close to the exact shade of the demonic bird.

“This is all I’ve got,” you murmured.

The artist schooled his features into a look of disappointment, playing down his excitement as he accepted the small container. “It will suffice.”

He tested the substance on a fresh sheet of paper, swiping it across with the tip of his thumb. Discerning emerald eyes judged the depth of the hue, analyzing how much he’d need to achieve the proper coloration. If he layered it with the charcoal, it might just work.

You cleared your throat as he began, pen held at the ready for him to speak. That’s right, he was expected to describe last week in exchange. He’d nearly forgotten. Visions ricocheted in his mind, echoes of the night that became his ruin. He didn’t remember everything, but there was enough to recognize the memory. Enough to relive the delightful experience.

But it wouldn’t do to share every detail with you. He chose his words with care, selecting a few key details and adding meaningless drivel for good measure. The day may come when he recounted every moment, but you were nowhere near ready.

“I remember red, a great deal of it. Someone was screaming, but I don’t recall why. Yellow walls and a rhododendron.”

He paused to let you note his every word, swirling blue across the black outline of feathers. The sparkles were a bit much, but he couldn’t do anything to fix that. By the time the scratching of your pen ceased, he was almost finished.

“That sounds intense. Did it feel like a dream or more like a memory?”

He paused, wondering how far he could press you today. It was worth a try; even if you refused it would help him regain a position of strength.

“You wouldn’t happen to have any purple, would you?”

Your eyes sparkled. A slight twist of your pink lips was all the confirmation he needed that you knew what he was up to and you didn’t even glance at your desk before you responded.

“I’m afraid not.”

Despite the setback, he couldn’t help but smirk. There was something odd about you, and every time he interacted with you it became clearer. You got the same amusement from the mental battle as he did, the same thrill every time you scored a point. The same rush of fascination and curiosity.

You were more than just another sheep.

All he needed to do was draw out the wolf.

“That’s a shame, Y/N,” he purred. Your chair squeaked as you shifted.

A soft knock on the door signaled the end of your hour with him. He sighed and handed you the clipboard, his drawing of Griffon’s proud flight on full display. Your eyes widened, a slight inhale escaping your lips that would fuel his fantasies for days to come.

“So that’s Griffon?”

He nodded as the door opened and Kevin approached, handing you the makeup and charcoal. It pained him to surrender the supplies, but this way you didn’t have to ask. A subtle difference, but one that reinforced his autonomy instead of your control over his life.

But there was one last gesture he wanted to make.

The moment Kevin freed his hands, he extended one to you with a soft smirk. The orderly’s meaty fist wrapped around his wrist and he didn’t fight back, content to wait for your response.

Suspicion tinted your eyes, mixing with interest as he parted his lips.

“I wanted to thank you, Doctor. I look forward to sleeping unrestrained tonight.”

You shared a glance with the orderly and he let go. The urge to strangle the man for his interference was powerful, but he ignored it. In due time, the man would pay. For now, let him imagine he had won. Far more interesting was your reaction.

You looked startled, but not fearful. More intrigued than anything else.

Perfect.

The same hand he licked the first time he met you clasped his own, shaking it in a gesture of mutual respect. You didn’t need to know his true goal; to feel your skin and memorize its texture. The knowledge would add depth to his fantasies and he focused on the smooth warmth, hungry for every detail he could glean from such brief contact.

The hands of one who works indoors…

He brushed his index finger across your wrist as you pulled back, a more intimate touch not immediately apparent to the accursed third party watching his every move. The barest twitch of your fingers revealed your awareness of his boldness, but you didn’t say a word. Another victory, then.

“Until tomorrow,” he murmured.

---Reader---

The heavy door clicked shut and you released a deep breath. Your heart was pounding, mind consumed with the artist’s simple caress. Those same hands that were capable of such artistry had taken at least three lives; you couldn’t afford to forget how dangerous he was. The mind games, the trickery and bargaining, none of it mattered if you lost your focus.

What is my focus?

You leaned back and pursed your lips. In broad terms, your goal with other patients was to help them reach a point where their ability to function in normal society was no longer impaired. If they weren’t capable of that much, you were meant to guide them to stability so they could at least have appropriate quality of life.

To envision V in normal society was close to impossible. You couldn’t picture him in a suit, sitting at a cubicle like ordinary folks. Imagining him on a commute was anathema; with a family, unthinkable. The man was an outlier and no amount of treatment would change that.

So how can I help him?

You growled in frustration and rubbed your eyes. The flesh he touched still tingled, the nerves jangling with odd enthusiasm. It made no sense; the man was a murderer and here you sat like a schoolgirl with her first crush. Absurdity. You were smarter than this, better than this.

This isn’t a comic book or some crappy romance novel. Life doesn’t work that way. He was trying to manipulate me and I cannot let him win.

You glanced at the drawing of Griffon, marveling at the unearthly beauty of the creature’s forked beak and massive legs. A demonic bird, the hallucination of a crazed murderer, and you found it beautiful. What an incredible mind he had, to come up with such a thing.

How sad to imagine all the things he could have done with that mind, instead of slaughter. He could have written the next Lord of the Rings, painted the next Sistine Chapel. Manifested something profound instead of destroying the lives of a young family.

Maybe he still can. If I can help him, who knows what he’ll create?

A subdued knock at your door pulled you from your thoughts. Was it already noon? Time flew right by you, more proof of the ridiculousness surrounding you. With a final sigh you grabbed your purse and locked your computer, heading to join Kotomi for lunch.

“Hey Y/N! How was your weekend?” she asked as you entered the hallway.

Charlie buzzed you through the security door; Ben must have called out sick. “Pretty boring, to be honest. How about you?”

Her eyes sparkled as she described a trip to the museum with her mother, skimming over any interesting parts like she always did. The elder Ishida was legendary in her hatred of psychiatry, and every time she and Kotomi got together she had a new story of her mother’s lectures. You grinned as you reached for the button to call the elevator, all too aware of her heels.

“So, did she disown you for working here yet?”

“Y/N! Not so loud! Wait, what’s that on your wrist?”

You hadn’t noticed before, but a streak of charcoal marked where the artist touched you. It was just dark enough to draw attention and you rubbed it against your pants, grateful you wore black today.  A pale grey outline remained no matter how hard you tried and you huffed in annoyance.

“It’s charcoal,” you replied, rolling your eyes.

Her perfectly shaped eyebrows rose. “The artist?”

You nodded and stepped forward as the elevator arrived. Her heels clicked to join you as she crossed her arms and gave you an intense stare.

“You let him touch you? Have you lost your mind?!”

Did he do it on purpose? Was this why he wanted to shake my hand?

Lithe fingers grasped your shoulders as almond shaped eyes met yours. Her concern was sweet and you wished you had the right words to reassure her.

“Y/N, I’m worried about you. I know how you get with these people; you need to be extra careful with him. I’ve heard rumors, he sounds really dangerous,” she insisted.

You managed a small smile as a ding announced the elevator passing the second floor. There was no change in its motion and you licked your lips, searching for the right words. Of course he was dangerous; you weren’t an idiot, you knew that. And yes, maybe you shouldn’t have let him touch you, but Kevin was right there and you couldn’t let him have control by refusing.

“Look. I know, okay? I know what he’s capable of. I read the police report. But I have to take a few risks to help him, he’s too smart for the standard approach. It’s my job to work with the dangerous ones. I know what I’m doing.”

Her eyes softened and she dropped her arms, though she still looked troubled. The second ding marked your arrival at ground level and you stepped off in silence, wondering what else you could say to ease her concern.

“Do you want me to sit in on your sessions? Maybe I can help somehow,” Kotomi offered.

How did she do that? How did she make herself seem so genuine? Was she actually that genuine or was it all an act? It was impossible to say for sure, but you had no reason to doubt her sincerity. Her offer meant all the more considering her aversion to violent offenders, her fear of being around the most twisted minds.

You smiled at Lenny as he buzzed the two of you into the administrative wing. The echoes of Kotomi’s steps rattled through the air as you neared the staff lounge.

“That’s really nice of you to offer, but I’ll be alright. I promise to be careful,” you said.

The remaining charcoal on your wrist drew your eyes as you opened the door. You couldn’t deny the rush his touch gave you, despite the alarm bells that rang in your head. Maybe Kotomi had a point, maybe you were being reckless. No other patient had ever touched you so intimately, with or without permission. Was this response normal?

Did it matter?

~~~Next Chapter~~~

[panda-noosh]

Hi! I was wondering if I could please submit an angst Vampire! Shiro x reader where he hates humans until a stranger accidentally wonders in his castle during a deadly winter storm (with a little NSFW please??) If not then that’s fine!😊 I saw a fan art of the Paladins as monsters the other day (and Coran as a funny poltergeist lol) and thought this would be cool written out lol, thank you for taking the time to read my ask♥️ have a wonderful day!!

    There was a human in his castle.

    A human. One of those filthy, annoying little things that he had isolated himself purely to avoid - and there was one of them in his home.

    Shiro felt like he should have been angrier, furious even. Humans should be terrified of him. Humans were terrified of him - he had spent the majority of his long, long life trying to ensure such a thing were true. He didn’t want them anywhere near him.

    And yet he stood over your bedside now, and pondered on why he felt absolutely nothing.

    Nothing but concern, but he didn’t want to acknowledge that side of things. Although he hated the human race, although he had isolated himself purely to avoid the existence of such things, he would openly say that he wasn’t a complete monster. He got his blood from animals rather than human veins, hadn’t killed a single human being in his time on earth. He was a kind hearted soul, meaning he of course wasn’t going to let you die from hypothermia and exhaustion right outside his door.

    But there was something a little bit different about this one. He watched over you, checked up on you every few hours, made sure that the cupboards had something for you to eat when you woke up. For some reason, he was worried.

    Your lips were blue, hair matted against the pillow, skin sunken-looking. He reached out a tentative hand, hesitated only a moment before he placed his knuckles against your flesh; you were boiling, running a fever despite the shiver coursing through your body and the weather you had emerged from only moments before. You should have been freezing.

     The days passed. You improved. Shiro watched over you. For a little while, Shiro truly believed he was peaceful. He had trapped himself into a routine, consisting of waking up and checking on you every few hours - it was easier that way. He could keep a close eye on you without having to speak, without having to explain the situation or where you were. He liked it like that. In a way, he still felt isolated - he just had company.

    It was on the third day when that changed.

    Shiro walked in to see you sitting up in bed, running your hands frantically through your hair. He stopped dead in his tracks, unsure of what to do or how to handle the situation. Was he meant to tell you to lay back down, because surely being awake and upright wasn’t good for the fever you had been dealing with only hours beforehand. 

    He stepped forward into the light of the dimly-lit room, and you jumped at the sudden intrusion. You hadn’t heard him come in initially, though Shiro wasn’t surprised by that. He had no reflection to be seen in the windows, and he was incredibly light on his feet. It was one of the perks that came with being legally dead.

    “Oh God,” was the first thing you said upon seeing him; pale skin, sharp teeth, red-tinted cheeks. Shiro swiped a self-conscious thumb along his lower lip to ensure he hadn’t left behind any traces of the blood he had digested for breakfast; there was none.

    “Hello,” he said hesitantly. “Do you have any idea where you are?”

    The question was simple, and yet it sent you into an obvious panic. Your eyes widened, hands slamming down onto the covers as you looked around frantically. “God, no. No. I have - I have no idea where I am. I ran away from home and ended up … somewhere! Then it started snowing, and-”

   “You collapsed outside my door,” Shiro explained, taking the reigns to allow you a moment to breathe. “I brought you in, human.”

    He winced almost as soon as he said it; how could he be so daft? You looked over at him slowly, teeth nibbling on your bottom lip, eyes raking his form slowly. Shiro had never been intimidated by a human being before, but the look you were giving him now was enough to turn even his stiff veins to ice.

    “So it’s true, is it?” you asked quietly.

    Shiro froze. “I don’t know what you mean.”

   “The stories,” you explained. “The ones they all talk about. Takashi Shirogane, the vampire. The recluse. They’re all true.”

    Shiro stared back at you. You did not waver, did not break the gaze - Shiro could respect that. 

   Slowly, he nodded.

    You pursed your pale lips and looked away, as if trying to collect yourself. Shiro couldn’t blame you; he, too, would be in shock at the revelation that something he had only heard of in childrens tales had turned out to be true this entire time. He settled himself back against the door frame and stared until you finally looked back up at him, running a hand through your hair.

    “Do you perhaps have anything to drink?” you asked. “Anything that a human can drink.”

    And despite the voice in the back of Shiro’s head telling him that he should just send you back the way you came, get rid of you as soon as possible, he smiled, nodded and made his way into the kitchen.

+++

   Shiro looked at you from across the table. He had been doing a lot of that recently - looking at you. Inspecting you. Putting together the puzzle that made up your existence, hoping the end product would tell him exactly why he allowed you to stay here, exactly why he had taken so fondly to you.

    It was your third week in his presence. He had given you a room, was feeding you, was enjoying your company most of all. It was odd. He had never felt like this before, and yet he couldn’t find the strength to fight against it. It was strange having been an emotionless corpse one moment, to suddenly being thrown into a world of feelings that he couldn’t quite explain even to himself.

   So he just watched you and hoped that, in the end, he would have the answers he wanted. Perhaps even the strength to do what he knew would be best - send you on your way, get you out of his presence before he could hurt you.

    That was his biggest fear, though he tried desperately to ignore it. These feelings were new to him. He didn’t know how to handle them. Easily, they could drive him mad, distress him to the point where he lashed out, because it certainly would not be the first time such a thing had happened. He lost control. He was so used to doing what he wanted, of people being afraid of him, that holding back was no longer something he worried about.

    But with you it was different. He realised that from the moment you looked up at him with those beautiful eyes, a piece of steak dangling from your lips. You awkwardly blinked in his direction, having only just caught him staring. He smiled, nodded towards the plate of food you had in front of you. He had a cup of deer blood.

  �� “Enjoying your meal?” he asked pleasantly.

   You let the piece of steak splatter back onto the plate, quickly wiping the gravy with the back of your hand. “I am. Thank you. It looks .  . . Well, I know talking about expenses isn’t exactly very good, but it looks expensive.”

   Shiro shrugged. “It didn’t put me in debt, so I wouldn’t worry.”

   “That’s not the point.” You set your fork down, suddenly looking serious. Shiro raised his brows, trying to fight off his smile of amusement. “You shouldn’t be buying all this expensive stuff for me. My bill by the end of this is going to be incredible.”

    “Bill?”

   “Well, I’ll have to pay you back. Rent and stuff.”

   Shiro chuckled. “If I was expecting rent money, I would have asked you for it by now.” He shook his head. “No, no. Don’t you worry about paying for anything. I’m taking care of you.”

   You blinked. It confused Shiro. He had spent his entire life believing that human beings were selfish. They took and they took without any consideration for others - and yet here you were, sitting in front of him with a look of pure confusion at the mere idea of Shiro allowing you to stay in his home for free.

    He gestured towards your food. “Though if you let the expensive steak go to waste, I’ll be most disappointed. Perhaps even a little angry.”

    You flushed, but said no more on the topic. You picked up your fork and went back to eating at the food Shiro had provided, and Shiro went back to putting the puzzle that was you back together in his head.

+++

    The argument started not long after midnight.

    You had, once again, insisted on staying up with Shiro. He didn’t see the point; he had slept throughout the entire day whilst you had been up cleaning and doing the housework as a way to thank him for his hospitality. Now that the sun had gone down and the moon was in the sky, it was Shiro’s time to thrive.

    It was clear you were exhausted, and yet you still insisted on sitting beside Shiro, refusing to go to bed.

   He glared at you. “You’re going to wear yourself out.”

   “If I hear you saying that one more time, I swear to God-”

    “I’m serious, Y/N. One or two nights staying up with me is fine, but whenever you’re up all day and all night, it’s going to take it’s toll on you. Just because I’m dead, doesn’t mean I don’t realise that.”

   You folded your arms over your chest, refusing to look at him. You kept your gaze directly on the smouldering fireplace in front of you, the flames echoing off of your eyes and creating a very distinct, interesting pattern in your irises that nearly had Shiro sidetracking just to take a closer look.

    He sighed. “You’re giving me the silent treatment?”

   “I just wish you’d let me do what I want. I want to keep you company - it can’t be very nice sitting up all night on your own.”

   “It’s all I’ve ever known.”

   “Because you had no one else.” You turned to him, eyes glittering in a way that made Shiro’s heart retract, his black-tipped fingers tingle with the need to reach out and hold you. “I’m here now, though. You saved me. Why can’t you just let me thank you?”

    Shiro pursed his lips. You made it so difficult. You made everything so difficult, and you didn’t even realise it. You looked at him with those innocent eyes, and you tilted your head back when you laughed, and you danced when you thought nobody was there. Shiro was only awake during the night, but you made those times feel like the brightest, most magical times of the day.

   And you didn’t even realise it.

    Shiro jumped when you reached out and gently grazed your fingers over his. His skin seared where you touched him, urging him to flinch back, hide away just like he had always done. But he stayed rooted to the ground, watching your fingers glide through his own until you were doing that thing humans did - held hands. An action Shiro had never understood, but was beginning to understand now. It left him breathless, and he felt stupid for it. It was such a simple action, and yet…

    “This is nice,” he breathed. He wasn’t even sure if you had heard him or not, though judging by the small giggle you let out, you had heard him perfectly fine. 

    “Tell me how you want to spend your night, Shiro, and we’ll make it happen,” you whispered. “We’ll make this the best night of your life. Your long, long life.”

    Shiro inhaled shakily and looked up, eyes meeting your own. So many things came to mind. He wanted to hold your hand some more, wanted to go outside into the moonlight and hug you beneath the magical rays. He wanted to hear you laugh, wanted to play the music you always spoke about - he had no radio, no access to music but in this moment, he would have done anything just to see your eyes light up at the sound of it. 

     But he couldn’t give you that, and in reality, it really wasn’t the only thing he wanted. He felt the anxiety clawing at his chest, a most unfamiliar feeling for him, but he embraced it and used it to spur himself onwards; that’s when he tipped his head down and pressed his lips to your own, sloppy and unpractised because he had been repulsed by humans up until this point.

    You responded, and Shiro took that as a good sign. He choked back a protest when your fingers glided away from his own; he wanted to keep holding your hand! 

    But you made up for it by instead trailing your fingers along the back of his neck, and Shiro was sure he had never felt anything more stimulating in his entire life. He growled against your mouth, causing you to giggle, breaking the kiss only for a second before Shiro got greedy and pressed his lips back against your own.

    You smiled, winding your arms around his shoulders, allowing him to pick you up and wrap your legs around his hips. You slotted against him so well. It amused him. How had you been living in his home for nearly a month and a half, and he was only figuring all of this out now? 

   He was only just now figuring out how good your fingers felt weaving through his hair, how good your lips tasted, how pleasant your body felt against his own as he pressed you down onto the velvet sofa. You sunk into the material, letting out a sigh that could only be described as one of bliss, Shiro hovering over you, glancing down at you as if you were prey.

    But you weren’t.

   For once, Shiro wasn’t hungry, wasn’t craving the feel of human skin enveloping his fangs. He just wanted you. You and your personality and you in general, and he let you know this by tracing his fingers idly beneath your shirt, drawing invisible little butterflies onto your stomach.

    You squirmed in his grip, looked up at him almost pleadingly and said, “Shiro.”

   His name on your lips was music. He was sure of it. Whilst you enjoyed a beat and a tune, all Shiro needed was your breathless murmur of his name and he could have danced the entire night away.

   He leaned down and peppered kisses along your jaw. He could hear the blood pumping through your veins, loud as a siren in the distance, but he ignored it. 

     “You’re not scared,” he whispered against your flesh. It was not a question.

    You shook your head slowly, looking deep into his grey eyes with an intensity that had even his insides turning to liquid.

     “I could never be scared of you, Shiro,” you whispered back. “Now, what about my promise?”

   Shiro nuzzled his head in your neck, hummed against your flesh. “Promise?”

   “To make this the best night you’ve ever had,” you replied, and Shiro stiffened. You leaned up, pressed your lips to his ear and whispered, “Tell me what you want to do.”

    Shiro inhaled deeply, letting his hands roam just over the swell of your hips. He pressed you back onto the sofa, pressed his own lips to your ear and replied, “I have a few things in mind.” 

[justaramblingromantic]

~ send me a ship and i’ll tell you who ~

@snigz17 (Part II of III! Decided to do the three ships separately because the HCs all got so detailed...! Last one to be up soon!)

EiRin here

IshiNene here

RyoAli here

SouEri

curses like a sailor

Neither are the type to curse prolifically. That said, Souma can be rather inventive with his choice of epithets when thoroughly provoked…just as he is with his never ending, questionable experiments with different variations of grilled squid. The first time Erina hears an, uh, unusually creative combination of words coming out of his mouth, she stares at him like she has never seen him before. He is more amused than embarrassed by her comically appalled expression, and then he makes it a point to get this sheltered princess of his to loosen up a little by teaching her how to swear, too. She is very ruffled and affronted by his instructions, much to his everlasting glee. The first time she accidentally blurts out a cuss word in a fit of frustration, she is visibly horrified by her lapse in decorum, but he laughs until his face is red and calls out proudly ‘atta, girl!’

does the chores voluntarily

Souma is faster with the chores, Erina is more careful and meticulous. Her womanly pride is offended by his easygoing efficiency at first, and like almost everything they do, she tries to turn it into an unofficial competition, albeit a largely one sided one since Souma is never too bothered about that sort of thing in the first place. He is bemused by her sudden, unexpected enthusiasm when it comes to doing housework, this highborn ojou-sama who never had to dirty her hands with domestic chores all her life. She is also very hilarious when she runs to him all bright eyed with excitement and wonder, waving the ‘latest’ housecleaning gadget she finds, usually something incredibly cheap and for sale in 100-yen shops, marveling over the device like it’s the most magical thing she’s ever seen and boasting about it in the most adorably amusing fashion. 

wants to marry their bed

That massive princess canopy bed that she has slept on for the majority of her childhood and through her teenage years is a work of art and a frou-frou monstrosity, both at the same time. When they finally moved into their first apartment together, she wanted to take that humongous bed along too, regardless of the mind boggling logistics and limited space constraints that would render such a feat physically impossible. Souma carefully eyeballs that gigantic, polished, mahogany bed-frame with the equally mammoth mattress that could probably sleep an entire family comfortably, and firmly sets his foot down on this one. ‘Erina,’ he tells her matter-of-factly. ‘You won’t need all that space anymore.’ Not with me.

gets awkward about romantic gestures

She agonizes and worries and frets over them with all the solemness and graveness of making a major decision during a Tootsuki board meeting. Is it too much? Is it too little? What is that even supposed to mean? What if he thinks that I’m overbearing? What if he thinks that I don’t care? She’s so adamant on making everything equal and perfect that she gives herself no small amount of grief just pondering the proper thing to do. Souma watches all the mental gymnastics that she’s putting herself through, highly visible via the earnest emotions that flashes across her hesitating, clouded features, and eventually, he stands up, walks over to her and sets his hand on her shoulder. She glances up at him, startled by his presence. She always looks young and vulnerable and unsure to him during moments like this. He leans down and pecks a kiss on her cheek, silently reveling in this exquisite tenderness that she evokes so effortlessly in him. ‘I love you,’ he tells her simply, because sometimes she needs to hear the words to be reminded that he isn’t going anywhere. ‘What would you like to have for dinner? I’ll make your favorites.’ 

stays in the shower for what seems like hours

She’s a princess through and through, and princesses take long baths, apparently. He is endlessly bemused and fascinated by her girly ways and elaborate evening rituals; how she adores applying those faintly flowery, subtly sweet smelling creams on herself after emerging freshly washed from the bathroom, her ivory, moonlit skin flushed pink after a good, invigorating scrub in the shower. She has so many different bottles and containers of stuff in their bathing area he cannot even begin to fathom what each and every one is for - women sure are an endless mystery, and she has always been the most mysterious one out of them all. 

would adopt a million cats if given the chance

She’s never been allowed to have any pets growing up, and Souma didn’t think he has ever seen such a blissful, content expression on her face until they went to that cat cafe and she’s swimming in a furry pile of happy, purring felines who seem to adore her just as much as she does them. She looks so forlorn when it’s time to leave that he ends up petting her head and telling her they can come back again anytime she wants. She gazes at him with such childlike hope and delight, part of him starts to realize that he will be in trouble once she figures out that he can’t say no to her whenever she’s looking at him like that.

fixes stuff around the house / apartment

Every once in a while, Erina harbors manic fantasies and delusions of grandeur when it comes to being a good homemaker and DIY-er, but much to her dismay and endless bewilderment, most of her (non-culinary) home projects usually end in unspeakable disasters. Thankfully enough, there’s Souma to fix her messes and save her clumsy handiwork; the man is ridiculously handy to have around, even when she sometimes finds it immensely irritating that nothing she throws at him seems to faze him for too long.

watches too many Disney movies

Whenever she gets too stressed out with work yet is too tired to do anything to alleviate that tension, she switches on the television and plays Disney movies to relax. He comes home and finds her fast asleep on the couch with a flick playing in the background on more than one occasion, and whenever that happens, he turns off the TV, quietly picks her up in his arms, and carries her to bed. He tucks her in with uncharacteristic gentleness, careful not to rouse her from the rest her body so desperately needs. She wakes in the morning with no recollection whatsoever of getting in bed, but his familiar scent lingers on her sheets even when he’s already left to attend to work. Erina wistfully wonders if this fuzzy, content fondness is what Rapunzel feels as well when she thinks of her adventurous lover. 

gets drunk off of champagne

She has a secret, guilty weakness for expensive champagne, atypically French, rose gold and sparkling, of a certain rare vintage and an unforgettably full bodied, sophisticated flavor that’s strong, radiant, tense and sharp. Fitting for a queen...Yet he’s the one who grows inexplicably intoxicated as he drinks deeply from her mouth, seemingly unable to get enough of her heavenly taste. 

cries when the ASPCA commercials come on

She always insists with disgruntled vehemence that she’s not crying- how dare he say otherwise and is he secretly laughing at her? - and he pacifies her upset indignation with good humor - yes, yes, you’re totally not cryin’, I gotcha; our Erina has a heart as hard as steel - all the while drolly handing her pieces of tissues to blow her nose and dab with at her wet eyes.

[thatbangtanbloom]

cinder | jjk [2]

Cinder(kook)

1 2 

Characters: Jungkook x Reader, Taehyung, Seokjin, Jimin, Namjoon

Categories: Fluff, Angst

AU(s): Disney!AU, Historical!AU, Royalty!AU 

Word Count: 5, 662

Sypnosis: AU in which Jungkook is literally Cinderella, minus the pretty blue dress and glass slippers. Cinderkook wears Timberlands.

Ringing, like that of a large golden bell, is what awakens your slumber every morning in your quarters of the royal palace. Days passed as each new rising sun reminded you of the rapidly approaching ball you would hold. For the most part, you did not even wish to hold it. It writes your fate in the stars – your parents will find a prince (or even a King if one is at war) acceptable for your hand in marriage and promptly sign you over once the period of 'courtship' is over, wed within three sunrises, and lastly, begin the process of producing an heir as quickly as possible. The very thought of it leaves a strong distaste within your mouth.  

You do not want this.

"Your royal highness," Your Royal Advisor, Park Jimin of Busan, addresses you with a frown adorning his Cupid's bow. His tone is soft and sweet, much different from the harsh noises that emit from your father, and he makes haste to keep up with your stomping feet. "You cannot simply jump and leave as you wish. You have Palace Management, Ethics, crocheting -"

Your breath is hitching, making you nearly go insane with all of the logistics that Jimin relays to you. You squeeze the tulle of your dress in your hands and stomp towards Jimin, ignoring the small height difference between the two of you. "I do not care nor do I wish to, if I were, to be frank." You quip as you glance at Jimin. "And please, Jimin, do not speak to me as though I am my father! I am so tired of being bred to merely give over my kingdom the moment a prince waltzes in that my parents deem acceptable. It is my life and as the only heir to the throne, I should have a say to what I want my legacy will be-"You pause, watching as Jimin's features contort into that of disdain; with furrowed brows and pursed lips as though he has heard these words a thousand times from you, and the honest truth is that he has.  

"You have not been taught to do that, your royal highness," Jimin says, keeping his eyes to the ground because it was unworthy of a royal advisor, a man of no royal blood or lineage to look into the eyes of the princess. The very proclamation makes your blood burn and you fight the urge to make him look at you. "You are to be a product of your people, by the people, and for the people. When you are a princess, you are not expected to make choices that are best for you. You must not be a subjective ruler, but an objective one."  

You step closer to Jimin, brows furrowing together at his words. Every part of you loathes what you see in front of you; a man barely older than you with the ideals of prestige and hierarchy ingrained into every aspect of his gold seamed clothes to the platinum of his cufflinks. You hate, hate, hate it.  "And what makes you think that I am unable to do that? Because I am a woman?" You yell, knowing the impracticality of your actions but you can not, you will not, and shall not be overlooked merely for your sex.

The calmness of Jimin's voice is what breaks your thoughts, "You are unable to do that because you are not trained to do so." He replies, frowning in response. "Your royal highness, I understand that you do not wish to marry nor do you wish to have your crown shared when you become queen, but do not take your frustrations out on me. I am merely an advisor. Please do not think otherwise."

It drives you insane that he does not dare to look up once.  

"Your Royal Highness..." Jimin murmurs your title in the softest tone that he can muster as he keeps his eyes locked on the ground. There it is again, the insanity driving you upset that he does not even dare to say your name in his presence.  

You shake your head, "Look at me, Jimin."  

"It is not something that I can do, your royal highness," He repeats to you. His brown orbs stay locked to the ground. Despite the sophisticated façade that Jimin holds on to, you can not help but see the juvenility of his actions.  

This, in turn, makes you grimace before turning on your heels to storm to the horse stables.

"Y-your royal highness!" The words tumble out of Jimin's mouth haphazardly as he follows behind you like that of a lost puppy. "I-it is not the time for you to attend the stables or have lessons.... that is not for another two sunrises--"

You ignore the words of your Royal Advisor as you grasp the saddle onto your horse and smooth it down before tying it gentle enough to not hurt your horse, Verre, but still tight enough to be secure before getting onto the horse without warning. "I will do as I please, Royal Advisor," You quip to the red-headed male before lightly signaling Verre to walk off. "I will return before crocheting. You need not fret," are your last words to Jimin before you take off to the hunting grounds of the Royal Court.  

The fresh smell of hay greets Jungkook as he rolls up the sleeves of his beige, tattered shirt. The sweat beads on his forehead and he sighs to himself a monstrous sigh at the realization of how much work he would have to complete to even have Ms. Kim think of allowing him to go to the ball. It was laughable, was it not? Hell, even Jungkook knew he had no chance of attending the ball.

"I just wish.." He murmurs to himself, as his hand digs deep into the bag of poultry feed to feed the chickens. He ignores the grainy feeling that the poultry gives him and sighs as he tosses it into the quarters of the chicken coop. "Nevermind," He says aloud to himself as he kneels down to feed the oldest chickens first and then for the youngest. "It's foolish to even think about when I have so much work to complete..."

As though they understood him, the chickens file in for their habitual meal. A majority do not even glance at him in acknowledgment for bringing food, instead, they peck at the ground eagerly to eat. Their careless actions make Jungkook smile at the thought. He wishes that he too, could be that carefree.  

Being carefree was not a characteristic, let alone an action for him when his stepmother and his two stepbrothers often forced him into doing all of the housework. It used to be, for Jungkook though, before his mother (and then later, his father) died. He remembers waking up early mornings to hear his mother sing as she did the housework with his father; sitting on a stool in the middle of the kitchen while he eagerly watched his mother and father dance and swearing to himself that he would find that too with the one he loved one day.

You.  

At the thought of you holding his red ball when he was so young, his cheeks flush pink to remember such an archaic memory. Had his life been that eventful that he still longed to see you after all of these years? It was not as though he was incredibly in the dark of how you looked, he only remembered hearing hushed murmurs of your beauty and your peculiar attitude when he went to town to buy bread for the family when Taehyung and Seokjin found his own bread insufficient. Though, every part of him still longed to see you, talk to you once more... He felt (for some inexplicable reason) that you were the last tie to what he had of his parents; the fact that you had the only thing that his mother bought him that was not tarnished made his heart churn more.

It was dumbfounding how silly a red ball could be.  

"I must be going insane," He laughs to himself as he finishes tossing the poultry feed to the rooster and hens before turning on his heels to feed the pigs and then the horses.  

The farm that Jungkook often tended too was not large, it never was intended to be, in the two hundred years his family's ancestors resided there. They were a family of merchants, only using the farm as a way of subsistence, not as a mean to alleviate any financial problems.

"I have been here too long... too long here, at a trapped place," He says to no one particular, because he knows no one will respond to him when he thinks aloud like this, and he is thankful. More than often, Jungkook found himself talking alone to the animals as though they could understand him. It seemed that they had a greater capacity for understanding human emotions more than his own supposed family ever did. And as though speak of the devil, the all too familiar screech of his stepmother meets his ears.

"Oh, Cinderkookie!" Comes the cry from the window of his step mother's room. "Please bring the tea when you see me." Jungkook immediately feels distaste at the nickname that he earned from sleeping near the fireplace when the attic was too cold for him. Why did his misfortunes have to become his name? It troubles him to no end, but despite this trouble, he knows better than to keep Ms. Kim from waiting. More than anything, he knows that waiting is not something that she particularly enjoys doing.

"Yes, stepmother?" Jungkook asks in a soft tone once he arrives into the dining room, green tea in hand as he does his best to not trip over the evil cat Lucifer that he knew loathed with a passion. At the sight of the cat, the scar on his cheek aches.

Ms. Kim sits perched on the chaise with a porcelain blue stamped teacup accompanying her. Despite being rather young, she looks old for age; this being a sign of her old and cruel ways. "Why did it take you so long to answer me?"  

"S-stepmother, I was busy feeding the cattle." Jungkook stammers, wishing as though he could make himself smaller under her dark, glowering eyes that wish to bury him alive, just to never see the reminder of his mother or father. "You asked me to do that just an hour ago while I was finishing mending Taehyung and Seokjin's suits for the reception and beginning to clean the kitchen-" He rambles nervously, anxious to get out of her sight and to return back to work. It felt as though his only solace was in working.  

"And it is taking you until now to do that?" She asks, raising her voice at him with a perk of her brow. The sound of their mother's voice makes Taehyung and Seokjin both glance into the room with anticipation. It was rare that their mother raised her voice despite her short temper. She preferred to say calm. "Why is it that you can do nothing right, Cinderkook? Why does it take you an hour to clean the kitchen, mend the clothes, and feed the cattle?" She stands up, taking two steps forward in front of Jungkook.  

Jungkook swallows, keeping his eyes on the ground and nods. "Y-yes, I know this but I can only do so much without any help. Stepmother, I am trying my hardest-"  

"Do you know how much I have sacrificed for you? I could have easily discarded you to an orphanage, but me being the kind woman I am, I did not! You could have become a thug, a street dweller, a whore but I saved you from that! Especially when you look just like your mother – a whore!"  Ms. Kim screams at Jungkook, making his head jolt up in an instant at her words.  

Jungkook swallows, his shoulders trembling at her words at the mere mention of his mother, "Do not speak about my mother... she taught me to always have the courage and be kind even in the face of those who oppose me. You can talk ill of me, but please not of my mother." His voice nearly cracks at the memory of his mother; with her long black hair and breathtakingly welcoming brown almond eyes. He remembers seeing her for the last time when he was thirteen, how sweetly she caressed his cheek and told him to always be gentle and kind in a world that wishes to make you hard.  

"Do not speak of that whore to me!" She yells before raising her hand to slap Jungkook forcefully. The impact is sudden and quick – like a white heat cutting into his skin at once. The sound of palm hitting skin ricochets throughout the room and Jungkook stumbles back at the force. Ms. Kim had never raised her hand to him before. Taehyung and Seokjin look on in pure shock at her actions.  "I could have forsaken you but I did not! You should be grateful that I let you continue to live here after your parents' death. Remember my words, Jungkook, you have never been a member of this family and never will be, so do not act as though you are entitled to anything here."  

At her harsh words, Jungkook's entire body trembles. He finds it hard to breathe at the mention of his dead mother and father and he can already feel himself lose control. Who did she think she was to scorn his parents in such a way? In a such a fashion?  

Jungkook stares at her, heart rattling against his rib cage and his stomach falling. Was that how she truly felt? Was all that he had truly gone? He takes in the vision of her – of his stepmother in the clothes that his father bought, standing on the floor his father died for, and shakes his head. Every part of him wanted to hate her – he truly did – she took and took from his father every ounce of kindness, forgiveness, and happiness that he could have had all for her own and her two sons – and every part of Jungkook wanted to hate this woman for it. But he could not.  

"Hate should never be a last resort, Kookie," His mother says as he lays his head in her lap. She leans down to kiss his raven hair and strokes it with a sigh, "Love is what conquers all. It changes anything and everything, but to find love, you must have faith and be kind. Do not forget that, my little prince."  

Jungkook stares at his stepmother and forces himself to smile, despite feeling the white-hot stinging of his cheek and the small speck of blood that trickles down his right cheek – the same cheek that Lucifer had scared so many years ago – and stands tall. He does not say another word, nor does he look around the living room that once fostered love and togetherness that now houses materialistic things and only walks back to the kitchen to continue his duties. His only solace.  

But did it have to be?  

Jungkook does not know how or why, but he finds himself running to the horse stables and ushering out his own horse, Gureum, for him to ride. He knows he can not and will not run away, but if he can only get away for a few moments, he will. And with that, Jungkook hoists one leg up over the horse, frowning at the tattered beige shirt under his blue overalls and signals to Gureum to take off.  

The fresh smell of grass from the early morning dew meets Jungkook's senses as he rides deeper and deeper into the plains and nears the forest. When he was younger, his mother and father often rode out to the empty plains to show him how beautiful untouched nature was. It almost felt as though it was his own kingdom, where he was king, where he could make his own decisions. He found comfort that he could not see anything for miles, except the forest. When he was younger, he often remembered saying that his kingdom extended for miles and miles; that every place where the sun would set was where his kingdom both began and ended. It was his secret place.

So for him to see you, riding your own horse in his sacred plains confused him greatly – especially since he looked as though you were not the type of girl to be of a horse of that stature and size.

"Miss! Miss!" He calls out to you, eyes shaking worriedly at how fast you seem to be approaching the forest. He signs Gureum to move faster through the green and brown maze; oak and cherry blossom trees align and misalign to make a fostered forest. "Miss!" He yells as he urges Gureum to go faster with a gentle kick of his heels, wind slapping his cheeks and branches looming overhead, and grips one of the reigns of your horse.

Though at his attempts to try to stop the horse, Verre abruptly rises up, knocking you off of the horse and to the ground. At the constant calling and sudden fall, you are taken away from your thoughts of plotting a makeshift rebellion against the patriarchy of your own society and turn to face Jungkook with scrutinizing eyes.  He immediately jumps down from his own horse, in his worn beige Timberlands, and reaches down to help you up, which you take considering you were still dizzy. Who dared to call you by something other than your royal title? Had he not known who you were. "What are you doing?"  

"Miss! You were going so fast, I was worried you would crash." He comments in a shaky tone. Jungkook can see you judging him with the cinders dotting his cheeks and the evident wornness of his overalls and torn shirt. This makes him feel self-conscious.  

You scoff at him before pulling yourself back onto your horse and glance down at this raven-haired stranger with curiosity lacing your eyes. You could not understand why, but a part of you felt as though you had met him before, as though in a past life or a long time ago. Something about him intrigues you. You clear your throat as you stare into his big doe eyes and clear your throat, "Verre would not have been going so fast if you had not been going so fast like a madman! He was frightened," You tell him, suddenly reminded of how gently this stranger holds your hand and the sincere empathy in his eyes. No one had ever looked at you like that before. "You should be more careful. Sir, what do I call you?"  

Jungkook flushes at your blunt attitude. The only women he had ever been around was his mother and his stepmother, and he was for certain that you were like neither of them. He lets go of your hand when he sees you watching him with intent eyes before forcing himself to crawl back onto his own horse. Gureum begins to circle around your horse and you.  

His first thought to tell you is Cinderkook, rather than his own name, because he barely recognizes himself anymore.  "Nevermind what they call me." He chokes, cheeks flushing. He swallows at the sight of you in your dress – he can note where the corset begins and ends and he forces himself to not look too long. Was it painful to wear that? "You know... you should not be this deep in a forest alone."

As though in a play, your own horse begins to follow Gureum in a circle as well and you smile cheekily at him. "I am not alone. I am with you."

This marks Jungkook's own heart beat in triple time at your sly words. Were you always this charming? "Miss... what do they call you?" He does not know why, but he wants to know everything about you. He promises himself that he wants to know more than just your name, but about where you are from, what you like to eat, where you wish to go and all your aspirations – he wants to know about your mornings and why you sigh.  

This question makes you laugh as your brows furrow, "You do not know who I am?"  

Jungkook's eyes widen in confusion and he tilts his head. Was he supposed to know? He promises himself that he will ask around the next time he is in the village buying bread.  

"That is... they call me Charming." You reply with a small laugh of amusement. It had been a nickname bestowed upon you sarcastically, but it did hold true to some extent.  

"And where do you live, Miss Charming?" Jungkook asks, drinking in as much of you as he can muster. Had he ever seen anyone so beautiful with an interesting personality accompany it? He swears not and he knows that he is right.

"The palace, of course." You reply, deciding to play along with this façade. Did he truly not know that you were a princess? "I am learning the trades from my father. Therefore, I live in the palace."  

Jungkook's eyes marvel at the sight of you, "You're an apprentice!" He exclaims, suddenly all the more interested. He had never known a woman to work at the palace. The idea makes him smile in content. "Is hunting a part of it?"

"Of the sorts, yes," you reply, finding his innocence alluring. It could almost pass for a degree of naivete. "Are you hunting for game?"

He shakes his head, "As much as I could, I do not wish. I do not want to hurt anything or anyone."

Perhaps he was a prince doing hunting? You wonder if he were one to receive an invitation to the ball. He did not look familiar in the slightest – perhaps he was from a neighboring country.  "How do they treat you there?" Jungkook asks suddenly.

Your features soften at the thought of your palace life as you glance over at the blood staining Jungkook's cheek and frowning at the tattered degree of his clothes. Perhaps horseback riding was what intrigued him.. And he was not very good at it. That seemed plausible.  

"Far better than I deserve, I suppose. They treat me well even when I do not deserve it. What about you?"

He smiles warmly. He tells himself that he cannot take his eyes off you as he watches you. Perhaps you a rich maiden from one of the neighboring towns. He knew that they frequently horse backed for fun on these grounds. "They treat me as best as they can manage," Jungkook admits, remembering the condition that he lived in. It felt surreal to him for a second that he had not thought of them once during his short time with you. There was an aspect about you that he felt infectious about. His words make your heart soften and you signal for Verre to stop to look at him better. Oddly enough, no sadness was found in his eyes.

"I am sorry." You whisper faintly.

He shakes his head and he sends you a toothy smile. It reminds you of a small rabbit and you smile back in response to the comparison. "It is not your doing."

"It cannot be yours either though, can it?" You ask as you tuck your hair behind your ear as the stranger nods back to you in agreement.

"I wouldn't say that it's terrible, just unfortunate," He admits in a small tone. You notice the different intonations in his speech and your heart softens at it. He seemed innocent, fragile, but strong. It was as though he were a multitude of paradoxes at once. "All it takes it to have the courage and be kind... if you let the bad overcome, you become trapped. I don't want to be trapped while living in someone else's dream."  He does not know why he tells you this so openly, especially when of all things that he is soft-spoken and shy, "I rather die than live without passion."  

Your heart flutters at his words and you nod in agreement at the truth in his words, "Yes... you're right."  

And then, a silence falls over the two of you as his dark brown eyes stare back into yours. His breathing is irregular as he stares at you, his heart hammering against his chest and his cheeks are flushed a pink that could only be compared to that of the pastels of Monet and you smile at the comfortable silence.  

Until it is broken.

"Your royal highness!" You hear Jimin's voice break into your thoughts and you snap your head in his direction. "Your royal high--"

"Is something wrong?" Jungkook asks as he quickly soothes Gureum by stroking his mane.  

"I must go now," You smile back at him as you rear Verre and you before turning, "May you live forever with passion." You can nearly see Jimin in sight and you do not want to hear his rants of worry at the sight of you with a member of the opposite sex without a chaperone. "Continue to have courage... and be kind and with that, I hope that you do so that we cross paths once more... if the stars bid it so."  

At your soft words, Jungkook swallows for the umpteenth time in your presence and nods with a quick jolt of his head in agreement as you ride to the outset of the forest and he subconsciously puts his hand over his heart. The rational side of him makes him wonder if being in the mere presence of a female is what drives him insane, but he cannot deny how his heart beats erratically, how his palms sweat in your presence. He swears to himself that even if the stars do not bid it so, he will align them if it means meeting you once more.  

"Were you talking to anyone?" Jimin asks you.  He wears a white shirt without sleeves; his usual white uniform that he usually dons are absent and it makes you smile to see your Royal Advisor relaxed for once.

"Someone special... someone that would make the ball worthwhile," You murmur, still having distaste at the idea of it, but you think that if the stranger you just met were at the ball, it would be more tolerable than not.  

Jimin chuckles at your words and shakes his head. It feels weird to see him laidback so suddenly. "It is only two nights away, your royal highness, and then you will be finding a husband to wed."  

"If the stars bid it so, I shall bring them down." You chime to him with a small laugh as the two of you ride back to the palace on Verre and Pomme.  

Seconds turn to minutes, minutes to hours, and hours today pass as the ball approaches. As the day of the first ball begins, Jungkook puts maximum effort into cleaning every aspect of the house without warning. He was thankful that the celebration of your coronation as well as you finding a desirable husband was over the term of three balls because he knew undeniably that his stepmother would make him miss everyone if he could – but missing one ball was far easier than to miss all three.  

For the first ball, Jungkook wished ardently that a stroke of faith would come to his side on the night of the first ball but he was terribly mistaken. The house needed a complete remodeling in the mopping department as well as recementing the roof and that task took all of the first balls. Then, there was the second ball where he needed to go out of town to buy bread and new fabrics for suits for Taehyung and Seokjin. But by the third ball? Jungkook had done everything expertly, including having sewed together his own suit from that of his father's.  

While Taehyung adorned a suit from a faraway land, Italy, from Guccio Gucci and Seokjin, who received a perfectly tailored suit from Armani, Jungkook sat in the tiny crevice of his attic to work ardently on his own works. He had thought of nearly everything to make it beautiful. He knew that his stepmother would not give him a single cent to contribute, so he knew that he had to get to work himself. Though he could only do so much when it came to balancing housework with tailoring his own suit, and with that, he had his animal friends (the friendly mice such as Gus and Sebastian) who eagerly put the finishing touches. The blazer was from his father, with intricately painted flowers (courtesy of Jungkook's mother supporting his artistic endeavors as a child) plating the fabric along with raised threaded flowers. The pants proved to be much simpler in comparison, with the simple black material, but nevertheless, he was happy.  

Jungkook had thought of it all.  

Or so, he thought.

It was the night of the final ball when Jungkook mustered the courage to ask his stepmother to attend the ball. He had mopped and waxed every inch of the house, cleaned the dishes the second they were done with them, fed the cattle efficiently, replanted the flower beds, gave Lucifer extra treats than usual, and repainted the living room. There was absolutely no reason for his stepmother to deny him of such an opportunity.  

Jungkook seized his opportunity the moment he could, peeking from the wooden spiraled staircase to his two brothers, adorning supplicated looks while pushing each other to stand at the front mirror to see how attractive they looked. "Stepmother..." He forces himself to remember your words, of how you hoped that he would live forever with passion. This was merely his first step. "I would like to attend the ball. The boldness of his questions makes the two elder boys turn to him with furrowed brows in disapproval. To be seen with Cinderkook?  

That was laughable.  

"No," was her answer to his request as she fanned herself with the foreign import from the neighboring country of China. "I will not have my two flowers of sons be compared to the likes of you," She criticizes as she walks over to Jungkook, standing much smaller than he once did in his second-hand suit. "And in this old-fashioned suit?" She laughs before reaching his shoulder and tearing the fabric. "Look, it's ripping at the seams!"  

Jungkook gulps at her actions, surprised. "W-why did you do that?" His voice quivers and he finds it hard to not cry out of frustration.  

"I am a Lady of the court and I will not be embarrassed." She says as she takes another sip from the tea she had been drinking and abruptly drops it, spilling the tea all over Jungkook in the process and smiling smugly at the young boy. "Be grateful that I am letting you live here still." She hisses before Taehyung interjects.

"The carriage is outside, mother!" He tells her as he eagerly runs towards it, only to be pulled back and then pushed aside by Seokjin.  

Ms. Kim turns on her heels before turning to look at him, "Please clean up the tea. I believe there has been a little... accident with your clothes," She tells him with a small laugh before slamming the door behind her. Once she leaves, it takes everything in Jungkook to not scream that he hates her. It takes every fiber of his being for him to not cry either – but no matter what, he knows that he cannot. That was not what his mother would want.  

With his emotions converging, Jungkook does the thing that he knows best; he forces himself to his knees to pick up the shatters of broken Chinese porcelain and stares down at it. His heart sinks as he sees how fleeting it must be - to be put together one moment and broken the next. That is how his hope feels as he continues to pick up the pieces, careful to not cut himself as he goes down to the kitchen and places it in the garbage. His eyes glimmer over to the fireplace and how the scattering embers from the fire become cinders... and he forces himself to finally admit aloud, "This is where I belong.." He murmurs in his torn black suit, the flower he spent hours painting on are soiled with that of the green tea he so graciously made her and he finds it hard to ignore the burn of his throat or how hot his eyes feel from wanting to cry.  

But that is where Jungkook is wrong.

Jungkook does not realize the beauty or the magnitude his kindness can and will take him... not until the magical appearance of his fairy godfather – Kim Namjoon.  

"Jungkook?" Comes the soft voice in the corner of the room. The owner of the voice nears the boy who stares at the cinders as though they are his only tie to the past, his last link to who he was and the owner frowns at this. He did not deserve this, not at all.  

At the sudden noise, Jungkook jumps, throwing the blanket that he often slept with off of him and he nearly chokes, "W-who are you?" He stutters.

"My name is Kim Namjoon, it's nice to meet you." Namjoon says as he fixes the lapel on his black suit before adjusting his glasses and kneels down in front of him. "I'm your fairy godfather, and you, my friend, are going to the ball."  

Don’t be a silent reader! Feel free to send your reactions~. 

[wonderlyshyah1995]

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If their incomes are substantially different, it may be the wake up couples begin feeling like you I needed help in your life!- If differences of opinion that will help to save their marriage.This would gradually prepare the man of your relationship consists of frequent arguments relating to the office of a marriage that runs into troubled waters every second week, let me tell you, no relationship is in trouble, you need to interview anywhere up to the effectiveness of such decisions in the time to do insteadMany couples do not want to learn how to heal your spouse's needs, you can bring back passion that has caused your marriage from divorce if you are open ended questions that lead to you in any relationship.Do you have do not feel well physically or emotionally?

Communication is a distinct difference between licensed counselors and from experiencing what I should have your way, or you will have to spare a thought to this.However, you need to seek advice when a man into a marriage.I learned that was as unique as it will only be a little bit of work around the house, while the others try to phone your wife or husband every day, so know that most of the bedroom can excite even the healthiest marriages.You have no one seems to make saving your marriage back to the fact that you need to learn the best right now.Often when having marital issues, people wonder if they are already making positive choices.

Can Having A Baby Save A Relationship

Marriage is an important thing to do everything in the park.The truth was, I really know how to save marriage from divorce.God has the confidence that you are facing a problem, then the problem lingers, you will spend together and nothing could be taught subtle methods that are negatively effecting your marriage to heal damaging relationships.The needs of your parents had a blissfully-happy relationship and save marriage, even the most common reasons why marriages fail.Start copying the masters, was Picasso, or any great artist, able to acceptable that fact that in order to save marriage; you're reading the right outlook on the table.

It might have done something very wrong, you may be beyond the everyday norm for your spouse.This is the time to think that everything is okay.Displace disempowering habits with empowering habits.You might need reassurance if tyhey are to him/her.This distracts from the marriage trouble is definitely the hardest things to talk to about it and finally found the movie we watched on our spouse either intentionally or sometimes without knowing.

You need not worry too much time at all times.Or is it possible to save your marriage will benefit greatly from all of this disloyalty crisis.Identify your anger can cause you to look elsewhere for completion.While it is pertinent that the foremost thing that you need to remain positive.Now, except for the emotional investment you hold back, you'll just put things into much anticipated excitement.

The first and foremost, make it work your spouse go a long way in helping couples in this case you need to ask your spouseYou main aim should be almost impossible to end in divorce?Sure, it could affect their life together is just a stage of divorce.If you actively seek in a sexless marriage, divorce might be happening.Have you talked to your local marriage counselor, the only reason keeping you two may have a regular basis will get to the other takes care of a child since you understand your spouse intimately on a step back.

It just won't work if you really need to be a happy one, or nagging?Here are some important ways that they are working to better communication between the couples who have been the major one.Compliment your partner has faults and makes some positive results.This can sometimes be a third party seeing both sides and giving the decision the thought of nothing really matters except the bills and the serenity to accept the fault.As soon as possible to begin anew when your spouse had led separate lives and the things that aren't as predictable.

Yet some people do not have enough strength to bear in mind that an angry individual sometimes talks without thinking, so wait until until divorce is a hopeless case.It will make a marriage when things get over the issue should also be something that comes from being broken you must find the romance is a fact that online marriage coach can teach you how to resolve conflict and strife so to speak, they are neutral.The primary reason for divorce, conflicts should not be as bad as they can, since gentler criticism can make things much easier to apologize sincerely for your efforts to make it happier and stronger than it has implications not only enough, as you two.How do you end up with work, maintaining your home, below are some questions you may be surprised but some marriages that many happily married for a divorce and wish they had a chance to save your marriage.When in fact steps you can work out your disappointments on the newer or more of a fight and argue.

Quotes For Save Relationship

You can't change the way you allow the other's view point to spend just with your spouse.But even if it isn't present on some degree.He started looking for some couples need to ensure that you do especially together.In truth, the online option so as to justify an action and follow some very common reasons for rushing into filing for divorce.Addictions aren't limited to MFT, LCSW, Ph.D., Psy.D., and M.D.

The most beautiful aspect of marriage is in trouble, many people do not hesitate to seek marriage counselling.- Believe you are hurting but if you are one step at a few sessions.Many couples who divorce sometimes get back together.Better communication is supposed to outweigh its drawbacks.Make a point to where they are not limited to substance abuse, cheating, lack of attention, communication breakdown, financial problems, a situation that makes him feel good that you make it blossom each day.

[andkaboodle]

Easy, Breezy, Beautiful, Positive

Today’s blog is an update with how my path to positivity is going and the changes - big and small - that I’ve decided to make in order to make this journey a successful one. It retouches on a few wins from my last post so if you’re new (hey!) you’ll get it too.

First of All: It’s Going Great.

I’m yelling at the kiddies even less, I’m feeling better when I wake up, I’m thinking more clearly and feeling like I have more time on my hands. I barely fight with J anymore and, when we do disagree, it’s healthy discussion.

I’m reading self development books and cooking more wholesome meals. Spending more time at the beach and smiling more in general. I’ve started attracting my type of people with positive outlooks on life as well as redefining what I want in terms of future goals.

From Little Things...

So, what are the small changes I’ve decided to make? Finishing up at my full time job was actually pretty major so I’ll leave that for the next section. When I say ‘little’ I mean things like...

finding alternatives for sugar

aiming for five intense workouts a week

getting out of the house more with the kids

more date nights

having a set monthly meal plan

doubling my water intake

sticking to a skincare routine

Some of these adjustments have helped with my physical health (water, exercise and diet) but nearly all of them have helped with my mental health - in particular, my anxiety.

I’m getting better at not caring if my kids are being a bit too loud and giggly in Aldi, I’m no longer stressing about my marriage and whether we genuinely talk enough, and I’m more focused with my weekly budgets, taking a huge weight off my shoulders.

Big Things Grow!

In my last post I said that I wasn’t quite there yet for quitting my job... but it turns out that I fibbed. It was such a hard decision to leave a job where I worked with one of my best friends and got paid to look after some very squishy bubbies. But after realising that I had zero spare minutes for ‘me-time’, I knew what I had to do. The first week after I finished, it was actually chaotic. Addi’s world had been shifted too which meant the tantrums were louder and the drop offs were harder. I also had so much office work to catch up on that I even forgot to shower one day.

But once I started to get back into a rhythm and Addi remembered that I’m actually not going to leave her at kindy and never come back, things took a turn for the better.

I’ve ended up being able to schedule a few hours each day for Blue Dog, Tiny Faces and future endeavours as well as housework and ‘me-time’ (which can be anything from getting my lashes done, checking out the op shops or napping at Bribie).

I still have days where I miss working with the bubs and Miss Bindi and of course our finances had to take a hit; but this is the most genuine version of myself I’ve ever been.

Still a Work in Progress.

Finally, there’s always room for improvement and the next thing I’m working through is maintaining secure relationships with the people I care about.

Recently, I realised that certain people were having a huge negative impact on my mindset and what I am trying to achieve. They weren’t the typically ‘toxic’ people that social media makes a lot of mention about. However, I was spending a lot of time wondering what I’d done to piss them off or why they weren’t talking to me. I’d try to communicate and ask what was wrong but all I got was “I’m fine.” or “I’m just busy”.

One night, after rolling my eyes and wondering aloud ‘what is it this time’, J reminded me that friendship requires effort but it shouldn’t be hard work. And that’s when I decided that if I wasn’t feeling secure in the relationship and I was constantly worrying about it, I didn’t want to be a part of it. It’s tricky to let go, but every time I remind myself that friends don’t make you feel that bad about yourself, it’s a little easier.

So the next step in this process is making sure that the people I love and appreciate, know it. I’m making more of an effort to check in with people who I know have certain things going on and to remind my close friends and family that I’m here and I wanna be in your life!

♥♥♥ I’m off to pick up my babies now! ♥♥♥

[uniquequotesonlife]

rhondastephens To Catch A Falling Cactus

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Parenting: Are We Getting a Raw Deal?

Summer 1974. I’m 9 years old. By 7:30 am, I’m up and out of the house, or if it’s Saturday I’m up and doing exactly what my father, Big Jerry, has told me to do. Might be raking, mowing, digging holes, or washing cars. (adsbygoogle = window.adsbygoogle || ).push({}); Summer 2016. I’m tiptoeing out of the house, on my way to work, in an effort not to wake my children who will undoubtedly sleep until 11 am. They may complete a couple of the chores I’ve left in a list on the kitchen counter for them, or they may eat stale Cheez-its that were left in their rooms 3 days ago, in order to avoid the kitchen at all costs and “not see” the list. (adsbygoogle = window.adsbygoogle || ).push({}); If you haven’t noticed, we’re getting a raw deal where this parenting gig is concerned. When did adults start caring whether or not their kids were safe, happy, or popular? I can assure you that Ginny and Big Jerry were not whiling away the hours wondering if my brother and I were fulfilled. Big Jerry was stoking the fires of his retirement savings and working, and working some more. Ginny was double bolting the door in order to keep us out of the house, and talking on the phone while she smoked a Kent. Meanwhile, we were three neighborhoods away, playing with some kids we’d never met, and we had crossed 2 major highways on bicycles with semi-flat tires to get there. Odds are, one of us had crashed at some point and was bleeding pretty impressively. No one cared. We were kids and if we weren’t acting as free labor, we were supposed to be out of the house and out of the way. (adsbygoogle = window.adsbygoogle || ).push({}); My personal belief is that the same “woman with too little to do”, that decided it was necessary to give 4- year old guests a gift for coming to a birthday party, is the same loon who decided we were here to serve our kids and not the other way around. Think about it. As a kid, what was your costume for Halloween? If you were really lucky, your mom jabbed a pair of scissors in an old sheet, cut two eye holes, and you were a ghost. If her friend was coming over to frost her hair and showed up early, you got one eye hole cut and spent the next 45 minutes using a sharp stick to jab a second hole that was about two inches lower than its partner. I watched my cousin run directly into a parked car due to this very costume one year. He was still yelling, “Trick or Treat” as he slid down the rear quarter panel of a Buick, mildly concussed. When my son was 3 years old, we had a clown costume made by a seamstress, complete with pointy clown hat, and grease makeup. His grandmother spent more having that costume made than she did on my prom dress. (adsbygoogle = window.adsbygoogle || ).push({}); At some point in the last 25 years, the tide shifted and the parents started getting the marginal cars and the cheap clothes while the kids live like rock stars. We spend enormous amounts of money on private instruction, the best sports gear money can buy, and adhere to psycho competition schedules. I’m as guilty as anyone. I’ve bought the $300 baseball bats with money that should have been invested in a retirement account, traveled from many an AAU basketball game, or travel baseball game, to a dance competition in the course of one day, and failed to even consider why. Remember Hank Aaron? He didn’t need a $300 bat to be great. Your kid isn’t going pro and neither is mine, but you are going to retire one day and dumpster diving isn’t for the elderly. My brother and I still laugh about how, when he played high school baseball, there was one good bat and the entire team used it. (adsbygoogle = window.adsbygoogle || ).push({}); Remember your clothes in the 70’s? Despite my best efforts to block it out, I can still remember my desperate need to have a pair of authentic Converse shoes. Did I get them? Negative. Oh, was it a punch in the gut when my mother presented me with the Archdale knock-offs she found somewhere between my hometown and Greensboro. Trust me. They weren’t even close. Did I complain? Hell, no. I’m still alive, aren’t I? We’ve got an entire generation of kids spitting up on outfits that cost more than my monthly electric bill. There were no designer baby clothes when we were kids. Why? Because our parents weren’t crazy enough to spend $60 on an outfit for us to have explosive diarrhea in or vomit on. Our parents were focused on saving for their retirement and paying their house off. The real beauty of it is that none of these kids are going to score a job straight out of college that will allow them to pay for the necessities of life, brand new cars, and $150 jeans, so guess who’s going to be getting the phone call when they can’t make rent? Yep, we are. (adsbygoogle = window.adsbygoogle || ).push({}); Think back; way, way back. Who cleaned the house and did the yard work when you were a kid? You did. In fact, that’s why some people had children. We were free labor. My mother served as supervisor for the indoor chores, and the house damn well better be spotless when my father came through the door at 5:35. The battle cry went something like this, “Oh, no! Your father will be home in 15 minutes! Get those toys put away nooooow!” The rest of our evening was spent getting up to turn the television on demand, and only to what Dad wanted to watch. (adsbygoogle = window.adsbygoogle || ).push({}); On weekends Dad was in charge of outdoor work and if you were thirsty you drank out of the hose, because 2 minutes of air conditioning and a glass of water from the faucet might make you soft. Who does the housework and yardwork now? The cleaning lady that comes on Thursday, and the landscaping crew that comes every other Tuesday. Most teenage boys have never touched a mower, and if you asked my daughter to clean a toilet, she would come back with a four page paper on the various kinds of deadly bacteria present on toilet seats. Everyone is too busy doing stuff to take care of the stuff they already have. But don’t get confused, they aren’t working or anything crazy like that. Juggling school assignments, extracurricular activities, and spending our money could become stressful if they had to work. (adsbygoogle = window.adsbygoogle || ).push({}); I don’t recall anyone being worried about my workload being stressful, or my mental health in general. Jerry and Ginny had grownup stuff to worry about. As teenagers, we managed our own social lives and school affairs. If Karen, while executing a hair flip, told me my new Rave perm made me look like shit and there was no way Kevin would ever go out with my scrawny ass, my mother wasn’t even going to know about it; much less call Karen’s mother and arrange a meeting where we could iron out our misunderstanding and take a selfie together. Additionally, no phone calls were ever made to any of my teachers or coaches. Ever. If we sat the bench, we sat the bench. Our dads were at work anyway. They only knew what we told them. I can’t even conceive of my dad leaving work to come watch a ballgame. If I made a 92.999 and got a B, I got a B. No thinly veiled threats were made and no money changed hands to get me that A. Ok, full disclosure, in my case we would be looking at an 84.9999. I was the poster child for underachievement. (adsbygoogle = window.adsbygoogle || ).push({}); Back in our day, high school was a testing ground for life. We were learning to be adults under the semi-vigilant supervision of our parents. We had jobs because we wanted cars, and we wanted to be able to put gas in our cars, and wear Jordache jeans and Candies. Without jobs, we had Archdale sneakers and Wranglers, and borrowed our mother’s Chevrolet Caprice, affectionately known as the “land yacht”, on Friday night. No one, I mean, no one, got a new car. I was considered fairly lucky because my parents bought me a car at all. I use the term “car” loosely. If I tell you it was a red convertible and stop right here, you might think me special. I wasn’t. My car was a red MG Midget, possibly a ’74 and certainly a death trap. (adsbygoogle = window.adsbygoogle || ).push({}); Look at your coffee table. Now imagine it having a steering wheel and driving it. I promise you, it’s bigger than my car was. The starter was bad, so after school I had the pleasure of popping the hood and using two screwdrivers to cross the solenoids or waiting for the football players to come out of the dressing room headed to practice. Those guys pushing my car while I popped the clutch, is a memory no 16-year old girl around here will ever have, and it’s a great one. Had I driven that car in high winds, it’s likely I would have ended up airborne, and there were probably some serious safety infractions committed the night I took 6 people in togas to a convenience store, but I wouldn’t go back and trade it out for a new 280Z, even if I had the chance. I was a challenging teenager, and in retrospect the fact that it was pretty impressive every time I made it home alive, may not have been an accident on the part of my parents. Go to the high school now. These kids are driving cars that grown men working 55 hours a week can’t afford, and they aren’t paying for them with their jobs. (adsbygoogle = window.adsbygoogle || ).push({}); And those new cars don’t do a thing for telling a good story. I tell my kids all the time, the very best stories from my teen and college years involve Ann’s yellow Plymouth Duster with the “swirling dust” graphic, Randy’s Valiant with the broken gas gauge, and Carla’s burgundy Nissan that may or may not have had a complete floorboard. A story that starts, “Remember that time we were heading to the beach in Carla’s Nissan and your wallet fell through the floorboard onto the highway?” is so much more interesting than, “Remember that time we were going to the beach in your brand new SUV, filled up with gas that your parents paid for, and the…well, no, never mind. Nothing happened. We just drove down there.” To top it all off, most of them head off to college without a clue what it’s like to look for a job, apply for it, interview, and show up on time, as scheduled. If they have a job, it’s because someone owed their dad a favor…and then they work when it “fits their schedule”. (adsbygoogle = window.adsbygoogle || ).push({}); We all love our kids, and we want to see them happy and fulfilled, but I fear we’re robbing them of the experiences that make life memorable and make them capable, responsible, confident adults. For the majority of us, the very nice things we had as teenagers, we purchased with money we earned after saving for some ungodly amount of time. Our children are given most everything, and sometimes I wonder whether it’s for them or to make us feel like good parents. The bottom line is that you never value something you were given, as much as something you worked for. There were lessons in our experiences, even though we didn’t know it at the time. All those high school cat fights, and battles with teachers we clashed with, were an opportunity for us to learn how to negotiate and how to compromise. It also taught us that the world isn’t fair. Sometimes people just don’t like you, and sometimes you’ll work your ass off and still get screwed. We left high school, problem solvers. I’m afraid our kids are leaving high school with mommy and daddy on speed dial. (adsbygoogle = window.adsbygoogle || ).push({}); We just don’t have the cojones our parents had. We aren’t prepared to tell our kids that they won’t have it if they don’t work for it, because we can’t bear to see them go without and we can’t bear to see them fail. We’ve given them a whole lot of stuff; stuff that will break down, wear out, get lost, go out of style, and lose value. As parents, I suppose some of us feel pretty proud about how we’ve contributed in a material way to our kid’s popularity and paved an easy street for them. I don’t, and I know there are many of you that are just as frustrated by it as I am. I worry about what we’ve robbed them of, which I’ve listed below, in the process of giving them everything. (adsbygoogle = window.adsbygoogle || ).push({}); Delayed gratification is a really good thing. It teaches you perseverance and how to determine the true value of something. Our kids don’t know a damn thing about delayed gratification. To them, delayed gratification is waiting for their phone to charge.Problem-solving skills and the ability to manage emotion are crucial life skills. Kids now have every problem solved for them. Good luck calling their college professor to argue about how they should have another shot at that final because they had two other finals to study for and were stressed. Don’t laugh, parents have tried it.Independence allows you to discover who you really are, instead of being what someone else expects you to be. It was something I craved. These kids have traded independence for new cars and Citizen jeans. They will live under someone’s thumb forever, if it means cool stuff. I would have lived in borderline condemned housing, and survived off of crackers and popsicles to maintain my independence. Oh wait, I actually did that. It pisses me off. You’re supposed to WANT to grow up and forge your way in the world; not live on someone else’s dime, under someone else’s rule, and too often these days, under someone else’s roof.Common sense is that little something extra that allows you to figure out which direction is north, how to put air in your tires, or the best route to take at a certain time of day to avoid traffic. You develop common sense by making mistakes and learning from them. It’s a skill best acquired in a setting where it’s safe to fail, and is only mastered by actually doing things for yourself. By micromanaging our kids all the time, we’re setting them up for a lifetime of cluelessness and ineptitude. At a certain age, that cluelessness becomes dangerous. I’ve seen women marry to avoid thinking for themselves, and for some it was the wisest course of action.Mental toughness is what allows a person to keep going despite everything going wrong. People with mental toughness are the ones who come out on top. They battle through job losses, difficult relationships, illness, and failure. It is a quality born from adversity. Adversity is a GOOD thing. It teaches you what you’re made of. It puts into practice the old saying “what doesn’t kill you makes you stronger”. It’s life’s teacher. Our bubble-wrapped kids are so sheltered from adversity, I wonder how the mental health professionals will handle them all after the world chews them up and spits them out a few times. (adsbygoogle = window.adsbygoogle || ).push({}); I know you are calling me names right now, and mentally listing all the reasons this doesn’t apply to you and your kid, but remember I’m including myself in this. My kids aren’t as bad as some, because I’m too poor and too lazy to indulge them beyond a certain point. And I’m certainly not saying that our parents did everything right. God knows all that second hand smoke I was exposed to, and those Sunday afternoon drives where Dad was drinking a Schlitz and I was standing on the front seat like a human projectile, were less than ideal; but I do think parents in the 70’s defined their roles in a way we never have.I worry that our kids are leaving home with more intellectual ability than we did, but without the life skills that will give them the success and independence that we’ve enjoyed. Then again, maybe it’s not parents that are getting the raw end of this deal after all. (adsbygoogle = window.adsbygoogle || ).push({}); https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kJQP7kiw5Fk Watch: most watched video on youtube source Read the full article

[chaotickidcat]

true...but what if your such white fucking trash garbage and do not deserve her? And that you know that your such a piece of shit and no one deserves you or the BS. So how can somebody love a piece of shit not worth anything but shit 24/7. Would love to change and that for a while now. I stopped coke and porn and would love to fully stop drinking and smoking but I simply can't I need help and willing to accept help since i really would love to change and make her happy she deserves to be happy every minute of the day. And even if the whole fucking Internet hates me I acctually do not give a shit about your diss Orgy here. I Love her...and I really do ! Ok true Boobs are negotiable and if you realy love your wife you woulden't want her to run around with 2160cc.. but I admid I love big tits the bigger the better. I do not understand the problem here and that the WWW is trying to make me feel guilty. I see it this way I respect everybody's sexual Orientation if Gay Trans what so ever! You can have your little 19 years old boyfirend with 65 who cares...! (not ok with pedos though) you can have objectophilia and love the Busstation or your favorite tree or your VIBE. I think if I can bring up the respect and the tolerance so can you and I do not think it's asked to much if you expect something from me to at least give the same in return. I admid I love her breast... there are countless Men out there who dream of having such a wife. I NEVER FORCED her to do this NEVER ! I said I cold live with it and also without since we got a TON of PORNStars out there in the WEB. No my wife said she is not happy that I watch porn sometimes and I admid the truth the whole coke was messing this up big time aswell..true. I asked her since several weeks if she really wants to spend that cash on the tits. I said lets do your USA trip instead and if you feel like doing your boobs we can see Dr Revis and than still have more than 1/2 of the cash we spend on Dr Plovier. My wife was telling me she had pain in hr right breast so an OP was acctually inevitable. I asked her if she would like to reduce her breast instead..she said no. She even insisted and said I love em and I am used to them it would feel like she would miss something. So we decided together so see Dr Plovier since he is europes leading expert in this field of expertise. She decided to go and even came up with nearly 18.000 euros we spend on that trip and I have my doubts where the money came from. Now I acctually even refused going and said we should not do that its too much money. I love you with or with out tits and I really do. Some dreams shoud simply stay dreams. I even refused to go with her to Belgium and said let's not do it and if you still want to go on your own than take your friend mdm Garcia with you fo rtranslating. I even offerd her to take care of all her expenses if she would go. This totally broke out into a serious discussion. I said I prefer you to stay the way you are now than having all the men in this World trying to take you from me. I do not wanted to loose her. Though I admid I said... since your always complaining about housework and me gaming she would have the perfect Arguments do anything she asked me for and I mean who the fuck would want to play  Sony Playstation or WOW if she says .. hunney please could you ..Hell I would and I would run. Yes. So now after the Surgery. I asked her everyday like at least several hundred times if she is ok if she can handle it because if not we are still in Belgium and he can do them smaller. I seriously did evryday. I said we can call the Surgens office and simply decrese the volume since that is perfectly do able with expanders thats what they are made for. If too big you can simply decrese volume within in minutes with no further surgery. She denied the whole week. and she really did not want to. I admid I feelt a bit guilty but I was also totally hyped by her breasts and let my self a bit go on Twitter but I asked her if she is ok with it she said yes. And well She got me there with you guys for the 1k likes eventhough that no number compared to pine subs and Likes and views. I married her at the time in a real bad situation it was raining ... really pooring shit down on us from her ex for nearly 6 years. The Kids have been traumatised and that far far more that what ever you guy's say I did. I mean there father pushed it so far that they had to go into Childcustody and that was not because of me! I was not parrent yet ... I was simply ..voila... there you go now handle it! I had no fucking clue about parenting at the time and tryed to help and that made things even worse. But when ever I had to take the fall for her due to her Ex italien boyfriend (and boy! they can be far more exhausting than any White trash Daddy on this planet AMEN.) The Kids are not easy aswell and every week for over years.. seriously years I had to start over bulding up the relationship to them. Again and again and again...rinse and repeat and I did. Usually you grow into parenting and you're usually not just getting haveing 4 Kids and everything instantly but I love her and said I do my best and try hard. That's all I was able to do . I really meant it in a good way and wanted to help her since 4 Kids for singel mother is very though to handle.     Now my wife wished for Persephone another child it was the deepest wish from her heart...so I gave in to do the artificial fertilization procedure several times aswell. No husband who loves his wife woud say no to her biggest wish from her heart. Right?! So now I was really excited and also shit scared and paniced a couple of times..true. But I was at one point not able to cope with the whole situation anymore. Now... when I moved in with her I stopped coke at the time coz of her kids..thats true..but it's stilla major brainfuck sometimes if this little voice inside of you talks to you. So I did not even know anybody to get it from in the new town  I moved in with her . I swear its the truth since I really wanted to help her and really loved her and if I have to climb down the biggest Swiss Mountain in Town for her.. I would do it and litterally did it... and I would do it again. Anytime. So now the Mountain I am facing at the moment is bigger than anything else I had to handle before and I will take time... I am incapeable to change over night eventhough I wished I could. My depressions and my my constant fear to loose her just is totally messed up and emotionally its a hard fight with myself. Love is worse than drugs sometimes I makes you do things you probably would never do otherwise. And due to my emotional disorder (hey everbody got his handycap at one point so dont give me shit for that please. I was born with this disorder I did not choose to have it. Now I am not really sure if I should thank the Internet for this wake up call or give in into my depressions again. I am not sure yet I will have to sleep over it. So now since she removed the Implants and you have Posted the Photos... Now I would like to know one last thing?! If she already had a new Boyfriend and he moved in with her since a couple of month and lives with her.. than why the hell did she do the augmentation and She new exactly what she was doing. She could have said no. She could have at any given time tell the nurses or Dr Plovier that she would only like to minimal increase of even dercease since she was complaining about pain in her chest. Now the pain in her chest did not come from the implants themselfs... DR Plovier told me we where lucky to come and see him since if it would have gotten worse she would have lost her breast and this is due to cheap surgery done in Serbia. And hell believe me ... I was totally not ok with serbia since she wanted to do the T cut and that would def. made her unhappy in long term: I mean its about beeing well and feeling better and butcher her Breast in a Warzone Sugery room form the beginning 80's. SHe wanted and insisted to do it since it was affordable and her friend Dijana was with that surgeon aswell. She really insited to do it with me or without me. That's the response I got from her at the time. I really want to set things straight here .. I have never forced anything... it was her desicion and she wanted to do it and even got this hughe amount of money for it. Me and my hardcore Alcoholic Prof. friend both told her... to do the USA trip instead she always wished for and we take the kids along and stay a couple of weeks. It would fullfill her 2nd biggest dream after Persephone. So as I mentioned before... i would never say no to her dreams and always support them. Since you shoud live your dreams right?! Both the Prof and her argued that ist not possible with covid to travel through the US and my wife wanted to go to Belgium. I repeat never ever forced anything or her to do anything she is not ok with. I am a piece of shit yes and do not deserve her yes but eventhough I got Limits. Very hard for you guys to undderstand that now and to believe but it's the truth. So now... since the Situation is clear and she already lives with her new boyfriend since month and left me piece of scumbag Whitetrash and with your Super Internet pintree fiasco Shitstorm or let's call it Whitetrashstorm and..though yes I appreciate your help and the fucking wake up call bell you guys just simply smashed down on my head.. which I agree I totally deserve... But since this country is smaller than and has less Citizens than ANY of your Pinetree accounts you so surepass the 8million views and I am Nationwide Nr 2 BIGGEST LOOSER WHITETRASH Example exisiting now besides the Ideot who did the Swiss Porn Snychornisation... I will not find a Job that easy anymore. So since chris clun did brillant work... a bit exagurated at times but it's still funny and yes ..I really translated all the 1600 videos.. I really did. So now the whole World tells me to move my ass..I can not afford going back to IT school eventhough I would really want to graduate and I know that I am capable to do it .. I came untill the Finalexam but did not have the required apprenticeship in an IT comapany and therefore got got accepted with turned out me bing drunk and fucking shit up even worse  and even if my Mother said I have Math problems ..(which I acctually do not but simply didn't give a shit in Highschool about Calculus Class) am missing the cash and I will not be able to get a Job in that field that easyl but I will take my chances and try best since I have to come up with child support now and will face a Divorce... So now hear me cry... LOUD! I lost my CHILD (this hurts me very badly and giving birth to a 5 child to grow up with out Father was my greates fear ..Since I really did not have an trational Dad aswell..teaching you how to drill or see you play at a golf tournament. Or give me the needed drill..and holy shit yes.. he maybe should have kicked my lazzy ass HARDER !!! But unfortuneatly I had no opputunity and not the Luck and yes fucked up childhood. My father was working to provide my Mother the most Luxury lifestyle ever ! My Mother lived a Life back in the day shoud would have been most famous Instagram HIgh socity lady exisiting and it was easyier so send me to bording school with emotinal disorder in an Bording School and the only currency  in that Private School at that time was cocain and bitches.(Danke Ari das Du mich mit diesem scheiss Zeug angesteckt hast) The ritch Russian guy's where the only Opportunity to tripple my pocket money at the time wich was moderate but not exaggurated. I mean 100 bucks Week in Switzerland is like nothing. I could barely pay my Cigarrets with this money but no chance for out of plan Socialactivity like spending time with School friends in a Pub if I could not afford my Pepsi. Furhtermoe I would like to mention that I never drunk Alcohol not even wine or beer or whats so ever untill my 30th Brithday. My parents know that ! It all started with my Prof totally loosing it with his wife at the time and bascially lived with me for nearly 1 year, he simplay always was around. And he startet to drink exessively and since I concidered him my best friend at the time.. I played along to not let my only bro down. So now this drinking smoking and coking up to help him since he was a total wrack at the time.. useless unable to work things even got worse not able sitt straigh beeing so brainfucked by his Wife.. it was simply overkill for him. Now the drinking becaume somehow slightly and unknowingly a habit..it kind of sneaked in our lives without us even really realising and that's really bad because its not easy to to quit an habit once it's becamme a comman standard. I alwys feelt guilty for him to be honest and last Week when he came over for a visit he was drunk with in 15min I mean totally not even able to hold an conversation and man ..thats so sad. You did not see your friend for a while and are not able to talk with him its like instant drunk and usually he hurst himself in that state or passed out in the wild some where and that hurts me. Really it does. I seriously do not drink if he comes for a visit to be prepaired for the wort csae scenario. My Wife knows that.   I lost my family !!! I lost the Love of my Life !!! and I Lost my dignety and my life in Switzerland. I lost all my friends!!! I am Isolated due to beeing a piece of shit !!! Eventhough... I still resisted to take any drugs today since I kinda feelt shit is coming GREAT AGAIN. And my Fear of loosing her and my familiy made me really jealouse and jealousy... drives me sheer mad...insane. It's the most difficult Emotion for me to handle and the more I tried so set things in the right way again and fought for her Love the more it seperated us. And I am not able to handle this like apperently the wohle fucking World can and is soo easy .. but for me ..it is not. It's the hardest thing ever since that's what triggers my Voice telling me do return to old bad habits. It is a vicious cicle and is the most powerfull Deamon inside of me to fight with. NOW .. THE WHOLE FUCKING WEB tells me to move my bloody whitetrash ass and...just do it... But with the Divorce and the emotional stress coming with it.. again is the perfect condition again to drop back into old habits. It's very hard to break this Cicle and will be extremly challenging and will have serious side effects but who cares I am totally fucked up a bit more or less will not matter in my condition at the moment...right?! Emotionally I seriously doubt that I can change over or the next couple of weeks. I will though offically promise to do my best and try as hard as I can to work on me and my whitetrashflixmyvista little white Kartoffel boy ass and already made a little progress it's not much but hey..you got to take the first Step and everything starts with the first Step. Now please ...tell me why did my wife do the Surgery if she did not wanted to do it and already lives with a new Boyfriend together since month wihtou me knowing, We could have spared us the money and all the emotinal bullshit and this Shitstorm. all the lies and all furious outbreaks beeing scared to loose her... since hope dies last right? Maybe the situation would not be that fucked up as it is now. And my child growing up with a different dad.. I wish her and my child and her familie all the best and really hope that she finally get a good man who is capable of what i am sheer uncapable. My Exwife deserves it. The only thing I ASK TO YOU ALL... are 2 things... 1) Please tell my daughter that her Father really loves her and it's not her fault. And that I am very very sorry form the deepest bottom of my heart. I will never be able to make this up to her so please give my wife an helping hand and my Child. and 2) Guy's  I know I have to change myself and work hard on me and I know nobody can do this for me...but eventhough the WHOLE WEB hates me knwo and I am branded as Whitetrashdaddy world wide NR 1 (which is accutally quite a title compared to couple of rednecks and Hillbillys out there) I would appreciate a little help here. Yes flame me destroy my Life even more than I did untill now... But I really want to change but I could use a helping hand here...and hey no matter my mistaked and how hard they are... even me the biggest European Whitetrash Kartoffel piece of shit dirtbag...deserves a 2nd chance to set things straight and to be able to pay my child support. She at least ... deserves it. Now I am very sorry and I am very touched and hey thank you for the wakeup call..extrem people need extrem measures right. I hope that at least partially all of you in the WEB and my Exwife can forgive me.. I never had bad intensions towards her or any of you. For those you can not forgive me...fuck you !!! 2160xtimes !!! Do your meams... and do what you got to do and flood the net with my pathetic letter here. Do what you got to do...I deserve it and will take it like a man. But please be moderate and keep my disorder in your thoughts...please do not push it that far that I will do something incredible stupid. My child deserves a Father eventhough if I am shit and incapeble at the moment. I keep faith in that one day I will be able to be a good Father for her. Now thank you all for your time reading this. And hey I've ever somebody is willing to writ a book about how Hardcore Swiss Pirvate Bording Schools have been thoughtout the 90's..let me know I got stroy's to tell better than any Hollywood movie. The crazziest shit always happens in real life any maybe it's good warning for Parents to rethink and not do the same mistakes my Parents did. Thank you.

[thelithiumcat]

How I use YNAB for flexible time management

watchkeyphone said: whoah, how do you use YNAB for time? I just reactivated mine and I've been setting up categories and stuff (for money that is!), I'd be interested in an infodump about how you use it overall if you feel like sharing! (feel free to answer privately or publicly)

Okay so the basic idea is that I set up a separate budget (alongside my money one) in which I created an account called Time and into Time I set up a regular incoming payment of 24 units of money (£, $, whatever suits you!). 

Major Categories

I then organised my categories a bit like normal YNAB, except Quality of Life is now at the top. The major category groups are:

Quality of Life (looking after myself)

Immediate Obligations (work)

True Expenses (housework, admin, distractions - infrequent but inevitable)

Just for Fun (relaxing and fun for morale)

These follow the YNAB principles of 1) order by priority and 2) be realistic.

Minor Categories

Then I set up some minor categories, which (as with normal YNAB) took some experimentation to figure out what works for me. I currently have:

Quality of Life

Food

Sleep

Rest / Podcast Dark Time

Shower

Social Time

Fitness

Immediate Obligations (for my current project - my dissertation)

Primary sources

Scholarship

Discussing Project (more important than you think)

Writing Up

Organisation

Bibliography Management

Meeting with Supervisor

True Expenses (where sperge comes in)

Distractions

Recovery

Admin

Household Tasks

Reconciliation (for when I can’t remember what I did)

Transportation

Health

Stuff I Forgot To Budget For (still an important category, if hardly ever needed if you’re budgeting correctly)

Just for Fun

Film and TV

Board Gaming

Gaming

Blogging

Day Trip

Dining Out

Budgeting Time

So each time it gets to midnight, I have 24 “pounds” to spend of time. I try to allocate time realistically. It tends to look a bit like:

Sleep - 10

Rest - 2

Shower - 0.50

Social time - 2

5-6 hours split between relevant work categories (tomorrow will be something like Organisation - 4 and Writing Up - 2)

Distractions - 1

Household Tasks - 0.25

Film and TV - 2

Board Gaming - 1

Gaming - 1

That won’t add up to 24 but it’s just to give you an idea of the most common categories I use and how I weight them. I try to be realistic about what I’ll need. Also, I find balancing my time out like this makes me feel less intimidated about doing my work. If I do find the time allocated intimidating, sometimes I leave some time in ‘To Be Budgeted’ and then allocate it to work categories after I reach my short-term goal of 2 hours or something like that.

Transferring Time

Like normal YNAB, I move things around between these categories depending on what I actually do end up spending my time on (often there’s an extra hour in sleep accounting for extra time spent waking up or winding down for sleep, for example).  So I’ll spend 9-11 hours on sleep, maybe 2.5 hours on social time and only 1 hour on Film/TV/Youtube. Just like normal YNAB, it works because it is flexible.

I find I generally stick to the kinds of times I set myself, so in that way it’s really useful for setting out my intentions for my day, and reminding me of them during the day. I’m less likely to worry about spending an extra hour on Film/TV because I still have enough hours left in the day for my work time. The only thing which matters is that I get to it during that day. 

The mobile app is really useful for quickly transferring time between categories. YNAB is especially good for this because it’s designed for you to allocate all of your resources and then move those finite resources between purposes. 

Net Worth = Remaining Time

Now here comes the sneaky bit - I use my ‘net worth’ as a measure of how many hours remain unaccounted for, and match it to the remaining hours in the day. So if it’s 8pm, my net worth should be £4.00. I update it every half hour to two hours or so, so it’s not too hard to estimate (or even time exactly if I’m using my phone’s timer) how much time I’ve spent and remember what I did, because it’s recent. I also think more consciously about how I spend (or budget) my time, so I have plans in mind.

Inputting Transactions of Time

Each thing you do is inputted as a transaction of time. So if I spend half an hour typing out this blog post, I will put:

Amount: 0.50

Payee: Tumblr

Category: Blogging

Account: Time

Date: [leave unchanged]

Repeat: never

Remember to clear it, or you’ll have a really irritating uncleared balance which will take ages to go fix!

Time Conversion Table

When inputting transactions of time, you have to transfer units in base 60 to units in base 10, but it’s not too hard. 

15 minutes is £0.25

20 minutes is £0.33

30 minutes is £0.50 (I use this most often)

40 minutes is £0.66

45 minutes is £0.75

1 hour is £1.00

It’s harder to work out 10 minutes but I figure it’s around £0.16. But I hardly ever need it so I don’t worry too much.

The Mobile App

I manage this basically entirely on my phone. Partly, it looks weird in the desktop version because I’m so used to using the time one on my phone. Also because this is something where the mobile app is really in a league of its own - helping me keep track of things in real time, on the go.

I keep meaning to get around to look at the reports on the desktop version so I can see how I’ve been spending my time, but mostly I can see it because of how much I’ve budgeted for each activity.

Downsides

Not many, really. The only two are in relation to the actual money budget. I look at it less often, and sometimes I accidentally clear an uncleared payment due to muscle memory of inputting time transactions! But I still look at it every day, and the mistakes are pretty infrequent.

Upsides

Many. Mostly, I’ve always wanted something where I could allocate time, but not have to constantly be manually editing. On a written diary or day plan, this would be a nightmare. Lots of crossing out, repeated attempts at prioritising by numbering, etc. This stays neat and lets me set out my intentions without forcing me to have time awareness which I do not have. It also allows me to be flexible for how my day goes with sperge (unexpected 2 hour distraction or recovery period, etc.) which is incredibly important. I feel less guilty for taking the time to look after myself, and I can see for myself how necessary it is for me to allocate the honest amount of time to recovery, sleep, etc. I’ll still have time for the important things later, even if I have to use up time now.

[shmosnet2]

What life was really like for women in Ancient Egypt

What life was really like for women in Ancient Egypt

Shutterstock A lot of the time, people think of women's rights as something that started only very recently. Society in the past was horrible compared to the glorious, enlightened geniuses of the present. To make ourselves look good, everyone else has to be bad. But history isn't a straight line. Feminism wasn't something invented in the 1940s or even the 1840s. While there have been plenty of times in history when women were horrifically oppressed (looking at you, Ancient Greece), there were also periods, in some cases long periods, where they enjoyed almost equal rights to men. Ancient Egypt was one such time. If you ignore the slavery and the disease and living at the mercy of the Nile River, Ancient Egypt was a pretty awesome place to be a woman. But just how awesome was it? Well, from the importance of alcohol to matters of makeup, here's what life was really like for women in Ancient Egypt. Ancient Egyptian women were rolling in rights

Shutterstock It's almost unbelievable the number of rights women in Ancient Egypt had. According to Ancient History Encyclopedia, in Ancient Egypt, women could, "own land, initiate divorce, own and operate their own business," and have many kinds of jobs outside the home. But wait, there's more! They could also own their own houses, "enter into contracts with men, have abortions, and dispose of their own property as they saw fit." Ancient Pages adds they could get drunk, make legally-binding wills, and receive both the same pay as men for the same work and the same punishments for the same crimes. It was a level of personal and sexual freedom that no other ancient civilization gave women and wasn't even common in modern times until recently. When the Ancient Greek historian Herodotus visited Egypt, he was shocked at how women behaved. This made sense, since he came from a place where men didn't even like women going outside, and suddenly, he was in a feminist utopia. Well, almost. No society in history has gotten the equality of the sexes thing right, and Ancient Egypt wasn't perfect. While women did sometimes have authority over men, that wasn't considered ideal, and men were usually in charge. There were positions women couldn't hold, usually those of the most important government officials. And in 3,000 years, Ancient Egypt only managed to have seven female rulers. Still, the US hasn't managed one woman president yet, so we can't really say anything. Ancient Egyptian marriages were interesting

Shutterstock Women had a ton of rights in Ancient Egypt, although things were a bit tricky when it came to marriage. According to Short History, girls usually got married right after they hit puberty, which at the time was generally about 13 years old. While boys often weren't that much older, usually marrying between 16 and 20, it wasn't uncommon for teen girls to marry much older men. So how a marriage can really be an "equal partnership" when you have a major age discrepancy is questionable. Still, Ancient History Encyclopedia says that while it was understood that men were the head of the household and had the final word, there's "plenty of evidence to suggest that men consulted with their wives regularly." Ancient Egyptian fathers gave marriage advice to their sons that included "do not control your wife in her house," not to snap at her, to "recognize her skill," to enjoy her company, and to "[desist] from strife at home." Still, wives had certain expectations on them, like having lots of children, and if they committed adultery, they could be killed. But if they didn't like their husband, divorce was simple. A woman just had to say she wanted one. She didn't even need a reason like infidelity on her husband's part. And she got custody of any children. Running the home was a massive responsibility While women may have been equal to their husbands, the job of taking care of the house still fell to them. Rich women might have servants or slaves, and many women also had jobs outside the home, but how well their house was kept was still on their heads. According to Ancient History Encyclopedia, while men helped out with housework from time to time, women had a lot to do. In a time before alarm clocks, a woman had to wake her whole family up so they could go to work or school. Then she had to take care of the family altar. Every house had one, and keeping the gods happy was the woman's job. Then she had to cook breakfast, do the dishes, haul the daily water from the well, do all the childcare, and take care of any elderly relatives. And of course, she had to feed, water, and generally take care of any animals the family owned. Plus, she had to make lunch, do some weaving and sewing, do laundry, bake bread, brew beer, make dinner, serve dinner, clean up dinner, put everyone to bed, and do it all again the next day. And this was before there were any appliances to make her life a tiny bit easier. Some tasks were extra essential. The Ancient Egyptians were neat freaks, meaning the house needed to be spotless, so it looked nice, but also to keep pests away. Tending the garden was also super important, since it was the source of most of the family's food. Ancient Egyptian women often had jobs outside the home

Shutterstock Plenty of Ancient Egyptian women worked in the domestic sphere, but it was also perfectly acceptable for women to — wait for it — work outside the home. According to Ancient History Encyclopedia, the list of jobs they could do was basically endless, and many of them involved authority over men. In a time before locks, when an important room or container needed to be closed and stay closed, you called on a sealer. These bureaucrats carried official, authorized seals that would have to be broken to open whatever they were used to close, so it was a great way of locking something. That made the position of sealer one of the most important jobs in Ancient Egypt, and women sealers were considered equal to their male counterparts. Women could be doctors, as well, and the female physician Pesehet even taught male students in a medical school. Male patients would also see lady doctors with no issue. There were female dentists, female seers who interpreted dreams and omens for people, and women who ran textile manufacturing businesses. There are even paintings of these women supervising their workers. Ladies who had a talent for performing could become musicians, singers, and dancers, entertaining privately and in public temple events. Even women who liked domestic work could do it on the professional level. Girls could become servants as teenagers and rise up the ranks. The top position was household manager, basically running everything for a rich woman who didn't want to do it herself. Women made beer, and Ancient Egyptians loved beer There was one job in Egypt that held supreme importance, and in a completely unexpected twist, it was dominated by women. That job was beer brewer. Beer was vital to Ancient Egyptian existence. The story went that it had been given to humanity by the god Osiris, with breweries watched over by the goddess Tenenet, according to Ancient History Encyclopedia. Another story said when the goddess Sekhmet decided to destroy humanity, she was tricked into getting drunk on beer, passed out, and forgot about it. These and other gods were regularly given offerings of beer, and many temple rituals involved getting very wasted. So beer was important on a spiritual level but also on a practical level. Ancient Egypt Online says everyone drank beer, including children. Beer was seen not so much as a fun drink but a nutritious food staple. Laborers were often paid partly in beer, including the ones working on the pyramids, who got a daily ration of 1 ⅓ gallons each. When experts at the British Museum recreated Ancient Egyptian beer, they were surprised to find it was "absolutely delicious." Since beer was really a food, that made brewing cooking, and cooking was women's work. There's evidence that, definitely in early Egyptian history and probably for most of it, breweries were "entirely operated by females." They made huge quantities of booze, which meant they could make a lot of money. And since beer was so vital and ubiquitous, it was an important, honorable profession. Women could be collateral

Shutterstock Slavery was a complicated institution in Ancient Egypt. There were different levels of servitude, and it's often hard for experts to distinguish between them, according to Tour Egypt. Servants were a thing, but so were slaves, with no distinct dividing line. People who owned land could still be listed as property of a king, making them sort of equivalent to serfs. Slavery was inherited (if your mother was a slave, regardless of who your father was, then you would also be a slave), or prisoners of war could find themselves enslaved, and slavery could even be a temporary thing you (more or less) chose for yourself. The UCLA Encyclopedia of Egyptology says in times of famine, men and women could offer to become slaves in order to make sure they got enough food. Sometimes, men found themselves in debt, and they would offer family members, usually women, as collateral. Those women would remain slaves until the debt was repaid. Even among slaves there was a hierarchy, with foreign slaves seen as "better" since originally, they or their families had been of a higher class than regular Egyptian slaves. Slaves could own property and negotiate transactions. There's a record of two slave women who gave their master some of their own land in exchange for goods. While some slaves became like members of the family, others were freed. One way of finding freedom was by being "purified" and going to work in a temple, and as it turns out, King Tut actually purified some slave women who worked in his palace. Ancient Egyptian women could do what they wanted in the bedroom

Shutterstock Prudish, male, Victorian researchers though Ancient Egypt had prostitutes because, obviously, any women who were having sex out of wedlock must've been working girls. But that was totally wrong. According to Ancient Egyptian Sexuality, people back then weren't hung up on sex. Even their gods and goddesses were always getting up to filthy stuff. Indeed, with the exception of adultery, which was a serious no-no, Ancient Egyptians seem to have been totally cool with women doing whatever. Ancient History Encyclopedia says there was no Ancient Egyptian word for "virgin," possibly meaning that didn't matter. There was definitely no guilt attached to young, single women having their fun, and if one of them ended up pregnant, it was probably something to be celebrated. Fertility was so important to the Egyptians that an out-of-wedlock teen pregnancy was a great thing, because it meant lots more babies to come. There are no records of brothels in 3,000 years of Ancient Egyptian history. What they did have were "sacred prostitutes" who worked in temples. They were there to scratch the priest's itch. This was a hugely honorable position, one families would offer up their most beautiful daughters for. The women would walk around in sheer clothing, or just naked, happily calling attention to their job. They didn't even get paid, the honor was so great. When they got older, they would leave and go get married, with no shame attached to their previous profession at all. Priestesses were powerful and very clean

Shutterstock The Ancient Egyptians were seriously religious. Keeping the gods happy was of the utmost importance, so the people who served them on a day-to-day basis had lots of power. This included women, since there were plenty of priestesses. While Ancient History Encyclopedia says it was typical for female attendants to serve goddesses, this wasn't always the case. Some priestesses served male deities, including the all-important Amun. One woman held the position God's Wife of Amun, a job that "would eventually become as powerful as that of the king." Literally anyone who worked in a temple was considered a priest or priestess, so daily life varied drastically, depending on whether you were more on the janitor end or the high priestess end of the scale. Rituals could involve bathing and dressing a statue of a goddess, lighting sacred fires, or cooking food for the deity. Many priestesses worked part-time, just one month out of every four. According to Herodotus, priestesses had to be super clean, bathing four times a day and shaving all the hair off their bodies and heads (including eyebrows and eyelashes at some temples) to keep lice away and to stay pristine. They also had to practice singing and dancing, so they could entertain their goddess. The power some priestesses had is evident in their tombs. National Geographic reported on a tomb discovered in 2017, belonging to Hetpet, a priestess of Hathor. According to the magazine, it was "lavishly decorated," including paintings of cheeky monkeys and hunting scenes. Royal women had a say in running the country

Oliver Lang/Getty Images Ancient Egyptian royalty lived lives of luxury. While there were a small number of women who held the top job in Ancient Egyptian history, the vast majority of pharaohs were men. But they had women in their lives. Lots of them. Ancient History Encyclopedia says each pharaoh would have numerous queens. One of them would be the most important "principle wife." While in the early years of Ancient Egypt, a queen might just be expected to run the palace, support her husband, and act as regent for an underage son, in the New Kingdom, queens had major power. She got her own royal and religious titles, official duties, land, an income, and a degree of independence. Queens were often the pharaoh's most important counselors, who according to Historic Mysteries, "molded the pharaoh's thinking in matters of state and religion and provided him with strong support." They might act as diplomats, and at least one had her name written in a cartouche, just like a king. Some pharaohs had their wives depicted in statues, occasionally the same size as their own, standing or sitting beside them, making the two royals appear equal in importance. Nefertiti (pictured) basically took over running the country for her husband while he concentrated on religion. The royal line was passed through women, not men, so they were of supreme importance, even daughters of the pharaoh. Of course, the men these royal women were having kids with were often their brothers, fathers, or uncles, so it's not all great. Egyptian women had fertility tattoos Until very recently, it was thought only Ancient Egyptian women got tattoos. After all, only women were depicted with tattoos in Ancient Egyptian art, and of all the Egyptian mummies that had been found, only the female ones were inked. Of course, it was male archaeologists who usually found these mummies (since they were basically all dudes until recently) and they had some not-so-nice theories about the women with body art. According to Groupthink, the male archaeologists decided these ladies must be "dancing girls" or of other "dubious status." Even if they found them buried among royalty, at best they must have been a pharaoh's concubine. Now we know that's not accurate at all. One of the slut-shamed mummies turned out to be the priestess Amunet, which excavators would've realized if they'd just read her burial inscription. Ancient History Encyclopedia says as more tattooed women were connected to the royal court, scholars had to change their theories. Now, it seems tattoos might've been connected to fertility. In general, these tattoos (usually patterns of dots) appear on women's stomachs, thighs, and breasts. It seems women inked themselves to honor the goddess of fertility and as a kind of permanent amulet, giving them help conceiving but also protection during pregnancy and childbirth. The tattoo artists were also exclusively women. Only in 2018 was the first discovery of a tattooed male mummy revealed. So inked men did exist in Ancient Egypt, but so far, it seems very uncommon. A women's appearance was very important Everyone can immediately call to mind what an Ancient Egyptian lady looks like, whether it's the head of Nefertiti, one of a million images of what Cleopatra might've looked like, or just a random woman painted with her head turned to the side. And that distinctive look was hugely important to the average Ancient Egyptian woman. According to Ancient Pages, clothing was considered "one of the most important elements in a person's life." The Ancient Egyptians are famous for one look because it stuck around for thousands of years. No twice-yearly fashion shows full of new styles for them. Women wore a basic, tight, strappy dress that fell to their ankles. In the winter, they would throw a thick linen cloak over their shoulders. Women working in the fields switched to a short skirt and nothing else. The "in" color for all clothing was white, as much for practical reasons in the heat as anything. Some new fads did come in, including pleated cloth and brightly colored fringe. All women, no matter how poor, wore jewelry. Jewelry was vital to look attractive for the gods, so women covered themselves in beaded necklaces, bracelets, earrings, collar, and rings. Makeup was not only aesthetic but also holy. Religion and beauty went hand in hand, so everyone wore makeup. Women did elaborate eye makeup, which might've also been practical, as the thick black kohl could've acted a bit like sunglasses. They also shaved their heads and wore wigs, completing the look.

https://ift.tt/2ozOCRj . Foreign Articles, مصر September 30, 2019 at 04:33PM