#laurent being fat

[echthr0s]

this was originally a post on my old OC sideblog but some details got changed and others got added in over time so I’m modifying and reposting it

a bullet-point introduction to the not-WoLs

Dayir, Heart of Darkness

non-combatant / defensive / support character

defeats primals by absorbing their aether

does the above by virtue of an Allagan Heart (yes, much like the Ultima Weapon). the various aetheric signatures stored in eir Heart can be summoned for various purposes (including ~fun~ *wink*)

is trained in multiple varieties of dance and carries emself like it

would in some worlds be called a necromancer, or in other worlds an animancer, or in yet other worlds an avatar or a psychopomp or a shaman or a conduit. the class and job divides don’t really exist to em – ey employ disciplines and concepts from multiple sources to achieve eir goals, and a couple of skills that frankly shouldn’t even exist

is spiritually accompanied by a todash-dwelling Qunari named Talan, whose stories of a world called Thedas tend to mesh uncannily with stories of Hydaelyn

think of an NPC, any NPC. there’s an 85% chance that they currently are or have been at some point a lover of Dayir’s (aside from the really biologically-incompatible folk like Sahagin, I guess, but on the other hand, life uhhh finds a way--) (also can I really say that when there’s whole ass dragons on the lover list. like.)

re: pronouns -- I’ve started using the she/her set for Reasons but also because the grammar of the ey/eir set can get under my skin sometimes. technically you could use any pronoun for Dayir and she’d be fine with it ~

Ishan, Hound of Darkness

a denizen of the Thirteenth who found himself yanked out of the Lifestream and bound to the body of a minor Ishgardian lordling who’d gone missing from Carteneau and was assumed dead

(the name assigned to said body was Seraphin Arnaud Laurent Augureau. Ishan never uses it and wants nothing to do with that man’s life. this all becomes a huge point of contention during the HW arc, as you can imagine)

Ishan’s eyes don’t match because of the soul switcheroo, so one of his eyes looks like the body’s (hazel) and the other eye is just Ishan’s (grey-green)

has memories of living on the Thirteenth World, before the botched Rejoining, and on his belated way to the First he is given a remnant of this voided planet, an eldritch black orb that is now a fuckin loaded Chekhov’s gun that I have to figure out a use for (probably around 6.0 sometime I’ll figure it out) (update to that last statement: well! we officially have Void content! we shall see what that brings to this table!)

Ishan does not join Dayir on the First until the confrontation with Hades in Amaurot, because the magic the Exarch was using to port them over scared the fuck out of him and he found a way to put up wards against it. it was a struggle but eventually he shoved his fear aside to go find his bestest dearest companion Dayir and punch the Exarch in the teeth

extremely combative. (Elidibus has a lot to say about Ishan’s penchant for destruction, but Elidibus can also shut the hell his mouth.) daggers and lances are equally his preference, that is until he discovers the scythe (which dovetails nicely with his previously-unrecognised Reaper abilities, seeing as he’s functionally a high-tier voidsent)

hates Garlemald more than anything, which gets messy for specific reasons, a main one of them being that Dayir and Zenos are obsessed with each other

some canon-divergence notes

Haurchefant Greystone’s wholly unnecessary demise is prevented by the fact that... there is two of them. Ishan was gunning for the archbishop; Dayir sensed Ser Zephirin doing his thing and popped a powerful aethershield over eir boyfriends

Moenbryda’s sacrifice was unnecessary as Dayir’s store of aether is far greater than the average dude’s and ey had no problem conjuring a fat aetherblade blunt for Nabriales to smoke. she persists as a Scion to vex her childhood bestie forevermore

this is a pattern. most of the people that die in gamecanon are not dead for me. this also includes people like Yotsuyu <3

Au Ra are the result of a successful Allagan experiment. this technically includes Dayir, but the experiment that led to em was a bit different and so is eir existence on Hydaelyn. Dayir is culturally an Au Ra but biologically more Allagan (and draconic, ofc) than anything else

Dayir and Ishan are both Azem shards, but obviously skewed towards particular facets of Azem’s personality

they are also both possessed of godshards – when Louisoix did his Thang, a bit of Nymeia found its way to a strange dreamy young adult in the Steppe and a bit of Rhalgr found its way to an Ishgardian who was dying on the field and was big mad about it

they do not kill Emet-Selch in a big battle. Dayir lovingly unmakes Hades at his request. being of the In-Between, though, Hades’ essential self still exists, just not on the mortal plane. he now gets to dwell in a new place of his own creation – not the lost city of his grieving heart, but a place that is his and his alone

this list is by no means exhaustive, lmao

[casspurrjoybell-30]

Howling Love - Chapter 2

*Warning Adult Content*

Amille Laurent.

Starting something new is haunting.

It's as if you're so afraid of going wrong that you're actually tempted to have something go wrong so you'll have some semblance of peace.

I was such a person, first tries to anything made me jittery and nervous, I can never truly understand why but it just happens.

I'd woken up early, set up the extra bedroom on the ground floor next to the game room as my gallery, it wasn't going to have use anyway, why not give it some.

My inspiration on the painting had come from my very fear of first things, it was a painting of the school I was to be attending, one gate was mangled as if someone with really strong arms had tried to crush it, the other was pristine and perfect a contrast to how we all feel about school, great and really horrible at times.

"This is really good," dad says behind me startling me, of course I didn't scream, that was impossible but I did jump holding my precious heart.

[Dad, that was not cool.] I whined as he chuckled and came over to hug me.

"I'm sorry sweetie, I didn't mean to but you shouldn't be up so early in the morning, setting up all this by yourself, where did you even get the paint?" he questions as he lets me go from our embrace.

[I always have paint, plus I'm turning eighteen soon dad, I can do most things by myself and yes, I got inspiration. It's why I woke up early to paint.] I signed my response and has scoffed.

"You got first day jitters, couldn't sleep so you came down here to put your mind to some sort of ease," he retorted and I sighed.

[That too.] I admitted and he chuckled walking to the door.

"I know you lady bug, the painting is great, if the paint dries early enough you could actually give it to your headmaster today, now go get ready, you look like a hot mess."

I didn't know how to interpret that statement, was he complimenting me or was he throwing in some shade with that compliment but none the less I did as told, I was nervous but I'd try.

Getting ready for the day wasn't much of a hassle for me, styling my hair on the other hand was.

I had really curly black hair and it knotted most of the time if I didn't keep it short or use enough moisturizer or relaxer.

The rest of getting ready, needed minimum effort and I was out the door.

"Come on eat up, your bones need a little more meat," he asserted and I narrowed my eyes on him.

[Dad, I'm not thin, I'm petite, bordering on the edge of starting to get fat.] I retorted and he just chuckled as we ate breakfast, him going through his schedule.

"Mister Delano sent your payment for the portrait by the way and he sends his regards along with notice that he'll send a picture of his daughter next to be painted," dad informed me as we got into his car after he helped me put my bag in, for some reason I was fragile or short, I can't keep up anymore, I just let him.

[I hope he paid our agreed fee or I'm not painting anything else.] I signed and my father just chuckled.

"Look at you being cute and grumbling, yes he paid your fee," he replied patting my head and soon we were off, headed toward my new school.

[Good because I'm starting to lose it with that man's incessant need to have paintings of his family.] I added and dad just chuckled.

"It'll be over soon and you'll enjoy the money," he shot back and I just smiled with a blush, I would really enjoy the money.

"That's Selous Academy, it's different, a lot more buildings," dad remarked as he parked by the sidewalk and I got out to get to the backseat where my bag was.

"Do you have your tablet?" he asked and I showed it to him.

"The other one?" he asserted and I showed him.

"Your phone, your book bag, your glasses and your credit card and your lunch bag, I put another jacket in there just in case," he kept on rambling and I just groaned face palming.

[Dad I'm seventeen. I can handle this.] I typed on my phone and text to speech as a hero came through.

"I know but this is a new school and I won't be close by, I'm worried," he whined hugging me and I rolled my eyes hugging him back.

[You have work dad, so off you go. Shoo.] I signed and he held his heart in horror.

"You'd actually dare to shoo away your own father?" he dramatically put across and the both of us laughed.

[Love you too dad, now go before you're late.] I finally stated as he kissed my forehead.

"Have a great first day honey, your uncle will pick you up," he informed and I nodded as I waved him off.

So the daunting journey began as I turned to the gates I drew this morning, the painting hadn't dried so I left it at home, most of the students were preoccupied with their friends and paid no attention to the new kid.

I was glad, however there were a few groups who actually noticed me, some waved some just nodded my way as I made it through the crowds until I got to the double doors of the main building that opened dramatically when I got through, since they made a bang everyone turned to look at me and I cringed, so much for going unnoticed.

The stares, the waves and the nods increased, Goddess I felt awkward.

[Morning, I'm...] I stated but the receptionist looked at me and paused.

"Oh my goodness you look just like him," she shrieked and I cringed.

"You're Amille Laurent right, I'm miss Parker, I'm a friend of your dad's... well I don't know if we're still friends but we used to be friends, I didn't believe the rumor that he was back until I saw the student transfer scripts with his name and you're his son, oh my goodness, the guys are gonna flip," she rambled on and I was still dazed by her outburst, for someone supposedly as old as my dad she acted like a teen.

"Parker breathe," the man I assumed was the headmaster stated as he walked out of his office, he was obviously a wolf, no human man had that much of an animalistic feel to them.

"You must be Amille, our new student," he stated I nodded.

"I'm going to need a more verbal answer," he asserted and I typed on my phone to which he frowned then turned to miss Parker who was now frowning at the man.

[I have mutism, I can't verbally speak but I can hear, feel, see, touch the whole enchilada just can't speak.] I typed on my phone and a regretful stare overcame the man.

"I'm sorry, I'm very sorry, I must've seemed really ignorant, I'm sorry, If I had gone through your whole file I'd have known, I'm truly sorry, I'm Darwin Seras... you can address me by my last name, headmaster or Sir, it's alright," he expressed and I nodded, at least he had sense enough to admit his mistake.

[It's alright, no harm done.] I replied and he nodded.

Goddess I could already see that overprotective look in his eyes, most wolves had that look the moment they learned of my condition, oh well, I'm at a loss might as well roll with it.

"Let me show you your locker and first class," he offered taking what was my schedule, school map and locker number and code from miss Parker.

"Bye Amille, have a great day."

She waved me off and I nodded walking behind the headmaster.

"The school is inclusive to both wolves and humans, we have several after school programs, I see you have a long list of talents here, maybe you could breathe life into our art program," he joked and I smiled to that too.

"Your locker."

He showed me and I opened it putting most of my stuff in.

"Need help?" he asked and I signed no then realized he probably didn't know the language.

"Alright then, let's get to your first class, AP biology," he asserted and led the way as I familiarized myself with the school, it seems they were big on sports and not just academics.

"We've won the Bridgeton interschool football, lacrosse, gymnastics, cheerleading and tennis competitions for a consecutive six years," he pointed out and my jaw dropped.

[I just thought you're big on sports but that's wow.] I pointed out and he chuckled as he opened a door to an already filled class on the second floor.

"I know," he whispered back as we walked in and some students gasped.

"Good morning Richards, everyone this is Amille Laurent, he'll be joining us for the school year, don't cause him any trouble," he announced to the class as I stood awkwardly in the background.

"He uses his cell-phone and other gadgets to communicate, I'm sure Parker might've informed you so you'll have to make an exception, he can sign too," the headmaster added toward who I presumed was my teacher mister Richards.

"Of course, Amille take a seat next to Maxine," he responded and I nodded walking over to the waving girl with wavy hair and earthy green eyes, she was a wolf, I could just tell.

"Alright, Amille your schedule, find me if you need anything," the headmaster exclaimed giving me my papers, his behavior seemed to have really shocked the class, oh boy.

[mirandamckenni1]

Cutting meds already?? I bring you along on the first week or so of reducing my antipsychotic medications as a result of being on medical keto. I was not anticipating having to adjust my medications so quickly, but the effects of potentiation (covered in the last video) made it necessary. If you are in a similar position, please work closely with your psychiatrist and care team to manage it. Timestamps: 00:00 "PHAT" 00:54 Genius Gourmet Keto Bar review 01:52 At the gym 02:50 On the phone with my psychiatrist 04:38 Keto Ice Cream Bar review 05:32 First time reducing antipsychotic medication 06:31 At the ninja gym and family time 09:40 Testing ketones, glucose, and GKI - and impact of too much protein 11:44 Reflection on med reduction 12:57 Going for a run 17:45 How do I feed other people?? 18:43 Update on feeling of sedation and med reduction 21:08 Rob's dilemma and drinking "smooth move" 23:04 Getting preliminary bloodwork 24:56 What Nicole has to say about bloodwork and elevated cholesterol levels 26:12 Follow up with family doctor 27:37 Broccoli chicken back and adding more fats to meals 29:10 Final update on med reduction MEDICAL KETO RESOURCES You can learn more about medical keto for mental illnesses on the Metabolic Mind YouTube channel (@metabolicmind) and on their website https://ift.tt/MBh3dQi You can also learn more about metabolic health and mental illness from the book 'Brain Energy' by Dr. Christopher Palmer - https://ift.tt/yUGtKN0 You can find more about my keto coach Nicole Laurent and her work on her website: https://ift.tt/wht2Ebx HELP SUPPORT THE CHANNEL We depend on the support of our audience to create this valuable resource. If you have found our content helpful, please consider supporting us today. Your contribution can make a huge difference and enable us to continue providing valuable resources to those living with mental illness. • One-time donation: https://ift.tt/PCerqbp • Monthly donation: https://ift.tt/iUw547L JOIN OUR ONLINE PEER SUPPORT COMMUNITY Join a welcoming community of your peers and find comfort in sharing your experiences. By joining our community, you can benefit from the support of others who understand what you’re going through. We offer live weekly facilitated video peer support groups and text channels to communicate about a wide range of topics. Join today and start feeling less alone with what you’re going through. • Schizophrenia Peer Support Community: https://ift.tt/xAUjMvI • General Mental Illness Peer Support Community: https://ift.tt/Mnpe1Nv MENTAL HEALTH APPAREL Wear your support for mental health! Our t-shirts, sweaters, and mugs not only spread awareness but also help support this channel. Pick up some mental health apparel today and make a statement while making a difference. https://ift.tt/Sc60fHq SPEAKING & CONSULTING Looking for an expert speaker or consultant for your upcoming event or project? With years of experience and a passion for mental health advocacy, I can provide the insight and inspiration you need to make a positive impact. Visit my speaking website to learn more! https://ift.tt/aki9c0F SOCIALS Instagram: https://ift.tt/WaPQmCj TikTok: https://ift.tt/qUpCoKY Twitter: https://twitter.com/LWSchizophrenia Website: https://ift.tt/hDJau7V #schizophrenia #schizoaffective #schizoaffectivedisorder #mentalhealth #mentalillness #metabolichealth #keto #metabolichealth #medication via YouTube https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qNfNDTZ-hr0

[the-firebird69]

There's a lot of people here who are assholes to him and the day never goes well there's a bunch of directs who are constantly yelling and saying stuff and they're always doing the wrong thing I don't think that you people should be allowed to do what you're doing and we are going to get back at you.

-there are a few other things happening we thought we would mention and one of them is they're putting the tropical storm watch out and it wouldn't even be here until like Wednesday so I'm not sure why and it's almost like they're asking for it do something to the max and others

-there's a huge number of people who are messing around with their son because the stuff that he's doing and supposedly gets hurt doing but really it's their friends doing it and saying that he's responsible.

-and there's some other things happening these people are seeing messing with people on a Non-Stop basis and they are getting hit and we're coming in to make sure that everything is okay and all over the place and the more lockers dwindling they slow down but now it's going to be Greenland and they're going to start speeding up I think that Greyhound occurs before the crabs because those ships would not be there after and we think that shrimping increases exponentially after the crabs and it's not legal for us to eat but there's going to be tons of it so we're not sure exactly what to do we are also in receipt of several orders from Olympus to end the bickering between us and they mean here and it is because it's becoming harsh it's not much of it but we're the ones who are saying we should stop doing it and our son and daughter say that we're being forced to and we understand that and I am too and they understand that too but they wanted to stop so we have a program to do it it's not like they're telling us to stop and the funny part is that they're the ones generating it so it's really in order to them so it's good they're going to get to it

-there's a few more things we are not excited about seeing your ugly fat girls faces on TV saying stupid things while this huge crisis is going on and it could be a lot worse than you think we do not want to hear from you every few seconds that you finally figured out how to cook something or open a restaurant correctly and we don't want to hear our son repeat the math every time and you never getting it I mean you're irresponsible morons we realize that. What we're going to do is penalize you your population on Earth is very low total morlock population all of you together is now 4% are you going to war with the clones all over the world at each ship each hole and Greenland is going to be a major major battle you're leaving from the Midwest to number Midwest to go up there with tons of ships with armament and arms a lot of the arms and armament you are putting on up to St Laurent because of our request and it's going to work and you'll be up there save down here and we are of course hitting anything that is going to fire on the ice you like to try and threaten it and you'll be destroyed immediately we are also going after you for threats you wish you on her son to try and contradict orders of ours and all day long we are hitting you here and you make it very loud over and boisterous and we silence you for your ignorance

-several programs are off the ground and as Hera said the construction project start Monday morning $300,000 additional and there are 8 million projects globally we added some and it's the update she didn't get yet I just got it myself and 3 million of them are in the United States and a lot of them are projects we own about 75% and we're going to use who we want and product and materials we want. It's a very large number of projects and it's a huge number here 300,000 in Florida but really there's 20,000 in Southwest Florida and only 300 in Charlotte county most of it is utilities about 90% so that leaves only 40 or so that are commercial institutional and government buildings being renovated and really it's only about two apartment complexes and two or three neighborhoods it's very bad but that's what it is and we awarded the contracts the apartment complexes that are to be removed and replaced and we're not saying where others are starting work on apartments very soon if not the same day. We do have a lot of problems with the building department and we shall be clearing them out everyday also since we found your value of your own life to be so low we're planning on just picking you up instead of slowing down and your Intel is terrible

And he's going to get dinner actually will take a break

Thor Freya

Olympus

We have a small problem with the neighbor John remillard I need people on it right now

Hera

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[thickenmyblood]

I’ll confess my sins. When I skipped the first chapters of Capri I got stuck on Laurent’s description as spoiled and similar to overripe fruit. So i was like ah. Royal Dudley Dursley with a blonde curly wig. Sounds about right. I finally saw some fan art and was like??? Who is this anemic Victorian vampire legolas persona?? Honestly tho in an alternate universe where Auguste doesn’t die and Laurent still dislikes sports but enjoys Veres sweet meats and his metabolism is only the slightest bit slower Laurent is absolutely getting chubby. And Damen. Smh he manages to be shadiest bitch while also being appreciating. Would he insult an overweight courtier who never touched a sword? Absolutely. Would he respect a meaty sumo ringer able to throw Damen around like a rag doll? Absolutely. He seems to appreciate multiple types of bodies just fine (muscled gladiators, frail slaves, sturdy vaskian women) so I feel like he’d also appreciate curvier partners as long as they. Well know how to use their body yk. Oh and what about chubby jokaste? We don’t know enough about akielon beauty standards at all. Sure slaves are probably mostly slender and frail to add to the submissive aesthetic (tho I do remember damens fixation on his female slaves big boobs, dude is far from subtle as always). But if it’s Ancient Greek inspired beauty standards jokaste most definitely rocks some tummy rolls. Either that or she’s got super toned abs from the Pilates classes she visits with the other trophy concubines. and akielon man are properly ripped but is it king-Leonidas-washboard-abs ripped?? Or more chunky functional muscle mass ripped? Perhaps akielon noble women are even trained like Spartan women and egeria was the one with the washboard abs. Also there absolutely was a time in Vere where the chubbier the pet = the wealthier it’s owner. Im so so sorry for rambling but your post got me t h i n k i n g

This is not only hilarious but also one of the best takes I’ve ever read. There is so much to unpack here that I truly don’t know where to start.

You mentioned Dudley, whose weight and fat (derogatory) tendencies are accentuated throughout the entire Harry Potter saga. I think—and this is my personal belief, it is not something anyone else has to agree with—that part of what makes Laurent interesting and redeemable to many readers has to do with the fact that he’s beautiful*. I don’t think many people would be willing to admit that, but Laurent’s pretty privilege as a fictional character is similar to Draco Malfoy’s (in fanon) or other morally grey villains/characters’. Ugly characters are harder to forgive, for some reason.

This got me thinking that had Pacat written Laurent as canonically fat, there would be a lot of stuff going on in Damen’s head that I don’t think we’d be able to excuse as easily as we excuse other (quite horrible) thoughts of his. But also, like I mentioned above, I think Laurent would have a harder time proving to some readers that he’s not Dudley, that he’s not just a stereotype of selfishness and greed and other things fatness is associated with (like childishness or an inability to take accountability for one’s actions). This would happen not because he’s fat, but rather because we see the world through Damen’s eyes. And Damen is. . . Quite opinionated.

You mentioned Damen would be judgmental of someone’s weight based on their ability to fight. So, like you pointed out, he’d make fun of a useless in battle courtier but not of a Sumo wrestler. I think in Book 1 Damen would make fun of anything and everyone, but I do understand where you’re coming from with that statement. It makes me wonder what Damen would think of people with a mobility/physical disability. Or even with learning difficulties. Or just about anyone that, according to him, doesn’t contribute to society. If you can’t be a warrior or a bed slave, and if you’re not in a condition to be a peasant and plow fields, and if you don’t have royal blood in your veins. . . I have a hard time picturing Damen being sympathetic.

Chubby Jokaste. . . I think I’ve always thought of her as a muscled woman, given the fact that Laurent can pose as her in Book 3. There’s been a lot of discourse lately on whether Laurent is muscled or a twigly twink, which I will not get into because I. . . do not know enough about gender and/or gender expression to add anything to any argument. I am also not a gay man, so I don’t know what could be considered offensive. I am also very stupid. I also do not know what the word 'twink' means anymore.

Your ask has made me think a lot about many things I’m usually not interested in. I think it would be interesting to see a chubby Laurent who still knows how to fight, who trains, who does things other than eat and hate. Canon Laurent is slender, and yet he never manages to beat Damen in combat, so I don’t think his ability to fight would suffer much from gaining some pounds. It would be interesting to see chubby Jokaste too, even though I don’t particularly enjoy the parallels between her and Laurent in canon. It would also be interesting to see. . . different types of bodies. You mentioned the Vaskian ladies, which I like a lot, but I don’t think I’ve read or come across any fics that focus on them. I think Vannes’ pet is also described as muscular and big, but I’m afraid I don’t remember the quote and I don’t own the books, so I can’t be sure.

What I liked the most was the ending of your ask, where you went on to add little worldbuilding details. Like I said yesterday, I wish canon was more detailed so we could maybe have something to hold onto when we make certain claims. It’s hard to say which parts of Damen’s thought process are entirely his (as a prince with a lot of privilege) and which ones have to do with his culture. Pacat has pointed out some to us, like the fact that Akielons don’t enjoy certain “spectacles” of the body, like pet rings or public sex, but they do enjoy staring at bodies when they’re wrestling or performing physical activities unrelated to sex. Other things remain little mysteries, in my opinion. Do all bed slaves have the same body type? Do women wrestle? How does marriage work in Akielos? What is everyone else’s opinion on fat people? I’m sure not everyone is like Damen, who we speculate cares about having a healthy body so he can fight and. . . stuff.

I am not saying Damen is the only character who, in the historic period where Captive Prince is set, would have fatphobic thoughts. If Damen was fat, Laurent would be the first one to use that against him, especially in Book 1. I just think Damen fits the fatphobic mold better because he’s described as this hypermasculine character, very into war (I think the blurb of the book calls him a warrior prince?) and manly things. Which is not to say war is inherently manly. Which is not to say Laurent isn’t manly. Which is not to say. . . whatever.

Captive Prince is a fantasy trilogy, set in. . . the past. Concepts such as fatphobia or toxic masculinity are not exactly applicable, but I think it’s fun to explore Damen’s character through his flaws. Laurent has a lot of flaws, but Damen’s are sometimes confused with virtues. In my opinion, they’re at their best when they’re being disgustingly horrible to each other.

I’m sorry for writing you a 90 paragraph response.

* He's almost universally beautiful in the Captive Prince world. Damen finds him pretty, and Torveld, and Jord (we've read that 'cute' quote where he describes Laurent at 15 to Aimeric). Not saying fat = ugly. I'm saying it seems like the 'hegemonic' body type for pretty is Laurent's, otherwise. . . why would everyone he comes in contact with comment on his pretty looks?

[zweiginator]

filthy f*cking rich -- part one

hey! im back to writing; this is a new fandom im writing for, so im nervous! be gentle with me!  i hope you enjoy and i hope some succession fans find this! this is a multi-part series and im not sure how many parts i plan to write, but i realized that im far too detailed as it is, so i had to break it up nonetheless. i also apologize for any errors; i admit i get lazy when it comes to the editing stage!!

Synopsis: You are out at an elite club in NYC and meet a handsome stranger. Smitten by each other, your flirting escalates and important details are left unsaid. 

Word Count: 2.5k

Warning: Lead up to smut, Drug usage (by you and Kendall), Drinking

“Good fucking god, Y/N,” your friend, Amelia exclaimed, as you forked out another fifty to pay for drinks. It was payday, and to say the family you babysitted for was rich would be the understatement of the fucking century. “What does that family do for a living?” She asked, downing the last of her mojito. At 20 dollars a pop, she was savoring every last drop, not that she was paying for any of it. 

“All I know is the mom of the kids is divorced to a very wealthy, very guilty businessman. Apparently he makes a fortune, he fucked up the marriage, and he just pays for them to live lavishly. Rava still has a job though, a good one too. Basically, they’re really fucking well off.” You answered, shoving some bills into a poorly-filled tip jar. 

“Well good god” She answered, stirring her fresh mojito, not even hearing the clinking of the ice against the frosted glass over the steady house music blasting through her veins, along with the minty rum. “If they need a back up sittr, I’d be happy to work for even half of that. They can put me on retainer.”

You grinned. “It’s a good gig, for sure.” You mouthed a slurred Thank You to the bartender, an attractive man in his mid-twenties, with full lips, and even fuller biceps. His face was rugged looking, peppered with stubble, and he smelled of cleanliness, of musky aftershave and the remnants of sweat, the evidence of which was glistening over his smooth forehead.

“He was hot.” Your other friend, Libby, commented. “I’m self-conscious just being here. The elite scene in New York is just so intimidating.”

You nodded, gulping down a moscow mule; it was just a little something to sip on between shots. “I definitely agree. The key is to just pretend you fit in, even if you really don’t.”

Amelia scoffed. “You do fit in though.” She pointed to your purse, a new Yves Saint Laurent bag you had recently saved up for. 

“Not really, and I’ve only worked for Rava for a couple months. Most of this money has gone to rent. Besides, I don’t think you understand just how rich these people are.”

“How rich?” Libby raised her eyebrows, dark brown and perfectly plucked. Her family back home was much more well off than yours, so you were a bit annoyed at her commentary. A pretty brunette from Connecticut, she sported 400 dollar dresses for a casual dinner, and didn’t need to worry about where rent money would come from each month. She still got allowance at 22, a fact which astounded you when you were told. 

You sucked your lips in, shrugging. “I mean, it depends. Shall we get some statistics? I mean, I’m assuming all of these dudes in suits don’t struggle for money. They just look so far removed from the world. An average night out for them is hundreds at dinner, the same at the bar, and five times that on coke.” You gestured to a man sitting in a dimly lit corner, hunched over a handheld mirror. The sleeves to his crisp button up were rolled to his elbows, revealing strong, assured forearms. At least 4 rolled up hundred dollar bills were sprawled around the table, and he picked one up, pushing his right nostril in as he bent down to take in the three, fat lines of cocaine expertly striping the mirror. They were long, a clean white. 

You didn’t realize how intently you were staring at him until he looked up, eyelids hooded, his hazel irises sleepy, drunk looking, confused and secure all at the same time. He looked as if he was the most comfortable in that state of in between, of knowing exactly what he wanted and what he was doing, but also of the looming terror of not knowing what the fuck would come next. Would he crash? Would he have a sustained high, or would it fizzle out, like it did with the shitty coke, the stuff he got when he put Greg in charge of the drugs? 

He smirked at you, and you saw how his pupils grew into black saucers, swallowing the hues of golden brown you could barely make out with the intensity of the purple lights glimmering above him. He glanced down at the tiny baggie of coke, half spilled on the mirror, and tapped his nostril twice, shrugging. His strung out way of asking if you wanted a line or two. 

“This is what I mean,” You looked back at your friends, gesturing with your head back at the man in front of you, tucked away in his own little version of heaven,  gripping the ground with the soles of his tough leather shoes but simultaneously high, high above everyone else, in his own world, where everything was fuzzy and intense and he always got whatever he wanted because he was always the richest in the room. And now he had money and untethered confidence, the best company a man could ask for. 

“What is what you mean?” Amelia looked over your shoulder at him. 

“I bet you if I asked this man how rich he was, his answer would shock you.” You answered, clutching your bag as you made your way over to him. 

“You can’t ask him that!” Amelia semi-whispered in your ear, looking around as she sat across from him. 

“Ask who what?” The man questioned, cutting another line with a heavy looking credit card. 

You wouldn’t usually be as forward, but the four drinks in your system brought a newfound confidence along with the semi-slurred speech and flushed cheeks. “You’re rich, aren’t you? Like how loaded would you say you are?”

He pretended to ponder. “I guess, imagine someone who is filthy fucking rich. Like beyond what you could comprehend.” He smirked. His voice was firm but silky, his lips pillowy and red, bitten from his high.

You sat down directly next to him, drawn in by his half-smile, how he carried himself, how he was commanding but oddly off-putting all at the same time. He just looked like trouble, like a scandal, but it made you all the more intrigued. 

“And that’s how rich you are?” You asked. 

He raised his eyebrows. “No, a lot fucking richer than that,.” He bit his bottom lip, gesturing towards you with his rolled up hundred. 

“Cocky, much?” Libby scoffed. 

“She asked,” He shrugged, taking the line for himself instead of waiting for your prolonged response. You didn’t love the idea of coke, but he looked fucking hot doing it and you couldn’t believe you found yourself thinking that. He sniffled, wiping the excess powder from around his nose. The remnants of a line peppered the corner of the mirror, and he gathered it with his index finger. “You know, if you’re afraid to snort, you can rub some on your gums. Less scary that way.”

You looked up at him, pondering what to do next. You had never done coke before, but here was an upscale club in New York, a sunken-in green couch, and a sexy, rich guy with a lopsided smile, basically offering up his finger for you to suck on for a free high. Maybe it was against your better judgement, but you grabbed his wrist, pulling his finger to your lips. His eyes locked onto yours, his pupils becoming impossibly larger as he swiped the pad of his finger across your velvety gums. 

He smiled, moving his other hand to your knee. The finger that was just in your mouth gathered a small amount of coke on the moistened pad, finding its way to his own mouth for a quick swipe along his gums.  Your skirt had ridden up, bunched around your upper thigh. He pretended not to notice, a newer, fresher high pouring from his nose into his head and seeping through the rest of his body as he looked at yours, as inconspicuous as possible. 

The high hit you slower than you had expected; your tongue tingled as you watched his lips form into a curious smirk, deepening the creases by the corners of his mouth, where slightly greyed stubble was peppered. You wouldn’t usually allow a random, strung out man touch above your knee at a crowded club, but something about this man was making you erratic, and excessively planted in the firm ground of the present, when your head usually floated more towards the future.

You had honestly forgotten your friends were still here, watching you and the nameless, filthy rich man eye fuck each other as the vibration of the bass seemingly pushed you even closer together.

“I liked that,” He whispered in your ear, moving his hand to grip the soft skin of your inner thigh, still low enough to be acceptable, but flirting along the line of inappropriate, sexual. 

“Liked what?” You feigned innocence, flashing him a cute smile. 

He rolled his eyes, his breath hot against your cheek as his thumb rubbed circles on your thigh. “My finger in your mouth. Did you like the coke?”

He was as quick to mention it as he was to brush the topic to the back of the room, where your friends had roamed off to, still watching you from afar, awaiting a look for help you felt you wouldn’t need to give them. 

“I’m indifferent about it. Never have done it before, and definitely wasn’t planning on doing it tonight either.” You smiled down at your lap, suddenly aware of his stare, its effects burning your cheeks, your hands, in between your legs. He smelled rich and he had that greedy entitlement seeping from his pores, something which usually would have been strongly off putting, but at that moment made you certain that this was a man who got what he wanted, when he wanted it.

“I didn’t mean to peer pressure.” He said, flatly. His thumb and index finger tilted your chin up, forcing you to meet his gaze. “Wouldn’t want to corrupt a sweet looking girl such as yourself.” He gave a closed-mouth smile, his thumb swiping against your lower lip, still tingling. 

“I don’t mind. It was my choice.” You shrugged, your foot beginning to tap against the wooden floor which was littered with a sticky gunk. 

“Atta girl,” He sighed, squeezing your leg, pulling you even closer, bordering on his lap. His pants were molded perfectly to his body, hugging his thighs and stopping right at his ankles. His fingers played with the hem of your skirt, a tight black number you had bought ages ago in your hometown. “This suits you.” His tone was blunt, but you could tell he was trying to say the right thing. It was just unclear as to whether he actually cared about your feelings or if he just wanted to fuck you. There was a slim chance it was both. 

“I like the suit.” You pulled on his tie, making his lips near yours; you could smell mint, some tobacco, the faintest tinge of lime. “Looks like you came straight from the office.”

He chuckled. “I’m never out of the fucking office.” He fingered the top button of his shirt, popping it open. “It’s all business, sweetheart.”

“Even this?” You looked up at him through your lashes. “Getting high with me?” You loosened his tie a bit, forgetting you were in a public place, although it felt like it was just you two, breathing each other in, eager to see what would come next.

“Well this is a break. Well deserved.” His hand inched further up your thigh, and you welcomed it, looking around for a quick escape, somewhere a little more quiet. 

“What did you do to deserve this?” You teased, pushing his hand further up your thigh. He groaned lowly, raising his eyebrows.

“That’s a good fucking question, because I do nothing but fuck up.” He swiped his thumb over your clothed clit, feeling how wet you were, how ready. “Jesus,” He whispered. “Let’s get out of here.”

“Where exactly are we going?” You asked, fiddling with a button on his shirt, opting to pop it open because you were already this far with him. 

“My car, my penthouse, fucking anywhere.” He pulled his hand away from your core, pulling his tie looser in the process. “It’s hot in here. Loud. And I want you.”

Throwing back the rest of your drink, you grabbed his hand, pulling him up from the couch, eager to make his–and your own–wish come true. He didn’t bother to gather the four, rolled up hundreds, or the rest of his drugs, but maybe, you thought, they weren’t his to begin with. You often forgot how in the minds of the elite, everything was theirs, nothing was off limits, and everyone and everything could be bought. “So where will you have me?” 

He pondered, or more likely, pretended to. “My penthouse, of course. If I am to choose. It’s nothing special, though.” He winked. 

You headed toward the exit at the front, where you had come in, his hand still grasped in your own, warm, inviting, masculine. 

“Other way.” He pushed his other hand against your lower back, turning you around. His lips pressed against your ear. “I wasn’t lying about how fucking rich I am. If we go out that door, we’re the headlines in tomorrow’s tabloids.” And then his hand inched lower, over your ass. As he led you out of a hidden exit, blocked off by caution tape, you wondered if this was a good idea, or a march to your own grave. Leaving a bar, drunk and high with a man whose name you didn’t even know seemed to coincide more with the latter. 

“What was your name?” You asked, opting for at least a false sense of security. It was better than nothing, after all. 

He tore the haphazardly strewn caution tape, his hand still on the small of your back. “I was wondering when you’d ask that. “It’s Kendall.” He conveniently left out the last name; Kendall was sufficient enough, and left out the recognizable aspect, the heavily connoted Roy that either had women throw their drinks in his face or feign interest in him.

It was an interesting name, you thought. Definitely unexpected, but that was like him. You said nothing, not surprised he didn’t ask for your name in return. 

The air from outside was crisp, light. And the wind as fast as the trip to Kendall’s apartment building, one of the only residential buildings you had seen in New York to be aptly called a skyscraper. The tension between you and Kendall was palpable as the driver opened the back door for you. The combination of the brisk breeze and the cramped backseat had made your skirt ride up quite a bit, and Kendall was hard, excited as he thought about what would come next, what he would do to you. He was certain the cocaine had worn off, but he still felt high, and that concerned him, just a little. He felt like he was twenty one again, when independence was new, sexuality to be explored. 

His apartment door was heavy. That’s what Kendall told you as he pushed you up against it, causing it to slam, the cold echo of metal startling you into his arms. He smiled against your mouth, one of his hands finding your throat. His grip was firm, but he didn’t choke you. Instead he just looked at you, your hair tousled and frizzy, cheeks tinged with a feverish blush, your lips even darker. 

Swiping his free thumb over your bottom lip, he pushed it into your mouth, causing you to suck on it instinctively. Your cheeks hollowed, eyes sheepishly meeting his. 

Then, with the commanding, firm tone only a man like him could ever get away with, he said, “Get on your knees, now.”

Part Two

[pourcap]

thoughts: cp chapter 2

"What was the Prince’s mood?" "Delightful,’ said Damen." hhh he's so snarky

Damen remembered that he was not the only Akielon to have been gifted to Vere, and felt a groundswell of concern for the others. it took me less than one and a half chapter to fall in love with him :')

A great underground river that is hot. Damen said, ‘In Akielos, we use a system of aqueducts to achieve the same effect.’ Radel frowned. ‘I suppose you think that is very clever.' yes and he's right

Radel had thrown a substance onto the braziers as he left, so that they flared and then smoked. ummmm i do not have a good feeling about this

OH

damen fought against auguste.....

wait, kastor ran damen through with a sword?? when damen was 13??? right after damen had scored a hit against him for the first time???

Now he remembered the black look in Kastor’s eyes and thought that he had been wrong about many things. imagine being 13 and proud that you can finally keep up with your cool older brother only for him to 'accidentally' wound you so badly you could die. (also, how embarrassing for an older brother to feel threatened and/or jealous enough to do something like that.)

"The Prince doesn’t like it. Jewellery—no. The gold is adequate. Yes, those garments. No, without the embroidery." that's the second emphasis on laurent disliking anything flashy and idk why but it seems important somehow. is it bc of auguste? like, does it remind laurent of him, and that's why he doesn't accessorize?

ok so damen is brought to an amphitheatre and everything is weird

vere sounds like hell ngl

the ONE THING i know about captive prince is that damen and laurent are going to be together but, frankly: how.

"Maybe,’ said Laurent, his eyes widening a little, ‘you strayed after he fucked you." he's so !!!!

"It’s perfect: a man who holds you down while he fucks you, with a cock like a bottle, and a beard like my uncle's." uhh that's a really fucking vile thought. also, it sounds like laurent hates his uncle?? i just thought he was pissed his uncle interrupted him when was talking to damen the night before

There was something obscene about someone with a face like that speaking those words in a conversational voice. just how beautiful is laurent?

"I, for one, am relieved to hear that all the slaves in Akielos are not like this one. They’re not, are they?’ This last a little nervously. :D

"Everyone knows how you feel about that country. Their barbaric practices—and of course what happened at Marlas—" i am CONFUSED.

okay, so, about that "performance" ... vere truly does sound like hell actually

There was something strange in the way that his limbs felt . . . sluggish... I KNEW IT. THE BATH. god. that's so fucked up.

"I fight in your service, Your Highness.’ He searched his memory for Radel’s words, and found them. ‘I exist only to please my Prince. May my victory reflect on your glory." i wanna be happy about this bc it's like big fat fuck you to laurent but at the same time laurent is the one with the upper hand here since he's the prince and i still do not want damen to get hurt :(

"Every dog can be brought to heel,’ said Laurent. i am so annoyed with him

The young boy was not the man’s son. (...) He was, at the oldest, fourteen. He looked more like twelve. honestly i have no words. this is so gross.

i love damen so much.

Laurent’s expression flickered. did he seriously expect damen to say yes? who would say yes to that !!

why is that child upset about damen saying no??

i'd like to stress just how much i love damen

i'd also like to stress that vere seems genuinely horrible :)

[jungwonenthusiast]

warnings: unprotected sex, oral (female recieving)

A/N: I got this requested but I fucked something up and accidentally deleted it so here it is!

You spray your Yves Saint Laurent onto your wrists and dab some of it onto the back of your ears.

It’s Taeyong’s birthday today and you need to look nice.

You check your hair and makeup one more time before hopping in your car and driving to Taeyong’s place.

His house is pretty much a palace. It looks like a goddamn museum. Taeyong‘s grandfather joined the Yakuza as a refugee in Japan and eventually became a boss. The business has been passed down ever since.

You’re greeted with a waiter.

“Hello Ms. y/n.” she hands you a glass of champagne. “Lovely to see you.”

“Thank you,” you smile at her and take a sip of the rosè.

You place your gift for him at the gift table and greet your way up to Taeyong.

“y/n,” he walks over to you. “so glad you made it.” He takes your hand and gives it a quick kiss. “You look incredible.”

You roll your eyes at him. “Since when were you so proper.”

“What do you mean,” he looks around the room. “look at my house, it’s only right that I treat you like a lady.”

“Gross.” you wrinkle your nose. “I’ve seen you literally pee yourself before, no need to think of me as a lady.”

“I was eight alright?” he protests and you laugh.

“Happy birthday you gramp.” you pat his shoulder and he gives you the stink eye.

“Gramp?” he scoffs. “I’m five months older than you.”

“Whatever.” you roll your eyes and he smiles.

“You look beautiful,” he tugs at your red dress.

“So do you,” you say and he does. His pink hair is slicked back and his suit fits him perfectly. “Did you do your makeup? It looks good.”

“Thank you,” he pretends to tuck hair behind his ear and you laugh. His eyeshadow is a sparkly burgundy and it compliments him perfectly.

You walk around, snacking on tiny gourmet food and saying hello to everyone.

“Noona!” says someone who can’t be anyone than Haechan.

You turn around to see his jogging towards you. You catch him in your arms. “Hi!” you say, strained.

“You look very pretty.” he says to you and you ruffle his hair.

“Thank you Haechanie.” you notice that he already smells a bit like alcohol. “Don’t get to drunk tonight okay, do you remember what happened last time?”

He looks away, embarrassed. At the last party Haechan got black out drunk and called Mr. Kang a “fat fuck” and got himself socked in the jaw.

“Yes noona.” he says and you chuckle.

You continue to greet people through out the night, shaking hands and giving light hugs to rich men and women.

The night continues to go swell until you stumble into someone and end und up with champagne all over your black Dior dress.

"Fuck," you curse under your breath, trying not to lose your cool. You look up at the culprit and you're met with an angelically handsome face. "I'm so sorry," the man says and calls over a waiter for a napkin.

"It's fine," you grumble. You're not afraid to be casual with him despite the fact that he probably has a gun strapped to his waist.

He hands you a wad of napkins. "I would help you out but I don't want to get stabbed."

You raise an eyebrow. "What do you mean?"

"Is that not a knife in your thigh garter?" he asks.

"How'd you notice that?" you smirk at him while dabbing alcohol off of your dress.

"I've got a keen eye," he smiles and hold a hand out. "nice to meet you, my name's Jaehyun."

You shake his hand. "I'd say nice to meet you too if you hadn't spilled champagne all over me."

He chuckles. "Am I gonna get your name?"

"It's y/n." you say put your hands on your hips.

"How do you know Taeyong hyung?" he asks.

"We've known each other since childhood," you say. "I have a collection of embarrassing stories about him if you want any."

He laughs. "Only if you don't mind."

You spend probably an hour talking to this guy and telling all about yours and Taeyong’s childhood adventures.

“No way he peed,” Jaehyun says, laughing loudly.

“I swear he did,” you insist. You guys are sitting in one of Taeyong’s spare rooms now. “it was the highlight of my year.”

“It’s so hard to imagine the main boss of the Yakuza pissing himself,” he says through choked up laughs.

He has a good laugh, hearty and from the soul.

“Right? I think I’m always gonna treat him the same as I did when we were kids no matter how many people he kills.” you giggle.

“That’s fucking hilarious,” he’s still chuckling.

He pushes his dark brown hair out of his perfect face.

He smells expensive and he’s wearing luxurious rings on a few of his fingers.

He takes a deep breath from all of the laughing and his eyes find yours.

“You’re very beautiful,” he says abruptly and you giggle.

“Thank you,” you smile and try not to stare as he takes his suit coat off. He rolls up the sleeves of his button down and you can see the tail of a dragon tattoo spiraling all the way down to his wrist.

He fidgets with his fingers, twisting his rings around. His hands are pale and look strong, you wonder what they’d feel like on your skin.

You sigh and lock eyes with him one more time before he leans over and takes you by the back of your neck. “Come here,” he says under his breath but you push him away.

“Do you think I’m that easy?” you say and he smirks.

“Come on my love,” he runs his hand down your thigh. “have some fun with me.”

“Make me.” you tease.

He smiles. “You’re gonna regret testing me,” he says pulls you by the waist right onto his lap.

He kisses like he knows what he wants.

Your hands find his hair and when you tug at the roots his hips buck up into yours just a little. You can already feel the heat building up in your core.

His arms tighten around your waist when he picks you up. You hold in a little squeal.

He lays you down onto the huge bed and goes right back to kissing you.

Soon his knee finds a place between your thighs and you moan into his kisses when he pushes up on you.

He smiles against your lips. “I didn’t know you’d be this sensitive.”

“Shut up,” you scoff and crash your lips against his.

Your fingers find the buttons of his shirt and you unbutton them as quick as you can.

You push the shirt off and get a good look at him. The tattoo starts from his chest and goes all the way down his left arm. He has a couple others stamped around his right arm and his torso. He really looks like he’s been carved out of clay.

Jaehyun tugs at the zipper on your dress and pulls it off of you in one smooth motion. He carefully takes your garter off of you as well and kisses your thigh while he’s at it.

You suddenly feel the need to cover yourself.

“Don’t do that,” he pulls your arms away from your chest and kisses your neck. “I wanna see you.”

His lips travel from your neck to your collarbones then to your chest and down, down, down until he’s met with your lace underwear.

“Spread these legs for me,” he pushes your knees apart but they knock back together right when he lets go. You’re embarrassed, you’re not used to being so submissive but with him, it just comes naturally.

He comes up to kiss you again. “Don’t be shy sweetheart, let me take care of you.”

Your cheeks get hot. You’re so desperate for him that it hurts.

He pushes your thighs open again and kisses around the lining of your underwear making you whine in anticipation.

“Patience darling,” he tsks you. “think about how good it’ll feel once I finally taste that pussy.”

You prop yourself onto your elbows and watch him leave kisses everywhere but where you need him the most.

After what feels like hours, he pulls your underwear to the side and gives you one long stripe. You whimper and fall back onto the bed.

He tastes you agaonizingly slowly, drawing out every lick.

“I need more,” you whine and he smiles.

“Maybe if you ask nicely.” he says.

“Please?” you ask pathetically.

“Atta girl.” he says before indulging in you like you’re dessert. “Fuck you taste good.” he whispers.

Your head tips back as he licks on your clit just right.

He pushes one finger into you and you whine.

“More,” you beg and he pushes in another one.

“Fuck,” You grab onto the sheets and grind your hips against his face. You feel him moan against you and it sends tingles down your spine.

You’re so close to finishing when he pulls away. You look at him with wide eyes.

“What? Did you think you’d get it that easy?” he taunts and you rolls your eyes.

“Please fuck me.” you plead before kissing him.

“I don’t think you deserve it.” he says.

You whimper. “I said please.”

“Not good enough,” he denotes. “I want you to tell me how bad you want it.”

“So bad,” you exhale as he kisses your neck. “I want to feel you inside of me.”

“Mhm?” he mumbles. “What else.”

“I want you to fuck me so hard that I feel it tomorrow.”

He smiles. “That’s more like it.” He sits up and unbuckles his belt.

He strokes himself before rubbing the tip at your clit.

“Fuck me already,” you say.

“Of course darling,” he says before pushing into you.

You’re eyes nearly rolls back from how good it feels. He stretches you so perfectly.

He starts slow, rolling his hips into yours, giving you a taste of what he feels like.

“Harder,” you breath out. “please.”

He gribs your waist before slamming his cock into you. A loud whine escapes your mouth.

“You feel so fucking good,” he says lowly.

“Keep going,” you say and moan when he complies.

You grab at back, scratching him from all of the pleasure.

He fucks you like he’s been doing it for years. Somehow he knows just how you like it.

“Touch yourself.” he tells you. “I wanna watch.”

He leans back, stilling fucking you to watch you rub your clit.

“So fucking hot.” he says with a smile as you play with your pussy.

He leans down to give you a kiss while he rams into you.

Your legs start to close but he pins them back open, keeping you spread for him. You moan, not caring if people hear you.

“How good does that cock feel?” he says.

It’s almost hard to respond. You’re so overwhelmed by the pleasure. “So fucking good,” you manage to say.

“You like when I fuck that cunt?” he kisses your neck. “Deep and hard.”

All you can do is nod pathetically.

You start to feel the fire building in your stomach and you grip at his inked covered arm.

“Don’t stop,” you beg and you’re relieved when he listens.

You feel your eyes roll back and your legs start to tremble as he hits your spot over and over, throwing you into your orgasm.

He moans into your neck as you pulse around him.

“Fuck,” he curses and slowly pulls out of you, letting his cum drip out of you.

You’re still shaking when he lays next to you. He pulls you into his chest, rubbing your back to help you calm down.

“You okay?” he whispers and you nod.

“You’re good,” you say and he chuckles.

“I know.”

[deactivatedpermanently]

Fat Bastard Girl | Robb Stark

Could you maybe do a Robb Stark imagine where the reader is insecure about her weight and he comforts her?

Requested by: Anonymous

(A/N: I really hope this was alright; I’ve never really written anything based on a request before, but there’s a first time for everything I suppose! Also, if you’re offended by explicit language (which I doubt you are if you like Game of Thrones) then probably skip this one.)

Summary: When you, a swordfighter loyal to the Starks, follow Robb to war, many of the soldiers manage you feel insecure about yourself. Robb steps in and comforts you.

By the age of 3, you had a sword in your hand. Sitting idly by and simply just marvelling at your half-brothers and their immaculate swordsmanship wasn’t enough to satisfy you. So, with your father’s permission, your second eldest half-brother (Gared Laurent), the legitimate son of former knight Lord Regalt Laurent, taught you to how to fight. He was just 15 at the time, but he, like you, was a prodigy with a sword. However, unlike you, he wasn’t Lord Laurent’s bastard.

You had been raised in the keep of Herely Heath since infancy, following the death of your biological mother during childbirth. Luckily, Lady Juliene Laurent (the woman you knew as ‘mother) didn’t resent you enough not to raise you; with 6 boys, she was happy to raise a girl. Unfortunately, her dream of dressing you up in pretty gowns and styling your hair in a beautiful way was soon dashed when she realised that you were different. You wore your brothers’ old clothes  due to loathing the long, girly dresses your mother insisted you wore. Your hair was often made messy by the wind and rain in which you insisted in playing. Your personality was more brash and confident than what was expected of a young girl, and the daughter of a lord. 

The commoners, unlike your family, seemed to judge you and mock you to themselves for who you were. You heard their whispers about you, the chubby bastard being raised like the legitimate child of a lord and lady. Most other lords and ladies would be disgusted that their daughter, illegitimate or not, wanted to fight, but, instead, your father and mother were surprisingly supportive of your choices, even when commoners and several other lords and ladies passed judgement upon you.

As you learned how to fight with a sword from such a young age, you became easily one of the best sword-fighters in Westeros. Though you weren’t as good as Jaime Lannister, you could certainly give him a run for his money. Like your half-brothers, your skills were on par with that of an accomplished knight. That’s why when you turned 11, instead of marrying you off to a wealthy prospective lord, your father decided to send you off to Winterfell to begin serving his old friend, Ned Stark.

Though you were a bastard, you were still the daughter of a Lord. Your father insisted that you were escorted to Winterfell, less than a day’s travel on horseback away from Herely Heath, by three members of his guard, but you insisted he let you travel alone because, in your words: “A true fighter need not be protected.”

Your arrival at Winterfell was a welcome one by all of the Starks. You were the same age as Robb and Jon, both of whom initially doubted your abilities as a sword fighter. With Lord Stark’s permission, you engaged in combat with both of them and won within half a minute. While Jon revered you as a worthy opponent, Robb was mesmerised by you. With the tip of your blade to his throat and your foot resting on his torso, Robb looked up at you with complete admiration. From that moment, you were close with both the Snow boy and Stark boy, even if one viewed you in a whole different light to the other. The fact that you were a bastard always helped you relate to Jon and be close with him and have a strong, platonic bond, but you could surprisingly connect with Robb, especially when he requested that you teach him how to be a better fighter.

When you and Robb were 14, Robb gained a better understanding of you than he ever had before. He learned why you were the way that you were.

It was late at night, and you and Robb were training by fire light. Yet again, you had him pinned to the ground.

“Your stance made you lose balance.” you informed him, extending your hand to him to help him up. “And, you were holding your sword too low down, so I could kick it out of your hand. If I wanted to kill you, I could’ve killed you. Imagine: Robb Stark killed by a fat bastard girl.”

“Alright; no need to keep bringing it up.” Robb muttered, sitting up and taking your hand. “You always do that.”

“Do what?” you asked bluntly, pulling him up with a little bit of difficulty.

“Tell me that you could’ve killed me and that you beat me and then say you’re a ‘fat bastard girl’.” Robb answered.

“You’d be smug about it too if you were a fat bastard girl defeating the legitimate son of a lord.” you said, folding your arms. 

Rob frowned and looked at you, a bemused expression on his scuffed-up face. He was silent, something in the back of his mind telling him that you weren’t finished talking.

“If I wish to wield a sword and pierce the flesh of my enemies instead of be forced please a wealthy man in a loveless marriage and produce a dozen children, I have to prove myself as more than Lord Laurent’s fat bastard girl to everyone whose watching me.” You glanced up at Rob. “What’s the eldest son of Lord Eddard Stark got to prove when nobody’ll judge him for what he was born as?”

Robb was silent still. Yet again, he sensed that you weren’t quite done, and he was alright with that. He’d never thought of you, the brave and cunning (Y/N) Laurent, as just a fat bastard girl, but he knew, deep down, he’d never be able to prove to you that you weren’t just that.

“I was born as a fat bastard girl, but I want to die as more than that.” you responded. “When I die, I want to be remembered as something more than just Laurent’s fat bastard girl.”

You were done, Robb thought to himself. It was his turn to speak.

“Is that why you picked up a sword?” Robb asked.

“Of course not. I was three; I didn’t care about honour and victory when I was three. I just thought sword fighting looked better than drinking tea with mother.” you replied, causing Robb to snort a laugh.

There was a brief moment of silence.

“You’ll always be more than a fat bastard girl to me, (Y/N).” Robb stated.

“I know that.” you said in an unconvincing response. “It’s getting late. We’d better go back inside before your mother shouts at us.”

From that day on, Robb was aware that, in spite of how you presented yourself, you were insecure. You weren’t as self-assured as you acted, but you only broke down in private. That was until you had followed Robb to war.

Robb had appointed you second-in-command after him, knowing you could and would be a good leader.

However, the incredulous men who gawked, sneered and laughed at you didn’t share the same idea. For one, you were a woman. Somehow, your lack of testicles meant that you were unworthy of having any authority over them. Two, you were fat. Being fat meant that they just couldn’t resist the urge to not mock you. They didn’t even have to know you were a bastard to make up their minds that you weren’t good enough to lead them. Even when you’d slaughtered one of your foes before their eyes, they didn’t take you seriously. To you, they represented everyone, which meant that no one would take you seriously as a fighter.

They’d literally snort at you when they thought you weren’t listening. They’d roll their eyes at you when they thought you weren’t looking. Within weeks, you were sick of it.

You snapped.

“Any man to show me any disrespect regarding my appearance gets his heart torn out by their own sword! Do I make myself clear?” you yelled.

They all cackled at you. You clenched your jaw. 

A young man sat close to you made a pig squealing noise, causing a louder eruption of laughter.

You stormed over to him, effortlessly unsheathed his sword and pointed the tip of the blade at his chest, now rapidly rising and falling in panic. The laughter was drowned out by silence. The young man looked up at you, his eyes filled with the fear of a man about to die.

“Didn’t you hear me?” you demanded. “Or could you just not understand me?”

“I-I...Um-um-” he stammered out. “I-I...W-well-”

“I’m sorry; am I not making any sense? Am I speaking in Valyrian?” you demanded.

“N-No! I-I-I’m really s-sorry, m’lady-” he stuttered out, tears spilling from his eyes. “P-Please, don’t-”

“I could skewer you and make an example out of you, or I could show you mercy and be weakened by your pathetic display of grovelling.” you said, pretending to think aloud. “Laurents, legitimate or not, are never ones to spew empty threats. If I don’t tear your heart out with your own sword, I wouldn’t be a very good Laurent, would I?”

“P-please, m’lady. I beg for mercy!” the man pleaded, body wracking with sobs.

“Only the weak show mercy. I told you that anyone else to show disrespect towards my appearance would have his heart extracted by their own sword, did I not?” you demanded.

“Y-y-yes, m’lady. B-But, I was only j-joking-”

“Oh, my sincerest apologies then, sweetheart! I didn’t realise you were only joking.” you responded, thick sarcasm laced in your voice. “Joking or not, it’s still disrespect. All my life, disposable, loathsome fools like you have disrespected me because of my weight. Even when threatened with death, idiots will still do all they can to wrench a laugh from those around them. When I explicitly stated defiance would lead to death, why should I spare you?”

“Because, I forbid you from doing so.” an authoritative voice said, approaching you from behind.

“Robb? What are you doing?” you questioned, trying to sound as confident as possible.

Robb looked at the young man whose chest was being prodded by the sword in your hand, then looked up as if to address anyone with a cold look in his eyes. “If any of you refuse to show Lady Laurent your respect, you’ll have to answer to me. Is that understood?” Robb loudly demanded.

“Yes, Lord Stark!” the soldiers shouted in unison. 

Robb grabbed the sword from your hand and threw it to the ground. He grabbed your wrist and practically dragged you in tow as he marched you to his now-empty tent.

“What was that?” he demanded, folding his arms as he glared at you.

“They were all being cunts to me, making pig noises and commenting about me behind my back, so I threatened them with death. That scrawny little prick disobeyed me, so I was prepared to skewer him.” you shrugged, suppressing the urge to just break down about everything that had been overwhelming you as of late.

“You can’t just kill people who mock you, (Y/N).” Robb sighed irritably

“Why not? I have a sword, skill, authority and a general disdain for those expendable cunts. I could massacre half of them if I pleased.” you sneered bitterly, looking Robb in the eyes.

“I know you, (Y/N). I also know you weren’t going to go through with ending that boy’s life. You don’t have to act like you can choose if those men out there live or die.” he said, approaching you as he placed his hands on your shoulders.

You looked away from him, folding your arms. “Shut up.”

“If you think they’re just expendable cunts, why let them get into your head?” Robb questioned.

You felt tears brim your eyes as you bit your bottom lip and said nothing. 

“(Y/N).” Robb said firmly.

You exhaled. “I’ve been treated like shit since I was a kid because of who I am. I thought having authority would earn me some respect, but still they view me as nothing more than a fat bastard girl.” you explained, tears falling. “If they can’t see that I’m not just a fat bastard girl, how am I supposed to convince myself that that’s not just what I am?”

You felt a firm grip find itself around your waist, the warmth of Robb’s furs warming your freezing cheeks. Reluctantly, you wrapped your arms around Robb’s torso. A few moments later, he pulled away just enough so he could look at your face.

“(N/N), you’ve never just been a fat bastard girl.” Robb assured you, softening from the stoic facade he’d worn to intimidate the soldiers. “I learned that when you beat me in that fight when we were kids. (Y/N), never let those people make you feel anything less than what you actually are.”

“What am I actually, then?” you asked incredulously, damp cheeks heating up. Robb holding you so firmly made you feel a little more secure. Of course, you didn’t need Robb to protect you, nor could he raise your self-esteem. But, he’d always been good at making you feel a little better than crap. 

“You’re a confident fighter, a strong opponent, a beautiful woman.” Robb responded. The sincerity in his speech and the emotion in his eyes that bore into your soul was enough to melt any reluctance to accept his words as anything other than true.

“Don’t use my vulnerability to get me into bed, Robb.” you insisted jokingly in an attempt to show him that what he’d said had made you feel a little better.

He chuckled and smiled faintly as you, wiping away your tears with the back of his fingers. Of all the people you’d met in your time away from home, Robb had been the one to see you in this state the most. He was never annoyed nor inconvenienced by it. In fact, he felt privileged to be the one you trusted enough to come to in times of distress. 

“I’ve been in love with you since the first time you pointed a sword at my throat. Did you know that, (N/N)?” Robb said, not entirely thinking. Still, he was bold enough to speak such words. 

You shrugged, masking your surprise and childish urge to fangirl. “I suppose so.” you responded. “Before I say that I love you too, can I tell you something else?”

“Of course.” he replied.

“Don’t ever undermine me in front of anyone again, or I’ll skewer you like a pig being roasted over a fire.” you said with a smirk, half-joking.

“Understood, my lady.” he replied with a smirk, half-frightened.

[goldencuffs]

honestly you're such an amazing writer and such a blessing to this fandom, i'm having a really rough time im my life right now and reading (and re-reading) your updates and asks helps me so much and gives me something to look forward to ❤ thank u so much 🥺

anon im so sorry to hear youre going through a rough time -- if theres anything i can do lmk!! im happy to just listen if you want!!!!

here is a snippet just for you!!!!!! i hope this makes you feel a little better!!! remember: youre awesome and amazing!!!!! 💖🥰

“Let’s go for a walk,” Laurent said.

Damianos raised an eyebrow. “Are you calling me fat?”

Laurent grimaced. “No. God. Is that what I really sound like?”

“No!” Damianos said quickly, voice rising. “Sorry. I was just trying to make a joke.”

“Oh,” Laurent said, then thought about it. “It was really funny.”

“Thank you,” said Damianos. “Your approval means a lot. I’m now going to fulfil my life long dream of becoming a jester.”

“Are you making fun of me?”

“Yes.”

Laurent waited.

Damianos did not disappoint. Smiling so wide his eyes bunched up, he said, “Laurent, I really, really, really like you. And your eyes.”

“…That’s a lot of reallys,” Laurent said faintly after a few seconds of silence.

“I believe in being thorough,” Damianos said earnestly.

Laurent genuinely wished he had fallen for a patch of grass on the lawn. It was looking particularly green this year. That was pretty sexy. And hot. Yum. So many… straight lines and green goodness. Who wouldn’t want to bang grass? It was just so — 

Oh, god, who was he kidding. 

[sacredvein]

@rozsapalota

It was a killing winter.

The freeze had descended upon Paris over a bitter night, a veil of iced condensation sticking to the filth of the City of Lights; she had soured with stink and blackened snow in an evening. The avenues choked with soot and chimney smoke as the poor folk huddled before squat coal stoves or else were found thawed and half-eaten when the snow drifts melted that Spring.

But the world, that seething January, was quiet.

Few lingered long or willingly out of doors. The children that had first thought to make games and play cannonades and castles quickly sickened and chilled and tossed abed with fever, and soon they, too, were silent.

Windows shuttered and even the parlours of genteel society brooded with hungry fires, starving for want of wood to feed them. Kindling sold for a dozen francs a bundle, and it had seemed the whole countryside must have been felled to feed the greedy furnaces of Paris. The city belched and groaned in a drowsing, satiated stupour that the blood-gods of Carthage would have envied.

And still, they were ravenous.

Something was killing the stoop clochards and the mendicants in the Parc des Buttes-Chaumont. The constables had dismissed the matter, a three-dog night, they shrugged, but the dogs had already been slaughtered for their meat, for boiled fat, for thin marrow stew. But mortals were ever wont to live with the scales over their eyes, and cosmopolitan Paris had forgotten her folktales.

Someone was being sloppy.

It was Céleste who told him first, cluckling like a hen about the rumours in the 19th Arrondissement of an axe-wielding madman, furred like a Prussian and barrel-chested. Two nights after, François remarked upon a third cadaver found, bloated in the little man-made lake and already purpling when the authorities had loaded the corpse upon the back of the chief examiner’s carriage. Not half a week later, Agosto and Clémence reported a heartbeat as they hunted in the Quartier, but it had fled upon their approach. And so there was no doubt. Their city was plagued by another of their misbegotten kin, a sorry beast that made poor feasts of the downtrodden and polluted their populace with its slovenly appetite. And so Laurent, ever the lieutenant, was elected to find it.

He stalks its hunting grounds well past dark, and even the winking gas bulbs of the boulevards are swallowed by the thick filaments of snow that torment Paris that evening. Snowflakes gather upon his neatly parted curls and on the fine silver lashes of his eyes and the thick black twill of his coat. They do not melt, for he has no heat to give. But Laurent is patient, and he is quiet, settling into the minds of a dozen restless mortals that shiver in their boots and try not to die.

And he hears them, this interloper, poacher.

He hears them through the dim and darkening thoughts of a beggar-woman, sees the white flash of eyeteeth through her own eyes. He has found them.

Laurent approaches softly from the Avenue de la Grotte, and watches impassionately as the woman dies in the vampire’s arms. He waits for a moment, almost as if to entertain the possibility of his being found. None of their kind savour interruption during the intimacies of the kill. But this is not their city, and these are not its people to hunt.

He speaks at last, glacially soft.

“You have been gravely incautious, cousin.”

[forestlion]

Harry Styles x Reader, Enemies to Enemies (FIC)

TW: language

"Hey, ugly", multi millionaire Harry Styles calls out to me. His luscious brown hair shines unwashedly and greasily in the sunlight that's beaming down on us. The last traces of what should have been curls are brushed back, revealing his forehead and a widow's peak, which is less widow's peak and more receding hairline. His face is also thusly revealed to me in its entirety. For a short moment I wonder if it's dirty, before I realize that his struggle beard (that a 14-year old boy would not be jealous of) just makes it look that way. His skin seems strangely doughy, his facial proportions look as if a middle schooler had tried to approximate a generic human face in pottery class and succeeded by giving him exactly zero defining features.

Thatcher-enthusiast Harry Styles carries himself with the ill-advised confidence of someone who has been told he's good-looking his entire life, simply because he is a white skinny man from the UK, who only calls women "slags" when he is drunk or in the boys' locker room or when he gets rejected.

I glance at him shyly as he steps closer to me.

"I know you are but what am I?", I ask him with a polite smile, blushing and giggling.

Monarchy-supporter and all around rich country club boy who has lost all semblance of normality Harry Styles stares at me with his murky pond water colored orbs. I quickly sack him in the face with my handy butter sock, knocking him to the ground. His gender- and sexuality-defying androgynous pink suit gets dirty, much to his brexitesque dismay.

I laugh boarishly and stomp my feet, looking down at the pathetic MIKA-wannabe. Like a moldy little bug he lies there on his back, squirmes and writhes and yowls with his dull voice that has to push and reach and beg for every single unsupported note that leaves his mouth, strained vocal cords suffering in the process.

"Wait until my sexy female cis woman model girlfriend hears about this!", straggot Harry Styles yelps desperately, arms flailing helplessly like he's trying to turn into one of his luxury private jets to fly himself off and away to the Maledives or some other country colonized and destroyed by Britain.

"You can't beat me up!", he screams, "that would be a hate crime, as I am gay-adjacent. Gay for the aesthetic! I support all you f*gs and d*kes by taking your sweet sweet pink money and shoving it into my panamanian bank account!"

I clobber him once more with my sock full of butter. He who ended toxic masculinity by wearing a necklace starts crying crocodile tears.

"Please, fat bitch, leave me be! Just because I would never touch or kiss a man and find even the thought of it repulsive... doesn't mean I am not at least an ally. I get really horny when two girlies with big badonkers get it on! That's feminist of me!", David Bowie's rectal slime boy whines. "Is it not enough to hold up a rainbow flag, queer bait and never speak on the issue? Is it not enough to hint at something that is not there, just so you all can put up wrongly placed hopes? I am a real person with real feelings and real needs for Gucci and Yves Saint Laurent... god... it is not easy being a straight white guy..."

Pinkmoney Styles sighs. "I want to go back to my McMansion."

I let out a huff. "You wish, money bags. The only place you're going is to the 2013/14 Larry Hell Dimension!", I shout and with another swing of my butter sock, Harry "None Direction" Styles vanishes through a portal.

I snicker evilly. "RIP Baroness Thatcher .x", I whisper.

[the-firebird69]

We have plenty of these in tons of these now granted we are mixed labor theres us Max and other races, but he won't see any morlok around, as employees we trying to turn most away we try and stay their repulsive. They've been off to leave and try to live in the woods and they get killed mostly by each other and that's what they live like and we don't want a part of it. There's a huge number of these hotels and motels coming online from us today we are changing management everywhere because the more like don't do anything and they don't have any power and pretty soon they don't have any areas and the 1/3 of the population is now 1/8 and shrinking rapidly and here in punta Gorda they are kicked out quite often and arrested quite often and they will not be here and yeah the same lady answered the phone and made and Mac put it in his appointment book. You hear the call and he went over and he got the date and the time put it on the calendar in his office and his phone and saw in the computer. And said what are you doing is I want to have a blowout here not at me so you're the one generating the problem. She said you're not going to work it out and he said this you're fired. She got up took her stuff and left. And she said good luck to him that's all I say. She left angry was saying stuff that was wrong, and he had her arrested. And as she was leaving she says I know you're Sully and he says back now I am not you nincumpoop. She leaves hard and says then what are you that the enemy says spewing stuff and then she says I got on the appointment that's my job I don't have to sit here and look at you. She got arrested and she was arrested for trespassing and the first thing to work well no she's arrested for threats and he didn't tell her not to come back to work. It's very uncomfortable morning. He came in and said hello and she was hello and he goes who are you it goes in his office hoping she'd just leave he's just sat there I know who she is she's a stupid person and then he left. So is that laughing he was going to sit there cuz you're stupid. Just watching on the camera Caesar get up get water she's screwed around with something so it's eating it's blabbing on the phone just when he's about to call her in you called up it's like she was told about it..... And our son says it's deadly stuff and he goes oh, yes it says there's definite patterns and start looking they found all sorts of times they're doing stuff like that and they're getting warrants together fresh ones.

So the sun says might as well make use of you getting some fat pie together

The macs get it but they still have to do stuff. I was wondering how long it's going to take and we figured out something not much longer and the morllock are emptying out into the South and trying to do the mining and they're fighting with Max and clones and slows it down, I didn't want them out they want them out and they're going out and they are all three and leaving all over the Gulf and inside about 70% and upper Midwest is a great lakes in the rivers and the rivers down are beginning to drop no but there 80% the Saint Laurent was aforesaid and the Great lakes are at 70% and the Three Rivers are at 60% and falling now that whole middle area is pressurized conference a depressurize it has to flow into the tunnels and out and the diamonds removed from below in the tunnels Victor removed from eventually go into the Gulf and they're unplugged well that's another thing how does it work and our friend says he thinks that they're unplugged into the river and that's what it is for some reason they go up into the river and so they're flowing and the river is flowing faster and it's being pushed from the soil and it's draining into the tunnels and it's forcing the water upwards into the rivers and the rivers are flowing right now the Mississippi had 100 miles per hour and evacuation of the corridor the completion is beginning and right now although most the areas that are 5 mi beyond the river are evacuated and right now the river area is evacuating so you woke up to a torrent of current from those Rivers it is just deafening the sound from the water. As it flows by you can see people that are stranded in the river and houses and boats yelling and screaming for help and you'll see a helicopter now and then trying to grab them and they can't it's way too fast and they know that they're doomed some people try and swim and it's like a mile forget about 20 ft and they are consumed with fear because this objects in the river and they're going by very fast and their fish and they're killed so that's what's in store for them and it's a thank you for all of their hard work and being huge jerks every single thing they do they get some sort of threat or insulting and they try and skim is terrible they're much a perverted parasites so you see the boats go by and some of them are still afloat that are a little larger and they're trying to motor over to the edge and eventually the fish see them and they trying to eat them by capsizing. And you'll see you like 20 or 30 months then to the edge and they run out and the fish can't get them for the most part sometimes they jump out of the water 50 to 80 ft away and I've seen eating people on shore and waddle their way back into the water and we know that they have ships that can go in 100 mph water pretty easily but they refuse to because the water speed could pick up any moment and that's true because it is and most of the people in the water will be dead momentarily it's not the place to go and those fish are so damn deadly it would get rid of tons of them and the sun says usually it'll do anything but go down here and eat each other. So there's a huge number of people bothering him and just now harassing him. The river speed is picked up it's around 200 miles an hour shortly it will be a lot faster as the areas decompress and you're looking at the middle area decompressing and once that happens it will be an ugly scene. Right now there's some dumpling in the middle area and that is increasing the rate of speed of the rivers both of them the Missouri and the Mississippi are increasing in speed and ferocity and we're ripping stuff out fast we're pulling stuff out of there very fast huge bunkers are coming out they have tons of stuff in them they're moving them carefully some people can see them and they're amazed and don't say anything literally they're like hundred and they're a couple hundred miles away looking at it and not saying anything it's just moving more later but it's going to be a living hell for you people

Thor Freya

[eventidespirits]

Nicknames: Laur, Laurie Aliases: Jonathan Legerdemain, Jean Nuit Apparent Age: “30″ True Age: 51 Gender: Cis Man Pronouns: He/Him Sexuality: Demiromantic Gray-Ace Birthday: January 6th Occupation: Occultist, Bookstore Owner Species: Vampire (Nightingale) Residence: The Vista Rosa neighborhood in Santa Marta, CA.

𝔸𝕡𝕡𝕖𝕒𝕣𝕒𝕟𝕔𝕖

Height: 5′10 Build: Average height, has a sort of stereotypical “scrawny nerd” sort of build with a soft layer of fat/soft belly and not a lot of muscular definition. He has long arms and legs in comparison to his torso which makes him look taller than he actually is. Face Shape: Somewhere between an oval and a diamond, his facial features are fine and delicate with a long straight nose. Eye Color/Shape: Vibrant, unnaturally bright ocean-blue with cat-like slitted pupils. Large but set deep within his face with heavy, tired looking lids and deep dark circles which gives him a sort of permanent “resting bitch face”.  Hair Color/Style: Slate Gray. Laurent’s hair is mostly straight with a slight wave to it (2A) and usually worn tied into a loose ponytail at the nape of his neck. he has long, messy bangs that usually hang in his face. Skin Color/Texture: Very pale and desaturated with a distinct yellow undertone. He has soft skin but has a lot of small scars and marks on his hands from various occult work he did while he was still a mortal. Distinguishing Features: First off, Laurent is prematurely gray. He also has a number of tattoos (a tattoo of a magical circle for protection on his back, another protection sigil on his chest over the heart, has a tattoo of an open eye on the back of his neck). He also wears glasses. Posture: Very “proper” posture -- stands straight up but there’s that slight hunch to his shoulders that comes from hours bent over books and papers. He moves very purposefully and a little bit stiffly with quiet footsteps.  Voice: Soft and understated, with the remnants of a Quebecois accent. Laurent rarely raises his voice and his speech is usually curt and clipped, possibly even seeming rude or sarcastic at times. Clothing Style: Lots of blacks and blues with some cream and charcoal. He tends to wear comfortable clothing that could pass for being formal in most situations -- black slacks, button-downs over v-necks, turtleneck sweaters and cardigans. A lot of his looks vaguely recall the 1980s when it comes to sweater choice.  Notable Mannerisms: Scrunches his nose when he’s thinking deeply about something  but otherwise seems to not have a lot of particularly unique or defining mannerisms (almost purposefully so)

𝕊𝕜𝕚𝕝𝕝𝕤

Physical: Lockpicking, breaking and entering Social: What Social Skills? Basic etiquette, subterfuge/lying, manipulation Talents: Calligraphy, Poetry, Prose, getting in over his head Knowledges: Greek, Latin, French, currently learning German, Masters in Psychology, Traditional Magic, Ritual Magic, Sigilcraft, Herbalism Hobbies: Reading, Writing, Gardening, Cooking Special: Basic Nightingale abilities, some natural magical talent (mostly lost after becoming a vampire), spirit sight, minor precognition 

ℙ𝕤𝕪𝕔𝕙𝕖

Strengths: Clever, quick witted, tenacious, detail-oriented, good concentration, inquisitive, intuitive, dedicated, loyal, strong sense of internal morals Weaknesses: overly curious, stubborn, too smart for his own good, overly self-reflective, can be cold and emotionally distant, closed off from his emotions, rude, irritable, afraid of intimacy, standoffish, shy, just generally bad at people. Goals: To gather all the knowledge there is to be had, especially where it concerns the occult; to learn proper spontaneous magic Fears: Loss of knowledge, loss of control, true death, what lurks beneath santa marta (but not enough to stop researching it) Ideals/Morals:  Laurent is willing to do almost anything to gain knowledge but there are a few things that disgust him and he finds morally abhorrent -- like hurting children or murder (notably -- he sees a difference between killing and murder but also tries to avoid killing people as a general rule unless it’s in self-defense) Guiding Philosphies: Knowledge is Power Sense of Humor: Very dry and sarcastic. He’s definitely the person to deliver a sarcastic quip with a totally straight face and it leaves people wondering if he even has  a sense of humor. Overall Personality: Laurent is kind of a prickly bastard. He’s introverted and introspective and has very little interest in being around or talking to people. He can pretend to be polite very well (and expects others to behave in a similar way). He prefers things to be well-structured and mostly predictable, he has trouble dealing with sudden intense changes. He seems very distant and cold to most people -- utterly focused on his work over anything else.

𝕃𝕚𝕗𝕖

Best Memory: Worst Memory: Biggest Accomplishment: Prized Possessions: Favorite Colors: Favorite Foods: Favorite Scents: Favorite Songs: Can't Leave Home Without:

ℍ𝕚𝕤𝕥𝕠𝕣𝕪

Birthplace: Suburbs of Montreal, Quebec Childhood: Growing up, Laurent’s parents were usually very busy, both having careers that demanded a lot of their attention. He and Louis were often left to sort of fend for themselves (classic latch-key kids). Being the more shy of the twins, Laurent often relied on Louis to make friends -- having few friends that he could consider his specifically. At around the age of 11, while playing at his neighbor’s house after school with Louis, their friend Alex and his younger sister Madeline, the four of them found a oujia board and did what any group of pre-teens would do: they turned out the lights and used it. Unfortunately for the twins, the house was old and the board itself connected to a rather angry spirit that would attach itself to Louis and scare the hell out of the other three children. This is what would start Laurent’s interest in the occult but it was what would happen the next summer that would cement it as an obsession... While playing in a local park, something that Laurent could neither identify or describe beyond “a writhing mass of eyes, grasping tendrils and eyes” would pluck Alex from the face of existence -- not only taking the 12 year old but erasing any sign that he had ever existed to begin with from the minds of everyone but Laurent. 

Adolescence: At thirteen, Laurent’s family moved to Santa Marta, California. Highschool was difficult for Laurent, who had started to go prematurely gray by the time he was 14 and was shy and bookish. He had to deal with a lot of bullying and it cemented his irritability. 

He did, however, thanks to the unique nature of Santa Marta (attracting the supernatural) manage to make friends with a Witch by the name of Martin. They’d also date for about a year in secret before both decided that it just wasn’t working. However, the pair of them were obsessed with the occult and the presence of the “Old Gods” which were present in constant whispers in Santa Marta. This is where Laurent got into most of the trouble he would as a teenager -- breaking into abandoned buildings looking for ghosts and signs of the supernatural as well as getting 100% illegal tattoos in dangerous settings (most notably, he had his protection sigil done by Martin in his basement along with the eye on the back of his neck).

Somehow, probably just due to luck, Laurent never actually got in legal trouble for any of the crazy shit he did as a teen but that luck wouldn’t last.

Adulthood: In his desperate search for occult knowledge, Laurent would end up crossing paths with a woman named Claudine -- a Nightingale who was also an accomplished occultist and a powerful witch in her own right. He would end up stealing several of her important research journals and end up becoming her “assistant” at the age of twenty-one (she normally would’ve killed him for it but was impressed by his dedication and natural skill). She would keep him on as an assistant, teaching him about the occult and preparing him for life in the Nightingale Court before finally turning him in 2000.

Recent: In 2010, Claudine would disappear suddenly -- leaving behind only a note about her own research into the “thing that lurks beneath the streets of this blighted metropolis” and pointing Laurent in a similar direction. During his training with Claudine, Laurent would run into mentions of the “Myriad Eyes” multiple times, especially when researching the occult history of Santa Marta... A phrase that he quickly came to associate with the thing that had taken his childhood friend.

Currently, he’s running a bookstore in Vista Rosa called “Eigengrau Books” and living in an apartment located above the store. 

ℝ𝕖𝕝𝕒𝕥𝕚𝕠𝕟𝕤𝕙𝕚𝕡𝕤

Family: Jean DeFantome (Father; deceased), Emily DeFantome (Mother), Louis DeFantome (twin brother; estranged) Lovers: Martin Schwartz (former), Camellia O’Friel (current) Friends: Isaac Nerezza (works at his bookstore), Claudine Legerdemain (Missing) Enemies: ??? Other: ???

ℝ𝕖𝕤𝕠𝕦𝕣𝕔𝕖𝕤

Income: Middle-class Residences: A two bedroom apartment above his bookstore. Vehicles: Black 2010 Ford Fiesta Van

[blogsonic829]

Go Tell It On The Mountain Midi Or Mp3

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Go Tell It On The Mountain Midi Or Mp3 File

Go Tell It On The Mountain Music Sheet

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Listen to Mahalia Jackson Go Tell It on the Mountain MP3 song. Go Tell It on the Mountain song from the album The Very Best of Christmas is released on Dec 2013. The duration of song is 03:17. This song is sung by Mahalia Jackson.

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Download Midi Download MP3 Go Tell It on the Mountain While shepherds kept their watching O'er silent flocks by night, Behold throughout the heavens There shone a holy light cho: Go, tell it on the mountain Over the hills and everywhere Go, tell it on the mountain That Jesus Christ is born.

Composed in the mid 1800's as an African American spiritual song Go Tell It On The Mountain crosses boundaries between seasonal Christmas carol music and sacred church music used in many weekly services. The free sheet music provided here is available for all common concert band and orchestra instruments and is written to be as easy as possible to allow even young musicians to perform it.

Go tell it on the mountain. Choral a cappella. 1 PDF / 3 MP3 Interpreted / Intermediate. (10) Adaptator: Salomon, Laurent. Login to add to a playlist. 'African Retentions in Go Tell it on the Mountain.' Download Full PDF Package. A short summary of this paper. 15 Full PDFs related to this paper. Download Free PDF. Download Free PDF 'African Retentions in Go Tell it on the Mountain.' Download Full PDF Package.

Go Tell It On The Mountain has taken many different forms over the years, being recorded by dozens of different artists, each placing their own unique style. The most popular of these renditions is an arrangement by the 60's group Peter Paul and Mary who rewrote the lyrics into a popular civil rights song with a similar title.

View, download and print in PDF or MIDI sheet music for Go Tell It On The Mountain by Misc Praise Songs. Traditional Spiritual Lyrics by JOHN W. New Lyrics by SUE C. SMITH, DAVID MOFFITT and TRAVIS COTTRELL Arranged by Travis Cottrell. CHORUS Dm B6 F B62 F C Go, tell it on the mountain, over the hills and ev-'ry-where. Go Tell It On the Mountain by James Baldwin pdf free download. Go Tell It On the Mountain by James Baldwin pdf free download. Go Tell It on the Mountain pdf is a 1953 semi-autobiographical English novel by James Baldwin. Download all pdf books free without user registration easy one-click download, without any redirect.

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Free Sheet Music To Go Tell It On The Mountain

Go Tell It On The Mountain

#NameSizeDownloaded1Go Tell It On The Mountain - Voice10.7 KB1917 times2Go Tell It On The Mountain - Violin9.88 KB1583 times3Go Tell It On The Mountain - Viola9.29 KB1387 times4Go Tell It On The Mountain - Tuba9.51 KB1535 times5Go Tell It On The Mountain - Trumpet In Bb9.9 KB2030 times6Go Tell It On The Mountain - Trombone9.22 KB1857 times7Go Tell It On The Mountain - Tenor Sax9.86 KB1596 times8Go Tell It On The Mountain - Piccolo9.79 KB1391 times9Go Tell It On The Mountain - Piano10.9 KB2538 times10Go Tell It On The Mountain - Oboe9.77 KB1334 times11Go Tell It On The Mountain - Horn In F10.19 KB1425 times12Go Tell It On The Mountain - Flute9.78 KB1863 times13Go Tell It On The Mountain - Euphonium9.23 KB1543 times14Go Tell It On The Mountain - English Horn9.73 KB1322 times15Go Tell It On The Mountain - Double Bass9.25 KB1296 times16Go Tell It On The Mountain - Clarinet In Bb9.91 KB2094 times17Go Tell It On The Mountain - Cello9.19 KB1490 times18Go Tell It On The Mountain - Bells9.88 KB1528 times19Go Tell It On The Mountain - Bassoon9.21 KB1397 times20Go Tell It On The Mountain - Bass Clarinet9.89 KB1523 times21Go Tell It On The Mountain - Baritone Sax9.58 KB1628 times

Go Tell It On The Mountain Midi Or Mp3 Download

Lyrics to Go Tell It On The Mountain

Go, tell it on the mountain, That Jesus Christ is born.

The shepherds feared and trembled When low above the earth, Rang out the angels chorus That hailed our Savior's birth.

Chorus

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Go Tell It On The Mountain Pdf Free Download Mp4

While shepherds kept their watching o'er silent flocks by night, Behold, throughout the heavens There shone a holy light

Go Tell It On The Mountain Midi Or Mp3 File

Chorus

And lo! When they had heard it, They all bowed down to pray, Then travelled on together, To where the Baby lay.

Chorus

Go Tell It On The Mountain Music Sheet

Go Tell It On The Mountain Pdf free. download full

Down in a lowly manger The humble Christ was born And God sent us salvation That blessed Christmas mo--rn.

Go Tell It On The Mountain Midi Or Mp3 Free