#yes. i enjoyed drawing this. especially thy eyes :) | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

hopeshoodie · 4 years

Text

Part 7 of my Pros and Cons of dating the different islanders (yes I’m finally coming back to this :P)

Gary

Cons

He doesn’t have a whole lot of thoughts about things that he’s not actively excited or annoyed by, and he doesn’t really feign interest. If MC buys a new top, or is invested in a new show, or anything that Gary doesn’t really care about, he’ll really disinterestedly say “that’s cool babe,” and make her feel like it’s unimportant. He’s not patronizing/embarrassing her on purpose, he just doesn’t have a lot of tact. You would have to really talk to him and work with him to get him out of this habit, because he doesn’t see how it’s hurtful or care that much to change.

He gets really defensive. If you call him out on his behavior or point out how he’s really stubborn, he’ll argue with you without really considering if his behavior is bad. Arguments with Gary suck because it gets to a point where he’s not hearing you and will just say “whatever” and refuse to engage. The best way to change Gary’s behavior is some pavlovian shit- you need to offer positive reinforcement without him really noticing. When he communicates really well, shower him with affection. When he picks up after himself, tell him how much you appreciate it.

He’s very willing to walk away from things that challenge him instead of trying to grow as a person. We saw that with him and Lottie- whenever she or MC offered valid criticism of his behavior he would just walk away. That applies to most areas of his life- if he tries a new hobby and isn’t good at it immediately he’ll drop it. He doesn’t really like trying new things or going to new places, and if something challenges his worldview he’s more likely to ignore it than engage.

I’ve said this already but he buys MC heart shaped jewelry and pandora charm bracelets...

Gary’s a lad. While he doesn’t intend to hurt anyone’s feelings, he never really engaged with social justice issues and he hasn’t done the work needed to be anti-racist. He’ll laugh along to sexist, racist, homophobic, and ableist jokes without really thinking about the implication. He’s loath to call anyone out. If MC points out ‘hey that thing you/your friend said is hurtful,” he’ll get defensive and say “why are you ruining a good time? It was just a joke” If MC sits down and explains to him how the things he says are actively hurting her, he’ll internalize that and not do it. But he’s really hesitant to say the same to other people- he doesn’t want to ‘ruin the mood’ and get made fun of for being ‘PC’.

Gary’s super dense. He doesn’t really pick up hints very well, so MC needs to explicitly tell him “I need you to compliment this dress” or “we haven’t gone on a proper date in awhile and I’m feeling undesired, can we go out for dinner tomorrow?” I firmly believe that the reason Gary tolerated all of Lottie’s passive aggressiveness was because he didn’t pick up on it, so MC needs to be direct.

He doesn’t appreciate all the effort it takes to get all dolled up, even though he loves it when MC goes all out. I know he SAYS he doesn’t like high maintenance women, but in canon when given the choice between Hannah (seemingly low maintenance) and Marisol (very outgoing and done up), he chooses the higher-maintenance option. Every woman he dated on the show was a glam kind of girl- MC, Lottie, Marisol. So while he loves when MC has a full face and outfit done, he complains about how long it takes her and how she always sneaks away for touch ups during the night. He’s one of those dudes who is like “wow you’re so pretty without makeup” but you’re literally wearing foundation, contour, eyeshadow, eyeliner, mascara, blush- he thinks the difference between makeup and not wearing any makeup is red lipstick. This is super annoying because MC puts a lot of effort into her look only for him to downplay that effort but still enjoy the results.

Building off of the above, Gary severely underestimates how much effort it takes to do “domestic work” like cooking, cleaning, and administrating for the household (I imagine pre-MC he forgets to do the basics like renew licenses, register to vote, schedule appointments, etc). So if MC points out how she spent the whole day cleaning, he’ll be like “that seems a bit much? You just cleaned the kitchen?” and doesn’t really get it until MC breaks down “I swept and washed the floor, I disinfected the dishwasher, I ran cleaners through the sink link, I cleaned out and organized the fridge, I dusted and sanitized the chandelier, I organized the spice drawer, I wiped out the cabinets…” He’s not really motivated to learn how to clean or do laundry or cook.

He doesn’t communicate. This is canon- he doesn’t tell Lottie where his head is at in the game, he strings Lottie and Hannah along, and he doesn’t reassure MC when other girls are clearly cracking on with him. So most of the problems in a relationship with Gary come from MC not knowing what he wants and him never initiating emotionally vulnerable conversations.

He’s not going to do well if MC needs to travel a lot for work, and he’s not going to move to live with her. Even after his nan dies, I don’t see him leaving Chatham. So if moving to a new place is important to you, this is a dealbreaker.

Pros

If something goes really wrong, he’ll never do the same thing twice. This applies to physical mistakes as well as emotional- if he forgets to wear eye protection and gets sawdust in his eyes, he’ll be religious about wearing glasses from them on. If he forgets a birthday or anniversary and makes MC cry, he will be SO diligent from then on about remembering dates. On that thought, he HATES seeing MC cry. He will move heavens and earth to stop whatever’s upsetting her or fix it.

Hugs and cuddling from Gary? So comforting. He just has that vibe, like he’s a really good cuddler. Not to mention that he’s really good at the nasty in canon, so it would stand to reason………

All of that internalized masculinity has an upside- he wants to take care of his family. He’s on top of all the ‘masculine’ caretaking stuff like buying a home, maintaining the landscaping, fixing the tires on the vehicles, shoveling, fixing stuff up around the house, managing the cable/internet/tech. Which is nice because I hate doing those things, but also I’m absolutely teaching him how to do laundry and pick up after himself.

Gary is SO calm in emergency situations. I have this headcanon for Rahim too, but the more panicked those around them get, the calmer they are. Especially in situations where they’ve prepared/considered before like tornadoes or floods. They’re not the kind of guys who take the lead normally, but in these super dire situations they find it in them to take over and calm everyone else down. I can see him having a lowkey stockpile of food, an emergency first aid kit, and a go-bag.

I know people don’t like this headcanon, but too bad. Gary is catholic. That’s the law. Sorry I don’t make the rules. That’s not so much of a pro for me, an atheist nihilist lesbian, but I can recognize a religious man has a certain amount of charm. He has a close knit community, is super consistent about attending services, and has a certain level of taking morals really seriously. He definitely donates a fair bit to charity and is always the one saying “love thy neighbor” when people are being shitty.

Gary’s spontaneous, but in a controlled way. He very much likes his routine and respects MC’s need for consistency. But periodically he’ll just be like “we have nothing planned for today- want to go rent a paddleboat?” or he’ll pick up flowers “just because”. If MC and he are going on a vacation, he much prefers to only plan 1 or 2 things to do a day and then once they’re in the place see interesting things and suggest ‘let’s do that’. He’ll do really thoughtful stuff like text MC if she has anything planned for dinner then randomly bring her favorite restaurant food home. Thursday nights are date nights!! Doing formal ‘dress up nice and go to a proper dinner date without the kids and movie’ is really important to him.

Gary’s a really good dad. Like yeah he has a lot to learn about not telling his son to ‘stop crying’ and not telling his daughter ‘no boys until you’re married’, but he genuinely wants the best for them. He’s really supportive of their hobbies/sports/interests, and will happily pay for summer camp/field trips/conventions. He might not ‘get it’ all the time, but he’ll smile and nod.

He gets a lot of delight out of really little things. If his kid draws something for him, he’ll pin it to the fridge and smile at it every time he sees it without fail. If MC says she likes a certain shirt on him, he’ll triple the amount of times he wears it. He keeps the bird feeders outside their dining room window full, because he can happily sit with a cup of coffee and watch the birds for hours. It truly is the little things.

He’s really good at remembering MC’s favorite things, or even things she mentioned liking once. This is to the point where it’s a bit confusing. MC will compliment Gary’s nan on her christmas poinsettias one year, then two years later Gary buys a ton of poinsettias and is like “I thought you loved poinsettias” and not be able to remember why he thought that. So MC has to be careful with fake compliments, because Gary cannot tell the difference. But that’s still, like, super endearing and nice of him.

There’s a few LIs that I feel like could get bored in a long-term relationship. I can see Lucas, Felix, and Rahim feeling like they’re ‘falling out of love’ when the intensity of a new relationship fades and they struggle to settle into domesticity. Gary is NOT one of them. He’s one of those “I fall in love with you more every single day” kind of guys. As MC gains weight/ages, he’ll insist “you age like a fine wine” and “I like you more with meat on your bones”. He’ll insist to their kids that “your mom is the most beautiful woman on earth”. Gary was built for long-term relationships.

#pros and cons #headcanons

49 notes · View notes

prompt-master · 3 years

Text

On The Clock: Part 1, LeBlanc

Without even stepping inside, Goro could already tell that Sae had been right in her recommendation. The cafe was easy to miss, bundled up in the backroads of Yongen-Jaya without much advertisement besides the floor sign. Despite its first impression being overtly simple, the cafe gave off a cozy atmosphere that could draw in anyone who gave it a chance. The inside was charming and quiet, but not too quiet. The buzzing from the refrigerator, the creaking of the floor boards, and the quiet voices from the TV... It was the kind of background noise that could set your mind at ease. Sae had told him this place was the perfect spot to relax and do some work over good coffee. He couldn’t deny she was right. In fact, Goro wasn’t sure he could go back to instant coffee anymore. LeBlanc had become the perfect way for Goro to spend his free nights. It didn’t seem like it could get any better. But LeBlanc had another perk for Goro.

At the time he hadn’t even bothered looking up from his laptop when he’d heard the chime of Leblanc’s door. No, it wasn’t until he’d heard Sojiro that his interest was piqued.

“Good, about time you showed up. You don’t mind closing tonight, do you?”

To others, it would be shocking to hear that LeBlanc even had other employees. Especially not when customers often filled conversations by discussing how out of business Sojiro’s restaurant was. But Goro was not like the others. After all, he wouldn’t suddenly make a restaurant a common hangout spot on measly recommendation alone.

“It’s no problem, boss.” The employee said, adjusting his glasses as he turned to grab an apron.

Things have become interesting, the very moment he’d been waiting for.

“My, what a coincidence seeing you here, Kurusu-kun was it?”

Akira greeted him with a smile that seemed shy to an untrained eye, but Goro had danced around fake smiles enough to recognize one. Although, Akira didn’t appear displeased to see him, perhaps it was only the shyness itself that was false. In fact, Akira regarded him with a certain look in his eyes that was somewhat obscured by the glare in his glasses. Intrigue?

“That’s right, Akechi.”

“I wasn’t expecting to see you here,” the lie was well practiced and slid off his tongue with ease, “this place isn’t exactly popular.”

“I could say the same to you.” Akira pointed out. And oh, how Goro enjoyed the undertones of a challenge in Akira’s voice.

“I was recommended this place by a colleague of mine. And I must say, it’s hard to not fall for it’s charms. It’s quite calming.”

Akira nodded as he began to brew coffee over the siphon. He was a quiet guy, but Goro had expected this from the brief conversations they’d already had. It was part of what made Akira so intriguing. He hardly spoke in conversation, but he listened to every word with attention. When Akira did speak, his words had meaning. Akira only gave out the words that were necessary, those few moments he spoke meant everything. Goro thought back to his daring statement live on TV: “They do more than the cops.”

Goro didn’t mind running the conversation, this was an opportunity he would not waste, “And how about you? How did you find this place?”

“I live here.”

“Oh, you live in the area? How nice.”

Akira shook his head, lifting one hand to point towards the ceiling, “I live here.”

“Eh? Really? You live in the attic?” Of course, this hadn’t surprised Goro either. He was under a strict “know thy enemy” protocol.

When Akira nodded Goro continued to speak, “That’s rather unusual. You continue to surprise me, Kurusu-kun. I hope you don’t mind if I continue to visit considering this is your home.”

A mug of coffee made a gentle clink sound as Akira placed it in front of Goro. The intense smell of fresh coffee came along with the wave of steam that warmed the air in front of his face. “Ah, I didn’t order any coffee.”

Without his hands busy, Akira placed them into his pockets and slouched against the back wall. “It’s on the house.”

“You know, I’ve become quite accustomed to Sakura-san’s coffee.”

There was a competitive flare hidden in Akira’s smile, easy to miss if you were too focused on his unassuming body posture, “Good thing I learned from the best.”

“I’ll be the judge of that,” Goro said with a playful smile, lifting the mug to his lips.

Undeniably, it was good coffee. It had the exact LeBlanc charm that kept Goro coming back, but with a twist that was entirely Akira’s. It was rich in flavor, with a hint of nuttiness that perfectly balanced the bitterness. What surprised Goro most of all however, was the lack of overwhelming sweetness. In fact, there was a perfect blend of sweetness and bitterness, catered exactly to Goro’s tastes. It was strange, whenever fans went out of their way to make his coffee orders special, they always made it sickly sweet. They made it accustomed to the Detective Prince’s tastes, rather than his own. Goro had to keep himself from drinking too fast, unwilling to let Akira win by showing how enamoured he was with this cup of coffee.

He placed the mug back on the counter, clearing his throat. Akira’s head turned from watching the news, to giving Goro an expectant smile.

“Well, I can tell that you’re new at this… ” he lied. Goro was not nearly enough of a gourmet to be able to pick out the small differences in quality that Sojiro would be able to notice. Truthfully, Goro didn’t even care much for the taste of food or drink. He didn’t get the luxury to care about such things. Even now, with such a busy life, the priority was to get something quick and sustaining. That’s why Goro’s kitchen was stocked with instant meals. He did not bother with the pleasures of taste. That was the typical standard that Goro was used to. But it seemed around Akira, typical no longer had the same definition.

“... but your inexperience makes it all the more impressive. Sakura-san is a good teacher.”

“Thanks,” Akira rubbed the back of his neck in a sheepish manner, “He made me memorize all the regulars’ tastes. I made sure to practice.”

Goro figured drinking more coffee would hide the way his face burned at the image of Akira practicing coffee making just for him.

Akira started to wipe down the counter with a damp rag, “I’m glad you liked it, though.”

“Yes, well,” Around Akira, things were different. Things were interesting. Goro couldn’t help but want to see more of the surprises Akira had waiting for him. Surely, the leader of the Phantom Thieves was a worthy rival for Goro to go toe to toe with. And if the pursuit of such a challenge brought along the perk of uniquely delicious coffee then… “I’ll have to stop by more often to see how you improve.”

“I won’t disappoint.”

#persona 5 #p5 #akira kurusu #akechi goro #shuake #fanfic #ficlet #akeshu #fan fic #its on ao3 as well

16 notes · View notes

wr1ter-reader-dreamer · 4 years

Text

Better Than I Ever Could’ve Imagined (Pt. 3)

Werewolf!Shawn Mendes x Reader

Masterlist

Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 4 - Part 5

Andrew called a security guard over who then let us through a break in the fence. Lila followed right behind Andrew, Dede and I trailing behind them, as he led us back behind the stage and through a series of tents and trailers. There were people everywhere backstage, hustling about trying to clear Shawn’s set and get ready for the next performer. We wound through the workers, nobody even batting an eye at the obvious fan bouncing through them, and made our way towards the edge of the park. As we got closer I noticed a trailer set up with a few lounge chairs and a couch in front of it. There were people occupying the seats, laughing loudly and obviously enjoying themselves as they drank and talked. We were walking straight to them.

My heart started to beat faster when Andrew motioned for us to wait at the edge of the group and stay quiet. Shawn was seated facing away from us, leaning forward and laughing at something his guitarist had said, and that’s when it hit me. I was really going to meet him and at his request. I was suddenly very glad I had decided to wear the bodysuit.

Lila was bouncing in place, barely holding in a squeal as Andrew approached Shawn, standing in front of him so he wouldn’t see us.

“Did you find her?” Shawn asked, immediately straightening in his seat when he noticed Andrew.

The manager shook his head, a small frown on his lips, “No man, she was already gone by the time I got there.”

Shawn’s entire body deflated, his shoulders slumping and a small “oh” slipping from his lips. I couldn’t help but smile as he didn’t even notice his band snickering around him. They weren’t doing a very good job at playing along.

“But I did find some other fans who I think you’d like to meet,” Andrew grinned, motioning for us to come forward.

“Ok, I guess I can meet some fans,” Shawn straightened his shoulders a little as he turned to face us.

Lila stepped forward first, drawing Shawn’s attention with her excited squeal, “Hi Shawn!”

He smiled slightly, unable to resist her excitement, “Hi. Would you like a picture?”

“Yes! Y/N will you take it?” she nodded, turning to hand me her phone so I could take the picture.

Shawn’s eyes flicked to me for the first time and he froze. Smiling shyly, I glanced up to meet his eyes, noticing that they flashed black again.

“Hi,” I breathed, my smile widening as he stepped towards me.

A slow grin broke out across his features, his brown eyes lighting up with joy before he turned to glare at Andrew, “You told me you didn’t find her!” We all laughed at the outrage in his voice, Andrew shrugging, “Sorry. It was just too easy to resist.”

Lila cleared her throat, drawing Shawn’s attention to her obvious annoyance that she hadn’t gotten her picture yet. I rolled my eyes at her childishness, slightly annoyed myself that she was being so demanding.

“Oh, sorry,” Shawn said, stepping towards her.

She held her phone out to me expectantly, which I took with another eye roll, before sidling up next to Shawn and wrapping an arm around him. I fought back the jealousy that rushed through me as he wrapped his arm around Lila, his hand settling on the bare skin of her waist left exposed by her crop top.

“Ready?” I asked, my voice harder than I would’ve liked as I prepared to take the picture.

They both nodded, Lila grinning at the camera and Shawn smiling softly. I quickly snapped the picture then held the phone out to Lila. She squealed, turning to quickly thank Shawn with a hug before grabbing her phone. I felt another wave of hot jealously flash through me at the contact, but quickly shook it off. It was ridiculous to be jealous of a silly hug, especially considering Shawn hadn’t taken his eyes off me since he realized I was here.

“Damn, don’t stare too hard,” Dede joked, speaking for the first time since we had come backstage.

Pink tinted my cheeks as I glanced away from Shawn and stuck my tongue out at her.

Shawn moved his attention to Dede, a smirk on his lips, “I can’t help it when there’s someone that gorgeous to look at.”

The pink in my cheeks darkened to a deep red and I hid my face in my hands, a small smile tugging my lips up. Dede and Shawn laughed, both apparently quite amused by my embarrassment.

“Do you want a picture too?” Shawn asked, looking briefly at Lila, who was too engrossed in her phone at this point to pay attention to us, before focusing back on Dede.

“Oh no, I’m just here for moral support,” my best friend shook her head, “She wouldn’t have come without me and I wasn’t gonna let her miss this since she has massive crush on you.”

Shawn smirked, addressing me directly for the first time, “You’re a big fan huh?”

I rolled my eyes at his cockiness, crossing my arms over my chest and shrugging, “I actually came because I hoped seeing you in person would make it go away.”

Dede and Andrew, who had been listening and watching us interact, laughed loudly. I smiled smugly at the fake-hurt expression on Shawn’s face.

“Baby that hurts,” he said, covering his heart with his hand.

“Sucks,” I said, shrugging again.

Shawn turned to Dede, “What about you? Do you think she should get over me?”

“I don’t think it matters now,” Dede rolled her eyes, “It only made it worse.”

I laughed at her obvious displeasure, knowing it was all for show. Dede had no problem with my crush on Shawn or me talking about him. She just pictured someone else’s face on his body when I did, because “his body is just fine, it’s his face that’s the problem” according to her.

“She sure seemed to be enjoying herself to me,” Shawn smirked, eyeing my body and making my stomach squirm.

Lila looked up from her phone suddenly and actually paid attention to her surroundings for the first time since she got her picture with Shawn.

“Can we go now? I want to see other bands,” she whined, causing me to frown and Dede to roll her eyes.

Dede noticed my obvious unwillingness to leave, and Shawn’s unwillingness to let me, and quickly stepped in, “I can go back to the festival with Lila, if you want to stay here Y/N.”

I smiled gratefully at my friend, looking at Shawn to make sure he was ok with this. He looked just as happy as I was, so I quickly took Dede up on her offer.

“That would be great,” I said, pulling her into a hug, “Just text me when ya’ll are about to leave so I can find you and ride back with you.”

“Oh, um, I can take you back home later,” Shawn quickly interrupted, stepping closer with a light pink tint on his cheeks.

I grinned, liking the sound of getting to stay with him longer. Dede nodded, waving goodbye before tugging Lila back the way we had come. Andrew followed behind them, saying that he would see them out, and then we were alone.

Smiling shyly, I glanced up at Shawn, really looking at him for the first time since we came backstage. He was still wearing his white button-up and back skinny jeans, sweat causing the cotton to stick to his skin and outline his muscles. My attention was drawn to his messy curls, also damp with sweat, as he ran a hand through them, biting his lip and looking at me longingly. The heat in his gaze caused my face to flush as I realized that we were alone.

“Hi,” Shawn said quietly, his demeanor quickly shifting from cocky confidence to shy as he stepped towards me, not stopping until we were only a few inches apart.

“Hi,” I repeated, tilting my head back so I could look up into his eyes.

The wind blew and a piece of my hair fell across my face. Shawn immediately reached up, tucking the strand behind my ear and resting his palm against my cheek. I leaned into his touch and my lips parted slightly as I savored his warmth.

“You’re beautiful,” he growled softly and I blushed.

“So are you,” I whispered, a shy smile on my face as I gazed up at him.

He grinned, letting his hand drop from my cheek onto my shoulder where he ran it down my arm and grasped my hand in his. I shivered as his touch glided down, loving the sparks it left in its wake. I was suddenly reminded of his sweaty state when he leaned his forehead against mine and his wet curls brushed against me.

Scrunching my nose up, I pushed him back lightly, “Ew, Shawn, you’re gross.”

“Mmm baby, say my name again,” he smirked, pulling me against his body and nuzzling his face in my neck.

“Shawn!” I laughed, pushing him away again so he didn’t get more sweat on me.

He laughed too, the sound warming my heart and making my smile grow even bigger, “Alright, alright. I’m going to take a shower and then we can go watch some of the other performers.”

I nodded eagerly, liking the idea of him getting clean then exploring with me.

“You can wait out here, I won’t be long,”

I nodded again and he smiled, touching my cheek before turning to go inside the trailer. With a grin on my face, I sat down on the couch in front of the trailer. I never would’ve guessed thy day would turn out like this, but I couldn’t deny just how happy I was that it did.

#shawn mendes x reader #werewolf!shawn mendes x reader #soulmates #fanfiction #y/n #shawn mendes x y/n #werewolf!au #reader insert #shawn mendes #soulmate!au #part 3 #acl #shawn mendes acl #better than i ever could've imagined

34 notes · View notes

fortune-fool02 · 5 years

Text

Love Thy Enemy

Kakyoin Noriaki x enemy female reader

Warnings: angst, bit of blood, fluff

This was just an idea that popped into my head. Please enjoy.

It was not her intention to lie to them. It was not her intention to watch them walk blindly into this little mission, battling fellow followers of Lord Dio. But it was not [Name]’s fault that they weren’t smart enough to notice the tiny little details that could save their skin.

As one of Lord Dio’s best servants, [Name] was given the mission of, not to kill the group of crusaders, but to learn everything she could about them; ranging from family and friends to their darkest secrets that they tried so hard to bury deep within themselves and pretend it did not exist.

That was [Name]’s job. Gather what information she could about them and send word to Lord Dio of their progress and -if possible without causing suspicion- lead them astray. There was something about [Name] that gave that sense of security, all she had to do was bat her eyelashes with that sweet little smile and people found it difficult to not trust her. The picture of innocent and sweet, concealing the serpent that laid in wait for the perfect opportunity to strike.

That was the irony of her own Stand, The Fool. Though, they were oblivious to the fact she had a Stand in the first place.

However, somewhere in this little adventure, something changed. [Name] would be sitting by the campfire, thinking about their next steps when Kakyoin would approach her, asking if he could sit beside her. She shrugged and he sat beside her. It didn’t take long before the two would be lost in small talk, discussing different topics and finding common interests such as an author they both read and drawing.

This didn’t faze [Name]. It was just harmless conversation between a fool and a lair, nothing more and nothing less. Though, if she was honest with herself, she did find Kakyoin’s company more interesting than the others.

***

Things began to spiral from her grasp as time ticked onwards. Despite what she did, she found herself growing to enjoy Kakyoin’s -as well as the other’s- company. The playful, childish banter they would all share, the carefree attitudes they had.

It brought back moments of her life that she had long tried to forget. Especially when she learned of their families. Mr Joestar’s daughter -Jotaro’s mother- was battling for her life because of Dio. Normally, this would have no affect on [Name] but when she saw the traces of concern that would flicker across Jotaro’s eyes whenever someone mentioned it, and how Mr Joestar would physically slump, it made something twist inside of her.

One night, whilst the others were sleeping, [Name] climbed from her sleeping bag and wandered off somewhere to think. How... How could she actually do any of this? The reason why she agreed to join Lord Dio was because she wanted to hunt down the man who put her mother into a coma -and who was still fighting for her life- and now, here she was, watching another family suffer the same fate. Except this time, [Name] was the bastard’s helper.

Could she really force another to suffer the same thing she was? But, if she didn’t then Dio would force one of his flesh buds into her head and then she would never see her mother again. She was stuck between a rock and a hard place, dammit.

***

When the group had reached Enyaba’s hotel, the [Hair colour] female sent the old woman a cold glare. The old woman only smiled sweetly at her though she could almost sense the coldness behind it. Enyaba was fully aware of [Name]’s role in all this.

“So, what have you learnt about our little brats?” Enyaba asked when she and [Name] were alone. The [Hair colour] female turned her gaze to the unlit fireplace, “I’ve learnt more than enough.” she answered, refusing to look at the old hag.

“Wonderful. I’m sure Lord Dio will be pleased with you.” It was pathetic. [Name] knew that she was not a good person for siding with Dio but she didn’t think she could bare knowing that others were suffering more than deserved. What wrong had the Joestars done to Dio to deserve their entire bloodline to be crushed?

With a shake of her head, [Name] turned on her heel and walked out the room. Not moments later down the hall, she stopped. Kakyoin. She could hear Kakyoin’s voice from the room she was in moments ago. Crap.

***

“Excuse me, miss.” Kakyoin spoke as he pushed the door open, looking around the room. Enyaba looked over at him, the sweet facade falling back on as she smiled at him.

“Yes young man, what’s the matter?” Kakyoin looked around, his brow lightly furrowed.

“I’m looking for my friend, [Name]. I could have sworn I heard her in here.” he said, Enyaba waved her bandaged hand a little.

“Oh, that sweet girl? She just left.” she replied, “Why? Is something wrong?” He shook his head a little. Ever since they arrived here, he hasn’t been able to talk to [Name] as she was always off somewhere. It was strange but he wanted to ensure she was alright. The last thing he would want is for her to be hurt.

“No, I just want to know if she’s alright. She hasn’t been quite herself since we got here and I’m just worried.” There was a sprinkle of concern in his words that Enyaba noticed easily, as well as the slight furrow in his brow. The boy was worried about [Name]. An idea clicked in the old woman’s head,

“You sound as if you care about her.” Kakyoin looked at her, his emerald eyes clouded with surprise at that. He sighed softly, a sigh of defeat. Oh, how cute. The boy cared about [Name] and he had no idea of her true intentions. “You know, I think she went that way.” Enyaba said, pointing towards the door [Name] walked out moments ago. The second Kakyoin turned his back, her scissors emerged from her sleeve.

As she rose her scissors high, ready to drive them through Kakyoin’s flesh, the doors flew open; a force shoving Kakyoin out of the way of the scissors and sending Enyaba back. [Name] stood there, her body shielding Kakyoin as she glared at Enyaba.

“What the hell is wrong with you, [Name]?” the old hag shouted, her eyes wild with anger as she pointed her scissors at the [Hair colour] female. She looked between [Name] and Kakyoin, everything clicking into place. “You’ve gone soft, haven’t you? You had one job to do and you couldn’t even do that. Lord Dio will be very disappointed in you!”

With a yell, [Name]’s Stand materialised from the shadows beside Enyaba, taking the old woman off guard at the monstrous figure suddenly charging at her, giving her little time to react as the Stand threw her through the doors. [Name] didn’t stay to check Kakyoin, instead, she went after Enyaba. With a Stand like Justice, she had to be quick.

As [Name]’s Fool charged, a handful of Enyaba’s puppet corpses lunged at her. The Fool turned, abandoning its attack on the hag and moved to the corpses, giving Enyaba the chance to strike.

“[Name] watch out!” Kakyoin called to the [Hair colour] female. [Name] turned sharply, grabbing Enyaba’s hand and landing a sharp kick in her ribs before ripping the scissors from her hand and throwing them somewhere. As Justice formed behind her, Enyaba’s face strained, the colour fading from her skin as she heaved as if struggling to breath.

[Name] looked over to see Star Platinum inhaling Justice, clearing the air of the twisted fog and rendering Enyaba defenceless. Once the old hag collapsed, [Name] turned to Jotaro and was greeted with a punch from his Stand, sending her flying into the staircase. Blood trickled from her head as her vision swam slightly from the impact.

“This entire time, you were an enemy, [Name].” she heard Kakyoin say as his figure approached her along with Jotaro’s. She knew this would happen eventually. “Guess that makes us the fools.” [Name] shifted to get, at least, a little more comfortable, causing Jotaro to take a step forward, expecting an attack that didn’t come.

“I didn’t do it because I wanted to, Kakyoin.” she said, earning a scoff from Jotaro but she ignored it and continued. “You know what Dio is like, you yourself have been in his command.” the red haired male shot her a look that made her cringe on the inside.

“Because he had a flesh bud in my head.” [Name] nodded,

“Exactly. I did all this because I didn’t want to have that in my head.” she confessed, seeing no point in hiding anything any longer. If she was lucky, Jotaro would kill her before Dio could. She would rather die by his hands rather than Dio’s. “I wanted to go back to my mother, and he told me that if I followed his orders then I could see her again. If I didn’t, he would kill her and force a flesh bud into my head.” she lowered her head.

Kakyoin crouched down beside her, his eyes spinning with sorrow, “But why did you attack Enyaba? If she was working for Dio.” [Name] rose her gaze to meet his.

“Because I didn’t want to see you hurt, Kakyoin.” she admitted, suddenly feeling small and pathetic like a child. “I care about you and I didn’t want to see you get hurt because of this.” Whatever confessions she admitted to now would be pointless, they would only see it as a pathetic attempt to slip past judgement.

Confusion flooded her body when she felt Kakyoin’s arms wrap around her body, holding her close. “W-What’re you doing?” she asked. Kakyoin only held her closer before speaking.

“I believe you.” her [Eye colour] eyes widened, shock flooding them. How... How could he believe her after finding out she has done nothing but lie and deceive them? “[Name], I can look into someone’s eyes and know if they’re lying to me.” he said, leaning back slightly to look at her.

“When I look in your eyes, I can see the hurt and pain you have been through. I knew you weren’t all that you claimed to be and that was why we brought you along in the first place.” How ironic. The fool was fooled; who’s the idiot now then?

Despite what she did, Kakyoin didn’t hate her. If anything, he sympathised her. Tears pricked her eyes before she could stop them and Kakyoin pulled her into an embrace again.

“Don’t worry [Name]. We will save Jotaro’s mother as well as yours. I promise you.”

#kakyoin #kakyoin noriaki #jojo bizarre adventure #kakyoin x reader #kakyoin noriaki x reader #jojo bizzare adventure x reader #jojo #jojo x reader #stardust crusaders #stardust crusaders x reader #kakyoin stardust crusaders #fluff #female reader #reader insert

68 notes · View notes

theholycovenantrpg · 4 years

Photo

CONGRATULATIONS, RACHEL! YOU’VE BEEN ACCEPTED FOR THE ROLE OF CAPHRIEL.

Admin Cas: This decision felt practically impossible to me. We received two applications for Caphriel, and each application offered a completely different perspective of her, tapped into two totally opposite aspects of her character, but what drew me back to your application, Rachel, was your eagerness to tackle the — ah, less savoury aspects of Caphriel, shall we say? You said it yourself, it would be easy to look at Caphriel through rose-tinted glasses, given all she’s sacrificed and all she insists on doing for mortal-kind, but the matter of the fact is that she’s still an Angel. Yes, she’s kind, she’s selfless, she’s sombre; but she’s also haughty, she’s also resolute, she’s also violent. I think it was this line that sold me: “Though she despises war, Caphriel carries her sword wherever she goes – can she not say that she is prepared, if she must, to cut down those that stand in the way of her love?” I can’t wait to see what other terrible things Caphriel is willing to do in the name of love in your capable hands! Please create and send in your account, review the information on our CHECKLIST, and follow everyone on the FOLLOW LIST. Welcome to the Holy Land!

OUT OF CHARACTER

Alias | Rachel

Age | 22

Personal Pronouns | she/her

Activity Level | Inspiration comes in waves, but I try my best to keep a net one or two posts per day. It might mean I spam the dash with all my replies on one day and then am lurking the rest of the week, it might actually mean one reply a day, it all depends on work and life and such. I am around every day to chat about things, though! You can count on me lurking on discord an alarming amount of the day.

Timezone | PST

Triggers | REMOVED

How did you find the group? | Rosey was like Hey. I think you’ll enjoy this. and she was right!

IN CHARACTER

Character | Caphriel

What drew you to this character? | It took me a long while to settle myself on Caphriel. I was torn between a number of characters as they were posted, but I kept circling back to her – her radiant kindness, the exquisite pain of loving wholeheartedly, despite the weight of sorrows that she carries for others. She is a breath of light that is so deeply compelling to me. It could be easy to see her through rose tinted glasses, but I think there’s an edge to her that I really want to try to draw out.

What future plots do you have in mind for the character? |

I. TAKE UP THY BLADE

Love has brought Caphriel to violence, and it shall do so again. She committed unspeakable acts against God and her fellow angels in their great coup all for the sake of humanity, acts she would repeat tenfold if it meant they remain as they are: stumbling towards a light of their own making, figuring out their place as they define it. Though she despises war, Caphriel carries her sword wherever she goes – can she not say that she is prepared, if she must, to cut down those that stand in the way of her love?

If and when the divine beings start to chafe at their self-imposed equality with the human race, if and when they seek to be once again revered without question, Caphriel will once again take up her sword against her brethren. It is an inevitability, one she feels in her bones.

Caphriel may not go to bat for every human that she encounters, but there are individuals whom she found fight tooth and nail to spare the horrors of the world. She would put herself on the line for humanity as a whole in a heartbeat, if it came to it, though she would prefer to teach her brethren the things she’s learned from the humans first, instill in them the same deference that she holds. Break from them the desire to be worshipped, for that era seems firmly in the past. I think it would be very interesting to have her interfacing with her fellow angels, attempting to teach this point – in all likelihood, it would go poorly, especially among those that still crave power over anything. She cannot force love when it is absent, but she would bleed herself dry if it would make them understand.

Perhaps the angels get restless. Perhaps her shared animosity with Nerissa comes to a head. Perhaps someone dares to harm those that are beloved to her. I feel there are many paths that can lead to her digging back into that measure of destruction she holds within herself, all varying degrees of boundary-testing. This would be a longer-term arc for her as the plot develops, as there are a lot of dominoes that would have to fall first in order to get her to turn to violence – all other avenues must be closed, or she must really, truly feel like it is the right thing.

II. I WOULD DROWN IN THE FAVOR OF YOUR EYES

As an immortal being, Caphriel has lost a great many things. She watches the decay of mortals with a bittersweet resignation, but there are always a special few mortals whose loss she feels keenly, who she weeps for ages down the line. Luca Riche is one of these, though she has not lost him yet – and she is determined to keep him, greedy and indulgent, for as long as she can.

History repeats itself, it seems – she loved Abel then as she loves Luca now, but this time she is at his side, an equal rather than a distant observer. He is not hers to protect, but she aches to do so, would likely turn at an instant on one who did him harm. The thing is: did she love Cain less, for his sin? Did she resent him for his violence against his brother? She had wept for him as he bore the mark even as she turned her back on the darkness he harbored within himself. Her draw towards Luca unwittingly brings Jasper into her sphere, and she can sense a similar darkness about him. The brothers have her transfixed once again, but can the violence between them remain unfulfilled?

I would love to explore the established connection with Luca and how that affects her connections to Jasper. Does she see the animosity harbored by Jasper? Is she blinded to the issues by Luca’s own love for his brother, and her love for him in turn? She is a bit of a meddler, albeit a well-meaning one, so there’s a distinct possibility that she would try to facilitate some form of reconciliation, especially if the strain between the brothers begins to reflect negatively onto Luca. It might just blow up in her face.

Whether she eventually learns they are Cain and Abel does not, I think, truly matter – either way there is still the push and pull of her benevolent love vs. the specific instances of Jasper’s darker leanings, the sickly sweet danger of her love for Luca. She was not a direct actor in their story initially, but she could be now – I think she will cling to this, and it may eat at her. This possessive love could so easily turn to rot – she hovers on a precipice which, really, either brother could knock her over the edge of.

III. THERE IS BLOOD ON THE WALLS OF YOUR HOME

Caphriel’s position within the hierarchy of angels feels, despite her mantle as virtue of Charity, quite tenuous. She shuns Caelum in favor of Sanctus Terra, adores humanity more than she ever has her brethren. She took up the sword with the rest of them, followed Michael into the fray not because she believed in him, but because she believed that God had turned against His people. All that she has done has been for humanity – how plain is that for other angels to see? It is etched into the very marrow of her bones – it seems impossible that the other angels would not be wary of this, unsettled by this almost lack of loyalty.

Michael made her the virtue of Charity – but does he trust her? She had walked away while he was building his empire – does this not smart? Do the other angels view her has naïve for placing her lot so heavily with humanity? Her ferocity still lingers in their memory, but the goodness that she radiates now may turn the stomach of those angels lingering in the darker corners of Caelum.

She spends most of her time in Sanctus Terra, and I would like to really dig into her feelings about coming ‘home’ to Caelum. Whether she is drawn in some official capacity or simply visiting as part of her travels, there are a lot of mixed feelings about the place and the people. She harbors no ill will for her brethren, but their pride chafes on her after too long a stay.

It would be interesting to push this divide to the brink, test the limits of Caphriel’s love and loyalty. When given an ultimatum, which side would she choose? She was made to love and protect humanity, but can she really turn aside from her own divinity so easily?

IV. A HEART IS A MUSCLE LIKE ANY OTHER

This is building off something Minnie had in her sample app! I think it’s really compelling that Arianne and Caphriel occupy the same niche in a strange way. They both can assuage the suffering of another being, though Caphriel’s empathy is a bit less immediate of a fix than Arianne’s manipulation of the heart. There is an element of violence to both of their pathways – for Caphriel to take a memory permanently rather than just see it, she must wield her sword; for Arianne, it is easy to simply stop a heart entirely. Caphriel aims to soothe from a place of love; it seems that Arianne seeks the power that comes from dependance.

They are strange parallels, and I would love to have a possible confrontation between the two. Caphriel tries so hard to love all humanity, but I think that Arianne would push at her limits. She has made herself into humanity’s protector, though the threats she works against are myriad and deeply, deeply unexpected. Arianne’s ability poses a particularly strange threat, one that I believe Caphriel would keep an eye on, especially if she got wind that people were really hooked on Arianne. Her interest is equally a strange sort of covetousness for the position of humanity’s aid and wanting to mitigate what could be a real threat to people.

Are you comfortable with killing off your character? | If she were to go, it would not be without a fight. In short, yes, but only if it’s really compelling for the narrative/serves a strong purpose.

IN DEPTH

Driving Character Motivation |

Love. A deep, abiding love for humanity in all their glorious failures and corruptions, their triumphs and joys. Caphriel cannot rid the world of all its woes but she can ease the pain of them, and the desire to do so has driven her to the ends of the earth and back again. Her love is a ferocious thing, not the gauzy lightness of poetry but rich and radiant, forged in blood and tears.

Before God’s defeat, Caphriel ached to understand the woes of humanity on a more intimate level, to feel them herself rather than observe their effects from afar. Her empathic power allows her to do that, and she gladly takes humanity’s pain onto herself. She is a hardier being, at the end of it – they will not weigh her down as they do the frailer humans. She will not let them.

Her love is not always good. This is, I think, the crux of her character, and what keeps her from becoming something flimsy. She has spilled blood for this love. Overthrown her creator. Likely even committed violence against the humans she so loves for the sake of sparing the masses further pain. Though her love comes from a place of righteousness, it is, ultimately, her own, and there are those that would see it as a curse or as the delusions of one individual. Her love can blind her to elements of reality and she can lose herself in the memories of others.

She exists in a strange middle ground – not quite angel, not quite human. It is her divine nature that allows her to act as she does, yet she has always hungered to know the depths of humanity. This counterbalance propels her, though she may not even understand the true extent of it.

Character Traits |

+ STEADFAST

Caphriel’s love for humanity has not wavered for eons. She remains committed to them, driven by the desire to help, to ease their suffering, to feel as one with them. Her unwavering devotion to humanity has shaped her life and all her most important actions: her turn away from God, her participation in the coup, her retreat to Sanctus Terra once it became habitable. Though this devotion is overall a net positive, it can, in certain cases, take on a negative aspect.

- OBSESSIVE

There are certain things that she cannot let go of. Her love can turn to obsession, to covetousness, blinding her to the dangers of her actions. Her hunger for connection to humanity has gnawed at her for eons, driving her forward at times against her better nature. She can lose sight of the forest for the trees if she is not careful in moderating herself.

+ COMPASSIONATE

Her powers of empathy heighten her already compassionate nature. She wants to help, to listen to others when they talk of pain, of suffering, to work with them to ease their burdens.

- MEDDLESOME

Her acts of charity are not always welcomed by those she bestows them upon. Her ministrations and particularly her empathic ability often pry deep into a person’s psyche, which she doesn’t realize may alienate those that have not sought her presence.

+ GENTLE

Angels can be fearsome things. The sword worn across her back and the brilliant white sweep of her wings may be unsettling, but Caphriel’s calm and kind demeanor puts that to rest. She radiates a sense of contentment, in harmony with the hum of her blade, the sweep of her wings through the air.

- VIOLENT

She does not often give into her baser natures, but when Caphriel is incited to a fight, she is vicious. She made a name for herself among the angels during the war with God, her greatsword forged by Michael himself whetted on the bones of her kin. Her mild demeanor may belie her fighting prowess, but the truth is: every angel is terrible. Even one built for love such as she.

In-Character Para Sample |

When she descends to the earth at the end of it all, after the bones of her Lord God have stripped themselves bare, after the Blood Plague has ravaged the new, fledgling land, she weeps. The first touch of her foot to the land of Sanctus Terra breaks her chest open, pain and joy and love, uncompromising love, spilling from the very core of her, mirrored in the souls around her. She walks, heart open, into the fold, sword a comforting weight upon her back, wings a blinding mass behind her. She learns to fold them away, over time; saves the revelation of her erstwhile divinity for more intimate things. She tucks the gleaming herald of her wings out of sight, but still she glows, lit from within by the undying flame of her love.

She walks the length of the land, leaving no corner unexplored. Her footsteps are those of Moses, of John. Of all those that wandered the earth, driven by love for their people, for their Lord. She trails a path through the indelible marks of history, the eons crumbled to ash in the reformation of the world. She carries these pilgrims with her, their memory mingling with new stories, their pain and grief and love cradled between her ribs.

It is her sword that announces her presence now, its gentle hum blown by the breeze into the small town she has wandered to. Her cloak is heavy and warm in the noonday sun, her body one large and familiar ache that comes from hours on foot. A small child stops in their tracks at the sight of her – she offers them a warm smile. That seems to spook them more than anything, and they run to hide behind the legs of a woman who bustles around the yard of a nearby home. People peer from windows as she passes, pause in their ministrations to watch her go by. They listen to the radiant hum of the sword that glints on her back and they wonder.

She takes a deep breath, lets the energy of the town seep under her skin. They are all so tired, these people – they all seem to be, the further she moves from the center of the Holy Land. Settlers bending the will of the natural world to their own, terraforming the same soil their ancestors had once turned, eons ago. She has drawn up a crowd by the time she arrives in what seems to be the main square, a rough dirt clearing amidst the houses. The people keep their distance, intrigued but wary – she cannot begrudge them this, though she aches to close the space between them, to take them up in her arms and sooth the furrows from their brows. To nurture them as they nurture the land.

There are people in the square – older, she thinks, though she’s never been good at gauging these things, so used to faces that do not line with age. Humans pass so quickly, their meagre collected years a blip in her existence, yet she yearns to understand the scope of their lives, the honors of reaching fifty years, sixty, when all she knows are millennia. She sees the child from before in the corner of her eye, trailing behind her with their mother, so small. A man and a woman speak in hushed tones as she approaches - snippets blow to her, but she captures none but their names - Gideon, the woman says, Sarah, he responds. Old names, familiar ones, and Caphriel is overcome with her desperate adoration of a people too stubborn to die out, rooted deep into lives eons ago whose stories no longer grace people’s lips but in their most basic form: the name of it all.

“My name is Caphriel,” she intones, as the man named Gideon steps forward to meet her. “I come seeking shelter and to bring aid where it is needed.”

“Why do you hide your wings, Angel?” The man before her says. She sees the glint of mistrust in his eyes, the tension in his stance. She had hoped, once, that she might someday no longer be recognizable at first glance – her brothers had laughed at her when she’d said it, so she buried that seed deep within herself. Her cloak was a small concession to herself, though it seems in this case it had been a misstep. It is no hardship to her to assuage his fears, so she bows her head briefly and removes her cloak, unfurling her wings behind her, a blaze of white stark against the dirt road, the richness of her dark skin. She sees the spark of wonder in the man’s eyes and she smiles, a small but radiant thing.

“I do not mean to hide what I am, or to dissemble and take your hospitality under false pretenses.” The low murmur of the crowd quiets as she speaks. “I take solace in walking where my brethren would fly, and have found it convenient to cover them when they are not in use to shield them from the wind and dirt.” She cocks her head, coy, lets her smile bloom wider, drops her voice like she is telling a secret. “They are a true pain to clean when they get dirty.”

She hears a ripple of laughter from behind her, bright feminine voices, and she knows she has settled into the hearts of these people. Even Gideon, frame still stoic, returns her smile. “Come,” he says, gesturing her into a home along the central square. She folds her cloak in her arms as she walks beside him, eyes adjusting to the change in light as they duck indoors. It is sparse but comfortable, and Caphriel feels at peace. “We don’t get many visitors here, let alone the start of a host of angels.”

“No host,” she says, unlacing her scabbard from her back, laying it alongside her folded cloak. “Just me.”

“Well, that’s lucky,” he replies, “Seeing as I’ve only got one spare bed.”

Her laugh is melodic, filling up the space between them, bright and bubbling with happiness. “Gideon,” she smiles, tasting the prophet’s name on her tongue, rich with history and repetition. “I want to help you. If you tell me what you and your people need, I swear I will do everything in my power to aid you. All I ask in return is a roof over my head for as long as it takes.” She holds out her hand, palm up, a minute act of supplication. “Let me help you.”

“Well,” the man before her says, “Caphriel.” He clasps her hand to shake. She feels the warmth radiate up her arm, into her heart. “Let’s get started, then.”

#accepted #accepted: caphriel

1 note · View note

bedbellyandbeyond · 5 years

Photo

Lady Syd Rain, Part 1

(Flashback Post 1/2)

It had been five months since Sydryn had last been visited. Going into hiding had been the only option; it felt like every year or so another dragon fell by the hand of man. Syd had abandoned a successful archivist practice to settle away in a ruined fort near a small mountain town. The last to visit them was Dranley, another dragon, hoarder of blades, come to make sure that Syd was well equipped for the winters to come, should they be unable to leave their home for fear of hunting. With the rapid decline of the dragon population, they’d had a rather hastily arranged mating event, and Sydryn and Dranley had been paired up. As much as Sydryn did not enjoy the company of other dragons, Dranley wasn’t the worst partner to be arranged with. Sydryn had an equal chance of being paired up with Seranan’s partner, Prutus, a very old, very large dragon, lacking the newly embraced grace of a medieval dragon. Seranan had practically begged Sydryn for a trade, but even if it were allowed, Sydryn could care less for their sibling’s comfort, especially not over their own. Dranley understood Sydryn’s aversion to physical contact and only did with them what was necessary for procreation, nothing more. In their brief time together, Dranley failed to conceive, but Sydryn succeeded. It was deemed unsafe to spend too much time in the same place for too long, so they had to accept that Dranley would not bear any eggs. Sydryn turned out to be rather fertile and expected nine eggs. It was unfortunate but it was better than the eleven Seranan had been cursed with.

Now getting plump with offspring, Syd was tending to their stockpile for the winter when they sensed someone approaching. Footsteps crackled through the bush and snow towards their fort, but not knowing what was coming, Sydryn was cautious not to break human form, and merely went inside to fetch arms. Stepping out from the side of the fort, Sydryn rushed the intruder and pushed them up against the face of the building, their blade pressed to their throat. “What business do you have here?” Sydryn snarled, the flat edge of the garnet hilted sword easing back from the intruder’s jugular. “Come to slay me?” The person they pinned reeked human male and was apparently so, with their short stature, brown hair and imperfect features. They quivered in fear at first, but eased as they peered into Sydryn's face. “…S-Slay you? Never! I…” He stuttered, his cheeks flushing crimson. “…I travel through the village... I heard tale of a roseate maiden upon this mountain. Never could I have fathomed the true…depth of such beauty. Even now, I believe my eyes deceive me, as looking upon you, I feel in a dream.” Sydryn let out a loud irritated sigh, backing up, leaving the tip of their blade under the human’s chin. “You'll leave here immediately and speak not of our meeting, or lose your head.” “Milady… I must confess… I was not one to believe such beauty could exist,” the man stated. “I must know, what is your name?” Sydryn clenched their teeth. “I ordered you to leave this place. Do you not fear death?” “Thy name means more to me than my life,” he stated. “I’d die happy knowing what to call such a vision when I am asked in heaven.” Sydryn couldn’t have been more disgusted, but they noticed what they could see of the man’s tunic beneath their many warm layers was very rosy in colour, too light and even to be blood stain. The dragon lowered their sword to point it out. “…This tunic. Trade it for your life.” “…My… My tunic?” The man looked at himself then faltered. “…Milady…this tunic is very much dear to me.” “A tunic?” Sydryn snarled. “Your life must really mean nothing to you if you’d trade it for a tunic or a name. I’ll give you my name if you give me your tunic.” The man frowned but began to undress, removing a fur vest and wool sweater to finally remove their tunic, the only thing left between the winter and their bare upper body. He shivered, holding out the tunic. “Your name. Please.” “Sydryn.” “Syd Rain? Of…?” “Just that. Sydryn.” “Lady Syd Rain…” The man stood straight, trying not to shiver. “A most beautiful name for the most beautiful maiden.” “Yes, whatever. Dress yourself. Where did you get a tunic of this colour?” Sydryn asked, running a hand over the material. The man started pulling back on his other clothes. “My town, milady… We were not of much wealth, but we had the materials to dye our clothes such a noble colour. When we wore it, we felt that much closer to royalty, though we truly did know our place… The town has since been raised to the ground. That tunic is all I have left of it.” Sydryn rolled their eyes. “This is a material thing. Are you not a person from your town? You have you, do you not?” The man nodded quickly. “Yes… I do. I suppose myself and my comrades are the legacy left behind.” “Comrades?” Sydryn raised their blade again. “Were you followed?” “No! Milady, my men stay at the village. I made the trip this way my own,” he said. “…Hmph.” Sydryn looked down to the tunic. “Do you have access to the pigment?” “…Pigment?” “The pigment. The dyestuff. For the colour.” “Oh. It can be retrieved, yes.” “Good. I’ll employ you.” “Employ me?” The man blinked. “Milady, I am already—” “I couldn’t care less what lord thinks to own you,” Sydryn stated. “Stay here, do not move.” They turned and headed inside. The man waited patiently, determined to know what this beauty had in store for him. Sydryn returned with a satchel of gold, wealth enough to make the poor man gawk. “This should be payment enough. Bring me the pigment and fresh undyed textiles. I should be able to recreate your beloved home colour.” “…Milady…” He took the satchel delicately. “…This is enough to feed an army for several months.” “It should be enough. Go.” The man tied the satchel to his person and knelt down before Sydryn, bowing low. “I, Roland Cordonnier, accept this quest.” “No one asked for your name. Begone.” “Milady Syd Rain of the Mountain. I shall rally my men under your name.” “Please don't.” “Your beauty—” Sydryn drew their sword again. “I said ‘begone'!” Roland jumped back up from the ground and started off. “I will return to you, Milady!” “Do not return without my pigment, and return alone!” Sydryn yelled after him. After making sure the man was gone and nothing else was to surprise them, Sydryn retired to their fireplace, fearing the cold of the mountain might have gotten to their eggs.

Two more months went by without disturbance. Sydryn had all but forgotten the human. The winter was going out like a lion, but the trees nearby had attempted to bud. If it weren't for the nonet of eggs nestled in their stomach, Sydryn would almost find this solitude to be quite serene. They were hungry though and starting to finish off their preserves. Hibernation hadn't been an option; too many dragons were slain in their sleep. The fatigue was uncompared and Sydryn couldn't wait for the sun to come back. On a temperate day, Roland returned. Sydryn recognised his scent but took precautions anyway, drawing their sword again. “Milady! No need!” Roland said, carrying with him a large satchel. “I brought the dyestuff you requested.” “Put it down and go,” Sydryn stated. “You've been paid.” “Yes.” Roland put the satchel down on the ground. “My, I'd say your beauty has grown since lost I saw you, if I believed it possible. Infinity by infinity is still infinity, if my mathematics don't deceive me.” “Why are you unable to process the word ‘leave'? I'm speaking Frank, am I not?” Sydryn growled. “I must ask, milady, what you plan to do with this dyestuff,” Roland asked. “I'd like to know it's gone to good use.” “I'll be using it to dye my clothes of course,” Sydryn explained. “What else would I use it for?” “I see! I'd hoped as much,” Roland said. “You see, my men and I would like to give our services to you. We'd be your soldiers. We'd bear your colour.” “Are you stupid?” Sydryn asked. “Did your mother drop you? I require no services from you.” “I mean no disrespect, but the mountainside alone is no place for a lady,” Roland insisted. “It's dangerous and plenty difficult to survive. In your service, we could provide you protection.” Sydryn wanted to yell and scream, but they gave the proposal a thought and realised a human fleet of soldiers could prove useful in abating any who would seek to slay them. “…How many are you?” “I command a dozen men, milady,” Roland stated. “We are not plentiful, but each man is worth a hundred.” “Would they all fit the same tunic I purchased from you, or is there anyone well fed?” “Well, we have Simon who's probably twice my size…” “Fine. You'll get your colours. Allow me a week. Bring me three pigs.” “Three pigs?” Roland asked. “Are they for the dyeing process?” “Sure.” Sydryn was very hungry. “Three pigs then…” Roland stated. He bowed low. “Milady Syd Rain, I'll return to you this time next week with your needs.” “Just go,” Sydryn said. “I have work to do.” Roland bowed again and made off down the mountain.

Time passes swiftly for a dragon at work, and the week was up very quick. Sydryn had successfully made and dyed twelve tunics for Roland and his men, as well as a couple banners. The human upon returning was ecstatic. “These are of exceptional quality!” Roland commented as he looked over the clothing on Sydryn's kitchen table. Sydryn had allowed him permission to come inside for the first time as it was raining heavily outside and the last thing the dragon wanted to do was present wet products. To be sure of sizing, Sydryn had made a clandestine visit to the village one night and saw Roland's small travel group. The largest guy wasn't as big as Syd thought he might be, but in the eyes of malnourished peasantry, he was a giant. Sydryn stole a sheep and returned to their fort to finish up the garments. “Can I try it on?” Roland asked holding up his tunic. “I'm not stopping you,” Sydryn stated. “Give me my privacy, Roland said beaming. “I want to surprise you with how dashing I'll look.” “You're in no place to give orders, but I was leaving the room anyway to fetch myself a drink,” Sydryn said, walking out. “Don't touch anything!” They headed down to the cellar for a bottle of wine. While they were making their selection however, Syd heard a large thud from the kitchen and Roland cry out in surprise before going silent. Sydryn rushed back up to see what foolishness the human had gotten into, only to find a familiar face holding Roland's body down on the table by his neck. “Sydryn!” Seranan growled, their nails digging into Roland's throat. “You have pests! You're lucky I dropped by when I did!” “Seranan, you idiot. He's my pet. Let him go.” “Pet?” The red dragon let go of the man's throat. “…A man?!” Roland coughed and rubbed at his neck, trying to catch his breath. “…My…lady…” “Yes, a man,” Sydryn stated. “He is the leader of my army.” “Army?!” Seranan kept their palm on Roland's head, pinning him down. “What in the world are you talking about?” “I purchased his services,” Sydryn stated. “His men belong to me now. I am their patron.” “Have you gone mad, sissy?” Seranan frowned. “What would you do with an army?” “Seranan, what are you doing here?” Sydryn asked. “You shouldn't be visiting me.” “Well, I won't be here long. I had to…” Seranan stopped and looked at Roland. “…Is there somewhere private we can speak?” “Roland. Leave us.” Seranan lifted their hand to let the human stand back up. Roland gave a bow. “Understood. A lady's business is no business of mine. But allow me to extend my compliments to your sister. I never knew there could be another such being to equal your beauty.” “Equal?!” both dragons growled. “Get out,” Sydryn demanded. “I meant no offence, milady!” “GET OUT.” “I'm going, I'm going…” Once Roland stepped outside, Sydryn and Seranan went back down to the cellar to speak. “Why are you here?” Sydryn asked. “Syd, I nearly died,” Seranan stated. “I thought my home safe but those miserable men stormed in, swords swinging. I barely escaped with my life.” “I'm not putting you up,” Sydryn stated. “Just a night,” Seranan requested. “I'm incredibly tired from flying. These stupid eggs have made me slow.” “You shouldn't travel as beast,” Sydryn warned. “What if you're spotted?” “So, what? I'm supposed to walk miles in this form? Don't be absurd,” Seranan said. “I'd be dead in a week. Besides, I want to be as far away from here as possible as soon as possible. You've gone mad and you have men running free like rats in your home.” “I've come to a theory,” Sydryn divulged. “I believe man is a master of the hunt if there is something to hunt. Our species has observed them since the dawn of man. Their strength is persistence. If there is something do chase, they will not drop the chase until they are victorious. If we run, it only excites them.” “So what are you proposing? We just turn ourselves in like cowards?” Seranan flailed their hands. “Ohoho, you've succeeded, humans! We're here! Don't hurt us! We won't run! You're insane.” “Don't be dramatic. That's the dumbest thing I've ever heard,” Sydryn snarked. “I mean, we need to be cleverer. We must hide, but outsmart them. To outsmart man, one must think like man. Become man. Join their society. If we look like them, we are not other. We are not prey.” “…You really have gone mad,” Seranan said. “You want to live with them? Is it because of that one?” They pointed upstairs. “Don’t tell me you’re…” They nearly retched. “…in love.” “Heavens, no! What do you take me for? A romantic?” “How should I know? You have one hell of a soft spot for these creatures…” “I do not. This is a survival strategy.” “If you say so. Don’t blame me if you get yourself killed.” “Likewise.” Seranan set their jaw and crossed their arms. “…I’ll pay you for your hospitality. Just a night.” Sydryn rolled their eyes. “Fine. You flew by night?” “Of course.” “If anyone's tracked you, I'll hunt you myself.” “I'm not being tracked.” “You'll pay me for my hospitality.” “I'll pay you for hospitality when you perform hospitably. And get rid of the human. His presence makes my skin crawl.” “My house my rules. And Roland will stay.” “Ugh, you've given it a name?” “Comes with one.” The dragons came back upstairs and Sydryn invited Roland back inside. “Here,” Sydryn stated, dropping another coin purse in Roland's hands. “If your men are as ill dressed as you, get them proper armour. You'll be tasked with protecting my property, myself, and the town at the base of the mountain. Build yourselves a barracks and train.” “Milady Syd Rain, this is an honour,” Roland said. “We shall be your knights Roseus if you'll have us.” “Yes. Now leave myself and my…sister alone,” Sydryn insisted. “Might I have the sister's name so that we might honour her beauty as well?” “No. Out of our sight.” “At once, milady.” Roland made his exit and Seranan sighed. “I'll admit, the endless compliments are somewhat endearing,” the red dragon confessed. “I find it terribly annoying,” Sydryn groaned. “Upstairs. I'll show you the room you can stay in.” “Thank you.”

As promised, Seranan stayed the night and was off the next night. They'd need to find somewhere safe and secure, as their burden of eggs would very soon have them bed ridden. Sydryn honestly didn't have much hope for Seranan's survival; they always found their sibling to be much more impulsive than themselves and prone to accidents. As the only other to hatch in their clutch, Sydryn felt a small amount of responsibility for Seranan and did worry a little bit about them. Sydryn had been the first to advocate postponing their mating event for their safety, as pregnancy truly did make them more vulnerable to hunters, but they had been outvoted as older dragons argued that if they waited too long, there might not be enough dragons left to repopulate. The majority of those dragons who outvoted them were dead now. Roland established a an appropriately equipped training facility for his knights on Sydryn's mountain. The town nearby was soon integrated into their walls and placed under their protection. The army's first real challenge occurred within a few months of establishment. The town had originally belonged to a nearby lord and a small troupe of soldiers arrived to seize the town back. The Knights Roseus stood their ground and did not yield to the other lord's troupe and ultimately took the town under their name. It was unlikely that anyone would be back; the town was too much out of the way for it to be worth regaining and managed a very self sufficient life.

#lore #Sydryn #Seranan #dragon #dragon pregnancy #medieval period #flashback

35 notes · View notes

shreddedparchment · 6 years

Text

To Be Seen Epilogue

03/18/2019

Pairing: Thor x Reader Word Count: 4,038

*Masterpost in Notes Warnings: Talk of death, corpses, blood, language, fluff

A/N: I went through several version of this before I finally settled on the exploration of where Thor’s love comes from and why it’s so intense. I hope you enjoy this. I hope I got it right, especially the first half. I’m pretty nervous about it actually. As always, if you happen to reblog, thanks so much for helping me spread my work! And thank you so much for coming on this journey with me of Thor and his insecure dove. xoxo

Thunder rumbles around Thor as he soars through the darkening sky.

Midgard had been off limits to him for ages, instructed by Odin himself to keep away.

“They do not understand who we are. They think us Gods. They build us temples and worship us as deities. We do not belong among them and you are forbidden from going there.

“Our presence does nothing but disrupt their lives. Do you hear me, boy?”

“Yes, Father.” Thor agrees though he has little intention of keeping his promise.

For years Thor has escaped to this small blue planet and only in the last one did something change.

He'd made it a point to keep to himself, exploring the wilderness, the beauty of the realm without disrupting its people.

It had happened so quickly that Thor had no time to hide himself.

One moment he was merely standing upon the edge of a sharp cliff, hundreds of feet above the nearest village, staring out at the distant sea and the next he was soaring through the sky, diving after a girl, no older than twenty or so.

Thor watches your figure plummet towards the ground and barely manages to wrap his large arm around your waist before pulling you against his massive body as he pulls out of his dive and back up towards the mountain's peak.

Gently he sets you back on your feet and drops Mjolnir but keeps his hands on your waist as the panic recedes from your expression.

You look so terrified, so shocked that Thor's heart hurts for you.

“Are you alright?” He asks, gentle in his tone so as not to scare you more.

You don’t seem able to speak which makes Thor smile at you reassuringly. He gives you a quick look, taking in the white woolen dress you wear and the thick, faded red apron over your front, fastened by your shoulder with two large bronze brooches.

Your feet are covered in thick leather boots and your hands also wrapped with leather gloves. You’re missing a cloak which explains the shiver in your body as he holds you still.

He watches your mouth flutter as you struggle to form words.

“Can you not speak?”

Thor shuffles back as you suddenly drop to your knees. Your hands clutch at the toes of his boots and your shoulders heave with sobs.

“What has thou rescued me for, oh Mighty Thor?” Thor listens to the words between your cries and for several moments he can only watch you, confused and unsure of what to do or say. “For what purpose has thou spared me?”

“Spared you? I do not understand.” Thor mumbles, feeling uncomfortable with the way you’re bowing to him.

He’d thought so often of ruling Asgard, of taking his father’s place on the throne and being a King just as great and noble, but seeing you bow at his feet makes him uncertain.

“I came to the mountain to end my life.” You confess and Thor’s heart lurches painfully.

“What?!”

“I have disgraced my family. I could not make Audun marry me, I am not worthy of this gift of life thou has bestowed upon me, but it is not my place to question the gift of a God. For what purpose has thou rescued me? Am I to be thy slave? I will serve you, Mighty Thor, and will be grateful for your mercy.”

Thor shuts his eyes, stunned by your display of obedience and devotion but he doesn’t want it.

“You came to this mountain to kill yourself?” Thor asks you, watching as your head begins to move up to look at him but you stop yourself, remembering something, before you divert your gaze back to his feet.

“Does it offend thee? I am sorry. I do not wish to make you angry and incur your wrath, but if it is thy wish to punish me, I shall bear it as best I can. I shall not beg thee for mercy for ‘tis my own fault that I have failed mine ancestors and family. I will accept whatever consequences mine actions have wrought.”

Thor hates the pleading in your voice and the eagerness to please. Confusion overcomes him once more as he considers the fact that this should please him. He’d known what he would be in store for if he ever met with a Midgardian, his father had explained it.

Still, as much as he’d once thought it would be nice to be worshipped like this, actually watching you grovel at his feet makes him feel small. You are an exquisite creature in your own right, why should you worship at his feet when you might dress in slightly finer clothes and be as beautiful as any of the Asgardian women he knows?

“I do not aim to punish you. Please, rise.” Thor asks, almost begging.

“I cannot.”

“Then at least look at me.”

Once again, your head moves to look up at him but then stops halfway and reverts back to staring at his feet.

“I am not worthy of looking into thy Godly face. I am worthless and do not deserve to be in thy presence.”

Thor squats down, angry suddenly, then grabs your arms to pull you up out of your stooping position.

Thor can see that it is the shock more than your obedience of his wishes that bring you to meet his emblazoned eyes.

“You are a Goddess among mortals.” Thor declares slowly and so passionately that he stuns you into temporary silence.

Now that you’ve met his eyes, you don’t look away. Instead you stare into his electrifying blue gaze, searching it for the clear lie that he just told.

“I could not even hold one man’s interests. I am no Goddess, my God of Thunder.”

Thor’s heart suddenly flutters. My God of Thunder. Why does he like the way that sounds on your lips so much? Suddenly he sees you. He really sees you.

You are broken hearted. Saddened by your ruined nuptials and scared of what comes next. He can see the value that you hold in yourself and he can see that it is low. You feel as if you are a failure and though Thor has never felt that before personally, he can imagine what it might be like to feel as if you have failed in your life’s purpose.

“Then perhaps that man was a fool? Your life is a gift, uh..uh…what is your name?” Thor fumbles, realizing he hasn’t gotten your name in all the excitement.

“Brenna, my God. My given name is Brenna.” You whisper, so taken aback by his unrelenting gaze that you hardly have enough air to keep breathing.

“Brenna…” Thor repeats, his lips stretching into a soft smile. “I-I think I must go now but if it is possible, I would like to call on you again, Brenna.”

“I am thy humble servant, my God of Thunder. I am yours to do with what you will. I am forever in your debt.”

Thor frowns. “You have no debt. You are your own but if I may, I would have you call me by my name. Call me, Thor.”

Thor watches the struggle in your expression as you try to come to terms with his orders and the way he releases you at the same time to be free from his service.

“I-I am…Yes.” Thor smiles as you finally relent. “Thou may call on me if thou wishes, Th-Thor.”

“Come, on your feet, Brenna.” Thor helps you up, making sure you’re steady before he glances down at the distant ground. “I have brought you high. Shall I help you down?”

His offer to assist you seems to strangle your words again and it takes you a minute to respond. “I-I can walk, my G-Thor.”

Thor can see how uncomfortable you are, but he doesn’t care. He will have you call his name freely in time.

“It is more than a day’s journey if you are to climb down on your own. Allow me to carry you down.” Thor reaches out and wraps his left arm around your waist slowly, his hand tracing along your covered flesh and all but robbing you of your sanity.

He can hear you gasp at his touch and for some reason, it excites him. His stomach flips and he licks his lips, smiling at the way you curl in on yourself, your hands rising to rest between both your chests. You keep your hands fisted and hold them against your breasts so that you don’t touch him as he pulls you flush against his body.

“Do not fret, my Goddess,” Thor whispers and it’s so intoxicating that it draws your gaze up to meet his own amused and enraptured look. “I will not harm you.”

Thor is sure that you aren’t afraid of him harming you. In fact, he’s sure that it’s more that you’re overwhelmed not only with his Godly presence but his stunning looks. Thor knows he looks good.

He’d taken care to wear his best cloak. Not that he’d expected anyone to see it, he just liked looking good.

Thor opens his right hand and Mjolnir flies into it.

“Hold tight.” He whispers to you and then spins his hammer round and round before thrusting it up towards the sky.

Eager to see you, Thor pushes Mjolnir forward. The wind whips around him as lightning illuminates the sky followed by the deep rumble of his thunder.

The last time he’d seen you, he’d gotten you a better cloak. With winter so close, he’d wanted to keep you warm. He’d finally gotten you to relax enough that he managed to finally kiss you. Something he hadn’t even known he’d wanted until the opportunity had presented itself.

As he draws nearer, he begins his descent and as he passes over your village, or rather the village you’d lived in before you’d failed in securing your marriage, he notices a lack of life.

The crops are dried out, several homes stand empty and collapsed. One still burns.

A sudden worry grips Thor’s heart and speeds him faster towards your long house, built for you by himself when you’d been shunned by the village.

His heart feels better when he sees that your dwelling seems untouched. The moss on the roof still blooms garden green but you’re not outside.

At this time, you would be gathering the wood for your fire. Smoke would be blooming from your home and the house would be filled with your sweet song.

His temporary relief shunned, Thor lands heavily a few feet from your hut. He crosses to the heavy wooden door and pulls it open only to be greeted by darkness.

“Brenna?” Thor calls out to the darkness, searching for you with his eyes alone.

The air is close and still, the faint scent of decay stings his nose. No one has come in or out in days. He’d only been gone two weeks, had you gone travelling? Perhaps you’d run out of grains and had gone to trade for some?

Had he stayed away too long?

With his heart heavy, Thor crosses to the nearest window and pushes it open to allow a flood of light and fresh air into the house.

“Brenn-No!” Thor rushes forward, crossing the home in four large steps then collapses onto his knees by your bed where on it rests your lifeless body.

“No. No. Brenna!” Thor cries, scooping your corpse into his arms.

You’re cold and limp, your pillow flooded with red.

How can this agony exist? Where there had been life there is nothing now but death. Thor does not understand it. He paws at your face, staring into your dead eyes as they stare back at him, unseeing. He runs his hand along the back of your head, taking in the red on your bed and the heavy gash upon your crown.

You’d bled out but it had not been quick. You would have laid there, bleeding into your pillow for days probably before you finally passed on.

“No…” Thor sobs, tearing his crying blue eyes away from your dead, beautiful face to look around at your home.

There had been a struggle. Not a big one, but a few chairs had been knocked over and plates and cups littered the floor. Someone had come to call on you and then caught you when you probably weren’t looking.

Anger begins to fill Thor’s chest as he turns his gaze back to you. He cups your chin, stroking your cheeks as he leans in to rest his forehead against your own as he shakes his head.

“Forgive me.” He begs, crying harder as he pulls back to stare into your lifeless face.

You gasp as Thor suddenly sits up, clutching at the sheets obscuring his wide chest.

“Oh my-Fuck, Thor, you scared me.” You reach up to massage your heart, having just sat down on the edge of the bed to settle in beside him for the night.

Thor looks for you after hearing your voice and that’s when you notice the tears on his cheek. “Puppy?”

In one fluid motion, Thor’s sitting with you between his legs as he clings to you and buries his face in your hair. He breathes in your scent, washing your neck in his warm breath.

“Thor, you’re scaring me.” You shift in your spot, turning a little more to face him but with your stomach seven months swollen, you can’t traverse enough to face him properly.

Instead Thor slides off the side of the bed and kneels in front of you so that you can sit facing him completely. Eager to be close to you he settles himself between your legs, his hands on your hips for a moment before he brings them up to cradle the sides of your face lovingly as he stares at you with those crying eyes as if he’s seeing you for the first time in years.

Those eyes are so blue but so sad it almost makes you cry too.

“Thor, what is it?”

“I’m sorry.” He sighs, reaching up with his right to wipe at his cheeks quickly before tucking your hair back as he continues to caress the sides of your head. “I-I had a nightmare.”

“What kind of nightmare? I’ve never seen you cry because of a dream before.” Though to be fair, you and Thor have only been back together for about a year.

It had been a happy year though. This is so sudden, this grief. Where is it coming from?

Thor looks down at your belly and brings his hands down to rest gently on its sides. He leans in to kiss it, leaving his lips to rest against it over the same white t-shirt of his that you’d been wearing when you’d conceived this baby.

“Thor!” You insist as quietly as you can.

Ben just went to sleep. You don’t want to wake him up.

“Forgive me.” Thor says in response but then his face crumbles as fresh tears rush forward and splash down onto your tummy.

“Oh, Puppy, what? What’s the matter?” You ask, near tears yourself.

You’ve never seen Thor like this before and it scares you.

He leans forward, resting his forehead against the top of your belly, and lets his hands slide up and down along the sides of your back as he continues to cry. You rest your left hand on the back of his head and reach down to rub his left shoulder to offer comfort as he goes through whatever it is, he’s going through.

The two of you stay like this for what feels like ages. Finally, he gets up and sits beside you.

You twist and pick up your leg a bit to rest your knee on the bed so that you can face him a bit better. He takes hold of your left hand with his right and you reach up with your own right hand to softly wipe away the tears on his cheeks.

“You okay?” You probe gently.

If he decides he doesn’t want to talk about it right now, then you’ll drop it. For now, anyway. There’s no way you’re letting this go after such a display.

“I’m fine.” He assures you. “I am sorry I frightened you.”

“It’s okay. I just-what is it?” You ask him, hoping that he can confide in you the way you confide in him.

“I do not know if it is wise for me to tell you.” Thor confesses and you try and ignore the nervous ache in your chest.

“Oh.” You reply sadly.

“No, Y/N, it is not that I don’t trust you. It is complicated. I do not wish to confuse you.” Thor releases your hand and places it on your stomach. “I do not know what telling you will do. I don’t want to risk any harm to Roslyn.”

“Thor, Rosie’s fine. What could you possibly tell me that would hurt our baby?”

Thor watches you, considering your words for a few minutes before he sighs heavily, conceding.

“What I am to say may shock you.” He warns.

You shift in your seat, scooting closer so that Thor can hold your belly a little easier. You also drop your hand and trace his arm from shoulder to wrist before taking hold.

“Do you believe that humans have past lives?” Thor asks slowly.

“You mean, reincarnation?” You ask, surprised by the turn of conversation. “I-I don’t know. I’ve never thought about it.”

“There is a reason I approached you in the park when I saw you crying five years ago.” Thor admits.

“You weren’t just being nice?” You ask him, shrugging your left shoulder and trying to make the conversation a little lighter because he’s dead serious and you’re not sure you like where this is going.

“I-I was concerned for you, yes but I have seen your face many times before. I was not expecting to see it here, in that park on that particular day but I did.” Thor tells you. “In fact, to be completely honest with you, I-I have been falling in love with you, my dove, for almost eight hundred years.”

As romantic as this declaration sounds, it’s also confusing as hell. “What?”

“I first met you, or rather, a woman who looked exactly like you, eight hundred years ago. She had been abandoned by her would-be husband merely days before she was set to marry and attempted to kill herself because she felt she was a disgrace to her family for having failed to secure the marriage.”

You scoff at his explanation, not sarcastically or like you don’t believe him, but because that follows your history pretty well.

“That sounds like something that would happen to me, actually.” You admit.

“I saved her.” Thor says. “I had no intention of falling in love with her, but I did. I was busy and could not be with her the way I am with you now, but I made sure to build her a comfortable life so that when I could not be around, I would know that she was living well.

“What I did not expect was for my favor to bring her misfortune.”

“What happened to her?” You ask, suddenly worried by the sadness in Thor’s eyes.

“The village she’d lived in began to experience disease, famine, and death. A few zealots cornered her and killed her. A sacrifice to the Gods so that their own misfortune might end. They wanted to please me. Instead they incurred my wrath and stole from me the woman I loved.”

“And you’re saying this woman was me?”

Thor shakes his head. “I do not know how it works. I know that she looked like you. Exactly like you. If you were to stand side-by-side now, you would be twins. Exact replicas.”

You bring your gaze down to his hands which are now carefully massaging yours, nervously fidgeting as you struggle with his revelation.

“Say something, my dove. Was I wrong to tell you?” Thor asks, worried about your lack of words and the confusion on your face.

“No. I’m glad you told me. I just-I don’t know how to respond to it. I mean, on the one hand, I’m super jealous. I don’t like hearing about you loving other women. I know you did but I don’t want to hear about it.”

“I’m sorry.” Thor says quickly.

“I mean, how do you feel when I talk about Eddie?”

“I want to rip his arms from their sockets.” Thor growls.

“On the other hand,” You continue, tilting your head to the left as you think it through. “You say that this woman was me? And that you’ve fallen for women over and over again who looked just like me?”

“Exactly like you. Not one has had a variation of any kind.” Thor assures you.

“I mean, I’m flattered?” You sigh and try to push all of this away. It’s too complicated.

Instead you focus on what you can understand. His loss.

“I’m sorry about what happened to that girl.” You offer.

“I love you.” Thor suddenly says, blinking slowly as he stares into your eyes, ignoring your lamentations. “I need you to know that. You have given me so much. Even though I say that I have been falling in love with you over and over for so many years, you Y/N, are the first woman to give me children. You are family in a way that no one else has ever been.”

“Thor…”

“I know I said it in passing but I will find a way to keep you with me forever. I aim for you to be my last love, Y/N. For Ben. For Roslyn, I will make you immortal so that our children will never want for their mother.” Thor declares passionately, wrapping strong bare arms around you.

“Puppy don’t make promises you can’t keep. I’m okay with dying so long as our babies have you with them.”

“I am not okay with you dying.” Thor insists. “Do you not understand that I cannot live without you now? You are my very heart and soul, Y/N. I need you by my side or I do not know how to live.”

You don’t want to argue with him because he’s really emotional. You can see the intensity in his eyes and his chest is heaving as he stares into your face.

“Thor-” You begin, intent on pacifying him for now in favor of picking up this discussion again later when he’s not so stressed.

“When Rosie is born, will you be my wife?” He cuts you off, his deep voice low and penetrating.

You gasp quietly, so shocked by his question that for a moment you forget how to speak.

“Y/N?”

“I-I…” You gasp again, Rosie kicking your tummy hard as it flutters. “Oh my God!”

“What?!” Thor asks, always on alert with you now that you’re pregnant. “Is it the baby?”

You laugh lightly and reach for his hand. “Yes.”

With his hand pressed against your tummy you let him feel the way she kicks. His eyes soften and his beautiful lips curl into a peaceful smile as he feels his daughter kick.

“She’s amazing.” He says, chuckling.

Blinking slowly, you bite your bottom lip as you stroke the back of Thor’s hand. “Yes, Thor.”

“What?” He asks, looking up at you with that same peaceful smile still in place.

“I said, ‘Yes.’” You repeat.

“Yes?”

You remain silent for a long moment, gazing into his blue eyes with avid sincerity as you gather all of your assurance that this man, this alien from another planet is the man you are supposed to be with from now until forever.

“Yes.”

His smile falls slowly as he finally gets what you’re saying.

“I love you.” You promise him and he scoops your legs up over his own so that he can lay you back against your pillows and kiss you ardently while your daughter responds to the flutters in your stomach with a relentless barrage of baby kicks.

Forever Tag List @until-theend-oftheline @jessieray98 @dsakita @coldfacedwarf @just-trying-to-survive-marvel @fairislesheets @jewelofwinter @mannls @moonlessnight14 @sovereignoblivious @pandazlazykid @lilulo-12 @moli1497 @shifutheshihtzu @the-real-mary-jane @pastelxvirgo @just4muggles @vulpecula-minor @wildefire @mdgrdians @tiffanynguyen03 @shield-agent78 @i-cant-shine-without-darkness @the-wayward-robot @babytrollgirl @alagalaska @sincerelytlh @theonelittleone @sea040561 @xrosegoldwolfx @peppermintvanillaa @awkwardfangirl2014 @toffeecoloredqueen @crist1216 @xxloki81xx @idk-random-fan-girl @romimiux @badassbaker @this-side-of-midnight5 @booklover2929 @natura1phenomenon @xlittlestarling

To Be Seen @slice-of-thunder @darkdragonpheonix @markusstraya @brokenthelovely @pocmarvelworks @gazingcosmos @innerpaperexpertcloud @thebeethathums @metalarmlover @wolfmothar @helnik-s @torntaltos @marvelfansworld @holylulusworld @myboyfriendgiriboy @pancake4848 @thev0idisreal

492 notes · View notes

daemongal · 5 years

Text

So... @one-equal-temper calls me a filthy enabler... well right back at ya! So have some smut for your troubles!

NSFW warning, V x male!reader.

“God V, you’re so beautiful.” You looked up at your lover from your position between his legs, licking your lips as you drink in the view. You slowly stroked his cock, enjoying how his body twitches at the touch, how his hand is raised to his lips to hide his expressions and his voice. You could still see his flushed face, heated from your ministrations, and his glazed eyes watching you intently.

You run your tongue up the underside of his length, enjoying how his eyes roll back into his head, as you tease the tip, pumping the base slowly with your hand. His muffled whimpers are all the motivation you need to spur you on, as you take him back further into your mouth, sucking lightly and teasing him with the flat of your tongue. His hips raise from the bed, pushing himself further towards your throat, breathy gasps escaping his lips, as his hand grasps for the duvet, balling into a fist. You remove yourself from him once more, bringing your fingers to your mouth to wet them.

“Aren’t we sensitive today?” You wrap your arm around his thigh, positioning your fingers against his entrance as you stroke the puckered hole gently. V gasps and shudders beneath you as you work your way up his torso, planting kisses as you go, running your tongue from his collarbone up his neck, just as you know he likes it. You breathe against his ear. “I’m going to have an especially good time with you tonight, sweet.”

You slide one of your fingers into him, groaning at how willingly he accepts you. You press your lips to his, drawing him into a heated open-mouthed kiss, as you slide a second finger in, just as easily as the first. He moans breathlessly against your mouth as you curl your fingers, his body jerking beneath you as you press against that sweet spot.

“Ahh- love, please...” He begged against your lips as you slipped in a third finger, his back arching as you mercilessly kneaded his insides.

“You’re always so good for me V, so responsive.” You hissed through your teeth as his hand suddenly wrapped around your aching cock, gripping you tightly and pumping you with uneven and desperate movements.

“A-as are you. Always so quick to m-make me come undone.” V’s eyes met with yours with an intensity that made your heart skip a beat. The desire bubbling in the pit of your stomach burst, lighting a fire that burned up through your chest and left your throat as a growl.

“Shit V.” You pulled your fingers from him, the desire becoming too much to bear. “I can’t wait any longer, I need you now.” He removed his hand from you, replacing it with sheets as he squirmed anticipating what was to come. You leant down for one last urgent kiss, running your fingers though his hair before moving yourself towards his lower half. You grabbed the lube and a condom from the bedside table as you went, before V’s hand grabbed your wrist. He looked at you, then to your hand as he struggled to meet your gaze.

“Could you perhaps... not use one tonight...please?” Your eyes widened as he reached to remove the condom from your grip. The fires in your belly were stoked further by the brashness of his request.

“Oh I suppose so, since you asked so nicely.” You smiled at his timid face, throwing the condom to the floor as you continued to move down the bed. You popped open the lid of the tube and began coating your twitching cock. “Well, since we’re making requests tonight...” You sealed the bottle before dropping it to the side. Your hands moved to his hips, a sudden shyness overwhelming you. “....could you...kneel in front of me like... you know?” His eyes darted from yours to the side, his face flushing further as he lifted himself off the bed, crawling onto all fours in front of you. He absent-mindedly arched his back, pointing his ass further towards you.

“I-is this how you would like me?” You could only let out a sigh as you dug your fingers into his hips, lining yourself up with him.

“Oh yes V,” you pressed into him slowly, mouth agape as he sucked you in, “exactly like that.” With a final harder thrust, you were fully sheathed in him, hips flush against his ass. Your breaths were shaky as you tried to keep your composure, giving V time to adjust. You could see his back moving with each heavy intake of breath, his head hung listlessly from his shoulders. The sight alone had you already twitching inside of him.

You started to move, beginning with long, languid strokes, savouring how he feels wrapped around you, so warm and welcoming. You teasingly jerk your hips roughly a few times, relishing how V’s movements change. His back arches as his head lifts up. His shoulders tense as his hands ball into fists gripping the quilt. You smile watching him as your gasps turn to moans, your pace quickening trying to spur on more beautiful reactions from the poet.

“Ahh, ah! H-harder. P-please love.” His voice was raspy as strangled moans erupted from him at your sudden change in pace. Your hips slapped against his ass as you began to pound into him, his back arching exquisitely with each harsh movement. You could only watch in admiration as he threw his head back, pleas and moans flowing from his lips as his whole body shook. His trembling arms eventually gave way beneath him as he pushed his face into the quilt to muffle his voice, his hands and arms writhing to grab anything for purchase. You slowed your thrusts, not wanting it to end just yet.

“V, please; let me see you, let me hear you.” You ran your fingers across his back, tracing the sweat slicked patterns of the tattoos on his skin. You took a few deep breaths, stilling yourself inside of him, as your body trembled with desire.

“Please, don’t stop.” Your eyes drifted to meet his, now staring directly at you. His face had turned, half buried in the quilt, a single green eye piercing you to your very core. His side swept bangs now hung over his face, damp with sweat as his mouth hung open gasping for air as if each one would be his last. You dug your fingers into his hips as you began thrusting feverishly. You couldn’t keep your composure, you couldn’t hold back, not when he was looking at you with such an expression of pure want.

You weren’t going to last much longer, so you planned to make it count. For the next while you became lost, lost in a sea of moans, whines and slapping skin. With V no longer stifling his voice, you were nearing your end. You leant your torso over his, leaning your weight on one arm to the side of him, snaking the other around his hip, grabbing his pre-come soaked cock. His reaction was immediate; his hands scrambled against the sheets; his legs shook beneath you as you pumped him in time with your thrusts.

“P-please love.” He whimpered, the dryness of his throat echoing in his words. “I want you t-to stay inside. When you finish.”

“V, w-what are you saying?” You mind was fogged, no coherency remained as all your focus was on the movements of the man's body in front of you. He began to shudder more violently, you knew he was close, so close.

“Ahh, c-come inside of me, please love!” His words drove you to the end, his desperate plea took you over the edge as, after a few rough thrusts you came, shooting your seed against his inner walls, the bliss of releasing with him wrapped around you proving almost too much. You continued with a few more thrusts, frantically pumping V’s cock as his whole body tensed, letting go. His knuckles turned white from the grip; his mouth hung open with a silent scream as strangled gasps rattled in his throat. His hips thrust desperately as he sprayed his seed onto your hand and the sheets, his walls pulsing around your cock making you bite back a moan. You both collapsed into a heap, your softening cock still nestled within him as your bodies shook in tandem, slick with sweat, as you gasped for air.

You lay like that for a few moments, as if time itself had stopped. There were no words spoken, only lazy traces of fingers on skin, and glances cast between heavy lidded eyes. Eventually you pulled yourself free, eliciting a sigh from V, as you shuffled up towards the pillows to hold him in your arms. He rested his head against your chest as you nuzzled your face in his hair, inhaling his scent.

“Love and harmony combine,” V begins, “and around our souls entwine. While thy branches mix with mine an-”

“and our roots together join.” You finished. You felt him smirk against your chest as you held him close, planting a gentle kiss on the top of his head.

Yeah, who’s the enabler now >:D

Follow this link for some delightful V in a skirt smut! And here and here for some of our discord discussions :3

#ns/fw #lemon #spicy #dmc #devil may cry #v #v x male!reader #v x reader #ask and ye shall receieve

118 notes · View notes

eliza-writes-stuff · 5 years

Text

Our Sweet Guardian Demon: Pilot Episode

Hey, guys! I have been working on this pilot for a few weeks now.

Now, for the fanfic, it will take me a few months. Our Sweet Guardian Demon will be released somewhere in the fall or early winter.

It’s strange that this idea came from “Imagine Your OT3″ XD

And as always, I hope ye enjoy!

Dogs barking, cats meowing, and parakeets tweeting their away. The pet store can be busy either way with people or animals in general. The phone vibrates in a man's pocket. His hand reaches for it and accepts the call. His other hand is scratching the dog's fur.

“Brian, do you need something?” The man in green apron asked. “I'm at work right now.”

“Yes, I know Brock, but can you stay over for the night?”

Brock hummed, “Why?”

“I know yer scared of this shit and don't want to get involved because my magick can hurt ye.” Brian ramble. There was some rustling in the background. “So, do ye, I don't focking know summon a demon with me?"

A demon? That is dangerous even for Brian's standard of black magick. Does he need to curse Evan again for coming over at his place without permission, but Brian isn't really angry at him. Did he got dared again on his group chat again? Brock thought he told him not to interact with them.

"Why do you need me?" Brock questioned. The dog barked next to him with curious puppy eyes. It laid down its head on Brock's lap.

"Yer the only one I can trust. Evan might touch me things without my goddamn permission and Nogla's a bit of a dumb-ass figure this shit out." Brian sighed. "I'm sorry ye don't want to do this and-"

"I'll join." Brock giggled at the stutters and 'whats' Brian said. "Just buy me lunch after this okay? Also, we better get out of this alive or I'll be stuck with you."

"Is that a bad thing?"

"Maybe."

Brian chuckled on the line, "I'll see you tonight Brocky."

When Brock's shift is over and he told Maxi watch over the shop tomorrow because he might be dead. Well, he left out the dead part. He says he has personal reasons. Maxi didn't pressure him and they were nice about it. They say that their sister and his two dogs, Oli and Nico is coming over. Brock took an uber and tell the driver for the locations to the apartment.

The urban life is always bustling and chattering among the citizens. If he rolled down his window, there could be the smell of cooked processed fast food or baked chocolate chip cookies. At least the shops has a nice smell.

The uber driver came to an abrupt stop. There's the apartment building. Brock gave some money to the driver and gave him 5 stars since he didn't care about the rating. He got out of the car and hoisted up his backpack. This is it. His stomach sink, but his heart lighten up at the thought of Brian. He could protect him, right? Only one way to find out is to go in.

Brock pushed the glass door opened. The manager with pink hair is sitting down with his eyes seem to be always closed. The manager's expression light up and eyes slightly opened. When the glass door light out a creak. He gave a small wave to him and continue writing down. How can he see without his eyes opened? Never mind that. Brock has a date-hangout with Brian.

Both of them has to come out alive.

He stepped into the elevator and took a shaky breath. Maybe the ritual is a fluke. His trembling fingers pressed the buttons to go up on the fourth floor. The lobby was his view before it closes on him. Don’t chicken out now.

The candles are set up, the sigil is draw on the floor, and his other magic items are there. His hand wiped off the remaining sweat on his forehead. Thank god, Brian read the instructions. It has to work or it will be not worth it. He got out of the side room of his bedroom, which you should never have. Brian pulled out his phone and checks the text again.

Teh Terroriser: are u sure this would work?

Sarah: yes

Sarah: he’ll give you a special item that will reveal brock’s s/o

Sarah: but it’s for a price

Sarah: good luck :)

Brian knows he shouldn’t do this to reveal his friend’s secrets, but his friends tells him that Brock likes him back. No matter what they say, his brain denies, but his heart yearns. For years, he has considered practicing black magick as a hobby and finds it especially when it comes to pranking Nogla.

His hands gripped around his phone. Brian sighed and put his back in his pocket. A loud two time thud from his front door. It must be Brock. He ran from the bedroom to the front door and opened to see a small smile from a man.

“I thought you weren’t gonna join.” Brian said in disbelief.

Brock’s erupt into small, cute giggles, “Can’t let my friend die.” Brian lets him and hangs up his coat. “So, when we are summoning?”

“Either 2 or 3 in the morning.” He nervously laughed as Brock crossed his arms. “But in the meantime, wanna play Mario Kart 8?”

You had plenty of money in 1922.

A song from the jukebox softly plays throughout the tavern. Fairy lights almost covering the ceiling. A few folks chatting among themselves, either about rumors or sweet-talk. People had strange taste when it comes to alcohol. Vodka with orange juice? Now, you’re a true drunk toddler. At least there’s mineral water. A distinct smell came through the noses. Smoke. People aren’t allowed to smoke in the bar, so they had to take it outside. Strange.

You let other women make a fool of you.

Luke Patterson is the owner of Mystic Drinks. With his charming nature and sultry voice, it pleases the women and men. He’ll throw a smile, it swoons the ladies in the back. However, despite his seductive personality, you don’t want to leash the beast out of him. Well, he did in bed, but if someone ticked his long beard off. They’re either kick out or never be seen again. When Luke found the source of the smoking problem, he grabbed them by the collar. Kicking and yelling, people stared at the two. Finally, the door slams shut as the person got kicked. Luke’s eyes order to ignore it.

Why don’t you do right, like some other men do?

“That’s the third time you kicked out someone.” The man in glasses giggled.

Luke sighed and ruffled the man’s tied up bun. “Look I want to make a safe place for y’all and this is the thanks I get? People treat this like a dumpster fire Ohm.” Luke’s shoulders tensed, but calm when another bartender put his hands on it.

Get out of here and get me some money too?

“Don’t let that asshole get to you. He can take that nasty cigar and shove it up his ass.” The jiggly man retorted.

“Thanks Anthony.”

Ohm enjoy his friends. Hearing Anthony laughed every time he makes a dumb, somewhat sexualised jokes. He knows Luke longer than Anthony. Some say they were friends with benefits, which it is true, but it’s over when Luke found a special someone, or two. They all became a couple, and they own a bar called Mystic Drinks. It’s a safe place for humans and creatures as well. Creatures, such as demons, wendigos, avains, lizard-folk, and dragons. Luke is a Lust demon, he and Anthony are Wrath demons, and Mini is an Envy demon.

“Hey, where’s Mini?”

“He got summoned.” Luke explained. “He said there’s this bitch who got jealous of this other bitch.” He let a breathy laugh, “Humans are so dumb.”

“Yep. I got summoned one time by this guy. He said ‘hey uh I want you to kill this asshole’ and I thought ‘you kill himself!” Anthony complained as he grabbed the mixer and shakes it. “Does it look like I’m your bitch?”

Ohm and Luke laughed at his story, “Sorry, but you and Mini are my bitches.” Luke put his arms around Anthony, but he shoved him off.

“Treat me first, you bottom bitch.” Then he pours the drinks in the blonde woman’s glass. Ohm laughed and takes a sip from his mineral water.

Humans meant nothing to demons. Just an object to toy around and maybe take souls from. At least a few souls because there’s an overpopulation going in the Nine Circles of Hell and they can’t handle more new souls coming to hell. What about humans who are satanist? They’re wannabes who thinks they know their emotions and what they’re going through. Some demons think it’s funny and plays along or can be their friend.

Why would Ohm be friends with a disgusting human? He gets a tug on his wrists, and he rolled down to see his sigil flashing.

“I have to go,” He sighed as he got up from his chair. “It was chatting with you guys.” Ohm walks away from the two and went outside. The guy who got kicked out because he was smoking. The man grumbled, but Ohm quickly snaps his fingers and the man is now in the trash can. He struggled while Ohm chuckles silently. He disappears from sight.

The red candles lit up and surrounds the circle. Inside of the circle is a sigil. The room faintly smells of raspberries. Brock and Brian sit crossed legged. The room doesn’t have any windows or one of those air vents. Not to mention it’s quite small. The phone glowed out the locked screen with the time of 3 in the morning.

“We got this set up, now what?” Brock asked. His eyes darting around the room.

“Now, we get to say the magic words.” Brian wiggled his fingers out, his friend giggle at the actions. He gives him a piece of paper. “This is what I’ll be saying and it’s not focking Latin. Thank god.”

“Wait, you’re doing this alone?”

“Well, yeah.” As much he wants Brock around, but he can’t join in because the demon might want something from him as well. He can’t risk it. “But ye get to drag me out in case shit backfires.”

“So basically I’m dragging your ass out of hell.”

“Yep.” He laughed. Then stares at the circle. It’s time. Brian took a deep breath and closed his eyes.

“Lord Satan, by your grace, grant me, I pray thee the power to conceive in my mind and to execute that which I desire to do, the end which I would attain by thy help, O Mighty Satan, the one True God who livest and reignest forever and ever. I entreat thee to inspire Ohmwrecker to manifest before me that she may give me true and faithful answer, so that I may accomplish my desired end, provided that it is proper to his/her office. This I respectfully and humbly ask in Your Name, Lord Satan, may you deem me worthy, Father.”

A few minutes and still is in the air. Brian took a shaky breath and opened his eyes. This has to work because all that black magick he learn has gone to waste in the dirt.

Within the circle, the sigil glows bright red. Little red candles fire up more and sways. Then spreads in the circle. Brock gasped while Brian is shocked in disbelief. It’s supposed to glow pink, not red. Did he mess up the sigil? Oh god, what kind of demon would it be?

Fire and smoke rose from the ground, causing the two to scoot back. Brian wrapped his arm around Brock. Smoke fades when a man wearing a white t-shirt. Red marks on his arms when he crossed. His eyes are covered by a blindfold with an omega symbol on it. The demon scowled on the cowering men. If you look at another angle, you could see a small bun near his neck.

“Jeez, you humans are so irresponsible. Don’t you know I can end you?” Despite his tense aura and vexation, his appearance alone is heating up the room. Literally, Brian cheeks rushed with flushed and it appears that Brock’s cheeks has become too. “Just tell me what is the problem?”

Be respectful and welcoming, “Ye see, I accidentally summoned ye-”

“Accidentally?” His voice booms and the room almost shakes. A small desk in the corner almost felled.

“I wasn’t supposed to summon ye! I was trying to summon another demon. I must’ve got the sigil wrong or said the name wrong.” Brian explained. His sweat soaked his forehead and armpits. Surprised, it didn’t stink.

The demon clenched his nose before pointing fingers at Brian, “At least I know you waste my precious time and pissed me off even more.” He gives a low chuckle. “I supposed you deserve to be perish.” He raised his hand as Brian stands up to floating above his toes. Before the demon could grab his collar, Brock stands between them. “Mortal human get away or you’ll end up like your pathetic friend.”

“I could do that, but aren’t we supposed to make a deal?” Brian could almost hear his friend’s heart beat getting louder. “How about we find something you greatly desire: money, food, or heck even animals. Just don’t kill Brian please.” Brock begged, his voice wavering. Before you know it, Brian dropped onto the ground. He scrambled up to his feet and quickly hold his hand.

“Anything?” The demon rubbed his imaginary beard. “Fine. In order to save your soul, you must find a certain group of people and when you do. Kill them.” a shiver ran through their spine. “No matter depending on your morals or alignment, you still have to kill them. Including you cutie.” he points at Brock.

“You can’t do that! Don’t involve Brock into this bullshit. This is between me and you, ye cu-”

“Brian.” Brock gave a soft smile, “Please, you created this mess and I’m always the one who has to clean it up. You did promise to buy me lunch.”

“Enough with the sappy talk. I have to make sure the both of you won’t try and escape.” With the snap of his fingers, visible chains on Brian’s right wrist and Brock’s left wrist. It’s connected to the demon’s wrist. “It’s better that way.”

“Sorry, but can you please tell us your name?”

“I’m quite sure ‘Brian’ knows who I am, but I let it pass since you do have a good soul.” Before he could introduce himself, he kinda stop. He seems to be his thoughts while glancing at two, but shake his head. “I am known as Ohmwrecker, but my companions call me Ohm.”

#bbs #banana bus squad #bbs squad #the gaming terroriser #terroriser #moo snuckel #ohmwrecker #Cartoonz #BigJigglyPanda #mini ladd mentioned #our sweet guardian demon au #eliza writes #minipandatoonz

39 notes · View notes

pamphletstoinspire · 5 years

Photo

FOURTEENTH SUNDAY AFTER PENTECOST (September 15th) by Fr. Francis Xavier Weninger, 1882

“No man can serve two masters.”–Matt. 6.

No one can serve two masters, as Christ Himself assures us. And yet what a number of those who believe in Christ, although they dare not, of course, contradict the Word of Christ in explicit terms, yet do so by their lives! They live as if they would like to serve both God and the world; they do not want to be at variance with God or the world.

These are the people who do things by halves; who can not choose between two ways, and resemble the children of Israel at the time of the prophet Elias. Men who conduct themselves differently in Church and out of it; who behave differently in company of priests, and of those who scoff at religion and her ministers; men who sin and confess, confess and sin; who live in habitual sins, and whatever they do, as children of the Church, do it by habit ; and as to their business matters and worldly affairs, they follow the same principles as the heathens and worldlings.

And who is not aware what a contagious and seducing influence their example has on the lives of others! How important, therefore, is it that we reflect earnestly upon the words of Christ: “No one can serve two masters.” “He who is not with Me is against Me;” “He who gathereth not with Me, scattereth.”

We shall today consider one of these two masters, namely: God and His service, and we shall reflect what kind of a master God is, and how meet it is to serve Him earnestly, joyfully, and perseveringly.

Mary, who hast called thyself a handmaid of the Lord, pray for us, that we may live in such a manner, as to be justified in saying: I am a servant, a handmaid of the Lord! I speak in the holy name of Jesus, to the greater honor of God!

O my God, my Lord! This is an ejaculation which we very frequently utter. We justly call God also our Lord. He is our Creator, from Whom we have received everything, by the power of Whose will all nature came into existence and continues in it. And, therefore, it is our duty to serve God willingly, and to serve Him as perfectly as possible.

Would it not be a disgrace if we, as reasonable beings, who know God, and call Him our Father, would in this respect allow ourselves to be excelled by irrational creatures? But in order that this desire, this resolution, be renewed and strengthened within us, let us consider frequently, yes, daily and hourly, in what an infinitely higher degree all those qualities, which in ordinary life induce us to serve a person, are combined in God.

The first quality which distinguishes a person whom we would wish to serve and own as master, is his respectability, his dignity, that he is of high rank, perhaps a governor, a king, or even an emperor.

An office at court, even if very insignificant, is nevertheless highly valued, because of the social position of the person whom we serve. It is for the sake of honor and distinction that even counts and princes sue for offices at a kingly court. Yes, even an ordinary valet or cook of a king or emperor, deems himself superior to his less fortunate brethren.

Now, then, let us reflect upon the meaning of these words: “God! I serve God.” Have we not weighty reasons for exclaiming with St. Michael: “Who is like to God?” God, I serve Thee! Thee Whom all the angels and saints, all the heavenly chiefs serve, and whose glory and magnificence heaven and earth proclaim.

But what still more determines us to serve a person, to acknowledge him as master, is his personality, the nobility and uprightness of his character, which cause us to feel that he would never demand anything of us save what is good and praiseworthy.

If in spirit we listen to the Sanctus, which all the Seraphim repeat continually before the throne of God, with what determination will we exclaim: “Thou three times holy God, my Lord; I serve Thee! What wouldst Thou have me do?”

The third quality which would induce us to enter the service of another, and acknowledge him our master, is his goodness. We would gladly serve one whose greatest delight is to make all his dependents happy, and to bestow favors upon them, especially if we ourselves have already received benefits from him. How frequently we hear one person saying to another: Oh, if I could always be with you! Oh, how can I ever repay you for all you have done for me!

Let us apply this to God and His service. God is in Himself infinite, perfect goodness. And this goodness He desires to impart to all human beings whom He has created. Just as it is in the nature of the sun to impart light and heat, so it is also peculiar to the goodness of God to continually bestow favors upon a creature, as far as it is susceptible of them, and does not on its part oppose any barrier. He rewards our service, even on this earth, by the joys of a good conscience, by the possession and enjoyment of many created objects, and by His communication with us in prayer. What an inducement for us to serve God, even if we had not received from Him any special promise of reward!

I said that if we had received numerous and precious gifts and favors from another, our gratitude would prompt us to serve him. The animals are ready to serve their masters for the food they obtain from him; they accompany him every-where, and at times even sacrifice their lives for their benefactor.

Let us apply this also to God, our Creator and Preserver and Redeemer. Oh, how many important, precious graces and treasures have we not already received from God, from the moment of our birth until the present day! Body and soul, the use of our senses, every ray of light, every breath we draw, every morsel of food, every refreshing draught, every thread of our garments, also the talents which we possess, all that we enjoy in this life we owe to God. And when we remember the grace of redemption, our calling to the true Church, and all the gifts and graces which, as children of the Church, we possess and receive at every moment, have we not motives for the deepest gratitude? Should we not exclaim: Merciful God, my Lord and Benefactor, I thank Thee; I will serve Thee gratefully?

The fourth quality which induces us to enter the service of a person is the compensation. If the reward is considerably greater than that given by other masters, and if at the same time we are aware that in the service of this person, we will be provided for and made happy, then we will not only be willing and anxious to serve such a master, but deem ourselves most fortunate in being received into his service.

What an inducement for us to exclaim joyfully: O God, my Lord and Renumerator, I will serve Thee! Even on this earth we enjoy the hundred-fold that consolation and joy which Christ has promised all followers in the service of the Lord. And furthermore, for every good work which we perform, we have the promise of an eternal reward. For every good deed there awaits us a recompense, of which it is written: “Eye hath not seen, nor ear heard, neither hath it entered into the heart of man, what things God hath prepared for them that love Him.” Whosoever shall glorify Me, him will I glorify.” “Enter into the joys of thy Lord.” Who would not be willing to serve a prince, or king, or emperor, who, as a reward, would permit his servant to share his power and glory; and still more if he would give him the promise of a throne, and enable him to rule as a king?

This is the case in the service of the Lord, and it should encourage us in the divine service. “I myself,” says the Lord, “will be thy great reward.” “Thou hast made us kings, that we might reign eternally,” so rejoice the saints in heaven, as St. John affirms.

We gladly serve another if he is united to us by ties of kindred. And this can be said with regard to the service of God. He is not only our God, but at the same time our Father. Even in this world we call ourselves His children, and it is not yet known what we shall enjoy when once we shall enter His glory.

And when the fire of divine love inflames our heart, and we have even on earth a foretaste of the eternal union with God, in what transports of joy does not then the soul break forth: “O my God! my love, I am Thine! Lord, I serve Thee, because I love Thee. Lord! what dost Thou wish me to do?” Amen!

“No man can serve two masters.” Matt. 9.

Either to the right or to the left. This shall one day be the sentence of the divine Judge. The one or other will befall every one of us; and the decision will depend upon the life we have led on earth, whether we have served God or the world; that is, whether we were replenished with the Spirit of God, and by Him enlightened and strengthened to know and accomplish the Divine will, and to provide for that which is to come after death, and which will endure for all eternity; or whether, on the contrary, the spirit of the world had taken possession of our hearts and inflamed us with the desire to live as honored and as happy as possible during our brief sojourn on this earth, unconcerned whether we were accomplishing the will of God or not.

Either the Spirit of the Holy Ghost enkindles our hearts, and urges us to walk in the way of the Lord, with determination, strength and fidelity, or the spirit of the world possesses our hearts, and we serve the world; that is to say, we seek that which the world displays and promises; we let it persuade us that the service of man is of greater importance than the service of God, that we ought to feel greater dread of offending man than God; we live, so that we expose ourselves to its dangers, and, as the Apostle threatens, of perishing with the world.

I will prove to you today what a disgrace and folly it is to serve the world and her maxims, instead of serving God.

Mary, mother of God, spouse of the Holy Ghost, pray for us, that the Holy Spirit may destroy in us the spirit of the world, and that, as thy children, we may serve God and be saved! I speak in the holy name of Jesus, to the greater honor of God!

I said, it is either the Spirit of God which reigns in our hearts, and induces us to enter the service of God, strengthening and encouraging us therein; or it is the spirit of the world, which impels us to serve the world and live in compliance with its principles. But woe to us, if we serve it and acknowledge it as our master!

What I understand by the world, and the spirit of the world, I have intimated in my introduction.

The world, taken in this sense, is that portion of mankind whose desires are all concentrated on the possessions, honors and enjoyments of this life. These children, servants, slaves of the world, look upon religion as a secondary matter; they do not trouble themselves about it in the least, but imagine and say that all religions are one and the same; the first and most important care is happiness in this life, come what may in the next!

To the world, in this sense, belong those also who, with their lips, profess the doctrines of faith, but by their lives deny them and side with the scoffers of religion, and infidels who do not believe in a life to come, and will not admit of any other than the one here below.

In this signification did Christ say of the world: “The world is full of wickedness.” In this sense did Christ speak of the world when He said: “Father, I pray Thee, but not for the world.” Of this world it is written: “Who sides with it, shall perish!”

And yet what a number, even of the children of the Church, follow the world, and labor in her service, instead of the service of God. How foolish and deluded these worldlings are is apparent, when we reflect, on the one hand, upon the qualities of God, which particularly induce us, and encourage and strengthen us in serving Him as our Lord and Master; and, on the other hand, compare them with the opposite qualities which characterize the world and its service.

I say: Let us serve God; He is of Himself an infinite and most glorious Being the Creator, Preserver, and Ruler of the earth.

What is the world? The world in itself, taken in its broadest sense, includes all things in nature; it is nothing of itself; was nothing from all eternity; and does not exist of itself, but through God, without whose support it would at any moment fall back into its original nonentity.

And what are all those, of whom I have before spoken, who are living in this world and for this world? What are they, all these sinners, even if every one of them be adorned with a royal diadem? They are all nothing of themselves; they have come into existence in disgrace with God, owing to the fall of our first parents. And in what a miserable state are they, owing to the countless actual sins which they have committed during their life ! They are beings whose souls were created according to the image of God, but who, by their willful, actual sins, have stamped it with the likeness of Satan, the father of sin. As to their bodies, they may justly be compared to a mass of putrid matter.

And what is all their exterior power and glory and possessions? vanishing smoke,–a bauble, which glitters today and disappears tomorrow! They are beings who, with us, will soon appear at the judgment seat of God, and, as slaves of Satan, will be condemned to eternal perdition! And is it possible that we could resolve to serve the world in preference to God? What an ignominy!

But God in His glory is, at the same time, infinite holiness and goodness. Let us serve Him. What is the world which, on the other hand, seeks to draw us away from God, and advises us to follow her? The world, whose banner bears the inscription: Concupiscence of the eyes, concupiscence of the flesh, and pride of life–she is a sink, a filth, and a rankness!

Could we but view the frightful sins which the worldling commits daily and hourly! Could we but see the loathsomeness of the vices of pride, vanity, covetousness, envy, anger, gluttony, and lust to which the worldling is addicted, we would blush with same!

And how frequently does it not happen that persons, whom we have considered just and virtuous, are stripped of their mask by some unexpected occurrence, and they appear steeped in abominable vices! And should we serve such a world? No; if we look upon her, covered with the filth of sin, we will answer her with determination and indignation: Filthy world, depart!– I will follow my God; for He is perfect holiness, and His true servants and children are noble and holy.

God is, moreover, infinite goodness; He is our constant Benefactor, bestowing His benefits from the moment of our conception. He grants a reward, even on this earth; for He requites even a good thought with that feeling of peace and love which gives us a foretaste of the sweetness of the Lord's service even in this world; He will finally reward us in the life to come, when we will receive an eternal, incalculable recompense for every good thought and desire, for every good work performed in His service.

The world, on the contrary, is naught but selfishness and egotism; she loves but self, and all other things merely for the sake of self. She does not possess that goodness which loves to share with others; on the contrary, she seeks to accumulate all she can for herself, and those who serve her are requited poorly and wretchedly. “The world's reward is ingratitude,” says an old proverb.

A proof of this are the cares and difficulties which harass a person whilst endeavoring to earn his daily bread. How often he is at a loss! How frequently he is disappointed in his expectations, defrauded of his rights, injured in his possessions, or deprived of them altogether, just because he served the world and her followers!

And suppose this were not the case, but that the sinner could possess and enjoy all in this world,– the wounded conscience would not permit him to enjoy it peacefully. Holy Scripture and experience teach us that “there is no rest for the wicked.”

Oh, how dreadful the pangs of a guilty conscience! But even if this were not the case, still what a void the human heart experiences amid the possessions and enjoyment of all created objects and pleasures! This caused Solomon to exclaim: “Vanity of vanities!” And why? St. Augustine replies: “Thou hast, O Lord, created this heart for Thee, and it rests not until it rests in Thee.”

And if the worldling would really feel happy and contented in his possession, how soon–how very soon– will death deprive him of all, and then what awaits him in eternity?

For the little which the world has given him for his fidelity in her service, if thereby he has grievously offended God, she will prepare for him, for every sin ful thought, every desire, and every deed,–for every sinful enjoyment in her service,–eternal sufferings!

Beloved in Christ, when we reflect upon the character of the world, and upon the consequences of serving her, her persuasions lose their power of drawing us away from God; and yet we can scarcely comprehend how it is possible that, nevertheless, so many persons, even children of the Church, do not live in the service of God, but in that of the world,–the vain, wretched, sinful, selfish, deceptive, and transitory world, and in this manner expose themselves to the danger of perishing with her!

Therefore, children of the Church, reflect continually upon that, of which my sermon of today reminds you; examine your conscience daily in regard to it, and say to yourself: Should I serve such a deceitful world, and prefer her to my God? No–never!–Amen !

“You can not serve God and mammon.”–Matt. 9.

Christ speaks of two masters who demand our services, namely: God and the world. He declares, at the same time, that it is impossible to serve both. We can easily comprehend why Christ declares this twofold service impossible. The consideration of God and His nature, and of the world and her doings, will prove that to serve both is utterly impossible. God is infinite perfection and holiness; the world is full of wickedness.

The service of God has relation to our life in the next world; the service of the world regards only that which is temporal, that which exists at present, but will one day pass away. The service which God requires of us is inseparably united with the fulfillment of the duties of our holy religion. The world cares not for religion, nor for the sanctification of our lives. The service of God is incompatible with sin; the service of the world is inseparable from sin.

These are contrasts which are evidently not compatible. This opposition shows itself particularly in the wrong aim which the world pursues in her doings and movements, and which stamp the children of the world as worldlings, namely: The inordinate desire for money, covetousness and avarice.

The Gospel applies the word “blessed” to the poor; the world, on the contrary, applies it to the rich. This is even proven by an old saying: Money is the god of the world. The worldling is prepared to do anything for the sake of money.

Let us consider today how despicable, foolish and dangerous is covetousness and the inordinate desire for money. In other words: We will notice the contrast between the service of mammon and the service of God.

Mary, thou poor virgin of Nazareth, mother of the poor infant Jesus, pray for us, that our hearts may be freed from covetousness and avarice. I speak in the holy name of Jesus, to the greater honor of God!

Love of money, covetousness, avarice–the religion of the world! What is avarice? It is that pernicious tendency of the human heart to have and to possess, for the sake of having and possessing.

What does Scripture say of this disposition which prompts a man to attach himself to money, and to temporal possessions? Holy Scripture, through the mouth of St. Paul, calls it: Idolatry. This appellation is not an oratorical exaggeration, but it literally marks the character and the nature of covetousness; yes, it is truly idolatry, for idolatry consists in transferring to a creature the worship which we owe to God alone. And in what does this worship consist? Christ gives the answer: “Thou shalt love the Lord thy God with thy whole heart, and with thy whole soul, and with thy whole strength.” But it is thus exactly the avaricious person is disposed in regard to money and worldly possessions.

You, who love money, am I correct? Ask your heart. Christ says: “Where your treasure is, there is also your heart.” That is, there your thoughts, desires, resolutions and endeavors will center. Now, then, what is your first thought on awaking in the morning? Not God, but your business–your probable gain or loss. Of what do you think during the day? Your whole attention is given to your occupation, to gaining wealth. And this also is your last thought at night! Not what you have won or lost for heaven, during the course of the day; but what you have profited or lost in your business!

I believe there are persons of this kind even now before me, who, during their lives, have endeavored their utmost to gain every cent they possibly could. And what is the consequence? Your money is your god; the excessive care, the money-question, is your religion!

I therefore justly remark, in the first place: What an abominable vice is avarice, both in the sight of God and your own! No, you can not serve God and mammon at the same time.

I say, secondly: It is a degrading and absurd disposition of mind. Degrading, without doubt! Remember the words which St. Paul addressed to the heathens: “You are of a godly race, and you adore gold, your idols of gold!” Are you not ashamed to adore gold? The man of money, if he is a Christian, would not, of course, adore a statue of gold, as did the heathens, nor a golden calf, as did the faithless Israelites. But still the nature of their worship is precisely the same, as I have before shown you; and, in our times, this gold and money-service is still more degrading, since paper is the representative of gold at present. And what is paper? Rags and tatters are the materials of which it is made, and yet with what an eager eye the man of money regards such a rag when the worth of a hundred or a thousand dollars is stamped upon it; for its possession he sacrifices time and opportunity of doing good, and of laboring for the salvation of souls.

Deluded and foolish man! The more so when we reflect upon the words of the Holy Ghost, which affirms that: “Every sin shall in itself be punished.” These words may be justly applied to avarice.

For the covetous person, instead of being free from care, and using his accumulated wealth for the procuring of comforts which might render his life more pleasant and enjoyable, is every day more and more disturbed by the care of his money and possessions. And it frequently happens that the wealthier a person becomes, the less he imagines he possesses, and he strives with still greater anxiety to acquire more, and to secure what he has.

Christ speaks of the thorns which choke the good seed, and He Himself explains that the thorns signify the cares of man for the goods of this world.

And experience proves how disastrous temporal cares are to the spirit of piety. It is owing to our extreme anxiety about the goods of this world that in many cases the good resolutions which we form during a sermon, or in the confessional, are stifled and rendered fruitless.

What a dangerous disposition of mind is the inordinate desire of money! If we are in earnest, to serve God and be saved, it is necessary to begin even in our youth to raise our hearts heavenward. It is necessary that we not only earnestly and zealously strive to know our duties, but also to perform them. It is likewise necessary to use faithfully the means which God in His mercy has given us as children of the Church; namely: prayer, divine service, and the Holy Sacraments, and to seek carefully the means and opportunities of performing as many corporal and spiritual works of mercy as possible. The craving for money prevents all this.

Even in early youth, when there is question of choosing a path for life, the thought: whether such is the state to which God has called us, and which will offer the best opportunities for serving Him, does not enter our minds. We only take care to see whether it is a state which offers us prospects of becoming rich, of providing for ourselves. And this is our aim during all successive years; we thereby neglect the duties of our religion, excusing ourselves by saying: We have no time for prayer! And why? I must attend to my business. And how very often this could be postponed for a half hour or an hour; we could even hear a Mass; but for this we no longer find it worth the while to devote a few minutes.

Thus we begin the day without morning-prayer, and pass it without one thought of God; neglect spiritual reading and the reception of the Holy Sacraments, and thus become careless as to gathering treasures for the life to come; and, by committing mortal sins, we become traitors to Christ. Could our Lord have allowed a more heinous crime for the warning of the children of the Church than the base treachery of Judas!

He, as an Apostle, was chosen from among the whole race of mankind to come in daily contact with Christ. He was with our Lord during three years, conversed with Him, and listened to all His sermons, witnessed His miracles, even the resurrection of Lazarus; and, despite all these favors, his love for money caused him to become a traitor, and to sell his Lord and Master for an ignominious price . Take a look at him, suspended by the neck,–at him, the Apostle and suicide!

Christians! let this example be a warning to you! Woe to you, if your heart is more attached to mammon than to God, and if you labor more earnestly for money than in the service of God! I fear you are one of those souls in whom the threat of our Lord will be verified: “Woe to the rich!” Amen!

The Works Of The Flesh And The Fruits Of The Spirit by Fr. Johann Evangelist Zollner, 1883 In the Epistle of last Sunday, St. Paul brought before us the important truth that men are not justified by the observance of the Mosaic Law, but by the belief in Jesus Christ. But the faith which justifies us and leads to salvation is not an inactive, dead faith, but a living faith, which consists in this, that we not only believe all that God has revealed and proposes to our belief by the Catholic Church, but also that we live according to the precepts of faith; that therefore we keep the commandments, mortify all inordinate desires and passions, shun sin and vice and diligently practice the Christian virtues. St. Paul speaks in the Epistle of this day on that living, active faith. He treats,

I. Of the struggle between the flesh and the spirit, II. Of the works of the flesh, III. Of the fruits of the spirit.

Part I.

1. In the very beginning of the Epistle, he tells us what must be done in order not to succumb in the struggle with the flesh; he says: “Walk in the spirit and you shall not fulfil the lusts of the flesh.” To walk in the spirit means to live according to the will of God, according to the doctrine of Jesus and the maxims of the Gospel, to obey the inspirations and impulses of the Holy Ghost. He who lives thus “shall not fulfil the lusts of the flesh,” that is, he will not permit himself to be led into evil by concupiscence and the motions of corrupt nature, therefore he will not sin. By Baptism we have been made members of the Church of Christ, and the Holy Ghost has taken up his abode within our hearts; we are, therefore, in the happy condition of walking always in the spirit; for the Church teaches us what we must do and what avoid, and the indwelling Holy Ghost gives us His grace to overcome the lusts of the flesh and to live piously. We have therefore no excuse when we allow ourselves to be governed by the lusts of the flesh and thereby fall into sin. “The lust (of sin) shall be under thee, and thou shalt have dominion over it.”–Gen. 4: 7. These words, which God spoke to Cain, apply to us.

2. Now the Apostle describes the struggle between the flesh and the spirit, in these words: “The flesh lusteth against the spirit; and the spirit against the flesh; for these are contrary one to another, so that you do not the things that you would.”

(a) By flesh we understand that inclination to evil, which is a consequence of original sin, and is therefore found in all men. Of it God says in the Old Testament: “The imagination and thought of man's heart are prone to evil from his youth.”–Gen. 8: 21. And St. James writes: “Every man is tempted, being drawn away by his own concupiscence, and allured:”–I: 14. By spirit we understand the better disposition in man, which has its spring in God, who through the conscience and his Church and in many other ways operates upon us, that we know what is right and good, are pleased with what is good, and strive for it and practise it.

(b) The most perfect harmony existed between the spirit and the flesh in that state of innocence in which man came forth from the hand of God; man, indeed, had concupiscence, not to evil, but to good–a concupiscence which was perfectly subject to the spirit, and desired only what was right and comformable to the will of God. In consequence of original sin, a great change took place in our concupiscence; it often resists the spirit and will not obey, but desires to rule; it always desires what seems agreeable, without caring whether it be good or evil, it sets everything in motion in order to obtain the object of its desires. It allures man to impurity, revenge, envy, avarice and injustice; in short, to all sins and vices. It operates upon the senses of the body, upon the eyes and ears, and upon the faculties of the soul, upon the understanding, will and memory, and seeks to make them subservient to sin. Now when the spirit resists and rejects its demands, a struggle ensues; for concupiscence is not easily silenced, but insists upon its demand and makes vehement attacks to obtain its own way. If the spirit were depending on its natural powers, it would often yield in the combat with concupiscence; but, assisted by God's grace, it is able to come forth victorious even from the most desperate struggle. Hence the Apostle says: “I can do all things in Him who strengtheneth me.”–Phil. 4: 13.

(c) This struggle between the spirit and the flesh lasts to the end of our lives. The concupiscence which dwells in us is never entirely subdued; it causes countless temptations, and renders all good actions difficult. For instance, you are patiently to bear a humiliation, to forgive an enemy, to suppress an unchaste desire, to renounce something agreeable. Concupiscence at once arises and tries to prevent these good actions. Thus our life upon earth is “a continual warfare.”–Job, 7: 1. The concupiscence within us will die only with our last breath.

(d) Because concupiscence operates upon our will and seeks to lead it into evil, the Apostle says that we must not do all things that we would. We must not yield to the allurements of concupiscence. If it entices to any sin and with vehemence demands its will, we must say with courage and determination: I must not, and I will not do it. A king once asked two clergymen at his court, who on account of their modesty were very highly esteemed, whether it was true that they carried with them a certain herb which had the virtue of driving away bad thoughts and desires. When they answered in the affirmative, he asked further, what kind of an herb it was. They replied, that the herb was the fear of God, that this banishes all sinful thoughts and desires. Thus the fear of God will be to us a shield from which all the arrows of concupiscence rebound.

3. But the Apostle shows us a still more effectual means to gain the victory over concupiscence, when he writes: “But if you are led by the spirit, you are not under the law.” He intends to say: Christians who have reached a higher degree of perfection and are filled altogether with the love of God, avoid evil and do good without being compelled to it by the law and its threats. Christians who love God do not ask whether something is commanded or forbidden under pain of sin; on the contrary, they esteem themselves happy and find their pleasure in doing whatever they know to be pleasing to God. They stand, therefore, above and outside of the law; it is as if they had no law at all, just because it is love that urges them everywhere and always to do the will of God. Therefore St. Augustine says: “Love, and do what you please.” He who loves God above all things, will not succumb in the combat with concupiscence, but will courageously fight against it and overcome it and serve God with fidelity all the days of his life. Love is strong as death. Many waters cannot quench charity.–Canticle 8: 6, 7.

Part II.

The Apostle now enumerates the works of the flesh: “Now the works of the flesh are manifest; which are fornication, uncleanness, immodesty, luxury, idolatry, witchcraft, enmities, contentions, emulations, wrath, quarrels, dissensions, sects, envy, murders, drunkenness, retellings, and such like. Of which I foretell you, us I have foretold to you, that they who do such things shall not obtain the kingdom of God.”

1. First in order appears the vice of voluptuousness in all its kinds. This vice is disgraceful for every man, because it degrades him to the low rank of the irrational beast, but especially for the Christian, whose body is a temple of the Holy Ghost (I. Cor. 6: 18-20), and which becomes most intimately united with Jesus in holy Communion. Hence the Apostle elsewhere says: “Fornication and all uncleaness, let it not so much as be named among you, as it becometh saints.”–Eph. 5: 3. The vice of voluptuousness robs man of innocence, that precious jewel which makes him even in this life equal to the Angels of heaven, but which once lost, can never be recovered. The vice of voluptuousness denies man and degrades all the senses, powers and faculties of man: the eyes by unchaste looks, the ears by the wanton hearing of immodest words, the tongue by immodest conversation, the imagination by thousands of shameful representations, the will by complacency in abominable things; the vice of voluptuousness leads to all other sins and vices, especially to unbelief, to despair, and to suicide. How much God hates this vice history shows us in terrible examples. This vice caused the deluge to drown the whole human race, with the exception of Noe and his family (Gen. 6: 12); that five and twenty thousand Israelites perished in the desert (Numb. 25: 9); that the cities of Sodom and Gomorrah with all their inhabitants were destroyed from the face of the earth.–Gen. 19. The lot of the voluptuous in the next world is eternal damnation. “Their portion shall be in the pool burning with fire and brimstone.”–Apoc. 21: 8. Ah! shun the vice of impurity, which in our time is so prevalent in the world, and on account of which countless men will be damned forever. Be modest and reserved and take no indecent liberties with yourselves or others. Take an example from the Emperor Maximilian I., who had such a tender modesty, that going to bed or getting up from bed he did not allow himself to be assisted either in taking off or putting on his clothes. Even in death, he gave a splendid proof of this beautiful virtue. When he felt his end approach, he ordered a shirt and a pair of pantaloons; he put them on himself, and gave directions that he should be buried in these clothes.

2. The second class comprises the sins against the love of our neighbor; enmities, contentions, emulations, wrath, quarrels, dissensions, sects, envy, murders. These sins also deserve all our hatred and detestation, because they break the bond of peace and concord, and cause great mischief. Was it not hatred that made Cain a fratricide? Was it not envy that made Jacob's sons persecutors of their innocent brother Joseph? Was it not anger that made King Asa the tyrant of his subjects?–II. Paralip. 16: 14. These sins are especially damnable among us Christians, because they are directly opposed to our principal law, the love of God, which Christ has given us. “This is my commandment, that you love one another, as I have loved you.”–John, 15: 12. “Love your enemies; do good to them that hate you; and pray for them that persecute and calumniate you.”–Matt. 5: 44. Shun all sins against the love of your neighbor, especially hatred, envy, contentions and quarrels. Do not forget that you are all brothers in Christ Jesus, and are called to be admitted into heaven, where only heart-felt love and friendship reign among the elect.

3. The third class comprises the sins against temperance, viz., drunkenness and gluttony. Those who use intoxicating drink to excess and often come to such a pass that they lose reason and no longer know what they are saying or doing, are guilty of drunkenness. One can see drunken men reel and stagger, fall down, roll in the mire, and do things of which they are ashamed when they become sober. Those sin by gluttony who in eating transgress the right measure, who find their happiness in the gratification of the palate, and make their belly their god. Drunkenness and gluttony are vices which disgrace man and lower him below the level of the brute, for the dumb animal ceases to eat and drink when it has enough. These vices are particularly dangerous for Christians, who ought to lead a sober, mortified life. Having enumerated these works of the flesh, the Apostle says: “They who do such things, shall not obtain the kingdom of God.” Therefore, the unchaste, the uncharitable, and the intemperate shall be excluded from the kingdom of God and shall be condemned to everlasting fire. Who should not carefully guard against these vices? Who should not, if he be contaminated with one or the other of them, tear himself from it at once and do penance? Reflect on the words of St. Augustine: “Short is what rejoices; but eternal what burns.”

Part III,

The Apostle contrasts the fruits of the spirit with the works of the flesh, in these words: “The fruit of the Spirit is charity, joy, peace, patience, benignity, goodness, longanimity, mildness, faith, modesty, continency, chastity.” St. Paul does not say the fruits, but the fruit of the Spirit, because these virtues have their origin in charity; all come forth from it, like branches from the trunk, and are properly nothing else than effects of charity. He calls them the fruit “of the Spirit,” that is, of the Christian enlightened and governed by the Holy Ghost; for as a good tree yields good fruit, so also Christians in whom the Holy Ghost abides, bring forth virtues and good works. The fruits of the Spirit then are:

1. Charity; that is, the love of God and of our neighbor; the love of God, which manifests itself especially by a conscientious fulfilment of his commandments; the love of our neighbor, which requires that we wish well to our fellow-men, and help them in their necessities according to our ability. Where charity is, there God is; and he that remains in charity remains in God, and God in him. Joy: It is a pure pleasure in God's grace, in His wise and merciful providence, in the purity of conscience, and in all that is truly good and pleasing to God. This joy is a hidden manna, of which worldlings have no idea, and in comparison with which all earthly and sensual joys are a mere nothing. He who carries this joy in his heart is rich even in poverty, and rejoices in persecutions and sufferings. Peace: Peace with God, with our neighbor and with ourselves. A result of this peace is the quietude of conscience and the sweet conviction that we possess the grace and friendship of God. He who possesses this fruit of the Spirit possesses the most desirable good of life, contentedness; he lives quietly, dies quietly, and enters into the house of eternal rest.

2. Other fruits of the Spirit are: Patience, which renders everything easy. He who possesses this virtue, remains composed under the severest hardships and trials; he murmurs not, complains not, but is perfectly resigned to the will of God, and says: “The Lord gave, and the Lord hath taken away: as it hath pleased the Lord, so it is done; blessed be the name of the Lord.”–Job, 1: 21. Benignity, a lovely virtue, which causes us to meet all men, even the lowliest, affably and kindly, and carefully avoid in our conduct what could irritate or repulse any one. Goodness: Christians who possess this virtue do good to their fellow-men according to their ability. They are not satisfied with doing to them what they owe them from justice, but they are also ready everywhere to help, without having any other obligation than that of charity, and without expecting any reward in this world.

3. Other fruits of the Spirit are: Longanimity, which bears the weaknesses and frailties of our fellow-men with patience, which defers reprimand and chastisement as long as possible, and never despairs of the amendment of the erring. It is a principal virtue for parents, teachers, and educators, and all spiritual and temporal superiors. Mildness: He who possesses this virtue is always quiet and calm; his speech is mild; his admonitions affectionate; even when reproving he is gentle and sparing. He bears everything with a quiet mind, is not irritated by anything; he keeps silence when wrong is done him, and defends himself calmly; he smothers every motion of indignation in his heart, forgives those who offend him, and does them good, when he can. Oh, that we all would learn of our divine Saviour to be meek and humble of heart! Faith, which refers to God and man. We are faithful to God when we conscientiously keep our promises and resolutions and cling to Him in good and in evil days. We are faithful to our neighbor when we keep our word in all our dealings with him, and do not allow ourselves to be induced by any temptation of ambition, avarice or self-interest to commit an act of injustice.

4. Lastly, the Apostle designates moderation as a fruit of the Spirit. He who is moderate eats and drinks only as much as is necessary for the preservation of his life, health and strength; he is content with clothes corresponding with his state, and enjoys innocent pleasures only for his recreation; and, consequently, sparingly, and at the right time. Continency: Those Christians practice this virtue who manfully deny themselves everything that is against the will of God, no matter how agreeable it may be to sensuality, and who lead a mortified life. Chastity: Those have this virtue who detest every unchaste thought and every impure desire, who shun even the shadow of impurity, and keep body and soul undefiled.

PERORATION.

These are the noble fruits of the Spirit; these are the virtues and marks of a true Christian; for they that are Christ's, have crucified their flesh, with its vices and concupiscences: they mortify their evil inclinations and passions, deny themselves and follow Jesus. Let us take to heart the words of our divine Saviour: “Every tree that yieldeth not good fruit, shall be cut down, and shall be cast into the fire.”–Matt. 7: 19. Let us therefore shun all works of the flesh, and consider it the most important task of our life to yield good fruit, i.e., to practice virtues and good works, that we may be able to stand before the judgmentseat of God and be called to eternal beatitude. Amen.

From: https://www.pamphletstoinspire.com/

#14th sunday after pentecost

4 notes · View notes

forwhycas · 5 years

Text

Love Thy Neighbor (part 3)

A little smutty smut for the win, Lacey meets the band as well! Hope you enjoy:)

****************************************************************************************************

A few nights later you were on your couch just out of the shower in a silky green robe working on a drawing, when all of a sudden you felt a hand on your shoulder. You jumped and yelped like an injured dog. It was Roger, a drunk Roger. He kept popping up when you thought you’d seen the last of him

“Jesus fuck Roger, don’t sneak up on a lady!! Warn me that you’re here next time.”

He laughed and you could smell the gin.

“Well the door is broken so I thought I’d stroll in to see what you’re up to.”

“I’m busy…..”

You motioned to the note book on your lap, you were in the process of drawing the alley way that lead to the thrift shop, it was cool and littered with graffiti, you had gone back a few days later just to take pictures of it. He walked around to sit down and immediately picked up the pictures you had just developed today at work of the alley.

“You know, your really good at this stuff.”

He looked at you and his eyes wondered to your chest, the robe left nothing to the imagination, everything was on display.

“Thanks Roger.”

You went back to drawing and he just sat there in silence until he got up and made himself a drink from your liquor cabinet, then wandered to your record player, he chose a jazz album. It played softly while he sat down next to you and faced towards you so he could see what you working on.

This became a nightly thing for him to do, sometimes he was drunk other times he was sweaty from band practice or a show. Just small talk and comfortable silence, a lot of flirting and him touching you ever so lightly on the knee “accidently” to reach for his drink.

“Roger are you ok? You seem more……..irritated than usual.”

“What are you doing tomorrow night? Around 10?”

You motioned to what you were doing now, drawing or listening to music and having a drink.

“Ok, would you like to join in on a recording session?”

Queen had a decent following by now and they were in the process of making their 3rd album.

“Yea, sounds fun!”

He seemed relieved, and he smiled and patted you on the knee as he got up and said goodnight and left for his place.

“No, you’re not driving my car, Roger! If you wanna drive let’s take your car!”

It was a Friday night and you were joining him to a recording session. He was pouting like a child which was comical for a 25-year-old man to be doing.

“I’m gonna drive this one day.”

You got in and he followed so off you guys went. He kept forgetting to tell you to turn. You felt his hand on your thigh, he’s been trying to make you make the first move for about a month now, which you thought was out of character for him, since he has more woman in and out of his place than you.

“Do you wear panties?”

You knew where this was going, you had a feeling at least, thank god it was dark out, this guy just made you blush, he was so blunt, you thought you were blunt, but this man made you feel dumb for thinking so highly of yourself.

“Yes?”

“Their overrated.”

You felt his hand move to your inner thigh, his thumb going back and forth on your smooth skin. You tried not to, but you clenched the muscles in your thigh and sighed, you knew what he was going to do, and you wanted it. After Krista you swore off anything with anyone for a while, but Roger needed this win and you were willing to give it to him. Your heart was going a mile a minute, he must have noticed.

“Relax love, my hands are cold that’s all.”

Which was a bullshit response since it was spring time, that’s when he pulled your skirt up so he could gain access, at first it was just his index finger rubbing your folds ever so lightly, the his thumb rubbing your clit so slowly which made you let out a shaky breath and grip the steering wheel hard. He slowly entered his middle finger with his thumb still slowly rubbing you.

“Left here”

You nodded and put your blinker on and turned the wheel. Then another finger. Faster, faster, faster. You were going to cause an accident, as you were about to finish….

“Not yet, were 10 minutes away.”

“10 minutes?”

Jesus fuck. Your breathing was out of control. With your right hand gripping the steering wheel and your left on the stick shift, there was no bracing yourself for this, it was coming on fast and you prayed to whatever God there is to help you last.

“Go ahead”

You saw the “park here” sign and just as you parked you finally did. With moans and shaky breaths, you moved both of your hands to stop his left hand from doing anything else, pulling his hand away from between your legs, you finally got some relief. Your back arched and your head went back in relief.

“Panties are definitely overrated.”

You said as he licked his fingers, you had a sweet smile on your face, and he looked confused as to why you were giving him a girlish smile when he just finger fucked you while driving.

“Glad you agree.”

He was laughing at your reaction, but it was honestly hilarious, you hadn’t been touched like that since Krista and that was a month ago, there was a thick tension between you and Roger since you guys met and those slight touches were not enough for either of you, you and him both loved sex, judging from the countless woman going in and out of both of your apartments, and it was only a matter of time till one of you made a move. You were glad he did first because it validated that he felt the tension to.

Getting out of the car was fun, legs like Jell-O. Rog immediately saw this and put his hand around your waist which you swatted away quickly, he put his hands up as to surrender, you grabbed your bag from the back seat and you followed him into the studio.

This was Rogers element. He was comfortable. In you walked behind him, a lot of people looking at you then him, you were nervous for some reason and felt the need to reach for his hand, he didn’t swat you away like you had done to him though, he clutched onto it. He looked back and smiled sweetly at you, as to say, “don’t worry”.

“Brian, John this is my neighbor Lacey, she’s cool and she’ll be here to hang out with us tonight.”

You let go of his hand to go over and shake their hands. Wow Brian’s hair was fantastic. The first thing you looked at when you walked into the room to be honest. You shook his hand first.

“I absolutely love your hair, you must share hair secrets with me later!”

You smiled and he smiled back and said thank you.

Next was John, he shook your hand as well and he complimented you on one of your thigh tattoos, which you thanked him and you two got into a tangent about tattoos with Brian joining in as well. You glanced at Rog every once and a while he was tweaking with his drums and staring at you. Just as you were about to show the guys the tattoo on the back of your shoulder in walked a very loud Freddie.

“Lacey darling, finally decided to join the real world? I’m playing, it’s lovely to see you in that skirt again.”

He winked at you and kissed you on both cheeks, which you did the same with him. This was the second time being in his presence, but you felt like you were seeing an old friend.

“Brian hand her some headphones so she can……”

“Don’t be silly Rog, we all know 20 minutes into this your gonna throw something and this woman’s face does not deserve the repercussions of that!”

Roger gave Freddie a “fuck you” kind of looked and you snorted out loud at that, the guys all looking at you.

“No, she’s going to sit in the booth with Jim, she can get the full effect of everything in their, right Jim?!”

The guy behind the glass where all the buttons were giving Fred a smile and a thumbs up. Freddie guided you to Jim, he was their manager and told him that if I needed anything to ask Jim for it, he then started to list off ridiculous stuff and you just looked at Jim and laughed and said “ok” to Freddie. Fred gave you a kiss on the cheek and then joined the rest of the guys.

You sat next to Jim in front of all the buttons in comfortable silence, you were looking at what looked like to be a control board, you were out of your element. You grabbed your bag that Freddie had put on the couch for you and sat there and started to draw, looking up from the pad to look at the guys every so often, their music and bickering making you smile and laugh every 5 seconds.

“LACEY DARLING PLEASE LET US KNOW WHAT YOUR DOING THAT IS SO MUCH MORE INTERESTING THAN US”

Fred’s voice legit made you jump, he could have said that without yelling and you would have heard it, Jim turned around in the chair and motioned to the red button next to the microphone on the button board.

“I’m drawing, I have deadlines Fred”

You said as you turned around and put your page up to the glass so they could see.

“Sorry for interrupting Lacey, Fred is just a little infatuated with you.”

Brian smiled at you as he said this.

“Please continue.”

You said with a wink to Freddie. He had a devilish grin on his face and motioned you to sit back down and enjoy the show.

7 hours later and you were forcing yourself to stay awake, especially because for the last 2 hours all the guys did was argue over nothing, mostly just Roger and Freddie. John kept to himself and just played his bass and Brian looked like he was going to kill both of them, you decided to intervene.

Walking into the room the first thing you did was take the rubber hammer and hit the gong as hard as you could. Everyone looking at you.

“Hi, sorry to intrude, but while I’m having a field day listening to this argument, it got old 20 minutes in.”

You were annoyed and tired and just wanted to sleep, Freddie was done now but roger wanted to keep going. Yawning you asked Brian what they were arguing over, it was about adding the snare drum into a bit or not to.

“Ya know just record it both ways play it back and see how it sounds, nothing to argue over…..”

Roger wasn’t listening, this side of Roger was different, he was head strong and wanted what he wanted. He wasn’t going to listen.

“Hey…hey…Roger….ROGER…..”

He looked right at you, red in the face.

“Why don’t you play it both ways and then you can hear which way will sound the best, instead of arguing and wasting time?”

Brian nodded his head at you agreeing with you.

“Darling, I like you, your fun.”

Freddie said, making Roger throw one of his drum sticks at Freddie, it missed him. You picked it up and walked it back over to a seathingly mad Rog. You leaned down and whispered in his ear.

“If I let you drive my car home will you stop………”

“Yes.”

Guy loves cars, simple fix, you reached in your back pocket and hand him the keys, just for an incentive to remember to shut up and play.

You walked back into the booth where Jim was, he gave you a high five, as you sat in the chair next to him and crossed your legs and let out a huge yawn.

“Guys I think it’s a good place to stop.”

Jim said 1 hour later. Roger pulled the keys out of his pocket and smiled. The ride home was eventful, Roger was a great driver but drove incredibly fast for no reason. You thought you were going to have a heart attack when he went over a speed bump going 20. You glared at him harshly. You eventually fell asleep, and woke up to Roger’s hand shaking your knee. You yawned and opened the car door, cold spring air instantly waking you up.

“It was lovely of you to come.”

“Not gonna happen again, that was a one-time kind of thing……..”

“In my defense you’re the one not wearing panties…….But sure a one-time thing.”

He leaned down to kiss your check and thanked you for the ride while sliding your car keys back into your back pocket, giving your ass a little squeeze while doing so.

**************************************************************************************************

#rogertaylor #queen #fanfic #smut

5 notes · View notes

amateurscribes · 5 years

Text

A quick warm-up scene, and essentially a sneak peek for the upcoming Pg. 42 Ln. 5, ‘The Brush of Death’ so uh, enjoy? (This takes place around chapter two of the fic from what my notes are suggesting):

"May I have this dance," an unknown man steps forward, causing Grif to quickly let go of Simmons' hands. Although the man didn't say a name, his hand is outstretched towards him and he only has eyes for Grif.

Now he has a choice here, he can either turn down the stranger and likely accidentally cause a scene which would be bad press or he could plaster on a fake smile and be as cordial as can be.

He shares a quick look with Simmons, and there's a strange look in the other hero's eyes, but nonetheless, he starts to walk towards the refreshment table saying, "I'll meet up with you later, Phantasmagoria."

Well, it's not like anyone could say that he wasn't trained by the 'best' manager. The choice- if it could be called that- was decisively clear.

They were here to entertain and entertainment was something he could do.

"Right," Grif nods at him, before looking back at the stranger. "Nice to meet you, Mr...?"

"Temple," the man supplies. "But you can just call me Mark."

Oh, that's why Simmons had gotten that look. This was the judge in charge of hero affairs for the Justice Bureau.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, sir," Grif lies. It was never a pleasure to meet any of these annoying higher-ups. They were always so stiff- especially if they were involved with the law.

Nothing good ever came out of lawyers or judges or politicians or the rest of their ilk.

"Believe me, the pleasure's all mine," the judge said. "Now, if I'm not mistaken, you agreed to a dance?"

As much as he loathed taking the other man's hand, he was very much aware of the eyes that were suddenly turning to them.

Fucking charity balls. Gossip spread quicker than the goddamn plague.

So he took the other man's hand and let him take the lead, not caring to put too much effort in. It was very easy to just let muscle memory kick in, after all of those lessons Dylan made them attend so that they'd be able to not make bumbling fools of themselves.

Which wasn't all that fair considering that most of them were currently wearing their helmets with suits. The only ones in the Second League who looked moderately passable were him and Simmons, but considering that Simmons was still wearing his ornate crown and him his visor circlet they only barely made the cut.

At least his hair was long enough to braid, poor Simmons had to live with the fact that his crown covered most of his hair leaving only tufts peeking out from under.

"You know," the judge speaks up from what had been an otherwise easy moment to blank out of. "I think your power is the most fascinating."

What.

He nearly stops moving, very nearly tripping in his shock, but once again he relies on muscle memory to not draw attention to the pair.

"You look surprised," the man observes. "Did you think I wouldn't know?"

"Yes," he grits out because no one is supposed to know, that's the whole point, the whole shtick. It's what makes him sell-able to the audience.

"It's only reasonable that I know every detail about you heroes," the man shrugs nonchalantly. "After all, I wouldn't want to deliver a sentence on an innocent man for a crime or a damages fine that he didn't do. And for that, it's pertinent that I know whose powers can do what. You see?"

He doesn't respond to that.

"And yours is very underutilized," the man continues. "Only two limitations, yes? The touch of a human and your own imagination. You still occupy space but there's no timer, no drawback, nothing. Haven't you ever wondered what else you could do?"

"No," he snaps, and it's not a lie. Because he knows exactly the extent of his powers, and some judge acting as if he had hidden potential was very quickly souring his mood.

"I wonder," the judge supplies. "In theory, would you be able to cast an illusion over your own face- your own body even- to make you look like something or someone else?"

Once again, he stills. But then relaxes minutely, because it was a posed question and not an accusation.

So it seemed like he could keep some of his secrets after all.

"In theory," Grif throws the man a bone, hoping to get him to back the fuck off.

The judge lets go of Grif, pausing the dance, and somehow during all of that, they've managed to maneuver towards one of the solidarity corners of the ballroom, the judge with his back to the wall.

Pulling out a photo, well worn, the judge asks, "Do you think you could make yourself look like this man through an illusion?"

Squinting his eyes at the photo, he notices the sharp tear on the side and the leftover arm of someone else. The man in question is smiling brightly, arm wrapped around the torn off person, his bright blond hair being the most notable characteristic.

"I'm going to assume you're not going to leave me alone for the rest of the night unless I try out your theory," Grif glares at the man.

His unctuous smile not leaving his face, the judge says, "Well it couldn't hurt to play along, right?"

Keeping his glare on his face, he reaches into his pocket to pull out a bobby pin. Grabbing his braid, he raises it to his head, quickly loops it in a messy crown and pins it into place. He then runs his hand over the area, turning it blond with a simple gesture, eyes glowing blue.

He stares at the photo some more, before tapping his visor to make disappear from view, and he closes his eyes to make them the grey that he sees in the picture.

It's as he opens them that he sees a longing look bleed onto the judges face.

"Who even is that man," Grif asks, and that seems to shock the judge out of whatever had made him go all distant. "A criminal?"

"Ah, no," the judge says, voice wired with unbridled emotions. "He is... a missing man."

"Oh," he tries to muster up fake sympathy but finds he doesn't quite want to, especially not as he wears the mans face for the moment. "Was he married?"

"Yes," Temple nods his head. "He had a wife and a daughter, but I am afraid that Georgina is... no longer with us."

He's not enough of an idiot to not catch the familiarity that radiates from the man.

"What of the daughter? Are you taking care of her now that both her parents are gone," he asks.

"She's being well taken care of," the man supplies. "Or at least, that's what Mrs. Grey has assured me of."

Letting the illusion slip away, Grif finds that he is way more uncomfortable right now than he had been when Dylan had forced them all into suits earlier that day.

"Well, your theory bears truth," he says. "And you've had your dance. Now if you would excuse me, sir, I'm going to take my leave."

There's a strange look on the judge's face, but he nods saying, "That's only fair. I hope our paths will meet again, Phantasmagoria."

Not staying to give the man a response, he turns around and starts walking towards where Simmons is awkwardly holding a champagne glass.

He needed a stiff drink.

But behind him, the judge still hasn't moved.

And Grif thinks he isn't supposed to hear the man mutter, "Dead shepherd, now I find thy saw of might, who ever loved that loved not at first sight?"

That fucker was a fan of Shakespeare, was he? Fine, two could play at this game.

"I pray you do not fall in love with me. For I am falser than vows made in wine," Grif quotes loud enough for the other man to hear. He smirks a tad as he delivers the next line, "Besides, I like you not."

Shock blossoms onto the judges face, but disappointingly it's not followed by embarrassment. Which, ok, sure thing asshole, don't respond when called out on your creepiness.

Not garnering the reaction he had hoped, he goes to Simmons and the other heroes like he should have done earlier.

#My writing #My fic #Scribes WIP #Pg. 42 Ln. 5 'The Brush of Death'#Second Series Act One #which I guess is now the series tag idk #T&B/RvB AU #*me clapping my hands* shakespeare references because who's gonna stop meeee #also this kinda makes me want to do fun drawings of an As You Like It AU for giggles #Grif as Rosalind/Ganymede #and Simmons as Orlando #Grif to Temple: you're ugly as fuck deal with it #Temple's internal monologue through this is basically:#'god I sure hope he doesn't realize I'm a serial killer :/'

3 notes · View notes

littleredroseonthevalley · 6 years

Text

St. Catherine of Alexandria

Or, The Piety of the Seamstress

Summary: A few days after the party, Ernest finds himself alone with Miss Beauchamp once more.

Rating: M - Not suitable for children or teens below the age of 16 with non-explicit suggestive adult themes, references to some violence, or coarse language.

Words: 1855

Notes: This is a little different from what I’ve been doing so far with all those saints (Mary Magdalene, St. Thomas Aquinas, St. Paul and Jeremiah). Instead of St. Catherine to be a stand-alone like all of those, this is a direct sequel from St. Paul.

I decided to do this due to a request two weeks ago (yeah, I’m mercurial like that) from @mrsernestsinclaire for some kind of confrontation between Ernie Honey and Susan, so he could understand why she blew him on the woods that one time. I rather liked the idea, and ended up cooking this up. I hope you all enjoy it!

Historical facts: the women who arranged matches for ‘fallen women’ in Northern France were, according to my grandmother, called ‘seamstresses’, because they ‘sew matches’.

It is also true that ‘fine literature’ had strong relations to folk stories. The collecting fever of those stories, fairytales, was still to come, but many European books are based on stories the common people told one another, and many of those were based on plots of books they heard about or plays that were performed on the streets, including the foreword for this fanfiction, The Act of the Ship of Hell.

“I ask thee on my knees! Care for I have lice, angel of the Lord, my Rose? For I am the generous provider for the girls at order of the canons of the See…

Consider me, on thy Faith, my love, my blooms, white as fine, little pearls! And I am presentable, in healthy constitution and fair skin, and I have done many a virtuous acts.

Saint Ursula could not convert as many girls as I: all saved by mine, none has strayed. To the Lord above, I swear, all could find their place. Think thee I faltered on my watch? For I have not lost the stitch on my needle!”

~ The Act of the Ship of Hell, The Procuress, 1517

The unsuspecting gentleman of his time could think a commoner, newly-elevated to the condition of noblewoman, would prefer to take advantage of the more gregarious aspects of her new position in life. To converse at length about nothing in particular, to gorge on flavourful food and to practice her former trade on an informal setting.

He would argue that the enlightening of the mind is a hard enough task for a man trained his whole life. What hope could have a barely-literate peasant just out of the hovels? A woman, no less?

Susan is glad she lived in such retrograde world, she was more than happy to surround herself with bigoted, near-sighted men who take her as nothing but a fat income wrapped around a pretty face.

Bring out the people who are blind, yet have eyes, who are deaf, yet have ears, Isaiah said, and Susan endorses. The stupidity of others is what furthers her position; it is their ignorance that cloaks her acts.

It is the discredit of her intelligence, of her very own literacy, that makes the library such a great place to hide from the dreaded circle of embroidery held by her despicable mother-in-law. It is the general mist of mediocrity that hangs low in Edgewater that grants the library its peaceful air.

Her afternoon was to be spent with a tall glass of water and an entertaining farce one of her former correspondents had indicated for her amusement, and her natural father had a copy hidden between the volumes in his care.

A nice way to see the Saturday tickle by, if any happen to ask her sincere input.

Her plans were interrupted, however, by a sudden interruption on her peace, in form of Mr Sinclaire’s barging into the library.

The young lady had to concede her presence there was unnoticed by her own kin, it was not fair of her to demand of Mr Sinclaire the forethought to predict her presence in the room, and he did have the decency to appear embarrassed by his actions.

“My apologies, Lady Susan.” He says, prostrate. “I was told the library would be empty.”

“No worries, Mr Sinclaire. What brings you to Edgewater this afternoon?” She asks, a soft smile gracing her features.

It was amusing to her seeing how soft men became once she was responsible for one of their releases. Even the brutish seaman on the docks of England became meek once a wiry madam satisfied his urges.

Any men was a guarantee for an entertaining spectacle, but dour, lonely sorts like Mr Sinclaire were remarkably so. Lady Susan has pulled the weights; she wagered it is time, now, to reap the results.

“I am in need of a book, milady, and your father had been kind enough to let me peruse his library in search of it.” He responds to her earlier questioning. “I wish to be no bother to your reading, perhaps I ought to return another time.”

Ah, so he was afraid to be alone with her again, she concludes. One might suppose it is unavoidable, due to the intransigence of his values compared to the frailty of his resolve.

“Why waste the soles of your shoes, Mr Sinclaire, by taking such a long walk unnecessarily?” She wonders, drawing him in with her voice. “Please, come in, I will help you finding what you desire.”

The blond man cocks his head in agreement. “Very well, Lady Susan. I gladly accept your assistance.”

He steps into the room, but leaves the door open. Noticing it to be a clever scheme to contain her, if he could not be contained, she was more deviant than that.

“Shut the door, please.” Her tone leaves no opening for dissent. “The bustle from the house bothers my concentration.”

He looks wary at the command, but obeys.

“I require a treaty on parasitic fungi, Lady Susan. Preferably a modern one, if you can find.” The esquire asks. “Would you be kind enough to look for it on that side of the room while I search for it in here?”

“There is no need for such, Mr Sinclaire. I remember to have seen a book on agricultural methods the other day I think should fit your necessity quite fine.” She says, while walking over to one of the shelves. “I fear Edgewater’s library has been deeply neglected the last few years. I’ve been trying to establish some order to the volumes, but I often have trouble even deciding where should I start.”

He nods. “It is, indeed, a shame the state of this library. You must have noticed the countess is not given to the letters, and the earl has much to be concerned to dedicate himself to the extensive care it demands.”

“You shall hear no disagreement from me.” She says as she plucks a book from the shelf. “Here it is. Considerations on the Famine of 1775. It is an eclectic volume, but it should give you directions on fungicide techniques.”

“I thank you, milady.” He nods his head, respectfully. “I am sure it will be of use. May I be so bold and ask what has taken your interest this afternoon?”

The brunette noblewoman shows him the lean book. “It is a medieval play, The Farce of Master Pathelin.”

“I cannot say I am familiar with it.” The esquire admits.

She chuckles, softly. “I did not expect you to. It is an uncommon title, I was lucky enough for my father to have a copy.”

His pride slightly hurt, Ernest scoffs and asks, “And how do you happen to know of it, then?”

“Silly highborns.” Susan shakes her head in derision. “You think the republic of letters is your restricted domain. The peasants go to the theatre, too, Mr Sinclaire, and they tell stories men of culture haughtily transcribe and call their own. I may barely escaped the spike, but I’ve been to this world about as much as you, and I wager I gathered just as much knowledge as you.”

Properly censored, he walks back his argument and humbly asks, “Have I offended you, Lady Susan?”

“No. It is I who should modulate my expectations with our reality.” She responded, lightly. “I tire of this conversation, Mr Sinclaire. Especially because I know this is a poorly calculated subterfuge to keep yourself from asking what you really want to know.”

“I-I do not know what you mean, Lady Susan, and I would prefer if you contained yourself this time.” He stutters, while taking a step back.

The woman smiles wickedly. “This time, huh? Yes, this is exactly what I mean. You want to know why I did what I did to you by the pond, and you would like for me to do it again.”

“That is preposterous!” He raises his voice, but it does not come to a shout. “I am an upstanding member of polite society, Lady Susan. I do not think of these vile acts, and I certainly do not desire to have them performed.”

She giggles and sits comfortably back in her armchair. “An upstanding man, yes, but a man first and foremost. A man with wants. It is all correct, Mr Sinclaire, it is the way of the nature.”

The esquire scoffs. “It might be the way of nature, but is not the way of the righteous. I would appreciate if you kept your deviant reasoning to yourself.”

“Have anyone ever tell you about my mother’s trade, Mr Sinclaire?” She raises to her feet and paces around the room.

“It is said she was a seamstress.” He responds, slightly confused.

“Yes, indeed, she was a seamstress.” She smiles at him, not in the way of comforting his raging nerves but to excite them further. “Do you know what a seamstress do?”

The blond rolls his eyes and responds, with a degree of sarcasm, “I am to assume they sew fabric, Lady Susan.”

“Some do, yes, especially in the realm of proper men.” She counters, willfull. “The lowborn, however, they have a special kind of seamstress. They, like my mother, disguise the loss of virtue of unmarried women and sew them matches, they arrange for the fruits of their so-called sins to vanish, and they protect the defenceless.”

“Lady Susan, I…” He starts to say, but she holds up her hand and motions for his silence.

The brunette walks closer to him, rounding him like a lion ready to pounce in its prey.

“As the years go by, Mr Sinclaire, I find men that excite my senses, that stake a claim to my attention and my good wishes. You happen to be one of them.” She says, with an unreadable expression. “To answer your question, I did it because I enjoy giving as much as you enjoy receiving.”

“Why?” He whispers. “It is a foul act.”

She shrugs delicately. “It is an acquired taste, I suppose. In time, I could teach you to enjoy giving as well, but I digress. The fact stands that I do what I do because I feel like it. For now, we have only scratched the surface of the things we can do together, but you should know there is nothing to fear. I, too, know how to sew.”

Susan walks over to his standing figure, cornered by the window of the library, and presses her body against his. She feels his swollen virility pressed against her uterus, and teases him by passing her thumb softly over his lips, a simulation of what she could do.

“I will tell you not whether I have already lost my natural hymen. In the future, when we go to the races, if you grace yourself to propose, and I see fit to concur, then it is all correct. Though, if you do not, then there is way to have it appear like nothing ever happened.”

She raises to her feet, as in to match his unordinary height and whispers on his ear: “Let yourself go, Mr Sinclaire. I will wait for your call, I am a patient woman, but do not make me wait too long.”

The woman returns her heel to the ground and gives Ernest some space. With a final deviant smile, she walks to the armchair and fetches her book and her chalice filled with water.

“Enjoy your reading, Mr Sinclaire.” Susan says, and leaves him alone in the room.

Taglist: @catlady0911; @choicesyouplayandmore; @cocomaxley; @llholloway; @mrsernestsinclaire; @shelivesinthewoods; @tornbetween2loves

#desire & decorum #ernest sinclaire

19 notes · View notes

maetel-cho · 7 years

Text

Translation of the Interviews Famitsu / Dengeki By the user: xXShuyaXx by Mognet Central

It has been about one year since release. How about we look back on everything up until now?

Tabata - We sure came a long way. The Royal Edition was originally planned to be the conclusion and finale to FFXV, so for now it feels like we have accomplished what we had set out to do at first.

Even among the DLC that were released after FFXV, Episode Ignis that was released last year on December 13th introduced a divergence in the ending, which became quite a topic.

Terada - In E.Ignis, we didn't just want to add to the story of the game, we wanted to illustrate Ignis where he refuses and fights against destiny (fate).

Tabata - It's not simply looking into alternate possibilities, it was to make it ''Ignis' game''. In order for Ignis to define his own destiny. FFXV was created with the intention to run towards a single conclusion, but with E.Ignis we wanted to make a game for players to become Ignis and fight against fate.

So as a result, the alternate ending was born.

Terada - Yes that's correct. The ''opposing thy fate'' theme was decided early in the development and with that we thought about what kind of ending would make the users most happy. Along with many revisions to the script, it became ''that'' ending.

So that means the conclusion wasn't decided from the start?

Terada - ''Where do we draw the line'' was the difficult part. Do we leave it to the imagination of the fans? Do we do everything? Such considerations became a hurdle and we made adjustments and changes until the very end.

As a result, there were much praise from the fans. There are even some who say, ''This is the true ending'', but in the official perspective, where and how does that conclusion stand?

Tabata - Simply, the main game is canon and 'that' ending is a 'if' scenario.

Terada - This is shown in the split of the scenario. In the main game, Ignis chooses to support Noctis who put his own life on the line to save the world. But what if the player chose to change that fate... and so we made E.Ignis with emphasis on that.

In the 'if' scenario, the final confrontation with Ardyn isn't depicted. How does Noct save the world without paying the price?

Tabata - Ahh... that (laughs) That, is for the development to come.

Terada - We intentionally left that part ambiguous........ (bitter laugh) Even in the 'if' route, the fact that in order to save the world Noct's power is needed, hasn't changed. In order to focus on the theme of the episode, we purposely decided not to focus too much in regards to Ardyn. In that regards, we are thinking about furthering the development in that part around Episode Ardyn that will be released soon.

So that means the story updates from now will expand?

Tabata - Yes. If I were to say that the fans wanted more and beyond to fill the gaps of the main story, I don't think that would be the case. Even in the development point of view, I think if we did that, FFXV will never be able to come to a conclusion. So we are thinking about new developments that are different from the DLC's up until now. The spearhead of this goal is Episode Ardyn which was highly sought out for in the survey. And as so, as mentioned in the ATR, there might also be a Episode Luna. Continuing up to 2019, we have decided to make 4 episodes.

That is great news!

Terada - In the story updates from now, we want players to love the characters more. It seems like there were many who cried in Episode Ignis, so we want to make the next epsisode where people will smile.

What is the intention behind the release of the Royal and Windows Editions?

We have rebuilt the game to be enjoyed on PC for the Windows Edition and as for the Royal Edition, it is the compiliation of all the updates up until now. By compiling all of the additional contents, we think it will be a product that is easy for first-time players to head into.

For the current FFXV users, there is an additional DLC ''Royal Pack'', which includes content only included in the Royal Edition correct?

Tabata - That's correct. In the Royal Edition, we have expanded the final map of Insomnia, not only that, we have also prepared numerous additional content. For everyone who continued to enjoy the game, it has become something that has a lot of worth.

In the expansion of Insomnia, does it also include additional events?

Tabata - We have included story events that are connected with the Comrades DLC.

Kuroda - After the 10 year skip as depicted in Comrades, it is connected from when Noct and his friends return. There is also the perspective of the Glaives from Comrades. There are additional quests and furthermore the story has also been expanded.

That is great news for the users of Comrades. Also, will the contents of the main story change with that?

Kuroda - Without changing the eventual confrontation with Ardyn, we are adding more content for during the journey. Like the Past Kings blocking the path for example. Originally the Past King of Lucis were suppose to aid Noctis, but why they are hindering ones path, will all be explained in the story.

Regarding the Past Kings of Lucis, will Noct's late King also appear?

Terada - Although Regis won't appear, there will be differing 3 types respectively of Past Kings.

Kuroda - Differing from the main story, new boss monsters Cerberus and Omega will make an appearance. These kinds of monsters will be appearing in the last chapter, the difficulty has also been increased and as such we have also added the ''True Phantom Sword'' ability to aid players in battle.

''True Phantom Sword'' (Can't remember what it was called in English sorry) seems powerful just from the name (laughs).

Kuroda - Yes (laughs) You will be able to use the ''True Phantom Sword'' ability after collecting all the Phantom Swords and you will be able to constantly(?) fight in Phantom mode. If you just hold the attack button, then the current Phantom mode is stronger, but if you time your actions and attacks correctly, it will be very powerful. With the current ally the commands, combined with special abilities, you will be able to enjoy fights only found in the Royal Edition.

This seems great for those who want to enjoy technical combat with Noctis.

Kuroda - That's right. The concept for Royal Edition is ''expanding the freedom of play'', so we are expanding the maps and adding various other components.

Tabata - Among the additional components is boat fishing. While on the cruiser en route to Altissia, you can freely travel around the ocean and fish while looking at fish in the ocean. We also have prepared a quest that includes a fishing line.

Kuroda - Noctis is also very cheerful when he is boat fishing (laughs) You can also get new recipehs by catching fish.

With the upgrade for the Type-D, does this mean that freedom in travel has improved?

Kuroda - Yes. With this, travelling on the ground, air and sea has been implemented, so traveling has become very pleasant.

Also, first-person mode will be implemented, but is this feature only for Noctis?

Tabata - It's for Noctis only. You can change between first and third person at any time. In regards to the implementation of the first-person mode, we had many requests since development (of the game), we originally to implement the feature only in the Windows Edition. However, if we also implemented it into the Royal Edition, we thought that this could bring a fresh new experience for existing FFXV players, so we decided to implement it into both editions. If you play in first-person mode, you can experience the vastness of the world and experience the relationship with the bro's first-hand. We thought it could improve the immersion.

Kuroda - It especially has an impact when fighting against large monsters.

Tabata - I am sure that you will be able to experience the beauty of the FFXV's world like if it was seeing through your own naked eyes.

First-person mode and open world has a good affinity.

Terada - So as for the vast playability, there are supplemental additions in regards to the world of the game, such as newspapers and book that has been added in the games various locations. So even for those players who simply enjoy the world and the lore, they can enjoy the game.

The release of the Windows Edition demo is coming very close.

Tabata - Yes. Fundamentally it's kind of like the FFXV demo ''Judgement Disc'' +α, you will be able to play from Chapter 0 Chapter 1.

The Windows Edition will have 8K support, but please tell us the reason behind it.

Tabata - Since we are already doing this, we thought that we wanted to deliver something that could be enjoyed with the highest of specs at their fullest extent.

Aramaki - The Windows Edition supports native 4K, so basically the textures become sharper and diagonal polygons become very clean as well. Also, same at the PS4 version, HDR10 will also be supported.

So that means you can enjoy the beauty of the game at the ultimate quality. Will 60FPS and beyond gameplay also be supported?

Aramaki - It will be different depending on the GPU so I cannot say, but with a Nvidia GPU loaded PC you can achieve 90FPS at 2K and 40FPS at 4K. If you reduce the setting, 20-30FPS at 8K is also supported. Furthermore, in the games configuration settings, there are about 10 settings added recently besides the resolution setting, so you will be able to fine-tune depending on your specs.

In regards to the usage of the Nvidia tech, what does that mean for AMD hardware?

Aramaki - We are making it so that all AMD hardware including lower ends will work. However, AMD performance compared to Nvidia hardware will be inferior (when using Nvidia tech).

Then Nvidia hardware is recommended. Mods will also be supported in the Windows Edition, so you will be able to experience a unique experience not found in home consoles.

Aramaki - We plan to release mod support shortly after release of the game. You will be able to have a surreal experience like changing the character model of everyone to Kenny Crow for example (laughs) You will also eventually be able to freely change things around with user-created model data. Also, eventually we will release an official platform where you can customize the map and add quests.

Are you also considering content exclusive to the Windows Edition?

Tabata - At the moment, we are at the stage where we just want to finish what we set out to complete, so I cannot say with certainty. But mods and multiplayer quests may be improved. But story related content will not differ from the console version.

Lastly, please tell us about the future of FFXV.

Tabata - Windows Edition for the PC and also the Royal Edition for the home consoles, we were able to announce them as a short pit-stop. Furthermore, FFXV Pocket Edition for mobile is also in distribution. With this, we have released FFXV, optimized for each of it's 3 different consoles as planned. From now on, so that each can be enjoyed for a long time, we plan to propose the conclusion of FFXV one more time. Along with the 4 additional Episodes, please look forward to the development of FFXV!

Font: http://www.mognetcentral.com/threads/completed-famitsu-interview-translation-february-23rd-2018.9056/

#ffxv #final fantasy xv #final fantasy 15 #ff15 #interview #Hajime Tabata

258 notes · View notes