#But at least they were high on the list of Admired Virtues | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

dwellordream · 3 years

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“Henry's marriage to Catherine had long since grown cold. Though his wife remained, and would remain, loyal and devoted, Henry was in very different case. The raptures of the early days had faded and the consequent demands upon him for self-discipline and generosity had found him wanting. Catherine was five years his senior. In I527 he was still in his prime, in his mid-thirties, she over forty. As king he could satisfy desire all too easily, for who would refuse a king easily, especially a king such as he? Fidelity was rare among monarchs and the temptation besetting him, in particular, strong.

At first Henry had been a gallant husband. Catherine had accompanied him to every feast and triumph, he had worn her initials on his sleeve in the jousts and called himself 'Sir Loyal Heart'. He had shown her off to visitors, confided in her, run to her with news. Though there had been talk of a lady to whom he showed favour while campaigning in France, he had slipped home ahead of his army and galloped to Catherine at Richmond in order to lay the keys of the two cities he had captured at her feet.

We cannot know when he first succumbed to the temptation of adultery, but it must have been within five years of his marriage, when there appeared on the scene one Elizabeth Blount, a lady-in-waiting of Queen Catherine and a cousin of Lord Mountjoy - and she may not have been the first. She caught the king's eye during the New Year festivities in I5I4, that is, shortly after he had returned from the first campaign in France. Bessie Blount eventually bore him a son, in I519. Subsequently she married into a gentle family, the Talboys of Lancashire, with a dower of lands in that county and Yorkshire assigned by act ofParliament. Hers, then, was a fate less than death; and her son, the duke of Richmond, was occasionally to acquire considerable political and diplomatic significance.

Next there was Mary Boleyn, since 1521 wife of William Carey, daughter of a royal councillor and diplomat, and sister of Anne. That Mary was at one time Henry's mistress, and this presumably after her marriage, is beyond doubt. Years later there was a strong rumour that she too had born Henry a son, but we cannot be sure. Anyway we may guess that the liaison was over by l526, and when her younger sister climbed on to the English throne, with perhaps pardonable pique, she dismissed Mary from the court. The latter was to do well enough, with her family at the centre of affairs during the reign of her niece, Elizabeth I - which was more than could be said of Bessie Blount. And finally there was Anne, Thomas Boleyn's younger daughter.

Following in the wake of her sister, who had been in the entourage that accompanied Mary Tudor to France in 1514, Anne had crossed the Channel about 1519 to enter the household of Queen Claude, wife of Francis I, an amiable lady who had several young girls in her care and supervised their education. The newcomer to the royal school must have been about twelve years old. She stayed in France until the out- break of war in 1522 and then came home, by which time she was on the way to becoming an accomplished and mature girl. She does not seem to have been remarkably beautiful, but she had wonderful dark hair in abundance and fine eyes, the legacy of Irish ancestors, together with a firm mouth and a head well set on a long neck that gave her authority and grace.

On her return, if not before, her future had apparently been settled, ironically by Henry and Wolsey. She would marry Sir James Butler, an Irish chieftain and claimant to the earldom of Ormond, to which the Boleyns, rivals of the Butlers, had long aspired. Anne was therefore to mend the feud by uniting families and claims. Had this familiar kind of device been executed, and had this been the sum total ofher experience ofhow marriage and politics could interweave, things might have been very different for England, if not for Ireland. But Butler's price was too high and Anne remained in England.

Her father, aided perhaps by her grandfather, the second duke of Norfolk, had meanwhile brought her to Court, as he had her sister before her. There she eventually attracted attention, first from Sir Thomas Wyatt, the poet, a cousin of hers; then from Henry Percy, son of the earl of Northumberland and one of the large number of young men of quality resident in Wolsey's household. Alas, Percy was already betrothed. At the king's behest, Wolsey refused to allow him to break his engagement and, summoning him to his presence, rated him for falling for a foolish girl at Court. When words failed, the cardinal told the father to remove his son and knock some sense into him. Percy was carried off forthwith- and thus began that antipathy for Wolsey that Anne never lost.

But it may well be that, when Henry ordered Wolsey to stamp on Percy's suit, it was because he was already an interested party himself and a rival for the girl's affection of perhaps several gay courtiers, including Thomas Wyatt. The latter's grandson later told a story ofhow Wyatt, while flirting once with Anne, snatched a locket hanging from her pocket which he refused to return. At the same time, Henry had been paying her attention and taken a ring from her which he thereafter wore on his little finger. A few days later, Henry was playing bowls with the duke of Suffolk, Francis Bryan and Wyatt, when a dispute arose about who had won the last throw.

Pointing with the finger which bore the pilfered ring, Henry cried out that it was his point, saying to Wyatt with a smile, 'I tell thee it is mine.' Wyatt saw the ring and understood the king's meaning. But he could return the point. 'And if it may like your majesty,' he replied, 'to give me leave that I may measure it, I hope it will be mine.' Whereupon he took out the locket which hung about his neck and started measuring the distance between the bowls and the jack. Henry recognized the trophy and, muttering something about being deceived, strode away.

But the chronology ofAnne's rise is impossible to discover exactly. All that can be said is that by I525-6 what had probably hitherto been light dalliance with an eighteen or nineteen year-old girl had begun to grow into something deeper and more dangerous. In the normal course of events, Anne would have mattered only to Henry's conscience, not to the history of England. She would have been used and discarded - along with those others whom Henry may have taken and who are now forgotten. But, either because of virtue or ambition, Anne refused to become his mistress and thus follow the conventional, inconspicuous path of her sister; and the more she resisted, the more, apparently, did Henry prize her.

Had Catherine's position been more secure she would doubtless have ridden this threat. Indeed, had it been so, Anne might never have dared to raise it. But Catherine had still produced no heir to the throne. The royal marriage had failed in its first duty, namely, to secure the succession. Instead, it had yielded several miscarriages, three infants who were either still-born or died immediately after birth (two of them males), two infants who had died within a few weeks ofbirth (one ofthem a boy) and one girl, Princess Mary, now some ten years old. His failure to produce a son was a disappointment to Henry, and as the years went by and no heir appeared, ambassadors and foreign princes began to remark the fact, and English diplomacy eventually to accommodate it, provisionally at least, in its reckoning.

Had Henry been able to glimpse into the second halfofthe century he would have had to change his mind on queens regnant, for his two daughters were to show quality that equalled or outmeasured their father's; and even during his reign, across the Channel, there were two women who rendered the Habsburgs admirable service as regents ofthe Netherlands. Indeed, the sixteenth century would perhaps produce more remarkable women in Church and State than any predecessor - more than enough to account for John Knox's celebrated anti-feminism and more than enough to make Henry's patriarchal convictions look misplaced. But English experience of the queen regnant was remote and unhappy, and Henry's conventional mind, which no doubt accorded with his subjects', demanded a son as a political necessity.

When his only surviving legitimate child, Mary, was born in February 1516, Henry declared buoyantly to the Venetian ambassador, 'We are both young; if it was a daughter this time, by the grace of God sons will follow.' But they did not. Catherine seems to have miscarried in the autumn of 1517 and in the November of the following year was delivered of another still-born. This was her last pregnancy, despite the efforts of physicians brought from Spain; and by 1525 she was almost past child-bearing age. There was, therefore, a real fear of a dynastic failure, of another bout of civil war, perhaps, or, if Mary were paired off as the treaty of 1525 provided, of England's union with a continental power.

Catherine, for the blame was always attached to her and not to Henry, was a dynastic misfortune. She was also a diplomatic one. Charles's blunt refusal to exploit the astonishing opportunity provided by his victory at Pavia and to leap into the saddle to invade and partition France had been an inexplicable disappointment. Of course, had Henry really been cast in the heroic mould he would have invaded single- handed. But established strategy required a continental ally. Eleven years before, in 1514., Ferdinand of Spain had treated him with contempt and Henry had cast around for means of revenge, and there had been a rumour then that he wanted to get rid of his Spanish wife and marry a French princess.

Whether Henry really contemplated a divorce then has been the subject of controversy, which surely went in favour of the contention that he did not - especially when a document listed in an eighteenth-century catalogue of the Vatican Archives, and thought to relate to the dissolution of the king's marriage - a document which has since disappeared - was convincingly pushed aside with the suggestion that it was concerned with Mary Tudor's matrimonial affairs, not Henry's. Undoubtedly, this must dispose of the matter even more decisively than does the objection that, in the summer of 1514, Catherine was pregnant. In 1525, however, the situation was different. Charles had rebuffed Henry's military plans and, by rejecting Mary's hand, had thrown plans for the succession into disarray.

For a moment the king evidently thought of advancing his illegitimate son - who, in June 1525, was created duke of Richmond. But this solution was to be overtaken by another which Henry may have been contemplating for some time, namely, to disown his Spanish wife. Catherine, therefore, was soon in an extremely embarrassing position. Tyndale asserted, on first-hand evidence, that \Volsey had placed informants in her entourage and told of one 'that departed the Court for no other reason than that she would no longer betray her mistress'.' When Mendoza arrived in England in December 1526, he was prevented for months from seeing the queen and, when he did, had to endure the presence of Wolsey who made it virtually impossible to communicate with her. It was the ambassador's opinion that 'the principal cause of [her] misfortune is that she identifies herselfentirely with the emperor's interests'; an exaggeration, but only an exaggeration.

The king, then, had tired of his wife and fallen in love with one who would give herself entirely to him only if he would give himself entirely to her; his wife had not borne the heir for which he and the nation longed, and it was now getting too late to hope; he had been disappointed by Catherine's nephew, Charles V, and now sought vengeance in a diplomatic revolution which would make the position of a Spanish queen awkward to say the least. Any one of these facts would not have seriously endangered the marriage, but their coincidence was fatal. If Henry's relations with Catherine momentarily improved in the autumn of 1525 so that they read a book together and appeared to be very friendly, soon after, probably, Henry never slept with her again.

The divorce, which came into the open in early 1527 was therefore due to more than a man's lust for a woman. It was diplomatically expedient and, so some judged, dynastically urgent. As well as this, it was soon to be publicly asserted, it was theologically necessary, for two famous texts from the book of Leviticus apparently forbade the very marriage that Henry had entered. His marriage, therefore, was not and never had been, lawful. The miscarriages, the still-births, the denial of a son were clearly divine punishment for, and proof of, transgression of divine law. Henry had married Catherine by virtue of a papal dispensation of the impediment of affinity which her former marriage to Arthur had set up between them.

But Leviticus proclaimed such a marriage to be against divine law - which no pope can dispense. So he will begin to say. And thus what will become a complicated argument took shape. Henry had laid his hand on a crucial weapon - the only weapon, it seemed, with which he could have hoped to achieve legitimately what he now desired above all else. How sincere he was is impossible to determine. More than most, he found it difficult to distinguish between what was right and what he desired. Certainly, before long he had talked, thought and read himself into a faith in the justice of his cause so firm that it would tolerate no counter-argument and no opposition, and convinced himself that it was not only his right to throw aside his alleged wife, but also his duty - to himself, to Catherine, to his people, to God.

At the time, and later, others would be accused of planting the great scruple, the levitical scruple, in Henry's mind. Tyndale, Polydore Vergil and Nicholas Harpsfield (in his life of Sir Thomas More) charged Wolsey with having used John Longland, bishop of Lincoln and royal confessor, to perform the deed. But this was contradicted by Henry, Longland and Wolsey. In 1529, when the divorce case was being heard before the legatine court at Blackfriars, Wolsey publicly asked Henry to declare before the court 'whether I have been the chiefinventor or first mover of this matter unto your Majesty; for I am greatly suspected of all men herein'; to which Henry replied, 'My lord cardinal, I can well excuse you herein. Marry, you have been rather against me in attempt- ing or setting forth thereof' - an explicit statement for which no obvious motive for misrepresentation can be found and which is corroborated by later suggestions that Wolsey had been sluggish in pushing the divorce forwards.

Longland too spoke on the subject, saying that it was the king who first broached the subject to him 'and never left urging him until he had won him to give his consent'. On another occasion Henry put out a different story: that his conscience had first been 'pricked upon divers words that were spoken at a certain time by the bishop of Tarbes, the French king's ambassador, who had been here long upon the debating for the conclusion of the marriage between the princess our daughter, Mary, and the duke of Orleans, the French king's second son'. It is incredible that an ambassador would have dared to trespass upon so delicate a subject as a monarch's marriage, least of all when he had come to negotiate a treaty with that monarch.

Nor was it likely that he should have sug- gested that Mary was illegitimate when her hand would have been very useful to French diplomacy. Besides, the bishop of Tarbes only arrived in England in April 1527, that is, a few weeks before Henry's marriage was being tried by a secret court at Westminster. The bishop could not have precipitated events as swiftly as that. No less significantly, another account ofthe beginnings of the story, given by Henry in 1528, says that doubts about Mary's legitimacy were first put by the French to English ambassadors in France - not by the bishop of Tarbes to his English hosts.

He and his compatriots may have been told about the scruple or deliberately encouraged by someone to allude to it in the course of negotiations, but did not invent it; nor, probably, did Anne Boleyn - as Pole asserted. It is very likely that Henry himselfwas the author ofhis doubts. After all, he would not have needed telling about Leviticus. Though he might not have read them, the two texts would probably have been familiar to him if he had ever explored the reasons for the papal dispensation for his marriage, and he was enough of a theologian to be able to turn to them now, to brood over them and erect upon them at least the beginnings of the argument that they forbade absolutely the marriage which he had entered.

Wolsey said later that Henry’s doubts had sprung partly from his own study and partly from discussion with 'many theologians'; but since it is difficult to imagine that anyone would have dared to question the validity of the royal marriage without being prompted by the king, this must mean that the latter's own 'assiduous study and erudition' first gave birth to the 'great scruple' and that subsequent conference with others encouraged it. Moreover, Henry may have begun to entertain serious doubts about his marriage as early as 1522 or 1523, and have broached his ideas to Longland then - for, in 1532, the latter was said to have heard the first mutterings of the divorce 'nine or ten years ago'.'

By the time that Anne Boleyn captured the king, therefore, the scruple may already have acquired firm roots, though probably not until early 1527 was it mentioned to Wolsey who, so he said, when he heard about it, knelt before the king 'in his Privy Chamber the space of an hour or two, to persuade him from his will and appetite; but I could never bring to pass to dissuade him therefrom'. What had begun as a perhaps hesitant doubt had by now matured into aggressive conviction.”

- J.J. Scarisbrick, “The Repudiation of the Hapsburgs.” in Henry VIII

#henry viii of england #j.j. scarisbrick #history #tudor

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notnctu · 4 years

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sugar | s.j ❀

━ listen to: sugar by brockhampton

❀ johnny suh x fem!reader ❀ genre - smut, angst, fluff? ❀ details - fwb!au, kinda unrequited love? who knows lol, sweet love makin ❀ word count - 2k ❀ synopsis - he’s always a call away, ready to love you when you think no one else will. and this will be the one time you ask him to spend the night because johnny suh is the only sweetener you need in your bitterness.

❀ a/n: hello its author doie❀! its based off of the song sugar which is one of my favs ever so i hope u enjoy this smut, rlly this was just me avoiding explicit words lol ps i have never laughed harder in my life when @legendnct (ily hannah) asked me if i was J O R N Y when i told her i was writing this at 4am

The honey dripping, rush of candy goodness, and sugar high of a man --- Johnny Suh. He’s like walking on sunshine, no other cares in the world can harm him, and with a bright happiness that promises anything worth fighting for.

He stands six feet tall of sunflowers that turn up to the clear blue skies and soak up the positive energy needed for growth. Johnny Suh, the man that has sugar addicts craving for a slice of his attention; Johnny Suh is the epitome of goodness and virtue.

And the puzzling, estranged question of why you are his subject of sweetness is beyond any galaxy and he’d never tell a soul his reason behind his many dazed gazes, or if they even had much meaning to them. Johnny Suh is the one boy that wears his heart on his sleeve, but holds your’s at his fingertips.

There have been many countless encounters of long and, some unfortunately short, nights of sleeping with bodies that only add to the list of people you’ve kissed. But to have consistency in that aspect? Quite hesitant, to say the least.

While you are able to tolerate a random one night stand with no necessary remembrance of the individual’s name, to give your vulnerability and consistent attention to one person is asking for too much. A flawed characteristic of yours is falling in love too easily.

The hookups are meaningless, quick fucks to fill the evening and rid the irritable desire of lust. The muscles involved exclude the heart because there is no opportunity to fall for someone if you are only going to part ways right afterwards.

Yet, the one remarkable night with Johnny turned into several nights which led into your current relationship with the glowing sun. The one thing you had wished to steer away from --- a friend with benefits.

There was no metaphorical gun to your head, you weren’t forced to sign a contract, there were no ridiculously restrictive rules. No boundaries to hold you back.

When there is no fencing around the edge of a cliff, is that grounds for people to free fall? Regardless, your lack of self control and demising loneliness had you jumping and falling into Johnny’s comfort. The golden boy is someone hard to come by, and you’re not foolish enough to turn down this once in a lifetime chance to be intimately acquainted.

But as you continued to see him, there was an unconscious decision to stop your other random flings. It felt like you already had someone to fulfill the ache, someone to spend your nights with. If you needed him, he’d be there. So, unknowingly by choice, you made yourself exclusive to him, even though Johnny did not decide to do the same.

That shouldn’t bother you, right? But it does. The worst part is that it’s no one’s fault but your own. Johnny’s harmless actions affect you because your feelings allow them to. As much as you ignore the fact you two are nothing more than friends with benefits, the annoying drumming of your foolish heart reminds you of your denial.

While you’ve always had a bitter palette, the dash of sweetener never hurt anyone. He never hurts anyone, with his best efforts. And the intent should have been made clear, that your nightly hookups are an unhealthy coping mechanism. Too much sugar has your glucose levels derailing and seeking out the one person that lights up your endorphins.

The love for Johnny stems from his warmhearted character. His bubbly, goodwill nature that has him overextending himself for people who take him for granted. An extroverted, head-turning personality that you can’t despise and look away, instead are easily attracted to.

Johnny is kind, he’s thoughtful, yet entirely complex as a human being with a fair share of cloudy days. He is simply someone you want to get to know because he makes the atmosphere a safe space and he reads like an open hardback book.

Everyone has a small crush on him, it would be a complete tyranny of your feelings to deny it. Some infatuations are bigger than others and you’ll shamefully admit that you fit under this group of individuals.

On another lonely night, you wonder if he’d be at your will and call, if he would drop the world to come make you feel better. One moment, you are staring at his contact name and imaging the deep voice answering with his signature greeting. The next, you’re actually hearing his voice on the other end of the receiver and panic settles as it’s too late to cancel the call.

“Hey baby, what’s up?” The nickname sends a crown of hearts swirling around your temples. However, he sounds rushed, like he had been in the middle of a strenuous activity.

A nervousness has stammered words falling from your lips, and you’re too incoherent for even your own mind to understand. Johnny chuckles lovingly, and the slight rustling that distorts the background has you imagining that the phone is pressed between his cheek and shoulder. “Collect your thoughts, babe. I’m ready whenever you are.”

A heavy notable sigh erupts into Johnny’s ear, but he doesn’t pull away from the device. He’s all ears, attentive and patiently waiting for you to speak, despite having company on his bed.

“I need you. Can you come over?” If only pride wasn’t so hard to swallow, the question would have flowed much smoother. As if your heart grew hands, it chokes your throat from the inside and you’re preparing yourself for the rejection.

Truthfully, he isn’t obligated to come and there have been rare nights where he declines your offer. But your hope holds onto the slipping strands and the tension of your nerves have fists forming and eyes squeeze shut.

Johnny takes a fast peek at the girl already in his sheets, mindlessly and effortlessly scrolling through her social media. There is a hint of sadness in your voice that he can’t let go and while that’s usually not entirely uncommon, he can tell it took a lot for you to call tonight. So, he finds himself pulling up his sweats and a clean shirt over his head.

“Be there before you know it.” And the clench in your throat relaxes, along with the other parts that had your nails digging moon crescents into your palm and wrinkles forming at your tight creases.

And with a sweet goodbye, he hangs up the call and politely offers to take the girl home as he makes his way over to your place. And you’re dosing yourself in puffs of fruity scents and cleaning up the runny mascara around your under eyes.

With no words exchanged, Johnny knows every way to heal you and dawn a warmth that coats your darkest corners. All you have to do is open the door and let him in. His strength has you lifted from the ground, lips hungry to devour your softness.

A few fumble steps, he reaches your room at ease and gently lays you on your neatly made sheets. Johnny is consistent, no missed beats when it comes to loving you, and without a fail, he always takes a moment to himself to step back and admire your beauty. And your priceless shyness is also an added delight to the scene.

Each article of clothing is discarded and left at different areas of your small room, kisses lining your worst parts to you, but the best parts to him. When you can’t love parts of yourself, Johnny loves them for you and makes you whole.

“Were you in the middle of something?” It did not become aware to you of the possibility that you had interrupted something else, or someone else. And even if Johnny did choose to see you over spending time with them, you have the decent courtesy to make sure he is okay with his decision.

“Nothing important.” You’ll never be able to read him or notice any lies he tells. His smile is enough reassurance, and your question is quickly forgotten when his fingers dive into your wet flower. He uses his thumb to soothe circles around your growing bud, making your whole lower half blossom with trembling ecstasy.

His lips leave soft reminders to love your thighs, your legs, to not overlook their importance: they carry your graciousness into new ventures. Then, he pushes them wide open as he bends your left knee and your right dangles over his sturdy shoulder. The tight grip on your hip is bound to leave marks the next morning, along with the dark love bites he leaves across your canvas.

But his thoughts are focused on the meal ahead, your sugary juices coat the plush of his tongue. He remembers exactly how you like it, where melodic sounds hit the silence in gasps or groans. He suckles, he licks, he kisses your bead in a speed that has his brown locks tangled in between your fingers.

He drinks up more than your wetness, but also the pure image of your fucked out expression and the twists of your reacting body. He wants to surpass your limits, max you out until there isn’t a hint of melancholy in your tone anymore. To remember, to remind, to recall your happiness through heightened pleasure.

At the announcement of your high, he enters your spasming hole with rubber already on and groans at your walls squeezing around him, which halts him in place. However, the dragged movement of his length hits your sweet spot, your orgasm prolongs into a rapturous euphoria and you’re no longer in control of your body.

Johnny’s toned arms hold you close to him. The chemistry in your gazes has your heart pounding faster than his hips. As ruthless as each thrust is and each push moves you an inch upward on the bed, Johnny’s eyes are still kind and loving.

His fluttering kisses are delicate and nurturing. The marks resemble a healing touch that will settle you enough for the next day. For the night, he rids any angst that corrupts your mood by loving you when you think no one else will.

Together, your bodies fall into one another with a bite of elation as he finishes into the protection and your walls hug around him for the last time tonight. Even when your bodies disconnect, the feeling of fullness lingers and you wish to keep this for as long as you can. No more emptiness, not right now.

Perhaps it's the daze of your orgasm, but your hand reaches for his wrist to stop him from making his exit so soon. Selfishly, carelessly, honestly, this will be the one time you ask for him to spend the night. You can’t stand seeing him go, not at this instant. You refuse to spend one more night alone when your heart longs for him to be by your side when you fall asleep.

While the big heart of his beats speechlessly at your request, he lays down to draw you into his toned chest and pampers your forehead with honeyed pecks. Like many times before, no words need to be exchanged for him to know the remedy to your somber.

Possibly, the scene with Johnny caressing your chin and tracing your smile lines is all too perfect for your imperfect reality. And him whispering and wishing a happier narrative for you is more than what you had asked for. Nonetheless, he’s very good at it, mentally noting the fact that he’s probably done the same to other hookups or broken friends.

While you can get used to this form of aftercare, the guards you put up tell you that this is a one time thing. So, you’ll take and indulge all of Johnny’s affection and false love for the next few hours you had left of the night.

Nevertheless, even sweetness can be an overpowering flavor when consumed in tremendous amounts. And you wonder when you’d grow sick of his candied sugar or if you’d just forfeit your health to keep indulging more into your addiction. A sickly saccharine question of your own will be the pit of your downfall: do you love me?

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thelemontree · 4 years

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The Virtue of Patience (Sam Winchester x Reader)

Pairing: Sam Winchester x f!Reader

Kinktober prompt: asphyxiation / edging / public

Summary: Sam and the reader take advantage of their night out without their kids.

Word count: 3.1k

Warnings: smut, language, unprotected sex, edging, erotic asphyxiation, public sex, oral sex (f receiving), fingering, dom/sub undertones

A/N: Our first kinktober fic! Have a few planned out to post throughout the month, and although the list I took the prompts from has dates for the kinks, I don’t have time to stress about getting them out on said dates, so they’ll just be posted whenever I get them done lol. Enjoy!

The Winchester house was unusually quiet for a Saturday evening. Normally, the house was filled with the sounds of Sam and Y/N's two boisterous toddlers, running around all over the place and causing all sorts of mischief, with Sam and Y/N chasing after them. Sam’s law firm was having a fundraising gala that evening and John and Mary barely let Sam finish asking them if they would take their grandchildren for the evening before they said yes and were instructing Sam on their plans to take the twins early in the day for a zoo outing. It was rare for Sam and Y/N to have so much time alone together.

But they were making the most of it.

“Fuck, Sam, right there,” Y/N moaned, her head thrown back on the pillow as she gripped onto Sam’s hair. He laid flat on his stomach in between her legs, his head caged in by her thighs. One arm was wrapped around her leg with his hand splayed out across her belly, keeping her pinned to the mattress, while the other hand was two fingers deep in her pussy, stroking her walls with fervor. His tongue worked over her clit in small, tight circles, and he looked up at her with a faint smirk on his face. She looked completely and utterly wrecked--exactly how he wanted her.

Sam pulled off her clit with a wet pop and his fingers stopped moving but he kept them inside of her. Y/N lifted her head up to fix Sam with a look and she whined as the hand he had on her belly moved further south, the pad of his thumb rubbing her clit lightly.

“Why’d you stop?” Y/N asked with a pout on her lips. Sam smirked at her and chuckled.

“Were you gonna cum?” he replied, a mischievous lilt to his voice. Y/N narrowed her eyes at her husband.

"Well, yeah. Isn't that kinda the whole point of this?"

Sam made a thoughtful hum before replacing the thumb he had on her clit with his mouth and sucking on the bundle of nerves as he once again began to curl his fingers inside of her. Whatever thoughts about her husband's strange behavior melted away as Y/N started to lose herself in the feeling of Sam's tongue on her and fingers inside of her. She threw her head back with a mewl, her hips rising off the bed a fraction to try and chase more of what Sam was offering her.

Quickly, Y/N found herself closecloseclose, on the edge of falling over into pure bliss. Her whines were loud and constant now, music to Sam's ears. Her walls were gripping his fingers like a vice and her legs were tensing, almost crushing his head between them completely.

The coil in her belly was about to snap and send waves of pleasure over her whole body.

Except, it never snapped and the pleasure never came.

Y/N opened her eyes with a pitiful whine as Sam withdrew his fingers from her pussy and let go of her clit with a pop. She looked at him with wild, pleading eyes as he sat up on his knees in between her legs, a sly grin on his face and mischief in his eyes.

"Saaaaam," Y/N cried, leaning up on to her elbows. "I was gonna cum."

"I know," Sam said. He brought his fingers covered in her slick to her closed her mouth. "Open up and clean these off for me."

Y/N glared at him but did as she was told. She parted her lips and took Sam’s fingers into her mouth, swirling her tongue around the digits as she sucked them clean. She moaned at the taste of herself on her husband’s fingers and she scraped her teeth over his skin lightly as he pulled them out of her mouth with a groan.

“Can I cum now? Please?”

Sam didn’t answer. Instead, he leaned down to plant a soft kiss onto Y/N’s pouted lips before getting off the bed and stretching.

“Nope,” he said, shooting his wife a grin. “I’m gonna go shower. Gotta start getting ready for tonight.”

Y/N's mouth fell open in shock as she watched her husband's naked form retreat into their ensuite bathroom. It took her a moment to gather her wits and register what just happened, but soon she too was up and out of bed, storming into the bathroom behind Sam. He stood in front of the open shower door as she stormed in, his back to her as he fiddled with the water temperature.

"What do you mean I don't get to cum right now?! You can't just get me all worked up and leave me high and dry! For once we can fool around without--"

Y/N never got to finish her rant before Sam had turned around to face her, gripping her arms and walking her back until he had her up against the counter, crowding her in. Y/N's breath hitched in her throat at the proximity to him and she looked up into his dark eyes.

"I know you wanna cum right now, baby," Sam said, his voice low and dark. "But do you wanna know what I want?"

Y/N nodded for Sam to continue.

"I want your pussy to be wet and aching for my cock. I want you to be all worked up that you feel like you might cum the second I slide into you. I promise, baby, just wait and I’ll make it so good for you. Will you be a good girl for me and wait?”

Y/N drew in a shuddering breath as she took her bottom lip in between her teeth. She knew that if she told Sam that she didn’t want to wait, he would get down on his knees then and there and make her cum on his tongue. But she also knew that if she went along with Sam’s little game, she’d be in for a treat. She weighed her options before letting out a sigh and bringing her arms up to wrap around Sam’s neck. Y/N stood up on her toes to brush a soft kiss against his lips before pulling away and pushing at his chest, directing him towards the shower.

“Okay. I’ll wait.”

Sam shot her a smirk before he stepped into the shower, leaving the door open behind him. He wet his hair under the stream of water before turning to Y/N with a raised brow.

“You gonna get in?”

She couldn’t say no, of course.

***

Getting ready with Sam was… difficult, to say the least. Sam was always handsy with Y/N, but with this teasing game he was playing with her tonight, his antics were dialed up times ten. By the time they were all dressed up and walking out of the door to make their way to the event venue, Y/N’s panties were absolutely ruined, she had lost count of how many times Sam had brought her to the edge just to leave her hanging, and they were nearly late.

Luckily, this fundraising event would bring Y/N a little reprieve. As the youngest and newest partner of his law firm, Sam had to be on his best behavior. Y/N admired her husband as she watched him talk to his colleagues. He was so passionate about his career--it was one of the things she loved most about Sam. All the legal jargon he was throwing around, though, sounded like a foreign language to her. Art history was more her speed, so she was happy to let Sam do most of the talking throughout the evening.

Dinner was much of the same. They sat at their numbered table and ate their pre-chosen meals. Sam talked business and Y/N was just enjoying the night out with her husband. When the dance floor opened up, however, the pair stayed put while the other couples of their table went to go dance.

Sam had an arm slung around Y/N's chair. As she took a sip of her wine, he leaned down to nuzzle at her temple and place a soft kiss there. She smiled over the rim of her glass at his actions. He moved his mouth further down to whisper in her ear.

"Go to the bathroom and wait for me."

Y/N's eyes widened and she set her glass back down on the table. She turned in her seat to look up at Sam.

"Really? Here?" she asked incredulously.

Sam's other hand fell to her bare knee and gave it a squeeze and he shot her a smirk.

"Yes, really. Now go, I'll be there in a minute."

Y/N continued to look at her husband for a moment before nodding. She stood up from the table and walked towards the bathroom and shaky legs. Excitement pooled in her belly and she could feel the uncomfortable ache in her core return tenfold. She knew if she played along with Sam's game she'd be rewarded, but she didn't expect anything like this.

When Y/N entered the bathroom, she was relieved to find it empty. She looked herself over in the mirror, adjusting her sparkly black dress to rid it of the wrinkles it got from sitting down. The anticipation in her belly was growing stronger and stronger. Waiting for Sam felt like hours, even though it was no longer than two minutes.

Finally, Sam made his way into the bathroom, closing the door behind him. He locked it behind him, ensuring nobody could walk in on them.

Y/N smiled at her husband and before she could open her mouth to say anything, Sam was on her. His hands gripped her hips tightly asand he easily lifted her onto the counter. He pushed himself into the space between her open legs and kissed her fervently.

Y/N moaned into Sam’s mouth, her hands coming up to grip his shoulders. She whined when he took her bottom lip in between his teeth and pulled on it at the same time he ground his hips into her clothed core, letting her feel how hard he made her.

“You’ve been such a good girl for me tonight,” Sam murmured as he trails kisses down her jaw and throat. He smirked against her skin at the keening noise she made when he nipped at her pulse point. “Waiting patiently for me to let you cum. I wasn’t gonna do this until we got home, but you look so fucking good in this dress, I can’t wait any longer. Need to be inside you, baby. Want me inside you?”

Y/N nodded her head furiously, gasping out a “Yes, Sam,” when she felt his fingers snake their way up her dress to rub at her over her panties.

“God, you’re so fucking wet,” Sam groaned.

“All for you, Sam,” she hummed in response. Her mouth falls open with a silent moan as Sam pushes her panties to the side with one finger and strokes through her folds with another.

“Please, Sam, need you,” Y/N whined, snaking one hand down in between their bodies to palm at Sam’s hard cock, trapped in his pants. Sam hissed at the friction and he nodded.

“Don’t worry, baby, I’ll give you what you want.”

Sam made quick work of popping the button of his pants and unzipping them. He pulled his cock out from the slit in his boxers and Y/N moaned at the sight of him. He was long and thick and she always had a little trouble walking after every time he fucked her.

Sam pushed Y/N’s panties to the side again and rubbed the tip of his cock through her folds, coating himself in her slick. He teased her entrance, chuckling at the pitiful whine she let out. Sam could tell she was getting ready to sass him, to tell him to hurry the fuck up, so he pushed himself halfway in before she could get a word out.

Y/N's head fell back at the feeling of Sam's cock finally making its way inside of her. She would never admit it to him, but after waiting all day to feel him… It was amazing. Sam must have felt that way about being inside her, too, as he dropped his forehead to her shoulder with a groan, working his hips forward more until his cock was buried all the way inside of her pussy.

They sat like that for a moment, their heavy breaths mingling as they adjusted to the sensation of being joined together. When Sam had composed himself enough, he lifted his forehead from Y/N's shoulder and planted a searing kiss on her lips before he started to move.

Sam pulled all the way out, slowly, before slamming back in again. His hand moved to grip Y/N's thigh, lifting her leg and wrapping it around his hip. The change in angle allowed Sam to hit her just right and she had to bite down on her bottom lip to keep from screaming. Sam's pace was punishing, but it was just the way she liked it.

With each thrust, Y/N could feel herself getting closer and closer. Sam could tell, too, with the way her face was scrunched up and the breathy little whines she was letting out. But as close as she was, she needed more. It wasn’t often that they did this, but sometimes Y/N needed that extra little push to send her over the edge, and Sam was always more than happy to oblige.

“Sam,” Y/N choked out, her words cut off by a particularly sharp thrust from her husband that had her mewling. “Need… need more.”

“Yeah? What more do you need, baby? Use your words and I’ll give it to you,” Sam grunted.

Sam’s thrusts slowed to allow Y/N to get her wits about her enough to voice her desires. Her lust blown eyes locked with his and Sam knew what she wanted, but he wanted to hear her say it.

“Choke me. Please.”

Sam’s gaze on her turned predatory, even more so than before. He trailed his hand from her hip and up her chest, stopping to squeeze at her breasts through the fabric of her dress, before continuing upwards, his warm palm engulfing the soft flesh of her throat.

“This what you want?” Sam asked darkly. Y/N nodded fervently, but Sam tsked and shook his head. “Say it.”

“Yes, Sam. This is what I want,” Y/N gasped out, pushing her throat further into his palm.

“Get yourself ready, then. You know what to do if you need me to stop.”

Y/N obeyed quickly, removing one hand from Sam’s shoulder to take the wrist of his hand around her throat into her palm. If it became too much and she needed him to stop, all she had to do was squeeze.

Sam repositioned his hand so his thumb and forefinger were gripping the underside of her jaw. He looked at her once more for permission and she nodded against him. He resumed his thrusts again, slow at first, as he worked his way up to the pace he had originally set. Once he got there and Y/N was moaning softly underneath him, his fingers began to squeeze.

The pressure was light at first, barely there, but gradually, it became harder and harder, until Y/N could barely breathe. Sam never pushed her to the point where she couldn’t breathe entirely, but he always knew how to toe the line between too much and just enough perfectly.

The lack of oxygen made Y/N’s head swim and combined with Sam’s hard thrusts, she was brought to the edge quickly.

“I can tell you like that,” Sam said through gritted teeth. He squeezed just a little bit tighter, relishing in the way Y/N almost went cross-eyed at the action. “I can feel your pussy clenching me tighter and tighter. You’re gonna cum, aren’t you?”

Y/N’s mouth fell open in a choked moan, the sound barely coming out. Sam knew that meant yesyesyes.

“Then do it. Cum for me, baby.”

Sam’s words, his hands practically squeezing the life out of her, his cock dragging in and out of her pussy… It all became too much and the coil in her belly that had been winding tighter and tighter finally snapped. Her body seized and her eyes shut tight as her orgasm washed over her, and Sam quickly dropped his hand from her throat to grip her hip once again to fuck her through it. Y/N drew in a shuddering breath and began to let out a loud wail, which Sam had to stop by kissing her and capturing the sound in his own mouth.

He pumped into her once, twice, three times more before his own orgasm washed over him. He stilled his hips, groaning into Y/N’s mouth as his release coated her walls. He stayed sheathed inside of her as they parted from the kiss and Sam pressed his forehead to hers, their heavy breaths mingling.

Y/N wasn’t sure how long they sat there, joined together, but soon enough the feeling of Sam’s softening cock inside of her began to feel uncomfortable. She wiggled her hips a bit to try and pull away and Sam took the hint, pulling out of her with a hiss. He walked over near the toilet, grabbing two wads of toilet paper to clean himself and Y/N up.

Once they were both cleaned up and their clothes were back in place, Y/N walked up to Sam and looped her arms around his neck, pulling him down to her so she could place a soft kiss on his lips.

“I love you,” she murmured happily as they pulled apart.

Sam squeezed her hips affectionately. “I love you, too.”

“Now, let’s get back out there before we get arrested for public indecency,” Y/N joked, linking her arm through Sam’s.

Sam snorted with a fond shake of his head and a roll of his eyes. “Baby, I’m a lawyer, remember? I could easily plead that down from a misdemeanor to an infraction.”

It was Y/N’s turn to snort. “Okay, hot shot.”

The couple didn’t even bother to hide the fact that they were leaving the bathroom together and despite cleaning up before coming out, it was almost comically obvious what had gone down between the two. But, they couldn’t find it in themselves to care either way. And really, with the open bar and full dance floor, nobody had paid their absence any mind anyways.

#sam winchester x reader #sam winchester smut #sam winchester imagine #sam winchester one shot #supernatural imagine #supernatural one shot #supernatural smut #supernatural fanfiction #reader insert #kinktober 2020 #the lemon tree

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brighthappybird · 4 years

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What if the Angels had Pacts pt. 2

So this has been a thought that I’ve been thinking about. What if the Angels of Obey Me had pacts. What would they be like? So I already answered that question right here - What if the Angels had pacts?

Now let’s look at what if the brothers, as angels, had pacts and what the MCs may have gotten from that. And just for the fun of it, I’m throwing Satan in here.

Like always, if you want your MC, Demon or Angel to be thrown into the mix, don’t be afraid to like throw them my way. I’ll gently catch them and write for their pact, if you wanted!

Let’s start off with what we know what the pacts do. There might be more information that might come out later, but for now, we know that the pacts help the MC control the demon brothers, by either controlling them or by having some form of bond to them. That’s about as much as we know, if anyone else knows more, feel free to add on!

With the brothers, it is a little tricky since you would need to look at what their sins would be the opposite in the Celestial Realm. Additionally, when I talk about their symbolic animals, I’m analyzing them from a totem standpoint since that gave me the most information when analyzing them.

Lucifer, Avatar/Prince/Sin of Pride --> Virtue of Humility

Mammon, Avatar/Prince/Sin of Greed --> Virtue of Generosity

Leviathan, Avatar/Prince/Sin of Envy --> Virtue of Admiration

Satan, Avatar/Prince/Sin of Wrath --> Virtue of Forgiveness

Asmodeus, Avatar/Prince/Sin of Lust --> Virtue of Chasity Love

Beelzebub, Avatar/Prince/Sin of Gluttony --> Virtue of Discipline

Belphegor, Avatar/Prince/Sin of Sloth --> Virtue of Zeal

I hope everyone likes this! I will be posting a Diavolo bonus to this, but I’ll be taking a quick break from this. Also, please send me your MCs/OCs for Obey Me! I would absolutely love to write something like this for them!

Now that we have each of their virtues listed out, we [as the players] know that each of them have shown some form of their former virtues (before they fell) when interacting them. Granted, it is a little warped, but it is still there. The issue is most of their personalities that we know now, are their current demon forms. We don’t know much about how they acted as angels. Though who is to say that isn’t going to be changed in the future!

Lucifer, Virtue of Humility - He was once known as the Morning Star. There are times in the story where multiple characters will say he was the gem of the entire Celestial Realm. The pride and joy of the Celestial Realm. There are instances in the game where Luke has said that he admired Lucifer more than Michael before he fell, which means, he was one that probably had the biggest influence amongst the other angels, even compared to Simeon (from the last post).

Since he is the virtue of humility, we can assume that he was not as prideful as he is now. There was a sense of give and take, where instead of having the burden of the entire world on his shoulders like now, as an angel (even if he had his own fanbase), he would share the burden of what he was thinking. All in all, he was humble or rather, had a much lower view of his own importance.

Lets go a little deeper into this by analyzing his symbolic animal as well. His symbolic animal is a peacock, which we know symbolizes pride, beauty and confidence. Something that he no doubt, he has had follow him through his time of being an angel then his descent in being a demon. The other things that a peacock symbolizes are balance, awareness, leadership and ressurection. In a way, we could say that his rebirth as a demon was foretold in the cards, but let’s skip that. Balance, Awareness and Leadership, what was Lucifer known for in the Celestial Realm? He was someone that the angels would rally around and see him as this great leader. The Morning Star.

If the MC were to make a pact with Lucifer, when he was an angel, one could assume he would be guardian angel++ like Simeon. Though instead of taking more of a passive guardian role, he would take more of a assertive role should the pact holder be in danger. Though getting a pact with him would be much more difficult compared to the other brothers and this is because of how low he views his importance and how his importance is only tied to his title of The Morning Star. So have fun MCs!

Mammon, Virtue of Generosity - Though not much is spoken about Mammon and the others during their time as an angel. All we know is that Mammon was Lucifer’s favorite. That’s about it. Honestly, a part of me likes to think that Demon Mammon and Angel Mammon would have the same issue of being poor. Angel Mammon just giving away every single cent that he has in order to help someone else. Instead of looking for an opportunity to make money, he looks for an opportunity to try and help. Remember that impulsivity that Lucifer has tried to curb with many rules? Well, different realm, same Mammon, just a different reason why he’s out of money.

Since he is the virtue of Generosity, we can assume that he is still actively seeking money, but also seeking opportunities to help others. There is a sense of “give” “give” “give” and it is almost uncontrollable. He is just as soft in his angelic form as he is in his demon form, but he does not actively hide it. If anything, it is one of the reasons why humans and other angels find him more approachable.

Let’s also talk about his symbolic animal. I know, I’m like dissecting each of the attributes that each of the brothers have, but it is just so interesting. So for Mammon, his symbolic animal is a crow which is known for being a bringer of prophecy and good luck. Other attributes denoted to the crow is intelligence, adaptability, insight, and being fearless. Now, Mammon is not that fearless, but he does have his moments where he will disregard Lucifer’s warning and do what he wants, despite the consequences. Though there is something deeper, Mammon shows much more emotional intelligence compared to most of his brothers, he is able to tell how the MC is feeling (despite disregarding it a little) and there are times where he shows high levels of intelligence when it is something he cares about.

If the MC were to make a pact with Mammon, when he was an angel, one could assume that he would be a guardian angel. Not a guardian angel++ like Lucifer or Simeon, but he is the guardian angel that would have quite a few pacts. Instead of being indebted to witches, he would be constantly fretting over the state of his human. With the pact, Mammon would know the state of his human and how they are doing financially or emotionally. He would be the angel to search the ends of the earth to find exactly what they need to make them happy and feel secure. Even if it means, spending some time with him.

Leviathan, Virtue of Admiration - Going to be a little honest, Levi was a little hard thinking of. Since his Envy and his admiration are rather similar. Though the one thing that does change is that he respects himself a little more. He appreciates his own interests instead of putting himself down. He still enjoys consuming media, video games and using netspeak as he usually does. He is still interested in anime/manga/books, but he is a lot more social able.

As the virtue of admiration, he admires other individuals collections and instead of comparing himself to them and putting himself down, he takes an interest in their interests and actively asks them questions. If anything, he feels embarrassed and shuts down when he feels like he has crossed a boundary or forgot the MC’s interests.

As interesting as it is, Leviathan’s symbolic animal is the serpent, which symbolizes fertility, life and healing. They are also the symbols of rebirth, transformation and immortality. There are various aspects of this that almost seem like it opposes Levi as a character as a whole, but he does go through his own form of rebirth. Instead of being a recluse in the game, he ends up opening up more and talking to his brothers as well as the MC more. The healing aspect would be something that he does as well as has his charges do, if he were to have multiple pacts at once. Helping them heal from their social awkwardness, at least bring them to a bearable amount, where they could make friends/allies.

If the MC is able to get a pact with him, they should feed into his admiration aspect. Since keeping him hooked on their interests and keeping him interested. Which is a downfall for him, but I digress. Though he falls into the same category as Mammon, he is a guardian angel. He is able to sense when his human is excited or if someone hurt their feelings regarding their interests or just hurting their feelings in general. That is enough to bring him to their side and comfort them. Just reminding them why they liked what they like. Though if he needs to, like in the game, he is not afraid to snap at those making his human feel bad.

Satan, Virtue of Forgiveness - Now humor me for a little bit, we know it is canon that he was not originally an angel. Just humor me. Though not much of his personality changes. He is still the sensible, quick witted and the voice of reason. Though instead of his voice just being reserved for his brothers, he is used to settle arguments between all angels that may have a spat.

Satan was still born from Lucifer, but instead of blaming Lucifer, as much as it annoys him, he ends up forgiving Lucifer a little more. With how well read he is, he understands that there are certain causes that he can argue for since he would know why the individual acted the way they did. Though unfortunately, this would cause some tension, since even as an angel, there might be some ridged that may come from him going from what the book said or going with a solution he had ended up seeing that worked. The MC would need to actually show him not all problems are cut and dry, but also there are other paths to forgiveness and that sometimes, individuals cannot forgive if someone truly wronged them.

Lets quickly look at his symbolic animal. In the Devildom, his animal is the unicorn. This mythical animal is generally tied to both strength and fierceness. Though delving deeper the unicorn also represents a wisdom that is far beyond their years, reason, innocence. Which is true in a way, there were times in the game where despite having all this knowledge at his fingertips, Satan was caught offguard by something simple and it embarrasses him, but despite that he probably has more information in his brain compared to your average demon. This does not change as an angel, if anything, he is able to use the information that he has stored in his brain to help him better understand problems and work through it.

Since he is a newer angel, it takes a bit of time for him to fully grasp everything. Though that does not mean that he is not a strong angel to have a pact with. Like Lucifer, he needs to be convinced since his entire value is based around whether or not he is well read but also his worry that he is not worth much because of his connection to Lucifer and only being compared to the Morning Star himself. The MC would need to pull him out of his shell a little bit. Though getting a pact with him would be like an guardian angel, not on the same level as some of his other brothers, but he would be the inner voice of the MC. Though there are times where he has talked MC down from doing something rash, or talked through the pros and cons of their actions, but ultimately leaves them to pick what they do.

Asmodeus, Virtue of Chastity Love - You know, this one is a bit tricky considering what the word Chastity means. So I’ll be going with a more broader definition. So, let’s change it to Love. Virtue of Love. Since in the game, I feel like Asmo’s role in the Celestial Realm was not representing Chastity. That is just my opinion. Once known as the Jewel of the Heavens, there is a time where Simeon tells the MC that despite falling, he still views Asmodeus as the beautiful angel that he once was. Since there was one line that always stuck with me, despite being a demon for a millennia (or longer), he still tries to be the angel that he once was. Someone who was loved and adored, which means, he knows the feeling of love and the feeling it gives when one is in love.

As an angel, he would have been an expert when it came to feelings like love, ecstasy, compassion, and sometimes even the more negative emotions like anxiety, anger and jealousy. All of it driving from a single point - passion. Unlike the other brothers, I want to focus on his symbolic animal, which is a scorpion. As stated it symbolizes both passion and dominance, which we see quite a bit, but what if it had a deeper meaning when he was an angel. With a little bit of research, you can find that scorpions also represent transformation, rebirth, defense and a sense of devotion. Which are aspects that one could find in love as well. Where love can bloom as friendship, where it slowly kindles and grows into a strong flame for one another. A requited love.Then if you look at the rebirth aspect, you can think of it as someone going through a broken heart, finding a sense of love and belonging in another, when their time comes, and so on so forth, but there is always a level of devotion between all of those.

Asmodeus as a demon is quite passionate, in our case - as an angel, he was passionate about humans and finding their love or helping them work through their love if they were scorned. If an MC were to enter a pact with him, one could expect him to be a guardian angel++ and some form of a cupid. He is the one that would be there to lend his ear to his human, help them heal through a broken heart, but if the other person in the relationship/friendship truly wronged his human, like Lucifer, there is a chance he might take on a more assertive role versus a more passive role when dealing with it.

Beelzebub, Virtue of Discipline - there are aspects of Beel’s virtue or his former angelic status in him, the more you play through the game. There are often times where he shows restraint (despite the inner battle he keeps fighting) when looking at delicious food or looking at something he wants. He shows quite a bit of discipline compared to his Sin of Gluttony. His discipline shows when he focuses on the sports he plays, his work out routine, but also

Alright, now this is a little bit of a tricky one considering his symbolic animal is a fly. Since it is generally symbolic of illness, disease and war, but what if as an angel, he had a different symbolic animal? Something similar to a fly, but when he fell, it ended up becoming a fly. How about a dragonfly? Since if you look at the symbolism of a dragonfly, it is almost the opposite of what the fly represents. A dragonfly represents joy, adaptability, understanding and self realization. Now, the reason why I’m focusing on these four traits is because these are traits that we have seen Beel exhibiting in the game. There are numerous Devilgram cards that talk about how Beel has a deeper understanding of his and his brothers emotional states and how he holds family above food. Which, for someone who is always assumed that he holds food above everything, having a meal or something, this is a big turn of events. He seems to be the one who tries to adapt compared to the rest of his brothers, tries to understand, and generally, he realizes what he needs before most of his brothers realize what he needs.

The type of angel is wrapped up in how he is even as a demon. I feel like, compared to the other brothers, he hasn’t lost most of his angelic charms compared to them. It hasn’t been warped as much. Though all in all, as an angel and with his pact, you’re going to find yourself well loved. He’s more like a companion angel, ones that you may see walking beside humans in human form or protecting their charge without a second thought. This goes back to his level of love and respect for his family, and while having a pact with him, you’re like family.

Belphegor, Virtue of Zeal - A part of me thinks that zeal really does not match Belphie if you ask me. This is one of the virtues that make me go “hmm...maybe not,” but you know, we’re going to work with it. As a demon, he is a trickster and usually goes after his own goals, no matter the repercussions. This is seen when the MC is interacting with him in the first season. Don’t worry, not doing to spoil anything. Though he does show some form of mellowness and some level of playfulness that is harmless mischief.

Belphie has the cow representing them. These animals generally symbolizes positivity, and fertility. We are ignoring fertility for this, it does not exist. Other aspects that the cow represents are selflessness, generosity, calming, grounding and new beginnings. There are a bunch of things that demon Belphie has here that works for his demon counterpart as the angel counterpart.

If one were to get into a pact with the angel Belphegor, there is a level of harmless mischief that still tags along with him. Though he is a guardian angel in training. Being the youngest when it comes to power, there is sense of playful rebellion, always trying to find a way to have Lucifer to break character. Honestly, not much changes? Though compared to his brothers, he finds this strong sense of need to protect his human that’s holding a pact with him. Though if something deeply troubling happens to his human, he’s there as a comfort. He is there to comfort them and make sure they’re alright, generally taking on a more mellow tone and being the voice of reason - much like Satan.

Like I said, Zeal does not fit Belphie all that much, but trust me - when I say MC will be protected with him.

#obey me #obey-me!#obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me leviathan #obey me levi #obey me angels #obey me satan #obey me asmodeus #obey me asmo #obey me beelzebub #obey me beel #obey me belphegor #obey me belphie #someone should stop my brain #daddydemus help me chro too powerful #the one thing Obey Me taught me was how to spell Beel's name properly #Obey Me also taught me how to spell Belphie's name properly too #Obey Me could be an educational game for names

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xxgoblin-dumplingxx · 4 years

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Off Day: Seventeen

Bucky stared at his phone and felt a little light-headed from the speed at which blood had poured into his erection when he opened your message. It was a picture, one that he had asked for on his “To-Do List” that he made.

He knew you liked to torment him, however sweetly. You’d embraced flirting with him quickly and had just as quickly embraced sending him flirty pictures. This one though. It was filthy. One of the things he had put on there that would take you some prep time if you decided to take it for him. A way for you to stay distracted if you got overwhelmed. Or sad. Or any of the other feelings that tended to exacerbate your symptoms.

It made his mouth go dry and his fingers trembled as he tried to type a response. It was a pin-up photo. Artful but undeniably sexy. You were kneeling in front of a mirror in the middle of putting makeup on. Nude but for a pair of heels and the choker he’d bought you. The one with the blue jewel set in gold on a piece of black velvet ribbon. You’d fallen in love with it and protested him buying it. But, it was worth it. You’d changed the jewelry in your nipple piercings to match it. Your thighs were slightly parted and he could just barely see the pink of your folds. But the thing that made him throb was when his eye was drawn down to your plush bottom. He could see the wink of a jewel. Of a toy he’d told you to use. It was beautiful. It made him feel like he was standing behind you, waiting for you to get ready. Watching you. Admiring you from afar.

“Barnes,” Clint said snatching his phone, “Quit lookin’ at porn. You’ll be home tomorrow.”

Clint glanced down at his phone and recoiled, “Oh shit,” he tossed the phone back at Bucky like he’d been shocked, “God. What? Fuck. How do you get a girl to do that?”

“Ask nicely,” Bucky said blushing a little.

“Do you think Nat would do that for me?” Clint asked

“Do what? Nat asked sitting across from them.

“Take dirty pictures and send them to me,” Clint said.

Nat shot Bucky a look, “Bucky!”

“I didn’t show him,” Bucky protested, “Clint took my fucking phone.”

“Was it at least pretty?” Nat asked clint, smirking.

“Very artistic. She put some effort in. I mean. In another life she woulda made a good alt model.” he said, cheeks coloring a little.

Bucky can’t look at either one of them right now. He feels a little like he might have betrayed your trust by Clint getting a peek at you. He promised they’d only be for him.

“I’m not tellin’ her I saw shit though,” Clint said, “I just thought Bucky was watching porn hub. I didn’t know he was doing some freaky shit with his girl.”

Nat snorted, “Oh,” she said, “So you did make a list.”

Bucky nodded, smiling a little, “Yeah,” he said, “thanks for putting that idea in her head.”

Nat grinned, “You’re welcome... We were talking about her doing makeup to distract herself... I was kinda kidding when I suggested dirty pictures but it worked. She likes making you happy. Or teasing you. I’m not sure which.”

“Yes,” Bucky answered nodding. Still blushing. But, it was nice knowing that you and Nat did girl things. Nat didn’t spend much time around women. They irritated her. At least. Most of the women in the bar did. They were pretend tough girls. Bitches. They might ride bikes and drink but they were really boring to her. She liked women that were smart and individual. Not mean girls. She had enough of those in High School.

Nat snorted, “Nice,” she said, “I knew she was a keeper.”

Bucky picked up his phone to message you back, saving the picture for later in the secret file on his phone

He lavishes praise on you. You’re beautiful and perfect. That picture is hot. It’s so sexy he doesn’t know how he’s gonna sleep tonight looking at it. And thank you so much for showing him.

_______

Bucky is glad to be home. It’s chilly outside but it’s warm inside the clubhouse. He’s missed you and he wanted to go straight to White Rabbit to see you but you made him promise not to. You had something you were working on for him, apparently in a back room and didn’t want him to see it. He was itching to see you. It had been three days and he hadn’t slept well the whole time. He’d not realized how used to you he’d gotten. How much better he slept next to you. He sipped his beer and watched the clock, counting seconds until you’d wander through the door.

You were always welcome, even when Bucky wasn’t there just by virtue of being a sweetheart who always paid her tab in full. And by being friendly to Nat and generally patient when waiting for a drink. They all liked you. Even the ones that didn’t remember you from school. If only because you did what they couldn’t do and got Bucky out of a bad relationship. He finished his beer and ordered his second, going to join Steve and Sam at the pool table, trying to kill time until you would be there. It worked. He’d hardly looked at the clock.

He was honestly surprised when you burst through the door, wearing a green pleated skirt and white blouse. Hair up in a bun behind your head and pretty red lips. Knee socks and cute little heeled oxfords. You look like a librarian. Out of place in the bar. Still, when you bolt into his arms and wrap your legs around his waist easily, he chuckles against your lips as you tangle your hands in his hair. He can’t stop you and he doesn’t want to. He hefts you up and ignores the jeers and whoops. There’s nothing but you. Your perfume. The feel of your eager, hungry lips against his. When you come up for air he grins, “Miss me?” he asked, teasing.

“So much,” you say smiling, a little breathless.

“Is this outfit for me?” he asks, kissing your nose.

“Do you like it? I did some shopping when I was up in Red Key.” you look uncertain and he smiles. You have an aesthetic. One you never had enough money to dress for. He really likes watching you build your dream closet a little at a time. Even if he has to threaten to punish you if you don’t buy whatever you’re drooling over occasionally. You deserve it and he likes knowing you feel pretty. He also likes wrapping his leather jacket around you when you’re chilly. He likes how big it is on you and the way it clashes with your neat, pretty style.

“I love it,” he rumbles, “You look real good baby girl. I’m a lucky man, coming home to such a beautiful girl.”

You flush at the praise and he kisses your nose again, “Did you buy yourself anything else?”

“Some pretties and I got my nails done,” you tell him.

He whistles softly and smiles, “Good to know the money I gave you to run around with went to good use, Princess,” he praised. You hadn’t asked but he’d made sure to give you a little something just to entertain yourself with. He’d left it on your dresser in the jar you kept to save up for this or that.

You tilt your head, “Oh no. I used that to get you something,” you say smiling, kissing his cheek. “I had a ton of money in my Princess fund so I used what you left me for something else.”

“Y/N,” he scolded, “You were supposed to use that on something for you.”

“I did. It made me happy buying you something,” you murmur, cheeks coloring.

He swatted your backside affectionately, “Why’re you so sweet, huh?”

“I dunno,” you answer, wiggling to be put down.

“Nuh-uh,” he said, shifting you onto his shoulder and carrying you over to the bar to sit with you on his lap, “Have a glass of wine with me?” he asked.

You sigh, “Not today,,” you say shaking your head. Bucky kisses your head and signals to Nat to put it on his tab as she pours a coke for you. She kept a four-pack of Mini bottles and one wine glass. You were the only one that drank wine, when you did drink and it tickled her.

“Thank you,” you tell her, smiling and raising your glass in toast. “I still don’t understand how the fuck you walked into a biker bar and ordered wine,” she teased.

“Well, you stock it now don’t you?” you answer.

“Only because it’s you and we feel bad making fun of you.”

You shrug, “Much like the sloth, my plan for survival seems to be being as pathetic as possible so that bigger badder people leave me alone.”

Natasha snorted. She could appreciate that you were yourself. You didn’t like beer and wouldn’t pretend to fit in. You’d sip your glass of wine and crack quiet jokes.

“Pathetic?” Sam gasped scandalized, teaching across the bar to grab another bottle, “You’ve successfully whipped the most unrepentant man whore I have ever met AND you get to talk back to Natasha and live.”

“He wasn’t a man whore,” you say leaning against Bucky’s side, “He just didn’t know better.”

“And I’m pretty sure she’s the one that’s whipped,” Steve snickered.

Your cheeks burn and Natasha winces sympathetically, “Steve,” she says, spraying him with seltzer, “You’re fucking Stark so you should probably let the two of them just have their French vanilla sex and enjoy it.”

Bucky tilts your chin up and kisses you softly, cuddling you close and casually flipping off the guys that are D’aww-ing loudly. He’s never understood why guys act like assholes to their girls in public. You deserved soft all the time. You deserved to be able to look to him to feel safe whether or not his friends could see him.

“Shut up, ya animals,” Nat sighed.

______________________

Bucky walked into the house and set his bag down by the door then set you down on the table, standing between your legs and putting his chilled hands on your thighs, rubbing tenderly to warm them up. You shiver and he chuckles, “I missed you, Princess,” he murmurs, kissing your nose.

“I missed you too, daddy,” you answer, hiding your face in his abs.

“You were a handful while I was gone,” he chuckles, “I loved all the pretty pictures you sent me.”

“You did?”

“I did,” he praised, “Lost a lot of sleep wishing I was here to admire how perfect you are in person.”

You beam up at him and he takes the pins out of your hair carefully, letting it fall down to your shoulders. “You’re so perfect,” he hummed, kissing your nose.

Your cheeks color and you nuzzle his abs again, “Can I give you your present now?”

He chucks you under the chin, “You mean the present I told you not to buy?”

“But-” Your face falls and he tickles your side, making you giggle.

“No, no being sad,” he tuts, “Of course you can Princess.” He helps you off the table and listens to your shoes hit the floor outside the door and then listens to you scamper up the stairs. You’re excited. Thrilled about whatever this is and Bucky braces himself. Even if he hates whatever it is, he’s not gonna tell you. Not ever. You’re too sweet and he knows that whatever it is you saw it and thought it was perfect for him. That’s enough.

He helps himself to a beer and waits, listening to the rustling coming from upstairs. He shakes his head and settles into a kitchen chair waiting. When you come back downstairs with a black gift bag in your hand he smirks. You always tried so hard not to make things too feminine for him. He appreciated it but honestly, he wasn’t phased. He’d carry your purse and not even blink. He was a big scary biker. Ain’t no one saying shit.

“What’s this, huh?” he said pulling you onto his knee and taking tissue paper out of the bag and tossing it aside.

You’re practically vibrating with excitement and he pulls the gift out of the bag. It’s a leather jacket. A tiny leather jacket. Like baby-sized. Bucky stops and looks at you. Your hands are over your mouth and you’re watching him waiting on his reaction. “Princess,” he said, not quite able to breathe, “I don’t think this is my size.”

He definitely can’t breathe. He can’t think. If you’re telling him what he thinks you’re saying he has to protect you. He has to keep you safe.

“Bucky I-” you start and he can hear the anxiety in your voice and that hurts. He forces himself to smile and wipes a stray happy tear off your cheek.

“I thought you were on birth control,” he said, feeling like his lips are numb.

“And they put me on antibiotics for my sinus infection- I- I’m sorry. I didn’t- I’m sorry.” You’re starting to cry in earnest now, springing off of his lap and covering your face with your hands.

“Sweetheart,” he soothed, holding his hands out for you to take, “I just- I’m surprised. I think- I think I might have gone into shock for a second.” It’s breaking his heart to see you cry. He hates it. He can’t. It makes him think about all the times you cried and he wasn’t there to dry your tears. “Please, baby girl,” he coaxes, “Please don’t cry. Not like this. I’m sorry. I’m happy I promise.”

“No, you’re not,” you sniffle, wiping your eyes on the back of your hand and wrapping your arms around yourself.

He crosses the floor to you and passes you a clean handkerchief from the inside pocket of his jacket. You take it and he kisses your head while you bow your head and try to rein in all your emotions. Something Bucky still appreciates about your crying. It’s always real. He gives you the time you need before he starts talking again. Taking just a second to decide what to say. And rein in his own panic. His own irrational fear. His dad left. He didn’t know how to be a dad. He could barely take care of himself. How would he teach his son? And oh god, what if it was a girl? What would he do?

When you look up at him though, he can’t think about that. All he knows is he has to fix this for you. You’re his. This baby is his. And this isn’t about him. Not really. You’re trusting him. Giving him this. You could have had an abortion and not told him and he’d never know. You’re looking up at him, uncertain and scared and he realizes with a jolt that he wasn’t the only one that was scared, you’d just had some time to adjust to it. Some time to decide you could do this. With him.

“You’re right,” he says softly, “I’m not happy. I’m terrified.” He kneels in front of you and nuzzles your belly, kissing gently. You pet his hair, waiting. “I don’t- I don’t really know what to do with kids ya know? My dad left- a bunch of times. I don’t really know how to be a dad. I mean. Until recently I was drunk every night and fucking a bunch of different girls.” He looks up at you and smiles a little, “But if I can do this with anyone, Y/N, I can do it with you.”

“Really?” you whimper, tucking hair behind his ear.

“Really.”

“Promise?” you hold out your pinky and he links his pinky through yours, pressing his lips to your thumb and pressing his thumb against it to lock it.

“I promise, Princess,” he said getting to his feet slowly and wrapping his arms around you, “I only get one chance. I’m not gonna fuck this up. Not now that I fooled you into thinking I’m a nice guy.”

You roll your eyes but giggle, making him swat your bottom affectionately. “When did you find out?” he asks softly, setting you on the counter and taking a cool cloth to your face gently.

“About 15 minutes before the girls showed up with pizza for our sleepover,” you murmur.

He kisses your nose, “Have you seen a doctor?”

“Not yet but. Three tests on three different days seemed pretty definitive... I wanted to tell you first before I did anything.”

“We need to get you an appointment, Princess,” he murmured, kissing you softly, “We just got you healthy. I wanna keep you that way. Both of you.” He swipes at your nose gently with the cloth and you smile.

“You’re gonna keep me?”

“Of course I am,” he murmured, “You’re my Princess, and this is for both of us to handle, okay? Just give me some time to process it all. I promise. I’m okay. It was just a shock, baby.”

“Can we have a cuddle?” you ask, needing some comfort.

Bucky nods and helps you gently off the counter, “And snacks. I’m hungry.”

You nod and bucky Listens to your little white socked feet on the wood floors as he glances towards the tiny jacket on the table, “Ma is gonna kill me,” he murmurs rubbing the back of his neck.

Tags: @lancsnerd @etherealwaifgoddess @stevieang @blameitonthecauseway @wellfucksorrymum

#Bucky Barnes #soft bucky #PTSD implied #anxiety attack #fluff #angst if you squint #domestic bucky #biker!bucky #biker!au #steve rogers #natasha romanoff #sam wilson #clint barton #voyerurism #dirty pictures #mild daddy kink

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geeky-introvert · 5 years

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Bad Boy II FINAL. Ivar X OC

Summary: After months from that night with Ivar, Isabella is unsure how she feels about him but he has shown a high interest by nonstop text messages and bumps in’s from school. When the holidays start he asks for a weird request but he makes it very tempting and hard for her to refuse....

Word count: 4252

Warning: Smut.

Tag List: @lisinfleur @mdlady @didiintheblog @alicedopey @lupy22 @rekdreams247 @mblaqgi @oddsnendsfanfics @aphnxrising @happydaysandersen @therealcalicali @naaladareia @inforapound @captstefanbrandt @waiting4inspiration @tabalugax @p8tn0lish

If anyone else wants to be added to the tag list let me know please.

She could still taste him on her lips, the feel of his body over her own lingered for so long, and she had felt very aroused more often then she should, especially when she saw him at school. Ivar would notice her wherever she was, and smiling knowingly at her, remembering what happened between them those months ago. He would always try to talk with her, ask when she was going to text him again, but she always put it off, wanting to forget about it. But her feeling’s for him only grew the longer she tried to ignore him, and she didn’t understand why she felt like this towards him.

He had used her for his own pleasure, took her virtue, and kept pestering her about a second around. She didn’t hate him but she was bothered by him. His feeling’s weren’t the same the way she felt for him, at least that’s what she kept telling herself. No one knew what happened, including her friends and she wanted to keep it like that.

It had been at least two months since then and the summer holidays were just starting. Everyone was planning something, all but Isabella. She wasn’t very social and would rather relax at home, head buried in a book. However, she never expected for her plans to change so fast.

Isabella was just finishing the last bit of her book in her room when she heard a quiet tap at her window. Looking over she was shocked to see Ivar grinning at her as he hanged on at her window and trying not to fall off. She rushed over and opened it, before Ivar welcomed himself into her room with no troubles.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” She harshly whispered at him. “You shouldn’t be here. My parents are home and sleeping down the hall.”

“Relax Bell, you worry too.” Bad boy Ivar was so reckless and had no idea just how her parents might react if they find a boy in her room.

“Well, my dad’s a cop, and he has his gun here just so you know.” She knew it wouldn’t scare him but it was a warning if the worst was to happen. “What are you doing here?”

“I was just in the neighbourhood, thought I would spot by.” That ridicules handsome grin of his was so bothering and alluring all at once. “Do you have plans for the holidays?”

“No I don’t, not really, why?” She shrugged waiting for him to get to his point.

“Well, my older half-brother has a massive cabin out in the forest, about a three hour drive from here. Every summer my brothers and I go there for the holidays. It’s incredible, there’s everything you need there and it’s right next to the crystal clear lake.”

“Alright, and?” She didn’t really understand why he was telling this.

“I want you to come with me.”

Isabella stared at him for a moment before letting out an upturn smile and light laugh thinking he was kidding, but when she realised he wasn’t he wasn’t her smile disappeared.

“You can’t be serious.”

“Come on, Bell. Just think about it. Two months in the woods, surround by nature, a break from all this city life, and away from your books. You don’t even need to pay for anything it’s all covered. I just want you to come as my girlfriend.” Now it was getting weird.

“Girlfriend? I-Ivar…I mean…You want me to pretend to be your girlfriend?” He sighed softly.

“Every year it’s the same. All my brothers are either married or in a relationship, and I don’t want to be the odd one out. I trust you, and I know they’ll love you. I know it’s a big ask but you’re the only one I would ask to do this. I don’t leave for another week, can you at least think about it?”

Many thoughts were rushing through her mind. Here as Ivar, asking her to pretend to be his girlfriend for two months with his family in a cabin in the woods, and he was expecting her to say yes?

“Ivar I-“ He cut her off by kissing her deeply and held her face in both his hands. She should’ve pushed him away, but she didn’t, she allowed it to happen and even leaned into it.

She moaned gently against the warm kiss as he continued to devour her like he did before, and couldn’t get enough of it. It was over too soon and she found herself falling against his chest, dazed, and looked up at his smirking face.

“I’ll think about it, I need to talk to my parents about it first. I don’t know what to say to them.”

“Just say you’re going with a friend, that’s not really lying.” He had a point, but it was still a big ask.

“A-alight, I’ll ask them and let you know.” She couldn’t believe that she was actually considering it and felt bashful about it. “Umm…Why me?”

Ivar brushed some of her hair away and continued smirking. “Because I like you, and I know you’ll love spending time away, especially with me.” She couldn’t help but giggle and hit his shoulder gently in a playful way which he seemed to find amusing as well. “I’ll hear from you this week, sweetheart.”

He then climbed back out the window and jumped towards the tree before climbing back down. She watched him leave from her window, unable to hold back the smile as he climbed over the front fence and left. She needed to sleep on it. It was crazy enough out of all the people in school he would come to her. The whole thing was weird, but she couldn’t help but feel special about it.

Isabella found herself wanting to go the more she thought about it. She was also very surprised when she had brought it up with her parents that they were very open with the idea about her getting out and spending time away from home. Maybe it would be good for her to be away and breathe in the nature. All she told them was it was with some friends and that was it.

Maybe they trusted her too much.

Finally, she texted Ivar and told him she would go and he texted back that he would pick her up on Sunday morning. It was happening, she was going to spend the summer with Ivar and pretend to be his girlfriend. This wasn’t like her. It was everything out of her comfort zone, but the more she thought about spending so long with Ivar the more she was looking forward to it.

The day came and she packed a full suit case before Ivar picked her up. She thought it was going to be an awkward drive, but Ivar must’ve planned this trip ahead, because he already had snakes and a music track playing for them to enjoy for the next three hours.

Strangle, she enjoyed the long drive with him, he made it fun and not even for a moment was there silence. She had never been this far from home before without her parents and it gave her a new vibe, one she wasn’t sure that suited her, and yet there was with Ivar, going to his brother’s cabin for the holidays. It was going to be interesting.

They had finally arrived and Isabella stared out the window in awe at the size of the beautiful cabin built right beside the lake. “This is the cabin? It’s more like a mansion!” She couldn’t hold back the broad smile as they pulled up.

“I told you it was nice.” They got out and unpacked the car together.

She met his brothers who were a rowdy bunch but were super nice. There was defiantly a resemblance between them with their insanely blue eyes, which she didn’t miss. Next were the women and met Bjorn’s wife, Torvi, Ubbe’s wife, Margrethe, Hvitserk’s girlfriend, Aud, and Sigurd’s girlfriend, Blaeja. It was going to be a very interesting holiday with all these people who she never met.

By this time she thought she saw everything, which was until she saw the room she was to stay in. It was ridiculously big, like a master bedroom with its own ensuite and incredible view over the lake. She then looked at the queen sized bed and realised that she was going to be sharing the room and bed with Ivar for the holidays. Of course she was, she was here acting as his girlfriend so his brother’s would get off his back.

She found herself looking out the window, admiring the beautiful view they had. Ivar came up behind her and wrapped his arms around her waist, resting his chin against her shoulder with a smirk.

“So, what do you think?” He breathed gently against her skin, and she found herself unable to move from her position as he gently nuzzled into her neck. She shivered from the contact before twisting herself around to face him.

“It’s….beautiful.”

He was so close that their noses brushed and before she could say anything else, he kissed her. It wasn’t like the last one, this was tender, and he savoured it. She kissed back falling in motion and gasped gently when his hands gripped her rear over the shorts she wore.

The two were lost in the moment before they were interrupted.

“Oi, love birds, when you’re done lunch is ready downstairs.” Hvitserk snickered at the scene before leaving.

Adele tried to get her breathing even before she forced herself to move away from Ivar. “I-I am hungry…” Ivar only smirked at her.

“We’ll continue this later.” It was a promise, and she couldn’t help but feel a little excited about it.

Bjorn had cooked up some nice burgers for them to feast. Dinner was amazing. After they ate they stayed up a little longer, talking about each other’s lives and things. Soon the questions were aimed at Ivar and Isabella.

“How did you two meet?” Ubbe asked eyes filled with curiosity. She looked at Ivar and back at everyone nervously.

“We go to the same school, have been for a couple of years now.” She honestly didn’t know what else to say. Then Ivar jumped in, eager to finish the story.

“We met at a party and we really hit it off. Want to details, brothers? Because it gets kinda-“ She right away covered his mouth with her hand to prevent him from saying anything else. He grinned against her and pulled her into his lap before kissing her passionately. It put her off guard but she quickly fell in motion before he pulled away, all his brothers and their women didn’t seem bothered but proud for Ivar.

For hours they talked about different things and Isabella really liked everyone. Ivar’s brother’s seemed very cheeky like himself and their partners were all very sweet. The night dwelled, then people started going to bed. She told Ivar she wanted a shower and let her off his lap, but not before pinching her rear and snickering to himself. A red heat washed over her as she quickly made her way up the stairs and to their shared room.

She felt better after the shower, letting the hot water wash down her body for a good amount of time before she exited the shower, dried herself, blow dried her hair and wrapped the towel around herself. As she came out she was greeted by a shirtless Ivar. It looked like he was waiting for her.

Ivar bit his lips and grinned as he got closer to her. She didn’t move, like she was welcoming him, and that only made his cock twitch more in his sweat pants. He reached forward took the towel away from her, and she allowed it.

She gasped lightly before he consumed her lips, groaning against her as he rutted his hidden cock against her stomach. Without warning he turned her around and pushed her against the bed, lifting her ass up and spreading her cheeks, then he leaned in and took one long lick against her folds.

A surprised moan came from her before she covered her mouth, fearing his brothers would hear, but he didn’t seem to be bothered by that. In fact, he wanted them to hear her scream his name.

“Ivar…” She panted against her fist before pressing her face against the bed.

He tongue fucked her, only a little and suckled her clit, teasing which made her whimper and knees tremble before he slapped her ass gently, chuckling at her surprised yelp before he tugged his sweatpants off him and pushed her forward along the bed, following close behind her as he rolled a condom on his throbbing cock.

He kept her on her knees and gripped her waist and rubbed his cock along her folds before he thrust into her.

The sudden fullness made her cry out against her fist stuck in her mouth before he forced her hand against the bed to support herself.

“I want them to hear you, make all the noises you want; I want them to know you’re mine.” He groaned into her ear and sat up on his knees once more before setting a rough pace.

Each thrust forced a small moan from her as she shook back and forth with Ivar fucking her from behind. He showed no mercy.

He wanted to fuck her into another realm and lose himself completely, which he might end up doing if he continued what he was doing. Ivar’s movements grew intense, to the point that he rutted against her arse, breeding her like a crazed animal. His grunts followed by pleasured moans added to the pleasure she was feeling, rushing threw her as she allowed herself to be fucked liked crazy.

“Fuck, Bell, fuck!” He repeated her name as he threw his head back, fingers digging into her waist feeling his cock throb wrapped around her clenching walls.

“I-Ivar, Ivar!” Her fingers gripped at the quilt under them as she felt her orgasm erupt through her core and whimpered loudly as he continued to thrust against her until he shouted and gave one final firm thrust, erupting himself in the condom and sagging against back, making her crazy forward with him on her.

She panted heavily, trying to catch her breath as Ivar did the same against her neck. After moment he finally moved and pulled himself out. Last time he just left, however, this time he pulled her up against him, rolling over so her back was pressed up against his chest.

Ivar kissed her cheek before settling more comfortably in the bed with her and falling asleep. She soon followed, feeling very satisfied and drained.

It was indeed going to be an interesting holiday.

The day’s turned into weeks and as time flowed Isabella felt herself growing more closer to Ivar as he did for her. They got along and even though they weren’t really dating they behaved like they did, even when it was just the two of them.

One day she wanted to go on a hike with Ivar and he was more than happy to go much to her surprise. This was when she discovered he was a talented photographer and he even showed her his photos. He had a real talent, a passion she never saw in him.

That day they left the cabin and into the woods, staying on the trail together as they saw the nature and beauty of the wilderness. It was a whole new experience for her and she enjoyed every moment of it, especially with Ivar, who stopped every few minutes to get a photo of something. She didn’t mind, and found it rather sweet.

All through high school she always saw Ivar as the trouble maker and bad boy, and yet here she was with him on a hike and taking photos. She liked this Ivar.

They came across a shallow river and he told her to get down and be quiet. She looked ahead and gasped softly when she saw a large herd of deer running across the water as Ivar snapped multiple photos. It was an amazing experience.

When the deer were gone she beamed brightly before turning to him. He leaned forward and kissed her, softly, something he hadn’t done before. She kissed back he carefully guided her back against the grass and deepened the kiss, savouring her lips before moving away a little to look down at her. He stared at her and she couldn’t tell what he was thinking, he was simply confusing. It looked like he wanted to say something, anything, but couldn’t. So, she followed her heart and leaned up to kiss him again softly, and he seemed to really like that.

It was just them, nothing else mattered.

The holidays were moving fast and before they knew it a month had gone by. She let her parents know every few days that she was fine and they seemed to be happy with just that. The time away from home felt good, better then she expected.

When all this was over though she didn’t know what to expect, if things would go back to normal or if Ivar wanted something more, but she was too scared to talk about it because what they had right that moment was good.

She decided to not bring it up and just enjoy what they had.

One morning they both woke up tangled in each other’s arms. Ivar nuzzled into her neck, nibbling at her skin gently making her giggle softly until the contact. He loved to spoon, this she discovered, because every night and morning was the same. The sex was incredible; he sure knew how to bring her to multiple orgasms and enjoyed teasing her to her breaking point. She craved for it, and didn’t know how she was to survive when the holidays were over.

“How about we go for a swim in the lake?” He softly asked with a grin.

“I like that idea.” She bit my lips out of habit.

“Just let me piss, change and we’ll head down there.” He finally broke off from her and headed into the bathroom.

Isabella was about to change into her bikini when she heard my phone vibrate. She just assumed it was her parents asking about how her time was going. However, as she looked at her phone she noticed that she had multiple text messages from her friends and way too many Instagram notifications.

She looked at them, confused about why her friends would suddenly text her more than once, it wasn’t like them, or the insane about of notifications. Her heart stopped when she read the first text message.

‘Bella! When were you going to tell me you and Ivar were dating? That’s insane!’

She read the next one from another friend.

‘You and Ivar are dating? When did this happen? I need the details. Call me.’

The rest of the messages were the same, asking more questions and stuff. It only got worse when she looked on Instagram. Apparently, Ivar’s brothers had posted on their accounts of their little get away and had tagged her in multiple photo’s, one of them were of Ivar and her kissing passionately. She then read the comments.

‘Ivar and Isabella? That’s so fucking random!’

‘It can’t be serious, Ivar fucks everyone.’

‘Ivar better dump her before she becomes too clingy.’

They all continued on and on. The more she read the more she felt her heart pain. Fresh tears rolled down her face from the cruel words said by the people from her school. Everyone knew about them.

She stared at her phone for a while until Ivar came out and saw she hadn’t moved.

“Come on, why do women take so long?” He joked lightly before he saw how upset she was. “What’s wrong?”

Isabella showed him her phone, the photo and the comments. “Everyone knows.”

Ivar didn’t know what to say. He simple scrolled through the comments and sighed heavily. He didn’t think about his brothers posting on social media and tagging her in photos. Looking back at her he just saw her clearly upset over the comments. “Bell, they’re just words, they mean nothing and it’s none of their fucking business what goes on between us.” Ivar sat down next to her and put her mobile aside, hoping she’ll get over it soon, but he clearly didn’t know how to comfort someone and she felt no better.

“That’s easy for you to say.” She went into the bathroom and washed my face to clear it. She needed some air and to be away from Ivar. “I need to be alone.” She left and hurried outside the cabin, heading down to the lake to be alone with her thoughts.

Ivar growled in frustration and looked at his own phone to see the same thing. Messages from some mates of his and exploding notifications. He read his text messages first.

‘Dude! Are you really dating Isabella? When the fuck did this happen?’

‘Ivar! What the fuck are you doing? Dump her before she becomes too clingy on you.’

‘I don’t understand you and Isabella together but hey whatever floats your boat.’

He then went to his Instagram.

‘Ivar is fucking insane if he thinks Isabella is worth it. She’s a waste.’

‘He can’t be sick of me already! #ifuckedivar’

‘I’m sure when the holidays are over we’ll have the old Ivar back.’

That hit him. ‘When the holidays were over.’ He hadn’t thought that far ahead but one thing for certain was that he liked her. She was nothing like the other girls; she was special, someone he needed in his life. He wasn’t good when it came to expressing feelings and it was that hard to do it in front of Isabella. The comments though, what they said about her, that pissed him off.

Things had changed and he knew that. He didn’t care what his friends or the school said about them, he wanted something with her, for too long he’s wanted that. He threw a shirt on and grabbed his camera before heading outside.

Ivar found her sitting on the docks, legs hanging over the edge and stared over the lake lost in her own thoughts. He came over and sat next to her, opened up his camera and leaned closer to her side to show her the photos he took.

Isabella looked over to see what he was showing her and was left a little surprised when she saw a photo taken of herself when she was looking or aware he was taking photos of her. He gave her the camera and let her scroll through the pictures taken.

They were all of her, happy, smiling, and laughing, when she didn’t know he was taking pictures. She never thought herself so beautiful before, or if it was just a talent of his that made her look like that. Picture after picture, and the more she looked at them the more she felt better.

“I’m not good when it comes to expressing. I’m shit to be honestly, but this is my way of saying that….” He didn’t understand why it was so hard for him to tell her. “Through high school, I’ve watched you and I’ve seen you watch me. I always wanted to get to know you but I always scared you way, and that just me like you more.”

Isabella finally met eyes with him, lost in awe from his words.

“I know were different people but maybe that’s good? Asking you to be here wasn’t just for a favour, it was so I could get to know you and have you for myself. You’re….amazing.”

She didn’t want to think anymore and leaned over to kiss him. It was short and it took his off guard, but as she went to move away he pulled her back against him, deepening the kiss and pulling her onto his lap. For minutes it was like this, their tongues joined while soft moans left them.

The kiss was then broken and he pressed his forehead against her own.” Bell, will you….will you be my girl?” It sounded like the hardest thing he ever had to say and she beamed at him.

“Yes.”

Out of joy, he stood up with her in his arms and tossed her into the water before jumping in after her. Both felt too happy to even care what others were saying, nothing could ruin the moment.

The holidays were coming to an end, a week before school started and they drove back home to get themselves ready. Isabella promised Ivar to help him out with projects, which he was happy about if it meant he could spend more time with her.

Before he drove her home he drove onto a large viewing area of the city on a cliff. Both were joined in hands as they walked to the ledge. Ivar never felt happier before to be with the girl he secretly loved, and she felt the same.

She leaned over and kissed his cheek, smiling as he returned the same jester before she leaned into his side with her arms wrapped around his. This felt good, it felt right.

They were meant to be.

#vikings #ivar the boneless #ivar x reader #ivar x oc #modern #fanfiction #fandom #bad boy #smut #ivar imagine #ending

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realityhelixcreates · 4 years

Text

Lasabrjotr Chapter 54: Give A Reason

Chapters: 54/? Fandom: Thor (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe Rating: Teen And Up Warnings: none Relationships: Loki x Reader (Getting There) Characters: Loki (Marvel), Thor(Marvel) Additional Tags: Post-Endgame: Best Possible Ending (Canon-Divergent), How Do I Love Thee, Let Me Count The Ways. One: That Bangin’ Ass, Two-

Loki explores his feelings.

Loki was over the moon.

“She cares about me, Thor. Me specifically.” He was practically wiggling in smug excitement. “She confessed it to me, herself.”

“So you have said, brother. Several times. In the past hour.” Thor said, leafing through a book about metalurgy. “I am glad for you. This is progress in several ways.”

“Yes. She is coming to see my obvious superiority as a potential consort.”

“Possibly. I meant more that you are becoming someone that a human from her country could care about. That you are progressing, as a person. Look at all of the things you have been doing lately. Caretaking mortals, participating in their justice system, housing them, defending them. You know. Like a benevolent god.”

“I...” Loki paused. “I suppose I've come full circle, haven't I?”

“You're starting to see them as they are. We ignored them for so long, encouraged everyone else to do so as well. We didn't see them as they are, and it's one of Asgards lasting flaws.” Thor said. “We don't see anyone as they are. Look at these humans. Look at everything they have accomplished in their short time. For better and for worse. It's amazing. You're seeing them now, like I do. As people. People worthy of respect, of admiration. Of protection. Of love.”

“I still do not understand them. Do you think there is anything more I can do?”

“Stick with one project at a time.” Thor suggested. “You like to think big, but Earth is bigger still, and it will overwhelm you. Your longhouse project is a hit; stick with it until it is done.”

“I am thinking of asking the general populace for volunteers to help with the building.” Loki said. “I know all of our dedicated builders are tied up with city projects right now, but anyone who has time to spare and an interest in doing so, should be able to do simple things, like hauling soil, or stacking stones. Most of all, I want mingling. I want human and Asgardian to become acclimated to one another. It's going to happen sometime, so it might as well be soon. We should be building our bridges as early as possible.”

“Hm. I'm inclined to agree, though I think there should be some regulations. Einherjar to watch over them-”

“Perhaps a joint human-einherjar force?” Loki suggested. “Humans may never be able to match Asgardians, but they could still benefit from training with us.”

“Hm. You're right. However, humans tend to favor weapons like guns.”

“Yet we have both worked with a man who specialized in the use of a bow, and was far superior to most gunmen.”

“I think worked 'with' is a bit of a stretch on your part, brother.” Thor pointed out.

Loki rolled his eyes. “Yes, well.” He huffed. “All I am saying is that we know humans can learn to be extremely proficient in weapons that aren't guns. I do not believe the Icelandic government would allow us to authorize the use of firearms for non-Asgardian citizens anyway. But they have not disallowed the axes and swords that Trolekaerhalla brought with them, so I am assuming those are still legal.”

“Outside city limits, anyway.”

“Outside Icelandic city limits.”

Thor closed his book. “Oh, damn. I just thought of something.”

“I do not believe you.”

“Ha ha. We are thinking of building a permanent human settlement. On land that has not yet been granted to us.”

“Oh damn!” Loki echoed. “I keep thinking of that area as already granted, rather than 'potentially granted in the future, if expansion warrants it'.” What was 'future' to humans, was 'tomorrow' to them.

“We will have to consult the embassy.”

Loki groaned. The 'embassy' consisted of a cluster of small buildings across the river and to the north, from which a farm was also seasonally run. It was staffed by a rotating roster of minor officials, whose job was to 'oversee' Asgardian building and regulate their impact on the local environment. They were not particularly troublesome, and, except for a near obsessive concern with the health of the fens and the river, they did not bother Asgard with all that many demands. But it was an absolutely galling reminder of their fallen status that the king of the Shining Realm had to ask permission for anything, and from such minor officials.

There was an element of helplessness and subordination involved, and Loki despised it. They were going to need to accrue power quickly, if they were going to create and maintain relevance in this realm.

“I'll get a messenger ready.” He said.

“No, I'll go myself.” Thor offered. “Bring some clout to the conversation. Unless you'd like to go? You could bring your little lady with you, get her some experience in things like this.”

“Perhaps. That reminds me; I should send her father a gift.”

“You are getting a little ahead of yourself, aren't you?” Thor teased. “You haven't even asked for her hand yet.”

“Not like that, you wag!” Loki exclaimed. “It's just that when we first brought _____ here, we did not know that it was going to be permanent. But it is. We have found no cure yet for our co-dependent weakness. In that light, I have essentially taken his daughter from him, and into our household, so I owe him. You know that. Isn't that why you sent all that junk to Dr. Selvig?”

“Erik is not Jane's father, and it wasn't junk!” Thor protested. “It was Asgardian objects that were no longer needed!”

Loki gave him a long look.

“I see your point though. Perhaps you should send a gift.”

“Hm. Her father is a peasant who spends most of his time in a confined space with a cat. What would be suitable for such a man?” Loki pondered.

“No weapons.” Thor said. “No armor. Not only could he not make use of them, but customs would confiscate them immediately.”

“Surely a knife...” Loki began, but Thor shook his head. “Very well. Cloth? A bolt of fine silk, or linen. Wool? Surely we can provide something better than wool.”

“It's not a troth gift, Loki. Send him some cotton, and call it a day. There is no need to overthink this.”

“A careless gift can become an insult.” Loki said. “It may not be a troth gift, but I still want to convey to the man that I place his daughter at a high value, and that I haven't just absconded with her as if she were otherwise worthless. Perhaps I shall go with the linen. Or a heavy cotton. _____ tells me that her Iowa becomes very hot in the summer, and very cold in the winter. He could make use of both.”

“I do not think that anyone who has laid eyes on you lately could believe that you do not value her.” Thor teased. “Though some of the more jealous among them might wonder why she compels you so.”

“That is their loss. If they cannot see her many virtues, it is not up to me to enlighten them, though I might choose to do so anyway.”

“You have a list?”

“She has many virtues.”

“That is something I have been meaning to ask you about.” Thor said. “The nature of your affection for her. Where it springs from.”

“Are you questioning my feelings again?” Loki asked defensively. It was something Thor had been doing a lot these past few years. Loki realized that it was good for him to explore his emotions; a thing he was admittedly terrible at doing for himself. But when someone prodded him about it...

Well, he wasn't happy about it, but with someone guiding him, he could analyze internal issues that he would never have allowed himself to touch on his own.

“It is good for me to love my seidkona.” He said. “I'll be able to open up to her like I need to. This way, you don't need to shoulder the whole burden of my odious emotional instability.”

“It's not that much a burden. And you are being evasive.” Thor said.

“Of course I am.” Loki shot back. “I...I guess I'm just pleased to find that I am still able to feel this way at all. I do not wish to examine it too closely and find that it is somehow false.”

“Oh, I do not doubt it is real, and neither should you. Your feelings are your feelings, no matter what. What I believe we should examine is from whence these feelings have sprung, then we might better know how to proceed. That is, if you want to proceed.”

“Yes, I want to proceed!” Loki said. “Of course I want to proceed! The desire consumes every moment that I do not distract myself with something else.”

“Well, talk to me about it.” Thor prodded. “Do you know why you love her so? Is is guilt?”

“What? No!” Loki scoffed. “Any guilt I feel is completely separate from all this.”

“So this has nothing to do with effectively destroying her life, and taking her from everything that she loves and taking her from everyone that loves her. And that's absolutely not why you shower her with attention and prestige, and want to send a gift to her father. No guilt over what you did there. That's not why you want to build homes for Trolekaerhalla, in leu of helping to rebuild New York. Guilt absolutely does not drive your actions there either. I see.”

“Any guilt I feel is...partially separate from this.” Loki amended, face burning. “But it's not the only reason. I feel like she deserves much more than the world has allotted her, myself included. I see a potential in her that I would never have guessed hid in the depths of humankind.”

“Humans have caused you much trouble in the past.” Thor pointed out. “The Hulk flung you about like a toy, the Captain held his own in battle with you.”

“The Hulk is a special case.” Loki said. “All of your little company are. Or, at least, I used to think so. But she had nothing, you understand? No advantage. She hadn't the hoard of wealth, nor the high education, nor the job with a powerful organization, nor the exposure to scientific innovations that all of your Avengers did. And yet, she is this. If this potential exists in her, the most common of humans, might it be in them all? Fascinating. Horrifying. And so, so intriguing.

But that's not the only reason either. Outside of my feelings regarding her species and magic, she has great virtues of her own. Her mind is hungry, so much so that I fear if I were not by her side, her curiosity would lead her to destruction. She doesn't lack ferocity or courage when they are needed, but she also balances that with such compassion. I find that impressive, with everything she's been through.”

“It doesn't have anything to do with her being the only woman to show you affection in some time?”

Loki's face went even redder. “No...There were a few on Sakkar...but I refused their advances.”

“Really? Why?” Thor remembered the people of Sakkar as being very odd, but not altogether repulsive.

“Lack of trust, and a distinct cultural difference. To them, the fact that they could be exiled or executed at literally any moment led them to a hedonistic, live-in-the-moment lifestyle. Nothing meant anything to them. They didn't truly care about anything, and couldn't be trusted for anything.

But _____ cares. She cares about so much. Things have meaning to her, as they have to me. Maybe none of our troubles would have come about if I just hadn't cared so damn much. But I do. And that care has gathered her up into it now, wrapped like a cloak about her shoulders. I can no longer see myself without her.”

“Yes, you were besotted mere days after meeting her.” Thor pointed out. “Perhaps you were just ready. You are getting to that age where a man wishes to settle down and think of family.”

“I am younger than you!”

“Barely. But...That is another thing to think about. You will need to tell her.”

Loki pressed his lips together tightly, making an irritated sound through his nose. He knew that. He wasn't going to do it, not until he couldn't put it off any longer.

“Have you been looking at yourself? Like Sjofn suggested?”

“Yes, but I still don't see the point. I find it no less repulsive for looking upon it more often.”

Thor shrugged. “Sjofn has always been wise when it comes to these kinds of things. You know.”

“I know. I just don't see it, that's all. I wish I did.”

“Maybe _____ will. Speaking of, do you have any plans?”

“Your party is very soon. I thought I might dance with her.”

“And?”

“And make nice with your Avengers. Or at least try to. I feel Stark shall never be friendly with me, but she might be impressed. I would like to kiss her, should she allow it. The last time was...not ideal. I can do better.”

“She makes you want to do better?”

Loki nodded, and Thor smiled.

“I think that is how it is supposed to work.”

******

You swept the fancy green dress Loki had given you in wide circles around the room. There was going to be a party tonight! People were already arriving: Tony Stark had landed an advanced aircraft right on top of the former site of the militant camp, and he had brought others with him. More had come across the river. They were all unmasked, and causing great excitement in the city. Saldis had been talking about it nonstop.

You were starting to get the impression that she had a special interest in humans.

She helped you dress and did your hair, blabbing about their fashion, and strangeness, and beauty. Perhaps Andsvarr was going to have some competition soon.

You had worn this dress before, but only for Loki. It was still scandalously low-cut, in your opinion, but easily the fanciest thing you'd ever owned. Of course, this was going to be a fancy party, so you had to be dressed your best.

What did one do at a fancy party? Waltz about in a great big ballroom? Eat little appetizers off silver trays? Or did the rich and powerful get completely faced just like everybody else?

You'd probably better warn everyone about the crystal mead.

“These are the most important people of your world. Do you think they would speak with a servant?” Saldis asked anxiously.

“What? Of course!” You said, putting on some of your personal jewelry. It was cheap and fake, but you didn't honestly see how anyone could tell the difference. Besides, your dad had gotten you most of this, for birthdays and Christmases over the years. That was the real treasure, wasn't it? “I mean, they talk to me every week, and I'm a nobody.”

“How is it that you still think that?”

“Habit, I guess.” You shrugged. “I've never felt like I really meant anything before, and it's hard to adjust my thinking. It sorta comes and goes; one moment I feel proud of everything I've done, and the next I feel like a complete impostor.”

“I understand that. They warn us not to fall for the nobles, because we wouldn't know how to live their lives, but I feel like that's a sham so the nobles can keep their sons and daughters as bargaining chips in political marriages. But that shouldn't be a problem anymore.” She added, noticing your disgusted expression. “Allfather Odin started phasing that out before I was born, and it seems like Allfather Thor is going to continue his work.”

“His Highness is in accord.” You said. “He told me so. It still grosses me out though. But if you want to go talk to some Avengers, I don't see why you shouldn't. Besides, aren't you kind of falling for a noble yourself?”

Saldis cleared her throat. “Well. If it works out, yes. But if it doesn't, neither of us are exactly hurting for potential suitors. It's just that we like each other best. Just like you and the prince.”

You sputtered. “What? No, we're not-”

“It's fine, everybody knows.” Saldis said. “I heard the Valkyries gossiping about it, and the general didn't tell them to stop. That's how you know that she knows it's true.”

“Everybody doesn't know anything.” You insisted. “Me and Loki aren't a thing.”

“Which is why he had that dress made for you, and why you moon at him every time you think no one is looking. Someone's always looking.”

“I don't moon...” You said. “Wait what was that about the dress?”

“It's very fine. A courtier's dress, to reflect your position as advisor, that you belong in the court with him. That's quite a statement. If you ask me, he's been making that statement for some time.”

“No way.”

“Perhaps. Perhaps not. The prince has always been hard to read, but the emotion that he does show seems quite genuine.”

“You really think so? Other people think so?” There was no way. But if it was true, if it was true...certain things were falling into place. But there was no way, was there? No way it could work. You couldn't dare to hope.

Could you?

#lasabrjotr #loki x reader #loki (marvel)#thor (marvel)

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frizz22 · 5 years

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Spellwood prompt based on the line "don't torture yourself, darling. That's my job."

Okay, going to admit I jumped ahead in the prompt list to write this one. But it’s October 🎃 and it’s fitting!! Anyway, hope you enjoy, sequel to Mon Sauvage. Set a year after the first. Read on ao3

Samhain was only days away and though she and Faustus were to spend the first night together as they had the year before, Zelda didn’t want to put off this particular surprise until then… what could she say? Patience wasn’t a virtue of hers.

Making the final adjustments to her dress, Zelda couldn’t help but smile wickedly at her reflection in the mirror. Though the get up was more suited to the dark television seductress Morticia she’d been introduced to the year before, Zelda thought she pulled off the dress rather well and Faustus would likely agree.

With a final touch up of her lipstick, Zelda teleported to Faustus’ house and let herself in.

As she approached his office, she could hear him talking. Peeking her head in, but making sure her body was hidden behind the door, Zelda found him pacing, arguing with someone on the phone about arrangements for this year’s celebration. As always, October 31st was a free for all, witches doing as they pleased while November 1st was when the coven came together for bonfires, feasts and offerings to spirits. It was details for the first that were giving Faustus trouble, the warlocks he’d hired to play music causing problems—or so Zelda gleaned from the half of the conversation she could hear.

Faustus must have felt the wards go off when she arrived, for he wasn’t surprised when he saw her as he hung up the phone and slumped into his chair. “I swear to you, Zels,” he raked a hand through his hair, “if I can’t pull this off the high council will be calling for my head. Or at the very least they’ll demand I self-flagellate in penance for my inability to coordinate other buffoons.” Faustus gestured to the phone where it now sat on his desk.

She tsked and slipped into the room completely. “Don’t torture yourself, darling. That’s my job.” She purred, leaning seductively against an armchair in front of his desk and delighting in the way Faustus’ eyes went wide at the sight of her dress.

Recognizing the line—it’d become a tradition of theirs to watch the movies throughout the month—Faustus pushed out of his chair. “Cara mia,” he growled, picking her up and depositing her on his desk so he could ravage all the skin her dress left exposed.

A bit breathless, Zelda grinned, a hand on the back of his head to keep him in place while the other moved lower towards his belt. “Does the council know you find the act of flagellation... arousing?” She murmured huskily in his ear, her hand slipping inside his pants as she said the last word.

His hips bucked into her touch and Zelda smirked only to have him wipe it off her face with a deliciously harsh bite to her collar bone. “No,” he muttered, soothing the spot with a lap of his tongue, “and I see no reason to enlighten them.”

Zelda hummed. “Clever high priest.” She praised, pumping her hand along his length. Taking her hand from his hair, Zelda flicked it, a riding crop suddenly appearing. “Faustus,” she breathed, nipping his ear to get his attention on her face instead of her chest. When he brought his gaze to hers, she held up the crop and his already dilated eyes turned nearly black at the sight.

“Oh, Zelda.” He moaned, reaching for the crop and she held it off to the side away from him.

“Ah, ah.” She admonished lightly, lifting a brow. “What did I say when I came in here?” Faustus just smiled sinfully in response, clearly wanting her to say it again as his hand dropped down to her breast to tweak her nipple through the fabric. Gasping despite herself, Zelda’s back arched into his touch. “It’s my job,” she stilled the hand she had down his pants, “to torture you.” She withdrew her hand much to his dismay. “Off with your clothes and on your knees, your excellency.” She ordered a bit breathless.

Faustus stripped his clothes hurriedly and kneeled, facing her, his face lifted to her eagerly.

And oh, how she loved him like this; so undone by her that he’d do anything. Pushing off the desk, Zelda walked around him, brushing her hand over his shoulders as she went, making him shiver deliciously in response.

Once behind him, Zelda cocked her head to admire his tattoos and how his muscles shifted underneath them for a brief moment. “You ready?” She asked, trailing the tip of the crop up his spine. Faustus shivered again and it was then she realized he’d taken himself in hand in anticipation. She snapped the crop against his bicep in warning, just hard enough to dance that line between pain and pleasure. She bent over, “torture first darling,” she bit his ear, “then pleasure.” She straightened once his hands were back at his sides.

“One in the same with you, cara mia.” Faustus looked at her over his shoulder with such desire that Zelda almost abandoned their game to pounce on him.

Restraining herself, Zelda pressed her thighs together for more friction. Soon, they’d get to that soon, the wait would make it all the more glorious. But first.... “Oh, mon sauvage,” she touched his cheek gently and then raised the crop; Faustus turning his head and licking his lips in greedy anticipation.

#caos #Chilling Adventures of Sabrina #Zelda Spellman #faustus blackwood #zelda x faustus #spellwood #writing prompt #fanfiction #fanfic #ao3 #AO3 fanfic #ao3fic #morticia addams #gomez addams #the addams family #netflix

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taww · 4 years

Text

Quick Take: Audiovector R 3 Arreté & SR 6 Avantgarde Arreté

After moving to a much larger living space last summer, it became apparent that my fondness for large-scale orchestral music combined with the volume of my listening area (a 26’/8m long open space with 12’/3.7m ceilings) were going to be an insurmountable challenge for my current speakers, a rotation of the Silverline SR17 Supreme and Audiovector SR 1 Avantgarde Arreté. They actually both do an admirable job - the Silverline has the body and tone of a much larger speaker, and the little Audiovector is shockingly capable of energizing the space. But physics are physics, and as they say in the car business there’s no replacement for displacement. One simply needs to move more air in a larger room. And thus I’ve been on the hunt for a bigger, full-range speaker that can retain the virtues of my beloved monitors - the speed, the focus, the purity and lack of distractions - which is no easy feat, and generally requires a considerable jump in budget. There are many big speakers under $10k that can play plenty loud but in my experience they give up too much in the process. Which leads me to these two contenders from Audiovector, a brand that I discovered only a couple years ago but immediately latched onto. Could they deliver the big sound I was seeking without compromise? I took advantage of a work trip to California to visit the crew at Audiovision SF and give them a listen.

The Audiovector R Series

I was excited to see Audiovector announce a big update to their “SR” line last fall, with the SR 3 floorstander, SR 1 bookshelf, SR C center channel and SR S subwoofer all transitioned to “R” models. (I admit, I was also a little crestfallen given I had recently purchased an SR myself, but c’est la vie). Similar to in the car industry where technologies from concept and flagship cars trickle their way down to models you and I can afford, the R series incorporates ideas and learnings from Audiovector’s most recent top models - the R 11, R 8 and SR 6. Visually the differences are fairly subtle - they retain the same proportions and “boat” cabinet and sport the same basic driver complements - but look more closely and there are actually too many changes to enumerate here. Some highlights to me:

The Arreté models boast a number of features taken straight from the flagship R 8: their latest-and-greatest AMT tweeter; a carbon-fiber back plate to eliminate interactions with crossover magnetic fields; and “Freedom Grounding,” which purports to reduce distortion by grounding the driver frames directly to earth via a dedicated cable.

The woofer has a new cone material, still utilizing carbon fiber but sandwiched with an artificial wood resin, giving it a distinctly glossier finish.

While the enclosure looks nearly identical, it’s said to be a new construction that’s measurably stronger and more inert.

The “Avantgarde Arreté” top-model designation has been shortened to just “Arreté,” a welcome simplification (the old name was a mouthful, and easy to confuse with the lower Avantgarde model).

The base “Super” model has been dropped, logical given the QR series is covering the more affordable end of the market.

The honey-toned American Cherry finish has been replaced by Italian Walnut that’s much more amenable to current interior design tastes.

So why isn’t there an R 6? I have an email out to Audiovector CEO Mads Klifoth about this, but Antonio @ Audiovision thinks it’s probably a few years away, as the SR 6 Avantgarde Arreté was updated a couple years ago to a 2.0 version that incorporated some of the technologies that made it into the R line, and being a much more complex design it’ll take some time to improve on it with the latest tricks. This gave me a bit of pause considering a purchase now, but as you’ll read later the SR 6 remains plenty compelling in the here and now.

The Setup

My previous demos of Audiovectors at the shop utilized a Chord DAVE DAC feeding either Chord or Naim electronics wired with Nordost. This audition retained the DAVE, but with an interesting new wrinkle - a Gryphon Diablo 300 integrated amp (USD $16,000) wired with Audience FrontRow cables. I was pretty excited to hear the Gryphon as I’d read great things about it, and their mega-buck systems at shows always impressed. (Incidentally, I hear after pairing with Naim for many years, Audiovector now demos with Gryphon a lot in the EU.)

The Diablo integrated impressed, combining unflappable grip and composure with musical body and flow. Plenty of high-end integrateds claim to be as good as separates, but more often than not you're still left with a nagging feeling of compromise, often in terms of the range of dynamic and tonal color, the scale of the presentation and the blackness of backgrounds. The Diablo's performance in these areas was stellar and up there with some of the better separates I've heard. I could hear just a trace of that Gryphon darkness I've heard at shows - not a lack of brilliance or extension, but a very slightly chocolatey midrange and darkened soundstage that’s quite nice if a slight deviation from neutral. And while I hadn’t heard the Audience FrontRow cables before, I’m intimately familiar with their sibling, the Au24 SX line which are my current reference cables. I heard the purity and naturalness I’ve come to expect from top-flight Audience wire, and they seemed to take off a trace of the edge I’d heard prior with the very detailed Nordost cables. I would call this a substantial upgrade (or at least one more suited to my tastes) from the previous front-end, having a deep, organic presentation with lifelike scale that was immersive. From the first notes, I could tell this was going to be a good session.

Listening to the R 3 Arreté (USD $9,999)

I nestled in the GamuT Lobster chair and got a good hour or so listening to my usual assortment of tracks via Tidal/Qoboz streaming - Magdalena Kozena Mozart Arias, Lisa Batiasvilli Prokofiev Concertos, Saint-Saëns Carnival of the Animals for two pianos and ensemble, Mahler Das Lied von der Erde, Francois Leleux Telemann oboe solos and some Ella Fitzgerald and Carly Rae Jepsen thrown in for good measure. I was most interested in that new resin/fiber mid-woofer, said to be more detailed and articulate than the outgoing unit. The carbon fiber unit in my SR 1 Avantgarde Arreté is clean to extreme but just slightly dry, so I was hoping for a bit more body and resonance with voices and orchestral instruments.

Quick impressions:

The new woofer definitely has a subtly different tone, sounding less dry and bringing out tonal complexities better. It’s just as fast but it supports the leading edges better with a bit more body. It also sounds better damped, taking off a bit of crispness in the upper midrange that can sometimes be heard in the old unit. This really helps out bring out more of the beauty of vocals and wind instruments.

The tweeter is a similar upgrade, being slightly sweeter and more articulate. It too also sounds a tad less dry, giving flutes a bit more fluidity and harmonic fullness.

The updated drivers and cabinet, as well as the Freedom Grounding system, make the speaker sound exceedingly free of distracting distortions and noises, even more so than the SR series.

The slight dip in the crossover region around 2.8kHz that both @mgd-taww and I have heard in the SR 1 (and that I have measured in my SR 1) seems a bit smoother in the R 3.

The bass was huge for a speaker of this size - it could really pound out a full orchestra and bass guitar line with weight and gusto.

Overall the midrange was more relaxed and expansive than what I heard from the prior SR 3 model (the hyper-tweaked Avantgarde Arreté Raw), with a similar fullness in the mid-bass but noticeably stronger output at the bottom end and a much bigger overall presentation. Antonio described it as an evolutionary upgrade over the SR 3, but I felt the many little changes added up to a substantial shift (and improvement) in the overall presentation. It sounds less uptight and clinical than the old model without losing the trademark Audivector speed and incisiveness.

So all in all, a very nice upgrade that makes me excited for how the R 1 would improve on my SR 1. But was I sold? This is where things get a little tricky... the R 3 is no doubt a compelling speaker - fast, detailed, polished and packing a big punch. But similar to when I auditioned the SR 3 before deciding on my smaller SR 1, I felt I heard some trade-offs of adding an extra woofer and larger cabinet to a super precise monitor design. The SR 3’s slight loss of lower midrange clarity vs. the SR 1 is still there with the R 3 - it sounds bigger and fuller, but not as tightly focused. While the extra bottom end is great and results in a much more complete tonal balance, to my ears tones below 250Hz (where the extra woofer kicks in) didn’t quite seem to match the blazing speed of the midrange on up. I liked a lot about the R 3, but I wanted it all, without any compromise whatsoever.

And so...

The SR 6 Avantgarde Arreté (USD $24,999)

Antonio listened to my assessment, and suggested the big-brother SR 6 might hold the answer. At 2.5x the price, it wasn’t originally on my list, but as he had them all set up behind the R 3’s I figured what harm could come from giving them a listen... (famous last words)

Wow. I had heard the SR 6 before, when Mads Klifoth demo’ed them on a visit to the store, but this was my first time sitting down for a serious audition. And it became immediately clear what happens when you give a top-notch designer and firm more than double the budget to build a full range speaker. It had all the speed and purity that I loved of my SR 1, but with even more clarity and resolving power. It then took that speed, and extended it all the way down the frequency spectrum. Every instrument in the orchestra, from the celli to the clarinets to timpani, had the same startling presence and completeness of tone. This is probably the closest I’ve come to feeling like I had the speaker wires plugged directly into my ears.

The weight and scale was impressive, but what really shocked me was listening to Francois Leleux’s solo oboe. The recording is nothing remarkable, made in a church by a small label. But for the first time, I could clearly make out precisely where Leleux’s long tapered notes ended, and where the echo of the church began. It was uncanny, and I had to bring my wife, an oboist, in for a listen the next day. She observed the same: “Wow, it’s so clear. I can hear all his breathing and where his notes begin and end. And I can also now hear all this extra nuance and phrasing in his playing. Dammit.” (She’s always hard on herself when she hears what the best musicians in the world can do with their instruments.) We moved on to the slow movement from Brahms Symphony No. 1 (Berlin Philarmonic/Rattle), a recording we know inside out, and she noted how she had never heard the orchestra with such realistic weight and size, and how this changed the entire balance of the recording to be far more realistic, as you’d hear it in the hall (as in, harder to hear the oboe solo!). She listened some more, and despite knowing the hefty price tag, she couldn’t help but remark “this is really nice...”

And just to make sure it could have fun, I pulled up Carly Rae Jepsen’s Julien (from Dedicated) and heard the track as I’ve never heard it before. The SR 6 sucked me into a soundscape so vivid, it felt like I was being pulled inside the mix, rather than listening to it from the outside. I was engaged, stimulated, bouncing around in my chair. This speaker (not to mention the rest of the system) can definitely boogie, and I could have happily sat there for the rest of the week going through all my favorite tracks.

So, yeah, a $25k speaker model sounds better than the $10k one. Shocking. But it was a clear illustration of how at a certain point with high-end reproduction, you just need to expend a lot more money to get to the next level of realism. It’s diminishing returns for sure, but how sweet those returns are.

It did leave me wondering what an R 6 with the new woofer and all the latest trimmings could sound like. The SR 6 better integrates its midrange with the woofer than the R 3, but it has just a hair of the same dryness that the new resin woofer in the R 3 ameliorates. Not to over-generalize, and a clever designer can massage away much of this, but the material of a cone tends to impart its distinct texture to the sound - untreated paper can sound dry and papery, plastic woofers tend to be plasticky and mushy (examples: early Devore speakers, countless monitors from the ‘90s using the Seas polypropylene cones), metal can be hard and ring-ey, etc. Treated paper tends to be a nice compromise by damping the break-up modes, carbon fiber can also be good (example: Role Audio speakers) but can lean a little dry and mechanical. Dynaudio was onto something when they developed their magnesium-silicate-polymer (MSP) cone - they’re distinctly less dry than paper and carbon fiber, while being much faster and crisper than plain poly cones, and are used to great effect in their Esotec woofers (Example: Silverline SR17, and of course Dynaudio’s own line). I would say the carbon fiber woofer in the SR series is just a tad on the dry side, while the new resin version moves it about halfway between the old woofer and Dynaudio Esotec without sacrificing speed, which to my ears is a very nice place to be. That said, the SR 6 is a considerably more refined speaker than the R 3 and the overall completeness of the design far outweighs the nuances of the driver material. I think I read online somewhere that the R 3 could now give the SR 6 a run for its money; my experience most definitely did not concur with that assessment!

So to sum up: the new R series’s numerous tweaks seem to make an appreciable difference in character and musicality, the R 3 Arreté is impressively fluid and big-sounding, and the SR 6 Avantgarde Arreté is still a killer speaker in its current form... so much so that it’s jumped to the top of my list of potential reference speakers for my new room. I’ve got my eyes and ears on it...

Huge thanks as always to the Antonio, Taylor and the entire Audiovision SF crew for their hospitality.

#quick take #review #audiovector #hifi #speaker #loudspeaker #gryphon

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theteablogger · 5 years

Text

Andy writ large

Several people have sent me links to the New Yorker article in which Ian Parker exposes author/editor Dan Mallory as having lied, gaslighted people, and engaged in other manipulative behaviors for many years in order to further his career. When confronted, Mallory tried to blame it all on mental illness. Anons have been discussing this on tf-talk and FFA, noting that Mallory sounds a lot like "the prestige drama version of Thanfiction", and I have to agree. I've written several times in the past about people who reminded me and others of Andy (Aiden Sinclair/Richard Outhier, Travis Aaron Wade, Kevin Spacey, Teri Hoffman and Tyler Deaton), and the similarities in this case are even more striking than any of those. So here are the things that stood out to me in Parker's article. This is a pretty long list, so I've broken it down into several sections for readability.

Generally manipulative behavior:

Tom Scott described Mallory, at their first meeting, as being self-assured and nonchalant in a way that (to me, as a reader) seemed studied. He also said that Mallory casually bragged about his success in a way that left him feeling charmed rather than nonplussed or annoyed. This matches up with several accounts I've read of people’s first impressions of Andy when he was in the LotR fandom.

Both Andy and Dan Mallory tend to get personal with strangers quickly and to overshare – e.g., the "lighthearted debate" at a festival in which Mallory abruptly got serious and spoke frankly (lying) about his alleged history of ECT. This kind of oversharing tends to elicit sympathy from listeners and to make them feel that this person is being genuine and vulnerable with them, which makes them more inclined to open up in turn. This is something that Andy was doing as recently as last year, but he misjudged his audience some of the time and they just found it off-putting.

They frequently engage in self-deprecating humor, which is endearing and encourages others to let down their guard. These days, Andy incorporates glib, jokey references to his past into this part of his shtick (e.g., "someday over a glass of wine, I'll tell you about the time I accidentally started a hobbit cult"), so it also serves to inoculate listeners against anything negative they might hear about him from other people.

Both tend to zero in on and exploit good-natured people who give others the benefit of the doubt.

Both pride themselves on (and brag about) using charisma and "wit" to talk their way into places/situations for which they are underqualified, that they can't afford, etc. See Andy’s remarks about getting "gorgeous service" at high-end boutiques based on charisma alone, and the commencement speech in which Mallory bragged about talking his way into a thesis program without doing the qualifying work.

These men hate to be in anything that could be construed as a subordinate role, although this is one area in which Andy is arguably more subtle than Dan Mallory.

Both enjoy hiding in plain sight—in Mallory’s case, through his novel.

Both have long histories of engaging in gaslighting, lying, and manipulation for their own benefit and/or entertainment.

Acquaintances have described both men's behavior as performative and calculating.

Neither could let go of their former victims, but instead kept contacting them to try and draw them back in—Andy did this with Abbey after she left him in Virginia, and Mallory did this with his former colleagues in London.

Lying liars who lie:

Both men have lied repeatedly and extensively about their physical and mental health histories, and can't be bothered to keep their stories straight. In Andy’s case, this has included claiming various psychiatric diagnoses with symptoms corresponding to their Hollywood portrayals, telling stories about allergic reactions and injuries that were wildly exaggerated at best, and more. Mallory told ever-changing stories of psychiatric treatments that worked either very well or not at all, blamed his chronic lying on Bipolar II (a claim that would be ludicrous if it weren't so offensive), repeatedly claimed to have brain tumors and/or cancer, and told a variety of lies over the years about family members' illnesses and deaths that never happened.

Both have lied about having mysterious, incurable ailments that would definitely kill them within a set number of years—which was prone to change—but that conveniently didn't stop Mallory from working when he felt like it, or Andy from traveling anywhere his friends would pay for.

Each of them has told a multitude of easily disprovable lies about his education, his family, and his personal history.

Both claimed to have been abused as children, though Andy told long, graphically detailed stories about it and Mallory doesn’t seem to have gone further than making an implication.

Each has lied about a younger sibling's identity: Mallory impersonated his brother in a long series of emails to former colleagues about his alleged ill health, and Andy told his friends that his sister was responsible for everything he'd done to people as Amy Player.

Both have inadvertently revealed themselves via verbal, syntactical, or spelling idiosyncrasies when impersonating others online.

Both impersonated other people to chronicle their fake or severely exaggerated illnesses and to describe their plucky/humorous behavior during alleged hospital stays.

Both faked accents—Andy was "Irish" and Mallory was "British".

Both have claimed, directly and by implication, to have connections and insider knowledge of Hollywood, the film industry, and/or screenwriting.

Aside from all the outright lies they've told, both men have engaged in lies of omission, deliberately not correcting others' misunderstandings or misperceptions about them.

When their lies were exposed, both claimed that their accusers were lying because they were sexually attracted to them and had either been rejected (as Mallory said of the CEO of a publishing house), or were disturbed by the attraction (as Andy said of Turimel).

Both tend to double down when confronted about an obvious lie, and then try to steer the conversation to other topics.

Miscellany:

Each is the eldest son of affluent parents.

Mallory's fascination with Tom Ripley is reminiscent of Andy's admiration of Frank Abagnale.

Both were involved in their college theatre departments. For Andy, this is true of his attendance at VCU, at Thomas Nelson Community College, and at Christopher Newport University almost twenty years ago. (I’m not sure what he did at George Mason. He wasn't there for long.)

The work of both men is, shall we say, "derivative". In Andy's case, this applies more to his art. I am not familiar with Mallory's work other than The Woman in the Window and a handful of quotations from essays and e-mails he's written, but it appears that in TWW, he may have ripped off a novel by Sarah A. Denzil that was published six months before he started trying to sell his book, and has almost certainly ripped off "Copycat", a movie from 1995 (see New Yorker article).

Mallory’s focus on process and strategy in writing, the way his own voice overwhelms that of the narrator, and Parker's description of TWW as "a thriller excited about getting away with writing a thriller" all reminded me of the experience of reading DAYD and the way Andy has often talked about writing and storycraft.

Many former associates of each man were at least somewhat aware of how sketchy they were, but were unable or unwilling to call them out.

A surprising number of people, despite knowing they've been lied to repeatedly and at great length, still like both of them quite a lot.

Both Andy's and Dan Mallory's parents seem like kind, decent people who love their sons and want to believe the best of them.

Specific lines from the "New Yorker" article that made me think of Andy:

A former colleague on Mallory: "'If there was something that he wanted and there was a way he could position himself to get it, he would. If there was a story to tell that would help him, he would tell it.'"

"He’d begin with rapturous flattery…and then shift to self-regard. He wittily skewered acquaintances and seemed always conscious of his physical allure."

Author Sophie Hannah: "Mallory 'renewed my creative energy,' she said. He had a knack for 'giving feedback in the form of praise for exactly the things I’m proud of.'"

"Speaking in Colorado last January, Mallory quoted a passage from Kay Redfield Jamison’s memoir, 'An Unquiet Mind,' in which she describes repeatedly confronting the social wreckage caused by her bipolar episodes—knowing that she had 'apologies to make.' … In more recent public appearances, Mallory seems to have dropped this reference to wreckage. Instead, he has accepted credit for his courage in bringing up his mental suffering, and he has foregrounded his virtues."

Mallory: "It's been horrific, not least because, in my distress, I did or said or believed things I would never ordinarily say, or do, or believe—things of which, in many instances, I have absolutely no recollection."

#andrewmblake #andythanfiction #thanfiction #dan mallory #andy blake #andrew blake #hiding in plain sight #mental health

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avelera · 6 years

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I loved that piece you wrote on weird, slightly-shallow awkward Newton Geizler because you're right, fandom can sometimes ignore their favourite characters' flaws but it's SO MUCH more interesting to see them warts and all. Do you have any thoughts on how the K-Science boys deal with each others flaws and negative character traits? Because there's mutual respect but christ, neither of them are perfect and they both KNOW the worst of the other and yet they're still together. It's fascinating.

Oh gosh, I’m so pleased you liked my little bit of meta! (I just went back and re-read it to refresh myself on what I said, lol). And this is a really fascinating question!

I think to start you’d have to list their flaws.

Newt: selfish (I’m a doctor!), self-centered (making Hermann’s lab life miserable with the entrails, the Drift experiment being partially out of desire for attention and to be right), messy (Kaiju entrails), maybe a bit shallow (with his fashion sense and body art), un-empathetic (talks about how cool Kaiju are around people who have lost family to the Kaiju), often deliberately obnoxious (literally everything with Hermann), hyperactive and screechy (Charlie Day), immature (in many senses, but also in his fanboy qualities), Down to Fight at all times (“Is it impossible?!”), can’t keep a secret ( “… I’m gonna tell you.”), reckless and impulsive (the Kaiju Drift), arrogant and wants to be the center of attention (I mean… basically everything about him). Obviously he has many virtues which I’ve described elsewhere, but that’s not the point of this post.

Hermann: cantankerous (he’s 36 going on 80), a busy body with his nose in other people’s business (“Please excuse him, he’s a Kaiju grrrrroupie.”), spiteful (it may not be on purpose but he kicks water at Newt in their very first scene, and just in general this is true of him), smug (about how Newt is wrong), arrogant (literally everything about how he puts down Newt and his theories), dismissive (“Politics, poetry, these are lies.”), impatient with others (though that could just be Newt, who could drive anyone to madness), cold (at least outwardly towards Newt, many of his insults cut close to the bone), authoritarian (Hermann appeals to military authority and clearly admires it) and just all around difficult to deal with. Interestingly, many of these traits are gone by Uprising, while “Newt” gets a whole new batch of very different flaws. And again it should be stressed, Hermann has many virtues including but not limited to his intellect, his determination, his drive, his raw courage, and his persistence in the face of dismissal, discomfort, and disability.

And by the way, both of them think they’re the “normal” one who needs to look out for their obnoxious colleague and I just cannot with them they are both heinously difficult human beings in the best way lol.

And now onto how the Newmann ship would deal with these flaws:

I think a lot of how Newt and Hermann would deal with one another’s flaws is that they have been dealing with them for years now already. These flaws are not new or shocking to them, nor have they driven the other away. Clearly, they tolerate one another when anyone else would have withdrawn to a safe distance or just abandoned them entirely. They clearly care for each other in spite of if not because of these flaws. Even pre-Drift they try to protect one another from their most dangerous fascinations (Newt his obsession with the Kaiju, Hermann his attraction to the military).

Clearly they have flaws that do genuinely drive the other to distraction. Newt seems genuinely upset when Hermann dismisses his theory and his findings regarding the Kaiju Drift. But on Hermann’s side, the proposal of that Drift seems to have genuinely touched a nerve of fear on Newt’s behalf that he covers up with snideness and dismissal.

I’ve always gone with the theory that it’s more their method of communication with one another that was clashing. Hermann didn’t understand Newt’s obnoxiousness towards him was the equivalent of pulling pigtails, that Newt wanted Hermann’s attention and regard. Newt couldn’t understand that Hermann’s dismissal of Newt’s obsessions was his way of trying to protect Newt. It’s one reason I think the Drift fused them into a functional whole after so many years of clashing, it finally showed them through a direct mind connection what they had failed to communicate. All the times they had been sincere when the other thought they were joking, and vice versa. Their method of communication. Their respect for one another hidden beneath a prickly surface. The way they’d both tried to hide their vulnerabilities from one another and thus both come off as distant, cold, and uncaring to one another. I have no doubt that the “instant hatred” at that first meeting after the letters was because both of them had such high expectations but didn’t know how to communicate with one another outside of written format where everything could be cleanly expressed.

That said, I think that before and after the Drift they actually do love one another for their “flaws”. I think Newt and Hermann are both heinously arrogant when it comes to their intelligence and their field, and I think they love that about one another, albeit secretly at first, or perhaps rather what that arrogance is a result of and how it translates. They’re both tops of their field, poised on the eccentric edge of it, they’re both the very best at what they do, and I don’t think either of their personalities could stand to be around someone who wasn’t on their level intellectually, or someone who tried to be modest about those accomplishments.

I think Hermann’s busy-bodyness is one way that Newt knows he cares. Newt would be at a genuine loss if Hermann stopped poking his nose in, as a sign that he’d stopped caring. Likewise, if Newt stopped being deliberately obnoxious to Hermann it would mean the same thing: apathy would be far worse than needling. Hermann probably wouldn’t know what to do with himself. There’s a compelling case to be made that the sniping serves a dual purpose in these final days of war which is to keep both of them from having a screaming breakdown over the stress and the sheer unholy knowledge of how fucked the world is, so when they’re bitching about little arguments and annoyances they’re not thinking about the void that’s about to open up beneath their feet.

I think Newt’s hyperactivity and fanboy qualities and general devil-may-care attitude is refreshing for Hermann and his authoritarian upbringing. I think on his own Hermann would retreat into an isolation he’d verbally claim he prefers but which would eat away at him. He may gripe about it, but he thrives and seeks Newt pulling him out of himself. Likewise I think Newt is always seeking validation. By being such a difficult person who doesn’t flatter others easily, Hermann’s regard is worth that much more and it could serve as a grounding influence on Newt to know there’s someone out there who sticks by him and engages him intellectually, even if they don’t always agree (they don’t need to agree if it’s a matter of intellectual debate). Even when arguing, Hermann validates Newt by never dismissing him from his presence or truly giving up on him, another reason the dismissal of the Kaiju Drift clearly is hurtful and unexpected to Newt (who can’t read it as a protective action).

They call one another on their bullshit. They’re not personalities who need to be coddled or told they’re right all the time or flattered. They might respond initially to flattery, and even get puffed up about it and smugly rub it in the other’s face, but it would wear thin. They’d realize the thrill and rush of flattery is dissatisfying. That they’d rather earn the other’s aggressive debate than the fawning of lesser minds. Even when Newt is showing off to Hannibal Chau it’s because he clearly identifies an equal in his field, albeit a black hat to his white hat, a criminal to his academic. They want to impress equals and they serve as equals to one another.

I think anything beyond this would go well into fanon speculation. The last note I’d say on Uprising, because they become such different characters there, is that clearly Hermann is stunned when Newt won’t help him. Clearly in PR1 Newt is stunned when Hermann won’t back him up that the Drift worked when it clearly did. That tells me that even at their lowest, they supported one another, even if they might grumble about it. The grumbling is half the fun.

#newmann #pacific rim #newton geiszler #hermann gottlieb #my meta #pr meta #Anonymous

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blackrose-ffxiv · 5 years

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Scheming Minds 11/14

Lebeaux Desrosiers wandered through the rooms, admiring the décor. It was certainly nice, considering the Hingan style, rather like the rest of the club. It could do with a little more stained glass and a little less ‘clutter’ but that seemed to be the aesthetic. He continued until he found the other kneeling in front of an altar. “My, my.” He mused as he tapped the parchment against his chin, the flat smile growing somewhat. “Are you praying? How charming.”

Daijiro Satake lifts his head when he is addressed, but he does not yet turn it, as if making a point to finish something. "Hello, Ser Desrosiers", he says, then reaching for a small cup that stood on the altar and pouring some tea into another cup, doing so rather slowly and gracefully.

Lebeaux leaned a shoulder lightly against the nearby pillar, folding arms across his chest so he could continue tapping the parchment lightly against his chin as he observed the ritual. “As I said, good afternoon. How nice to find you well. And tending to your faith, if you can call it such. I was beginning to worry that for all your talk of kami you were a godless sort after all. Of course, it’s still the wrong god, but at least it shows some devotion.”

Daijiro hums. "I was communing with my families' ancestors", he remarks. He then turns around and takes on the same formal pose, gesturing to the pillows on the floor. "Please, do remove your shoes and headgear and sit?" he asks.

Lebeaux lifted a shoulder in a small shrug as he pushed himself upright and removed his hat, hanging on a nearby partition. He left the boots on, though. If he was going to sit on the ground he wasn’t going to bother with the effort of removing his shoes. “I don’t intend to stay long. While the club shows at least a touch of Ul’dahn influence here and there I see you have built a little piece of Kugane here for yourself.” He mused as he flicked his wrist, tossing the folded parchment to land in front of Daijiro on the altar’s steps like an offering.

Daijiro inclines his head. "These are my personal quarters, after all", he remarks. Eying the other. He then bows forward, picking up the paper and perusing its contents.

It was a bill, of course. An invoice that gave very few details other than the patient’s name was Rashk Geilt and he had undergone a medical examination with intent to begin treatment. There was also a fairly hefty sum listed as the cost for the visit. “Of course. And they certainly do reflect you well, don’t they.” He mused as he looked around the small corner the altar was tucked into.

Daijiro hums. "That is yet to be seen", he remarks. He then looks over the document and frowns, putting it down. "Ah. Is this just a financial matter? Surely such things are better handled by Kareem." He folded the piece of paper and tucked it into his pocket. "Congratulations, you finally are getting your hands on some of my gil." He offers a faint smile then. "Ah. I shall have Kareem look into the price and such. I was given to understand you needed to travel to Ul'dah to treat Rashk?"

Lebeaux smiled sweetly as he laid a hand on his own chest, gloved fingers sinking into the fur ruff as he adopted a look of theatrical surprise at the accusations. “You speak as though that’s been my goal all along.” The smile returned and he smoothed the lapel where he had grasped it briefly. “I did, indeed. To his private rooms, to ensure there would be no unwanted ears nor eyes about.” He noted, lifting his chin slightly to peer down his nose at the Hingan, despite Daijiro being seated higher than him. “Cozy little place, isn’t it. Quite intimate. Who would have known fortune telling paid so well.”

Daijiro hums. "I have never understood why a personage such as yourself would be so crassly obsessed with money, rather than simply accepting an exchange of favours graciously", the Hingan says, looking down the other with ease this time. "But then, it is tempting to reumburse you for travel expenses and pass the rest of the bill on to Gakunin Kasumi. Ah. But it would be crass to make a point when Rashk needs medical attention." He folds his hands into his lap. "I do desire for my hosts to be happy and healthy, and if such requires gil, so be it."

Lebeaux held out his hands, palm upwards as though the matter was out of his hands. “There is nothing you are able to exchange that would be of equal value to me as my time and talents. Your favors mean little and less, but the coin I can put to good use.” He explained calmly. “I suppose you could bring Lady Kasumi into the matter, yet I suspect she would refuse payment, and you would as well. And I would be force to leave Rashk untreated until someone picked up the tab.” Lebeaux exhaled a soft sigh. “It would be unfair to leave him in such a purgatory.”

Daijiro hums. "This is so", he remarks matter of factly. "Though I will overlook the insult provided by your crude words. You simply cannot help yourself. Is this not so?"

Lebeaux lifted a dark brow, still smiling calmly all the while. “Now, now. There was nothing crude about that. Honesty is a virtue, is it not.” He lowered his hands back to his lap, settling them comfortably on his thighs. “I was simply stating the truth of the matter. If you believe I’m wrong, you are welcome to change my mind.”

Daijiro hums. "Ah. That would be too much trouble. You are the sort of personage that judges quickly and changes his mind slowly, after all. If you believe my skills and contacts to be useless to you, then so be it."

Lebeaux nodded slightly. “Mm, and you’re the sort to never show a full hand. Even if you were hiding a potentially valuable ace, it certainly would be well-hidden up those ridiculous long sleeves.” He teased with a low chuckle. “Speaking of hands, have you had the opportunity to test the gift I gave you yet.”

Daijiro shakes his head. "I have not. And I have no desire to inflict such cruelties on another personage", he states simply. "It is a memento and a reminder. Nothing more."

Lebeaux clicked his tongue, tutting quietly. “I see, such a waste. Such beautiful craftsmanship left to rot away on a shelf.”

"Would you rather have it crushing bone and flesh? I was not aware that Halone was the sort of Kami that enjoys pain as much as you do." He showed a slight smile. "But then, she may be just as secretive about such things as you are. It is difficult for an Ijin like me to tell."

Lebeaux chuckled quietly at that. “You aren’t a heretic, Halone would gain nothing from your pain and suffering. That was a matter between us.” He explained calmly. “Though if you mean in its original use, yes. The thumbscrews were intended to inflict pain on those who had forsaken Her. Their screams and pleas for mercy would be as hymns to Her.” A shoulder lifted slightly. “Yours were merely satisfying for me.”

Daijiro hums. "I see. Such an unusual notion. Then, were they as hymns to you as well? Ah. I mean, those screams of your victims."

“I suppose there is some satisfaction in hearing the honest remorse of those who have wronged you.” He noted calmly before he looked around. “Even though I said it was only a short visit, you’ve yet to offer me tea.”

Daijiro raises his eyebrows slightly. "Ah. You did desire tea? I had the impression you merely wished to drop off a bill, as a loyal paid servant is wont to do." He smiles faintly and rises. "Then, you shall be a guest and we shall have tea. Will you join me?" He beckoned for the other to follow him.

Lebeaux sniffed haughtily as he rose to his feet and removed his hat from where he had rested it on the partition. “Do you often sit around and have discussions with paid servants as well. If so, you indulge them too much.” He declared as he followed after him. “We have decided to be friends, have we not. It would be for the best to continue to treat me as such.”

Daijiro hums. "Of course I do", he says. "But then, if you were truly my friend you would not bring me a bill. Is this not so? The matter becomes quite confusing when one mixes roles." He then moved over to the bedroom, where he kept his tea.

Lebeaux tilted his head. “Then perhaps I should hire a servant to attend to such matters for me as well. Give me that bill back, I shall adjust it accordingly.” He teased as he followed the smaller man through the rooms. The smile flattened slightly as looked around the decorations of the ‘bedroom’ area. A few familiar looking wooden cases caused him to fold his arms lightly across his chest again as he eyed the smoldering embers nearby.

Daijiro poured two cups of bitter green tea, adding no sugar or cream. The drink served was clear and yellowish-green in colour. As Daijiro held it with both hands, he looked up. "Will you sit on the bed? I'm afraid I have no chairs in this place. Do mind the hot pokers~.”

Lebeaux accepted the tea and lifted his chin up high. Banishing any indication that he was anything other than calm in the presence of such unusual tools. “And you would call my tools barbaric.” He noted calmly as he took a seat on the edge of the bed, making himself comfortable as he held the tea between his hands. “Quite rich, coming from a man who keeps hot pokers within reach.”

Daijiro smiles faintly. "Ah. Then, is it troublesome to have such tools close?" he asks. "I am no torturer after all." He picks up his own cup and then joins Lebeaux, canting his head slightly as he takes him in. "You seemed on edge for a moment. I hope I have done nothing to trouble you? Would you like me to remove these tools from your sight?"

Lebeaux tilted his head thoughtfully. “That rather depends on just what it is you do with the tools. Do enlighten me.” He insisted, allowing the tea to cool. “There is no need for concern. I was simply taken aback to find such things around your bed after our little talk of cruelty.”

Daijiro hums. "Is it cruel to inflict pleasure upon a willing personage?" he asks. "Is it cruel to use such things to restore health?"

Lebeaux smiiiiled at Daijiro. “And which do you use the hot pokers for. I can’t imagine anyone enjoying third degree burns nor it having any health benefits.”

Daijiro smiles. "Then, that is simply because we have a different conception of health", he remarks. "Wounds must be cauterised some times. Whether they are wounds of the flesh or wounds of the spirit. You yourself have benefited from my fire treatment, have you not?"

[16:11]Lebeaux Desrosiers sniffed in distaste. “Cauterization is a last-ditch effort on a battlefield to save a life at any cost. Not for clinical application where other options may first be utilized.” He explained calmly. “And there is quite a difference between a needle and a poker. The burns from that treatment only took a spot of aether to soothe.”

Daijiro nods. "I do use the needle more often", he admits. "Ah. But it does add to the aesthetic of this place. It provides a certain energy. Is this not so?" He takes a sip from his tea. "You might enjoy my music box as well."

Lebeaux smiled flatly at Daijiro before he took a small sip of his tea. Immediately wrinkling his nose in distance. “This would do well with some sugar or honey.” He suggested. “If your energy aesthetic is that of a torture chamber, then yes. I would say it fits the bill quite neatly.” He stated calmly. “You seem to damn me for enjoying others’ pain, yet I suspect you savor it just as deeply. If not more so.” He held the cup out to Daijiro. Still expecting a sweetener. “Why, what tune does it play.”

Daijiro hums. "It is not considered a civilised custom to drink tea with sweeteners. Especially tea such as this, of the first harvest, which is especially favoured." He took another sip from his tea, seeming quite pleased by it. "It is healthier too." He smiles faintly. "As for the tune, ah, it is a rather haunting one. I suspect you might not have the bravery to face it. Though I admit that I am curious."

Lebeaux rolled his eyes, for both the tea and the music box. “It tastes a bit burnt.” He noted off-handedly as he took another sip. Yep. Still bitter. The laugh he exhaled was dry and humorless. “Bravery, to face a music box. What a curious turn of phrase. Is there supposedly a kami trapped within it or some such."

Daijiro looks faintly surprised. "Burnt? What a curious notion." He then smiles faintly. "Not exactly a Kami, and not exactly trapped", he remarks. "One is simply confronted with ones' own imaginings."

Lebeaux drank the tea anyways, for lack of anything else to wet his mouth with. Still not appreciating the finer nuances of a good green tea. “Then it is supposed to ensnare those who hear it.” He mused thoughtfully. “Or releases some sort of mind-altering magics. Have you tried it yourself, or only on others.”

Daijiro hums. "Something like that. The shade thus summoned can be a pleasurable or a fearful experience. Usually a bit of both", he remarks. He sips from his tea. "For complex reasons I cannot be affected by the music box. Lest you plan something along those lines. You do have a scheming mind~."

Lebeaux smiled sweetly enough over the rim of his cup to cancel out even the bitterest of teas. “All this time and you still mistrust me so.” He noted in a bemused sort of tone. Plainly enjoying that. “That must be frustrating. Having such an interesting toy in your collection and not even being able to enjoy it properly.”

Daijiro chuckles. "Ah. I derive plenty of enjoyment from it. Please do not be troubled on my behalf." He shakes his head slightly.

Lebeaux smiled thoughtfully for a moment, his icy pale gaze drifting down from Daijiro’s face to the other’s lap before it raised again. “Hm.” He noted with a small shrug. “So it creates illusions akin to nightmares, or sinful dreams. It sounds a touch dangerous. Possibly tainted.”

Daijiro smiles. "I can contain the dangers. To do so one simply stops playing the music. And then, it is only a shade." He hums. "Even so, it is best if the personage in question is constrained in movement."

Lebeaux allowed the smile to dim slightly, suddenly less than amused at the prospect. “A rather complex story you have woven for the sake of tying me up and humiliating me. Again.”

Daijiro shakes his head. "Not at all. I did not believe you would have the courage to surrender yourself to such a degree. Therefore you will not experience the pleasures of the box." He sips from his tea primly. "I would have mentioned it sooner if I thought you might."

“And yet you would mention it now.” He noted calmly as he took a sip of his own tea. “You are aware of how displeasing me does not end well for you.” Or your fingers. The medic explained calmly. “With that in mind, you may show me the box. You have certainly piqued my curiosity.”

@grey-lotus-ffxiv

#lebeaux #daijiro #these two #they can't just sit down and have a nice chat #always gotta be conning each other #or trying to trap each other #i love it #:3c

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veridium · 6 years

Text

oc interview meme

I was tagged by the lovely @trvelyans to write a hypothetical interview of one of my OC’s! So, I did everybody’s favorite ice-haired toasted cinnamon roll, Theia!

1. What is your name?

“I have a lot of names nowadays, I suppose. Inquisitor, Herald of Andraste, Your Worship. Maker, someone called me “Sarah” the other day, and I didn’t correct them. I suppose that says something about how jaded I’ve become with all my misnomers.“

2. What is your real name?

“What, not Goddess? Well, if you were to ask my Father, it would be Theia Sofia Trevelyan. I was given the prettiest name out of all three children, I should add.“

3. Do you know why you were called that?

“The name “Theia” means “holy,” an adjective my family is particularly fond of, as I’m sure their reputation entails. My middle name “Sofia” means wisdom, so quite literally, my parents wished to imbue me with “holy wisdom.” Maker’s breath, isn’t that some sick joke now?“

4. Are you single or taken?

“My occupation would insist single, the gossip would say taken many times and by many people. But, the truth? Hopelessly taken by one remarkable woman. Please tell her I said that, so she’s softened up when I tell her I ate the last piece of peanut brittle.“

5. Have any abilities or powers?

“Are you joking? Who doesn’t know the answer to that question after all I’ve been through. You cannot hide the fact that your body is a walking lightning rod when it’s gotten you in and out of the Fade twice, closed a Breach in the sky, and survived weaponized time magic.

But, for the sake of not sounding egotistical, yes, I do. I am a Mage who focuses on ice and storm abilities. I also have this most inconvenient mark on my hand that is embedded elven magic. Try bringing that up casually at parties.“

6. Stop being a Mary Sue.

“It isn’t “being” anything if you’re honestly that good.“

7. What’s your eye color?

“Purple. Yes, purple. It’s a maternal trait that just happened to match with my powers. People think I’m so fashionable but I really could not help it.”

8. How about your hair color?

“Ice white, pale blonde? I switch between the two. Regardless of its category, it’s rather hard not to point out in a crowd. Another one of my family’s most generous gifts.“

9. Have you any family members?

“For better or worse, yes. My parents, though my Mother, Stefania Lisoleth Trevelyan -- Maker, she sounds as pompous as she was in real life -- has since passed. My Father, Tristian Trevelyan, still resides in the Free Marches. There’s my insufferable brother who is his namesake. My sister, Lucilla Victoire, is older and married to some nobleman I haven’t cared enough to get to know. You can spot us rather quickly, we’re the group of emotionally suppressed faces with icey hair.“

10. Oh? What about pets?

“I have a small cat whom I rescued from Crestwood. She is young and tabby in color, and I just adore her! I wish I was here more to actually bond with her. She wanders Skyhold rather freely, much to everyone’s chagrin. Her name is Obsidian, after the kinds of metals we found in Crestwood. I call her “Sid” for short.“

11. That’s cool I guess, now tell me about something you don’t like.

“If Ambassador Montilyet were to hear someone actually asked me to list out my dislikes, she’d be furious. I am rather obnoxious with my opinions. I dislike pretentiousness, disloyalty, and shallowness. So, perhaps I should say the vast majority of the Orlesian Empire.“

12. Do you have any hobbies/activities you like doing?

“Reading, practicing my magic, and provoking Josephine’s temper. I do not have the time for much else, these days.”

13. Ever hurt anyone before?

“Oh, plenty, yes. Pick a more specific category.”

14. Ever… killed anyone before?

“Are you joking, again? I swear you must be. If you must know, you can read whatever filthy periodical is making rounds in the towns and villages of Orlais.”

15. What kind of animal are you?

“This would be a fantastic question for Morrigan, I’d imagine. But as for me, I don’t shapeshift or liken myself to animals. Although, people suggest I look rather animalistic when I am in the heat of combat.”

16. Name your worst habits.

“I am very self-conscious and insecure at times. I take things personally, and I feel culpable when there is injustice. Though, I do not necessarily see that as a flaw all of the time. Plus, in this role I’m in, I feel it to be most fitting.”

17. Do you look up to anyone at all?

“Of course I do! After all, both the Hero of Fereldan and the Champion of Kirkwall are Mages, and women, for that matter. I would be foolish not to have admiration for them, and feel humbled in my own shoes. I also have quite a bit of respect for Cassandra and Leliana. They have stewarded this movement with courage and resolve in spades. I consider myself honored to be able to work with them and be a leader amongst their ranks.”

18. Gay, straight, or bisexual?

*A whole minute of feisty, jubilant laughter*

19. Do you go to school?

“I used to, if you’d call a Circle that. Most would say “formal blood-bath with books,” but, there you go.”

20. Do you ever want to marry and have kids one day?

“I didn’t used to, but then I met someone who sold me on such dreams. While I do not really allow myself to aspire to such domestic joys, I do find that they have grown on me as ideals. However, Josephine and I are two women who do not know how to keep ourselves out of work or trouble. But, if I were honest, I’d marry her tomorrow if given the chance.”

21. Do you have any fanboys/fangirls?

I try my best to be a combination of intimidating and austere, but, I do have a following. Mostly of children, actually, especially the children of the Mages here. They scarcely have examples of Mages who are not demonized or erased from history, so, when they see us walking the halls or grounds, it’s like storybook characters come to life for them. I take pleasure in providing them with someone to look up to, even when I feel that I fail them sometimes.

As for the adults, I would not wish to condescend and call them my fans, since they are putting their lives and livelihoods on the line for this cause. Especially those who joined us in Haven, when we had next to nothing. If anything, I am their fan.

22. What are you most scared of?

“Letting everyone down, and proving to be less than the person who was needed. Losing the people I love, or endangering them unnecessarily. Being a fraud or imposter. Oh, and accidentally throwing out Josephine's stash of chocolates.”

23. What do you usually wear?

“I prefer a good fit of a hunter coat and breeches and some boots. When we travel, I am usually armored very well. On my off hours, a simple night dress would do. People say I have a flare for style, but, I am really just a product of my short-lived upbringing in the Free Marches. Women there are always smartly dressed, if not modest.”

24. Do you love someone?

“Romantically? Yes, completely. But I also love my friends, and my community here. Love, to me, is a protective and honorable virtue. The way I fight for what matters is by loving the person or the cause at hand. Perhaps that causes me more trouble than it’s worth, but, that is who I am.”

25. When was the last time you wet yourself?

“How can you honestly expect me to answer that? Also, if you’ve ever asked someone who bleeds once a month, you’d be surprised.”

26. Well, it’s not over yet!

“Oh, joy.”

27. What class are you? (High class, middle class, low class)

“My family is noble in our region, so I would say lower rung of the high class. The Free Marches is a self-governing province, at least, as much as one can be in the shadow of two Empires. If you have an long-winded ancestry in the region, you’re allowed a lot of privileges.”

28. How many friends do you have?

“Too many, especially the kind that likes to get into trouble for the sake of being a hero. You need some friends? Take mine, and give me a break.”

29. What are your thoughts on pie?

“Mediocre at best. You want a pleasurable dessert experience? Go with cake, always.”

30. Favorite drink?

“Tea, actually. I drink copious amounts of wine, sure, but nothing soothes the soul like a good cup of tea. Solas and I have engaged in discourse about this matter plenty of times.”

31. What’s your favorite place?

“If I were to answer that honestly, Josephine would have my clothes set on fire. Something about “not disclosing the intimate nature of a Diplomat’s life” or whatever. So, I will name my second favorite: the Emerald Graves at dawn, when the colors of the sky foreground the greens and blues on the land. It’s stunning, really. I hope I can commission a painter to recreate it so that I may have a piece of it forever.”

32. Are you interested in someone?

“Hah, as Dorian would say, yes of course, I am a endlessly interesting person, after all.”

33. What’s your bra cup size and/or how big is your willy?

“Enough. They’re enough.”

34. Would you rather swim in the lake or the ocean?

“Swimming in an ocean? The thought of it brings me ecstasy! Ocean, of course. Imagine the trouble I could get into, maybe make a few glaciers, float on an ice sheet...nevermind.”

35. What’s your type?

“Someone with the utmost integrity in their deeds, who has a golden heart and knows that kindness and compassion are two of the most powerful elements in the world. Also, if they are a fiery-tongued Antivan, that melts my icey heart, too.”

36. Any fetishes?

“I have tastes, of course. Though, I keep the number of people who are aware of them to a minimum, need-to-know basis.”

37. Seme or uke? Top or Bottom? Dominant or Submissive?

“A capable fighter knows a little bit of everything. I like creativity the most in love.”

38. Camping or indoors?

“Whichever gets me in the closest proximity to food.”

39. Are you wanting the interview to end?

“Of course not, but, look at the time! I surely have to return to being the scourge on the land and Andraste’s chosen, right? Pfft, days were not made with my workload in mind, I’m afraid.”

40. Now it’s over!

“Fantastic. Do take care, and travel safe.”

I’m tagging @kvpowers, @the-rogue-apostate, @lelianasing, and @orlesianbard and anyone else who wishes to participate! Love and light!

#oc stuff #Theia Trevelyan #my poor bb theia #oc meme #oc asks

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astridxreyes · 6 years

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W H O A R E Y O U?

ASTRID REYES

AGE: 28 APPEARANCE: Astrid rarely wears makeup and, when she does, she wears a bare face kind of "no makeup" makeup look. She likes fashion and likes experimenting with clothes, but often is seen in more plain jane clothes in an attempt to blend in (ex. t-shirt, jeans , sweaters, white sneakers). GLASSES/CONTACTS? She has glasses that she occasionally wears, but only to help her blend in as a "human" who needs reading glasses. TATTOOS? She has a matching tattoo with her friend Liv (who she accidentally turned into a harpy) that says "to infinity" across her rib cage (here); A couple of watercolored little birds on her right collar bone (here); stay gold tattooed across her left wrist (here); a tattoo that says 'but without the dark, we'd never see the stars' on her left upper thigh (here); a little anchor on the back of her neck (here); and a little elephant on the back of her ankle (here). SCARS OR BIRTHMARKS? Astrid has a couple different scars on her body. She has some scars on her hips and her wrists from TW: self harm; Her left wing doesn't tilt exactly right and a has a scar across from it; she has a tiny little scar that can barely be seen across her right temple. RICH OR POOR? Astrid grew up in poverty and although her adopted family is very wealthy, she lives a lower middle class lifestyle not wanting to borrow money from them. SPECIFIC TICK OR MANNERISM? She fidgets with her hair when she's nervous, often switching up her part from one side to the other or fidgeting with the hem of her skirt or shirt as she talks to people; she also has a tendency to rock back and forth slightly on the balls of her heels and nibble on her bottom lip.

P E R S O N A L I T Y ?

What is your idea of perfect happiness?

“I don’t really know if I believe in perfect happiness anymore, but I guess if I had to pick I’d say that moment when I just forget where I am. When the world around me fades away and I just can exist without the past or... fear of the future.” If she had to pick a specific moment, she knew it would have been when she was flying, high above the trees, far away from any source of people whom she could hurt, where she could just sing to her hearts content, letting the wind kiss her cheeks.

What is your greatest fear?

Being found out, being sent to prison or even worse, transferred. I’d be lying if I said it didn’t scare the shit out of me, excuse my language, to be sent somewhere- anywhere- away. But, I think the part of me that scares me more is what would happen to my family- the Reyes who took me in when they didn’t have to- and my friends like Liv. I did this to her, I scratched her. I turned her. I ruined her life and, because of me, she might end up spending the rest of it behind bars. And Damien- he already lost so much. I wonder if he’d even look at me again if I ruined what was left of his family, Astrid couldn’t help but think. But, she wouldn’t ever dare mutter it out loud.

What is your biggest pet peeve or trait you deplore in yourself?

“There’s kind of too many to list. But, I guess if I had to pick I’d say just not feeling able to be myself? Or even really knowing who I am? I sometimes see other people around my ages, fooling around laughing and letting loose. You know, those people who are the focus of every group they’re apart of, who make you laugh out loud and are just magnetic? Those people who everyone can’t help but be drawn to? I see them and I get jealous, so freaking jealous, because I can never be like that. And it’s not just because-” Because she was undeclared. “I just- sometimes I feel like I’m drowning in my own body. In my own skin. Like no matter who I’m around or what I do, I’m on edge and petrified of being myself, of letting people in, of getting hurt again, of having someone take something of mine that wasn’t theirs to take. I hate that I don’t feel safe, that I haven’t felt safe since I was like 10 years old and will probably never feel safe again and- and I hate when I look at these bright amazing people, I know deep down that I’m not one of them and I probably never will be, I guess...”

What is your biggest pet peeve or trait you deplore in others?

“I don’t know? I don’t really know if there is one. But, maybe being entitled? Those people who feel like the world belongs to them and everything is for their taking even if it’s not?”

Which living person do you most admire?

“I have two. My mom and dad. My adopted mom and dad. They took me in and gave me everything. Not just a home, but a family even if it was far from easy. They’re kind of the coolest people in the world and I don’t know what I’d do without them.”

Which living person do you most despise?

“I don’t know if he’s alive anymore, but...” Charlie...

What is your greatest extravagance?

“College? I only went for a year and a half before it was just too much to keep paying for on my own, but it’s definitely the most I’ve probably ever spent on anything.”

What do you consider the most overrated virtue?

“Maybe faith? I don’t just mean in the ‘higher power’ sense. I mean just hope. Believing that everything is going to be okay, even if the world is falling apart at the seams?”

On what occasion do you lie?

“I kind of lie everyday, now-a-days. About who I am? Where I came from? But, I guess I lie the most when I tell people ‘I’m fine’.”

“What is the quality you like most in a significant other?

“Optimism? Or maybe humor? If someone can make me smile or let my walls down, they’re a-okay in my book.”

Do you have a catchphrase? Which words or phrases do you most overuse?

“Maybe ‘Gosh Darn it?’”

Who or what is the greatest love in your life?

“Fiyero Tigelaar. And if you know who that is, then you probably know why.” She’s a little theater nerd and fell in love with singing and the stage.

When and where were you happiest?

“The first time I flew across the lake. I kind of had a whole Harry Potter riding a hippogriff, moment. It’s was pretty awesome.”

Which talent would you most like to have?

“Shapeshifting would be pretty cool, but I’d settle on getting over my stage fright?” Or singing without the possibility of accidentally paralyzing someone or knocking them out... Kind of puts a damper on being a broadway star and all.

If you could change one thing about yourself, what would it be?

Being Declared without having to go to jail, would be pretty cool? She couldn’t help, but think.

If you could pick up and go anywhere, where would you most like to live?

“Just get me anywhere in Europe with a backpack and I’ll be happy.”

What is your most treasured possession?

“My Hello Kitty backpack. It’s silly and cheesy, but it’s all I’ve got from before I ran away, so...”

What do you value most in your friends?

“Faith, trust, and I have yet to find someone with pixie dust, but that would be cool too.”

Who is your hero of fiction?

“Elle Woods. She got into Harvard. You know, not like it’s hard or anything.”

What historical figure do you most identify with?

“Amelia Earheart. She was the first female aviator to fly solo across the Atlantic Ocean and she just never let anything hold her back. I don’t know if I’m anything like her, but I want to be.”

What is your greatest regret?

“Not getting out fast enough when Charlie... when I was turned.”

What is your life’s motto?

“If you’ve seen Warm bodies-”

Would you describe yourself as being an optimist or a pessimist?

“Optimist. I’d say I’m a glass half full type of person, but I drink water too fast to have half of anything left.”

Introvert or Extrovert?

“Introvert aka a not so closeted loner... I really should get that on a t-shirt.”

How do you hope others will see you?

“Hooman?”

How are you seen by others currently?

“Nice? Which I kind of hate by the way. I mean being nice is great and all. At least, I’m not the devil or anything, even if our pastor might disagree if he-” learned the truth. “But, in my experience, nice is kind of the go-to-word to describe someone you know nothing about.”

How do you see yourself?

“Like Tracey Turnblad shoved inside a scrappy filipina body.”

How do you react to praise?

“Last time someone complimented me, I’m pretty sure I flailed my arms and made a sound that could best be described as an awkward dinosaur noise? So not great.”

How do you react to criticism?

“I thrive in it. My self-esteem loves being taken down a notch. But, in all seriousness, I try to prove them wrong and often end up doing something I’ll probably regret like doing a weird rollerblade dance routine to Stayin’ Alive. Clearly, one of my finer moments.”

Do you often make snap judgements or take time to consider?

“I’d like to think I’m a rational thinker, but... did I mention the Staying’ Alive boogy dance? On Roller blades?”

Do you think you lead more with your head or your heart?

“Bu-dum, bu-dum, bu-dum... I was trying to make a heart sound and the second I did, I instantly regretted it.”

When was the last time you cried?

“When half of the ice cream in my cone fell on the ground. What? It was a very traumatic experience.” Even, though she knew it was actually when her parents asked her if they could adopt her. Happy tears.

What is your guilty pleasure?

“The Bachelor franchise. It’s like watching a car crash. It’s horrifying, but you can’t look away. That or singing to show tunes in my car at the top of my lungs when no one’s watching or sitting in the taco ball parking lot eating a quesarito while... also listening to showtunes. And then I end up ordering dominos and make the deliver guy knock on my window like I’m doing some shady drug deal when in actually it’s just for cookie brownies and those parmesan bread knots... I have a lot of guilty pleasures.”

When was the last time you showered?

“This morning and every morning like a hygienic person?”

Are you the type of person who talks in the movie theater?

“No. Unless it’s a horror movie. Then, you’ll find me curled up in my chair, peaking through the cracks in my fingers covering my eyes, screaming at the characters not to go in the room and asking them why in the world they’d be asking if anyone’s home when they hear a creepy noise upstairs, as if the killer is just going to respond with ‘oh hi love! I’m just making myself a sandwich. But, don’t worry. I’ll be down in a giffy to kill ya.’”

Are you more of an indoor cat or an outdoor bird?

“I'm more than a bird, I'm more than a plane-” (Cue Five for Fighting - Superman) She’s an outdoor person.

Are you a fan of Harry Potter and, if so, what would be your Hogwarts house?

“Honey badgers don’t care.” She’s a huge Harry Potter fan and a Hufflepuff all the way.

Do you like superheroes and, if so, which character is your favorite? DC or Marvel?

“Yes! And Kitty Pryde aka Shadowcat.”

Did you used to play Pokemon? And if so, what be your starter Pokemon?

“Yes! And in the versions I’ve played, Squirtle and Piplup.”

Star Wars or Star Trek? Or neither?

“Both?”

If you were in the Hunger Games, what would be your game plan?

“Hide?” Hide until I get caught and then fly up real high or sing until anyone who tried to attack me gets stunned so that I can escape?

If the zombie apocalypse happened today, how would you defend yourself?

“I’m a goner anyways, so...” ZOMBIE HARPY HERE I COME!

What’s the first thing you do when you’re home alone?

“Slide across the floor like I’m Tom Cruise in Risky Business while singing ‘What Dreams are Made Of’ into a hairbrush like Hillary Duff.”

What is the most overplayed song you listen to?

“Defying Gravity or Satisfied. Can you tell I used to be a theater kid in High School?”

Do you believe in a thing called love? (cue the Darkness song…)

“I believe in a thing called love Just listen to the rhythm of my heart There's a chance we could make it now We'll be rocking 'til the sun goes down I believe in a thing called love Ooh!...

too much?”

Do you believe in love at first sight?

“No. I believe in lust at first sight, but when you think about the cliche disney fall in love moments- Prince Charming couldn’t even recognize Cinderella when she didn’t have a big ball gown on and, in Snow White, which also was Prince Charming funny enough... he was kind of a stalker and necrophiliac? And yeah... I don’t know if I want that personally.”

If you could travel to any period in time, future or past, where would it be?

“I’m kind of happy now, to be honest. Even though I wouldn’t mind reliving the early 2000′s again?”

Have you committed a crime?

“Who? Me? Nooooo.... Never....” I’m literally undeclared so... you do the math?

If you could commit a crime and get away with it, what would it be?

I’d like to continue being undeclared without being caught, thank you very much.

If you found yourself trapped in an elevator with a group of strangers, what would be the first thing you’d do?

“Panic? I’ve seen Tower of Terror and I have no want to be the little girl in that movie.”

#shadowprompts #shadowprompt1 #bio

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lightoftruth · 3 years

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The same folks to bring you "Abrahamism"—the idea that Judaism, Christianity, and Islam are intricately connected—have narrowed their sights on promoting Mary, the mother of Christ, as "a Jewish, Christian and Muslim woman," in the words of Catholic priest Fr. Gian Matteo of the Pontifical International Marian Academy. In a ten-week webinar series titled "Mary, a model for faith and life for Christianity and Islam," the academy will seek to present Mary as a bridge between the two religions.This may be easier said than done — at least for those still interested in facts. For starters, the claim that Mary was a "Jewish, Christian and Muslim woman" is only two-thirds true: yes, she was a Jew by race and background; and yes, she was a Christian in that she literally birthed Christ(ianity); but she was most certainly not a Muslim — a term and religion that came into being 600 years after Mary died.Worse, far from being the Eternal Virgin, as she is for 1.5 billion Christians of the Catholic and Orthodox variety, Islam presents Mary, the Mother of Christ, as "married" to and "copulating" with Muhammad in paradise — a depiction that would seem to sever rather than build "bridges."In a hadith that was deemed reliable enough to be included in the renowned Ibn Kathir's corpus, Muhammad declared that "Allah will wed me in paradise to Mary, Daughter of Imran," whom Muslims identify with Jesus's mother. (Note: The Arabic word for "marriage" (نكاح, or nikah) denotes "legal sexual relations," connotes the "F" word, and is wholly devoid of Western, "romantic," or Platonic connotations.)Nor is this just some random, obscure hadith. None other than Dr. Salem Abdul Galil — previously deputy minister of Egypt's religious endowments for preaching — affirmed its canonicity in 2017 during a live televised Arabic-language program. Among other biblical women (Moses's sister and Pharaoh's wife), "our prophet Muhammad — prayers and be upon him — will be married to Mary in paradise," Galil said.If few Christians today know about this Islamic claim, medieval Christians living in Muslim-occupied nations were certainly aware of it. There, Muslims regularly threw this fantasy in the face of Catholic and Orthodox Christians who venerated Mary as the "Eternal Virgin." Thus, Eulogius of Cordoba, an indigenous Christian of Muslim-occupied Spain, once wrote, "I will not repeat the sacrilege which that impure dog [Muhammad] dared proffer about the Blessed Virgin, Queen of the World, holy mother of our venerable Lord and Savior. He claimed that in the next world he would deflower her."As usual, it was Eulogius's offensive words about Muhammad — and not the latter's offensive words about Mary and any number of other things — that had dire consequences: he, as well as many other Spanish Christians vociferously critical of Muhammad, were found guilty of speaking against Islam and publicly tortured and executed in "Golden Age" Cordoba in 859.One expects that all of these "inconvenient" facts will be quietly passed over during the Pontifical International Marian Academy's webinars. And if they are raised, no doubt Christians will somehow take the blame, as almost always happens in academic settings. As one example, after quoting Eulogius's aforementioned lament against Muhammad's claim of being married to Mary, John V. Tolan, a professor and member of Academia Europaea, denounced it as an "outrageous claim" of Eulogius's own "invention." He then railed against the martyr — not against his murderers or their prophet:Eulogius fabricates lies designed to shock his Christian reader. This way, even those elements of Islam that resemble Christianity (such as reverence of Jesus and his virgin mother) are deformed and blackened, so as to prevent the Christian from admiring anything about the Muslim other. The goal is to inspire hatred for the "oppressors[.]" ... Eulogius sets out to show that the Muslim is not a friend but a potential rapist of Christ's virgins. (Saracens: Islam in the Medieval European Imagination, p.93)As already seen, however, it is Muhammad himself — not any "Christian polemicist" — who "fabricates lies designed to shock," namely that Mary will be his eternal concubine.This, incidentally, is the main problem the purveyors of Abrahamism fail to acknowledge: Islam does not treat biblical characters the way Christianity does.Christians accept the text of the Hebrew Bible, or Old Testament, as it is. They do not add, take away, or distort the accounts of the patriarchs that Jews also rely on. Conversely, while also relying on the figures of the Old and New Testaments — primarily for the weight of antiquity and authority attached to their names — Islam completely recasts them with different attributes that reaffirm Muhammad's religion as the one true and final "revelation," as opposed to Judaism and Christianity, whose biblical accounts on these figures are then seen as "distorted" because they are different from Islam's later revisions.Far from creating "commonalities," it should be clear that such appropriation creates conflict. By way of analogy, imagine that you have a grandfather whom you are particularly fond of, and out of the blue, a stranger who never even met your grandfather says: "Hey, that's my grandfather!" Then — lest you think this stranger is somehow trying to become your friend — he adds: "And everything you thought you knew about grandpa is wrong! Only I have his true life story."Would that create a "bridge" between you and this stranger who is trying to appropriate and recast the image of your grandfather?

It is common knowledge that the genealogies contained in Matthew and Luke differ. Most conservative Bible commentators explain the difference by holding that Jesus’ genealogy in Matthew 1:1–16 is traced through Joseph’s line to show Jesus’ royal right to the Davidic throne; correspondingly, the genealogy in Luke 3:23–38 traces Jesus’ ancestry through Mary’s line. This means that Mary’s lineage is recorded in the Gospel of Luke. Mary’s lineage, as recorded by Luke, does not mention Mary, but that’s to be expected—including women’s names in genealogies was not standard practice. It begins this way: “[Jesus] was the son, so it was thought, of Joseph, the son of Heli” (Luke 3:23). This comment affirms the truth of Jesus’ virgin birth (see Luke 1:29–38). Joseph was a “son” of Heli by virtue of his marriage to Mary, who would have been the daughter of Heli (Matthew 1:16 lists Joseph’s biological father as Jacob). Some notable points in Mary’s lineage are that she was a descendant of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob (Luke 3:34); she was specifically of the tribe of Judah (verse 33). She was also a descendant of Boaz (verse 32) and David (verse 31). Significantly, Luke traces Mary’s lineage all the way back to Adam (verse 38). This fits with Luke’s purpose as he wrote to Gentiles and emphasized that Jesus is the Son of God who came to save all people (cf. Luke 2:10–11). Another issue relating to Mary’s lineage is her relation to Elizabeth, the mother of John the Baptist. Luke says that Mary was related to Elizabeth, who was in the tribe of Levi (Luke 1:5, 36). An argument sometimes put forward by those who deny the credentials of Christ is that, if Mary was Elizabeth’s “cousin,” then Mary must also have been a Levite. Some translations, such as the KJV, do state that Mary was the “cousin” of Elizabeth (Luke 1:36). However, the English word cousin does not have to imply a close relation, and other versions of the Bible translate the word as “relative” (NKJV, ESV, CSB, BSB). Even if Elizabeth and Mary were close relatives, it was still possible for them to be of different tribes, as women were identified with their father’s tribe, not their mother’s. Elizabeth’s father was a Levite, making her a Levite by birth, but her mother may have been of Judah. Conversely, Mary’s mother may have been a Levite and kin to Elizabeth’s family, while Mary’s father was of Judah. Luke’s genealogy shows that Heli, whom we assume to be Mary’s father, was a direct descendant of Judah, not Levi. In addition, the angel Gabriel affirmed Jesus’ Judean lineage, telling Mary that “he will be very great and will be called the Son of the Most High. The Lord God will give him the throne of his ancestor David” (Luke 1:32, NLT). David was of the tribe of Judah. Regardless of Mary’s specific lineage, that Jesus is a descendant of David and Judah is beyond doubt. Other Bible verses also point to the fact of Judah being the tribe of Jesus’ heritage, as the rightful Messiah and Savior of all (Hebrews 7:14; Revelation 5:5).

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