#a rather fucked up (honorific) year
Note
1994
[Give me a year and I'll give you my favourite films / suggestions]
"The Adventures of Priscilla, Queen of the Desert is a 1994 Australian road comedy film written and directed by Stephan Elliott. The plot follows three drag queens, played by Hugo Weaving, Guy Pearce, and Terence Stamp (whose character is a transgender woman), as they journey across the Australian Outback from Sydney to Alice Springs in a tour bus that they have named "Priscilla", along the way encountering various groups and individuals. The film was a surprise worldwide hit and its positive portrayal of LGBT individuals helped to introduce LGBT themes to a mainstream audience." Somehow this film manages to be completely realistic (this wasn't an easy time!) and incredibly sweet. I love it
Heavenly Creatures is a Peter Jackson film based on the 1954 Parker-Hulme murder case, that "blends elements of movie genres like biography, period, thriller, crime, horror, romance, psychological drama, fantasy and dark comedy". It's unforgettably fucked up, the visuals are out of this world. As for Kate Winslet and Melanie Lynskey, who in their feature film debuts no less had to portray two obsessive teenage murderers, they did GREAT.
And most of these are rogue-related one way or another, though Il Postino is not, it's just a fantastic film. I think the only one that needs a note is The Last Seduction: it's a classic 90s neo-noir / erotic thriller, a genre that's arguably bad, but like good bad. I kinda miss it, on account that it's got bad people doing bad things and often getting away with it, all while being hot, and terrible.
Pulp Fiction
The Crow
Natural Born Killers
Léon (Léon: The Professional)
The Shawshank Redemption
The Last Seduction
Il postino (The Postman)
Ed Wood
Il mostro (The monster)
#trs#film#Heavenly Creatures#rogues in fiction#The Adventures of Priscilla Queen of the Desert#pulp fiction#the crow#natural born killers#leon: the professional#Léon#the last seduction#il postino#ed wood#il mostro#the monster#a rather fucked up (honorific) year
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Your discussion today about "ma'am" brought back to mind something I've been trying to find an answer to for years that maybe you have thoughts on: what is a good non-gendered alternative to "sir/ma'am"? I'm thinking in situations where you want to be polite and respectful while referring directly to someone, but knowing their name isn't really an option, such as working retail.
(In my specific case, I'm a traveling educator constantly working with new groups of students where I can't possibly learn all their names in the 45-60 minutes I have with them, but I want to be respectful towards them because these kids get treated rudely by adults all the time. For instance, if I need to get their attention in order to move past them, I'd rather say "Excuse me, sir/ma'am" rather than just "Excuse me." Things like "friend" or "boss," which I know can work well for other people, come off as false or condescending from me personally.)
Get ready for this little number: I have no idea. And I have built my entire speech pattern around never having to find out.
See, I’m exceptionally terrible at names. Like, five seconds after someone says it there’s just static in my brain where a name is supposed to be. Even beloved friends will be sitting with me and I’ll be like- wait do I remember their name???
So everything I say is based around never addressing someone by name or honorific because the fastest way to alienate someone is getting it wrong. Most women haaate having gone from “miss” to “ma’am” and avoiding it generally pleases them. If you add extra warmth into your demeanor you can just avoid honorifics in my experience.
So my advice: when in doubt you can go even more formal to bypass names. Everyone says “excuse me,” but if you bump it up to a “pardon me,” (provided you’re in the US where that’s less common and more formal) you can get away with not adding a name.
For kids I’m personally a big fan of “kiddo”. It acknowledges they’re a kid but doesn’t come off condescending like “champ” or “buddy”. You can also just start off with a “What’s your name,” with kids and they don’t give a fuck usually. They know you don’t know them.
#ask ffs#I’m personally a fan of ‘mystery’ which I saw in a video once#cause it was like Miss….Ter?…y???#but I doubt it’ll catch on
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Missing (Part 4) [Aemond Targaryen x Reader]
Warnings: Angst angst angst.
A loud groan left your throat as you came to, after remaining unconscious for what felt like a few minutes. Or a few hours, you couldn't tell.
The first thing you registered was the warm crackling of a fire nearby, the sound of the storm still raging outside. Using your arm to prop yourself up, you leaned up against the closest support, realising as you looked around that you were in a cave.
"Ah, you're awake, little dove," came Aemond's voice and you glanced at him. He sat across from you in the cave, a bandage of torn cloth, perhaps from his coat, wrapped around his head.
Trying so desperately to stanch the blood that still wept from his wound. He looked rather pale, his lips a lighter color as he held on to his head with a hand.
"Firstly," you began, swallowing the dry lump in your throat as you leaned back against the wall for comfort, fighting against dehydration. "That bandage is a recipe for a festering wound that will kill you from the infection's fever. Secondly, head wounds always tend to bleed rather profusely. And finally, I am not your 'little dove.'"
Aemond stared at you, his good eye widening incredulously, while the firelight danced across the sapphire shining in his lost eye socket. "I carried you all the way to this cave, started a fire to keep you warm and this is how you repay me?" he asked, sounding almost hurt.
"I'm actually surprised we're not halfway to King's Landing on the back of your dragon," you remarked, running your hand across the large, dried bloodstain on your waist.
Your wounds and fractures had healed themselves rather well as you remained unconscious, only the slightest hint of residual pain accompanying each movement you made of your torso. It was nothing unbearable.
"Wouldn't it have been nice to have King Viserys' personal healer and the ward of Queen Rhaenyra and Prince Daemon as your hostage?"
Aemond looked at you with barely hidden disgust. "Have you lost your mind? I would never hold you hostage. I am not a dishonourable man."
"And yet you fucked your sister while she was married to your brother," you scoffed, rolling your eyes at him, feeling your strength grow with each passing second.
He watched as the blood returned to your cheeks, your full lips curled into a cruel smile as you remained on your side of the cave.
Refusing to make a single move to heal the head wound that had weakened him with blood loss.
"So, this is your game," he said, coming to the realisation that you were not going to heal him until you had the truthful answers to your questions. "You'll let me bleed?"
"Until you speak the truth."
"You'd allow me to die?"
"You almost tried to kill Lucerys! And you thought a few sweet words would turn me?" you sneered. "It is too little, far too late, Aemond Targaryen. You should have slit my throat while you had the chance."
He let out a disbelieving chuckle. "Is that how heartless you've become while you remained at Dragonstone? What happened to the girl I once knew?"
You looked at him with a hardened gaze.
"She died when you forsook her for a dragon and your sister."
Aemond stared at you, knowing that he had reached an impasse in this conversation. He could now see, from the fierce determination on your face in the firelight, that there would be no further reasoning with you. The anger and hurt he had caused you all those years ago had festered into bitterness and cruelty.
He leaned back against the wall, wincing slightly as he continued to bleed from his head. "State your terms, My Lady," he said and you grinned at how petty he sounded, returning to formalities.
"Gladly, Prince Aemond," you said, making sure that he took note of you avoiding the customary 'My Prince' honorific. "You answer my questions and truthfully. The whole truth and nothing but the truth. You swear under oath, not to attack me once I've healed you. Once you give me the answers to my questions, I shall heal you and depart, the both of us heading our separate ways."
"So that you can return to those bastardous whelps at Dragonstone?" he asked, smirking. "Your baby Lucerys who took my eye and your precious Jacaerys, who you took to your chambers that night in King's Landing?"
You blanched at his words. How did he know about Jacaerys?
"Have you been spying on me, Prince Aemond?" you asked, grinning openly now to cover how flustered you felt. "Is the one-eyed Prince jealous? Of his own nephews? Tsk, such a shame…."
"Hold your tongue-"
"You hold your tongue when you speak of my family, Prince Aemond!" you interrupted him, harshly. "Their mother and stepfather gave me a home when I had none. Lucerys cut your eye when he was trying to defend his own brother and cousins against you needless taunts. And if you are implying that I took Jacaerys to my bed, you are sorely mistaken. My maidenhead remains intact. I am nothing like you with your precious Helaena-"
"Shut up!" he roared. "You take advantage of my generosity and test the limits of my mercy? I should've beheaded you while I had the chance!"
You stood to your feet, brushing off the dust from your riding leathers. "I'm glad we've finally shown each other our true colours, Prince Aemond. I'll see myself out. Try not to bleed out and fall from your dragon in this nasty storm as you fly, half-conscious, to King's Landing," you said, taking a few steps towards the exit of the cave.
"No! Wait!" He cried out, suddenly desperate and very much in pain. "Please! I agree! I agree to your terms."
"Well, well," you said, sitting back down in your corner of the cave, crossing your ankles and leaning back leisurely against the wall. "So you swear under oath not to hurt me after I've healed you after you've truthfully answered my questions?"
"Yes! Gods be good!" he said, urgently. "I swear it."
"Wonderful," you said, with barely hidden elation. "First question. Which Baratheon girl did you betroth yourself to?"
Aemond gave you a look of pure loathing, remaining silent.
"Come on," you prodded. "Maris? Floris?"
He closed his eye in defeat. "Cassandra. Maris is a heathenous bitch."
You felt you heart skip a beat, feeling a pang of pain that you carefully did not allow to make its way to your face. So he had betrothed himself to another girl…
"Next question," said, far too quickly. Trying to distract yourself from how intently Aemond was looking at your face for some kind of reaction to his betrothal. You weren't going to give him the satisfaction. "Jaehaerys and Jaehaera-"
"Do you really wish to hear this?" he asked, raising a brow. "All of this?"
"Yes," you breathed, almost defiantly, trying to ignore how your heart was already sinking.
"Fine. Have it your way," Aemond said, sounding resigned. "I had always harboured feelings of affection for Helaena. But after her wedding to Aegon, I saw how badly he treated her. Barely acknowledging her presence, let alone respecting her as his lady-wife. She turned to me for comfort, as she had, since childhood. But this time, it wasn't so innocent… And I ended up bedding her."
You blinked, staring into the fire still crackling away merrily, feeling the weight of a million bushels suddenly fall on your heart, crushing it. Why did you still feel pain? Why did you still feel anything for this man?
"So," you began, carefully ensuring that your voice remained steady and did not break. "While Aegon was fucking handmaidens and serving girls, you were in bed with your sister?"
"Yes," Aemond sighed, running a hand over his face. "Helaena and I justified it as a Targaryen tradition," he laughed ruefully. "The twins are mine, I admit it."
Eyes moving to stare at the wall above him, you blinked rapidly, trying to keep the tears from falling. It almost made you feel lightheaded, hearing him speak the truth at last. But more than feeling hurt, you felt a sense of anger.
Had he truly never felt anything for you? Ever?
Before you even knew it, you had asked him the question aloud.
"I did. I still do, whether you believe me or not," he said, making a move to get closer to you but you held up your hand, wanting to keep your distance. "You were my best friend and I loved you more than I loved my siblings. All those days we spent together under the weirwood tree are still some of my fondest memories of you. When you left, I felt like there was an immense void left behind in my life. I tried to keep myself busy with combat training, dragon-riding and studying. I tried to lose myself in Helaena. But somewhere in my mind, you always remained."
You chuckled mournfully, feeling the tears freely falling down your cheeks. "Your love for me was not enough to stop you from fathering your sister's children. You call Jace and Luke bastards, when your own sister's children are-"
Aemond looked at you, hearing you trail off into the silence as you stared into the fire.
"There is no going back for us now," you said, your voice ringing with finality. "We're both on opposite sides of this war."
"That we are," he admitted. "But I desperately wish it didn't have to be this way."
You raised yourself to your feet, brushing the hair away from your face as you made your way to him.
To fulfill your promise.
Kneeling down before him, you drew his face into your palms. "I'm sorry, I wasn't there to heal your eye. And I'm sorry that my love wasn't enough to keep you faithful to me," you said, running your thumb down his scar, caressing the sapphire underneath it.
"Thank you for being truthful to me," you said, before bringing your lips to meet his.
For how many years had you longed to kiss Aemond, to know what it felt like. You had always gone to bed with a smile as a young girl after imagining how happy you'd be to be able to kiss him.
But now, you felt like your heart had hardened into stone and even the warmth of his lips moving feverishly against yours wasn't enough to break through it.
You could feel every wound that he had sustained in the fall heal itself, the gash on his head sealing itself like magic.
It was only when Aemond's own hands found their way to your face that you drew back with a gasp, pushing his hands away.
"There. You're healed," you said, forcing yourself to your feet even as he stayed sitting on the floor. Seemingly dazed by the kiss.
"I wish the wound you left behind in my heart could heal just as easily," you said, walking away from him.
"Goodbye, Aemond."
He called out your name, asking you to wait, asking you to stay, but you made your way out of the cave, shouting for Aquerion to come get you…
Through the flight to Dragonstone, your mind was racing. You could feel your sorrow turn into anger, blistering through your soul.
Your eyes were dry, far too tired to shed any more tears in the name of Aemond Targaryen.
This was a war that you found yourself in the middle of.
This wasn't child's play.
----------
When you arrived at Dragonstone, you received a welcome befitting royalty.
Prince Daemon hugged you and told you how proud he was of you. Queen Rhaenyra almost had tears in her eyes as she clutched your hands in hers, thanking you for rescuing her dearest Lucerys.
"You were right, my dear," she said. "I should've never sent Lucerys alone to Storm's End. You saved my son's life and for that I am forever indebted to you."
You embraced Lucerys, Joffrey, Rhaena and Baela, laughing happily at being reunited with your family.
But it was when you hugged Jacaerys that the anger you felt against Aemond Targaryen morphed into a thirst for revenge.
Grabbing Jacaerys' hand, you asked him to take you to the rookery at the Sea Dragon Tower. Immediately.
"But, sweet one, don't you want to rest?" he asked, looking at you with worry in his dark eyes. "You've just arrived from battle. Surely a warm meal and a good night's rest-"
"Jace," you said. "Please take me to the rookery. Now."
Acquiescing to your request, Jacaerys took you to Sea Dragon Tower where you met with Maester Gerardys.
"I will need a quill, a pot of ink and parchment. Plenty of parchment," you said, seating yourself at a desk. "And sealing wax."
"Right away, My Lady," Maester Gerardys said, going to his study to fetch the supplies.
Jacaerys could see the gears turning in your head as you stared at the sea before you from the tower's window. "What are you doing, sweet one?" he asked, grasping your hand.
"Jace," you said, giving his hand a squeeze. "What I write in these letters, you mustn't breathe a word of this to anyone. Not your brother, not your mother, not Prince Daemon. No one. Swear to me."
Jacaerys looked perturbed at your request, but swore that he would remain silent.
Once the Maester arrived with the supplies you needed, you made him swear to secrecy as well, before getting down to your work.
With Jace sitting on the chair beside you, you asked the Maester that you two were not to be disturbed, at any cost, as you confined yourself to the room.
Quill and ink in hand, you took a sheet of parchment and wrote. Carefully writing each word, each alphabet, so that your handwriting would remain unrecognisable to the one person this letter was going to hurt the most.
As you wrote the letter, you could feel Jace's eyes growing wide with shock beside you, scanning the contents of the letter.
You wrote and wrote. The same letter in multiple copies. One for each major and minor house of Westeros.
Denying yourself any sustenance, save for some tea that Jace almost forced you to drink, you sat at the desk, writing for hours. Well past sunset and well into the night, leaving it to Jace and Maester Gerardys to seal and dispatch each letter with a raven.
Ravens flew to the Vale and Winterfell, your letters going to Casterly Rock and Highgarden. You wrote to the Citadel and to the leaders of the Faith of the Seven. Even Dorne.
You wrote to the Great Houses, Noble Houses, Knightly Houses and Masterly Houses. You wrote to Shield Houses and Sistermen Houses.
You wrote and wrote until your hand hurt and until you felt like you were seeing words swim before your very eyes.
You wrote, ignoring Jace's protests that you should rest, you should eat…
You wrote well into the next morning, watching the sun rise as you finally grasped your quill, pulled out a fresh piece of parchment and wrote your last, most important letter.
To Aegon, worded slightly differently, but its message remaining the same in essence as your other letters:
I am a writing as a concerned citizen of your kingdom. You, of all the people in Westeros, deserve to know the truth that has been concealed in plain sight by your own kin.
The children you call your own are bastards, Jaehaerys and Jaehaera, fathered by Prince Aemond, not you. Your Queen, Helaena, lay with your brother Aemond, giving birth to bastards born of adultery. It is my duty to bring light to these sins and falsehoods that have been hidden from you.
Your legacy is a lie, and you in your own heart know that the true queen of the Seven Kingdoms is your half-sister, Queen Rhaenyra, the firstborn child of King Viserys and his proclaimed heir.
Strike your banners, swear fealty to the rightful Queen and give up your throne before plunging the realm into war.
Sincerely,
Your well-wisher.
As you watched the last raven depart, you slumped down in your chair, looking at the rising sun, knowing that your actions would change the tide of this war.
"Do you think I've done the right thing?" you asked Jacaerys, finally allowing the exhaustion that you felt to creep into your mind.
"The realm needs to know the truth, sweet one," Jace said. "You have just done the most difficult thing one can ever do. I'm so proud of you."
Author's note: Your feedback is my fuel! Do comment and let me know how you liked this chapter. Hearing from you gives me so much joy ❤️
Part 5 ➡️
#angst#hotd#house of the dragon#aemond one eye#aemond targaryen#ewan mitchell#aemond targaryen x oc#aemond targaryen x reader#aemond targaryen x y/n#aemond x you#aemond x reader#aemond x oc#aemond x helaena#house of the dragon aemond#aemond fic#hotd aemond#aemond targaryen x helaena targaryen#aemond targaryen x female reader
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okay so. now that ive taken some time to breathe, compose myself, and gather my thoughts, lemme lay out why the teen wolf movie was a hot holy mess (besides, you know, the obvious) as a teen wolf enthusiast and expert.
a lot of the characters were really little more than set dressing. to be specific, i think liam could have been replaced by a mailbox with a hat and the movie would have been the same (and this is coming from a major liam fan). the same can be said for mason, malia, melissa, peter, and honestly even the sheriff (which i hate bc god he was such a core of the show). i think parrish was only useful in one specific instance and even that isn't enough to warrant him being in the film. the characters i loved felt like cardboard cutouts and that wasnt fair to me, to the characters, or to the actors. i would have rather they not been there at all tbh. like just leave liam out of this if youre gonna do him like that fr
a lot of the plot points felt... disjointed and weird. saraid said it felt like three different movies in one and i have to agree. derek and eli felt like its own thing, then scott and allison, and then everything else (whatever the hell parrish and malia had going on, the lydia and jackson buddy cop comedy, liam in... japan with a ramen shop i think? and some random girlfriend that happened to be a kitsune) kind of fell to the wayside in between.
this movie was truly so flat without kira. it was hard to make a nogitsune movie without stiles, but it was almost impossible to make without her. hikari unfortunately ended up just feeling like a woman they randomly shoved into all the plot points kira was supposed to be in. because she didnt have a character besides liams girlfriend (and because liam was barely a character himself), she just couldn't compare and so kiras lack of presence was really felt. she left a huge hole in the narrative. they didnt even mention her and you knew what was missing. if you had cut khylin and dylan sprayberrys checks entirely, im sure they would have had enough to pay her as much as the rest of her white coworkers :) but that's just my opinion xxx
this was supposed to be for fans of the original series, but really just felt like jeff davis's weird rare pair fanfiction. instead of focusing on the dynamics that already existed - melissa and the sheriff, malia and peter, scott and liam, derek and. anyone really - he ended up delving into all these new dynamics with only two hours to develop them. malia and parrish (which. i really had to mentally run through the show to see if those two had interacted before and i dont think they have), liam and hikari, and derek and eli. all of which had a shot at being interesting but because there were so many different plots going on, it all just felt. awkward and confusing.
that being said, im gonna move onto derek and eli generally. i like eli! i do. i thought he was funny, i thought the actor was super charming (although the timeline made no sense because if he was born fifteen years ago And allison died fifteen years ago he would be braedens and. hate to say it folks. thats not braedens baby. make him mixed jeff davis you fucking coward). really, i liked him. ... but not at the expense of dereks character. the derek i knew was an asshole. he was mean, he was sarcastic, he was a bastard (honorifically). its not to say that people cant change, but... the derek i saw in the movie was a complete 180 from the derek we last saw in the series. honestly, the derek i saw in the series probably wouldn't have made a good parent - we saw how he was with erica, isaac, and boyd. even with scott. derek was kind of a dick. i dont even think he would have wanted kids - i think he would raise them out of duty, and i think he would if a partner wanted him to. but i dont think kids were ever in his life plan. and i think that could have been super interesting to see with him and eli. i think making him a parent could have been really interesting and it just. crumbled.
i know i mentioned the timeline in that last bit but. the timeline. it hurts my head. when was eli born. what year is it. how long has it been since scott has been in beacon hills. im so confused.
lets talk about adrian harris. shall we. i have made a list of people who i think would have been a better villain reveal are you ready: allison, peter, theo, chris argent, kate argent (resurrected), matt daehler (resurrected), victoria argent (resurrected), kira herself, danny mahealani, rafe mccall, isaac's shit dad, coach, greenberg, me with a baseball bat filled with rusty nails, jeff davis in a wig. the list goes on. you could not have picked a more random and less memorable character to reveal as your villain. i almost felt like i was being mocked. "haha! you didnt expect it to be this guy? the chemistry teacher who also died fifteen years ago? who had almost nothing to do with the plot until season 3? stupid! idiot!" i have never been so mad in my life
speaking of villain. did they forget what a nogitsune is. it needs a host. its not some guy they can stab to death. its a concept, a feeling, a parasite. its a manifestation of mental illness. but no sorry excuse me i must be wrong bc now its also a werewolf??????? im sorry. am i the crazy one. give me void allison! give me allison as the host and shes being taken over and she has those bags under her eyes and that creepy void stare and grin! give me crystal reed emmy noms! while we're on the subject, heres some more questions about the nogitsune include: why was it in a jar? why was it with LIAM of all people (who didnt even know what that was)? why did its powers completely change? HOW was it a werewolf????????? i cant stop thinking about it.
i said it once and ill say it again: jackson fucking carried this movie. he was giving all season one jackson, he was bringing comic relief, he was even bringing up ethan when no one else would! king! he carried. but he shouldn't have had to. dont get me wrong, i think crystal reed ate and left no crumbs. this was allisons movie and it should have been. but when the other two standout characters imo were jackson (who arguably did nothing) and coach (who did even less)... you simply didnt use your characters well. i think i would put deaton up there and even chris, but... scott and lydia? this should have been their movie. but scott spent nearly the whole movie ignoring his friends, and lydia was reduced to 'woman whose plot was about a man,' again. it was horrible. lydia outgrew that song and dance by season two. and scott? hasnt been to beacon hills in twelve years? hasnt seen his mom or his friends? not the scott mccall i know.
this is not about shipping discourse this post will never be about shipping discourse so i say this as a completely objective party. that being said. st/dia was so strangely shoved in there at the end. how did harris even know about lydia leaving stiles. how did he know about her dream. how did it add to the plot. like yes the nogitsune feeds of chaos and strife but i think lydia was getting enough of that watching her friends get murdered. it felt like a weird way to explain why dob wasnt there and it simply didnt work. i would have rather they not said anything about stiles at all.
anyway, this is skipping over a lot of other little things that i thought were really bad (sexualizing malia who literally had the mentality of an eight year old for most of her life AGAIN, why was mason a fucking cop, peters lack of interaction with the hale family which is what made him interesting in the first place, the absolute insanity of allison coming back to life and just being absolutely okay even though shes been dead for fifteen years, died at the hands of her friend, and almost everyone she knew including stiles, isaac, and kira are all just gone now), but boy oh boy. for a while it was funny bad. like "oh this is bad but i can still enjoy this for what it is" bad. but those last ten minutes. what is actually absolutely wrong with jeff davis. there are very few times ive felt this betrayed by tv shows i held this close to my heart, but im there. im heartbroken. i wont go on about it here, bc honestly, it would need its own post considering how much i have to say. but if the rest of the movie was bad? that was shit was traumatizing.
anyway. so sorry this post is this long, and so sorry i couldnt come back with a positive review. this show died long ago; i think we should have just let it rest - nobody asked for a reunion, and now i can see that was with good reason. so the next time jeff davis opens up an email with a header titled 'sequel idea' and he ccs tyler posey, i think we should all just agree to ler arden cho beat him to death in a dennys parking lot instead.
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Last Twilight Ep 5 Stray Thoughts
Last week, Mhok took Day’s teasing that he has no tenderness in him as a personal challenge, and spent the entire episode flirting with Day through all of Day’s other senses. Meanwhile, we ran into Gee, who was a friend Day had through badminton. Day managed to reconnect with her and hang out with some of his team members (but not August). Meanwhile, Porjai broke up with that cheating fiancé of hers, but not before he and Mhok got into another fight. We also learned that Porjai is pregnant, and is going to be staying with Mhok for now. Everyone kept saying how hot Mhok is, and after flirting with Day constantly, Day decided to sneak next to Mhok at night and look at his face.
It’s early and Mhok is already starting.
Oh ho! We’re playing around with honorifics again.
This breakfast scene is great. Day got himself up, made his own jellied bread, and didn’t balk at posting a picture to Facebook about it. It’s a good sign that he’s moving back into interactions with others.
Wait, why are we back to reading the book? I thought we were heading to the badminton match?
Oh, whew, it was a flashback providing some emotional context before we meet more people.
Okay, Day teaching Mhok how to comment on badminton is fun. He’s not an amateur, and Mhok doesn’t know the rules.
Film looks good.
I am a fan of sports. I was moved by Gee’s win and cried a little bit.
I love Mhok beginning to integrate into the banter with Gee.
Our first interaction with August and Day flees.
I’m loving this backstory. I am such a fan of sports drama.
Aof and his double entendres. “If you want to pick it up again, handle it with care.” I will fight him.
Thank you, Pride flag in the locker room, for letting us know there are gay stakes between Day and August.
Ohm Thipakorn is whipping extreme ass here with these eyes. You are upgraded from “Baby Ohm,” sir.
I am crying again because of the bonds between men. Even Mhok approves of August moving to singles rather than compete with someone else.
So, how mutual are the feelings between Day and August, and how much does the other know, because August took his hand in such a meaningful way before asking him out to dinner.
I’m with Mhok; I like him pushing Day to hang out with August.
Oh yes. It’s time for a practice date. We’ve gotten a few of these this year, and it hits every time.
Porjai ain’t shit, and she’s not gonna let Mhok go without getting a dig in.
I love how Mhok responds to all of Day’s teasing by going hard on the flirting.
This whole cake scene was cute as hell.
Oho, we’re getting back to the Night and Day stuff. Day thinks Mhok has also been fooled by Night.
Oh no. Please don’t spill water on yourself immediately and panic, Day.
It’s always 4:20 somewhere, amirite? (I don’t smoke)
Now where the fuck is August?
I’m glad Mhok stuck around to salvage this outing.
They went back to see if August ever arrived? I’m mad at August.
I AM LEANING IN. Day hadn’t confessed his crush on August, and today felt his heart break at some sort of final piece of reality he had to face.
August picked the most dramatic time to show up, and then just walked away after sensing something between Mhok and Day.
There’s so much going on! Mhok was about to admit his own feelings, but stopped because of August.
This was an excellent episode. I’m so proud of Ohm for being able to do more than just be adorable. We’ve got a great form of romantic angst here where the board isn’t completely set, but we know the players. These two definitely practiced a lot for this role. Jimmy has found his smolder.
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Spittin' Wicked Randomness with Small Professor
or, Bizarre Rides II the Pharthest Cyde;
or, A beginning doesn’t need an ending, only a portal
Make your body a temple. Make your home a shrine. You are a God, live like one!
—Timothy Leary, “You Are A God, Act Like One!” (1967)
Psycholinguistic structural confusion leads to insidious beat wrecking missions and continuous speech recognition, prescription, vocal anecdotal object impressions…. Synergistic sample arrangements.
—Jungle Brothers, “Trials of an Era” (1993)
EXORDIUM
I long for the anonymity the internet once provided. Everyone was faceless. Vacant visages—not even an avatar. I’ll often try to remanufacture this premillennial experience for myself. I deliberately avoid seeking images to accompany the names I see on the screen. Many people nowadays—most people, the writer bemoaned—make this nearly impossible. Vanity of vanities—all is vanity! But I do try, I do. I look away; I increase the scroll speed; I squint to blur and becloud. Like Iris DeMent desired, I try to let the mystery be. On Rakim’s plodding “The Mystery (Who Is God?),” the God MC suggests you can solve the mystery if you realize the answer revolves around your history. But I need the mystery to stay intact. So many years on, and I’m still figuring out da mystery of chessboxin’, looking all the way back to when Wu-Tang was in black hoodies on the man-sized chessboard—cloaked rooks shouting peace to all the crooks with bad looks. “You cannot hook up a 100 million years of sensory-somatic revelation to your puny, trivial personality chess board,” so says Timothy Leary. I’m inclined to agree.
Aside from his music, I’ve known Small Professor—Jamil Marshall, if we split the veil—only through his words, through his text on my chosen screens: pixelated patterns of character images. But late last year, I stumbled across an image of him appearing not unlike a cloaked rook. Draped in a black robe, Small Professor appeared beside his Wrecking Crew brethren as a Sith Lord. The occasion was a Halloween performance at Cratediggaz Records in South Philly. Small Professor’s face was hidden, and so I could fuck with this type of qualified exposure. His shrouded appearance elevated my intrigue rather than diminished it. This was no flashbulb, soul-capturing, photographic evidence of existence; this was no selfie self-absorption; this was simply some spooky shit.
Of the many messages that Small Professor measures out into the ether[net], the ones that have frequently caught my attention make some mention of hallucinogenic drugs. Here again, we have [e]strange bedfellows—that being technology and drugs. Twinned conceptualizations: drugs as teknology; teknology as drugs [scanned as tricknology, too, two]. Programming in the Silicon [Uncanny] Valley with the capital-I Internet reformatted as a Third [Eye]nternet. You scream as it enters your bloodstream. “Build, elevate to a higher comprehension, / Let your third eye rise above evil interventions,” if we’re properly tuned in to the Jungle Brothers’ “Troopin’ on the Down Low.” Teknology and drukqs might be more familiar than we (Eye) thought.
As we know from Jesse Jarnow, psychedelic saints were known as “heads,” which, underground hip-hop stalwarts of a certain age will wreckonize as an honorific for their own dedication to a way of life and listening. Stewart Brand, author and publisher of the Whole Earth Guide, would later speak of computers and online communities as the most auspicious collective force “since psychedelics.” Hua Hsu brings this to my total attention, but with my full cooperation (word to Def Squad), so there’s a few more things I’d like to mention. Computer science research centers saw networking and information sharing as devout acts “borrowed directly from Deadhead communalism.” Again, not dissimilar from the tape trading so crucial to the spread of this thing of ours called hip-hop. John Morrison writes of how “hip-hop owes much of its early development and propagation to an underground economy,” to the “recording and circulation of cassette tapes of park jams, live battles, DJ sets, and radio broadcasts” that brought a burgeoning and insurgent art form to the masses. The backchannels and clandestine conduits that made this dissemination possible suggest a secret organization with figures like Geechie Dan and Elvis “The Tapemaster” Moreno as its stewards. These cross-cultural, cross-generational connections exist despite Jerry Garcia’s abhorrence of rap as a legitimate musical form [see below: “Deadhead” diss-poem]. Small Professor centers himself within the radial lines of this complex mandala. His production isn’t strictly for the psych heads, or the hip-hop heads—his musick is For the Headz at Company Z.
Small Professor understands the possibility and catalytic practices of rappers, much like William S. Burroughs did: “With computerized tape recorders & sensitive throat microphones we could attain insight into the nature of human speech & turn the word into a useful tool instead of an instrument of control in hands of a misinformed and misinforming press.” Somewhere you can hear the echoing call of Newwwspaaaaperrrr from the Jungle Brothers’ “Book of Rhyme Pages,” a song with a prophetic register, a song that reads.
In Burroughs’ essay “Academy 23: A Deconditioning,” which appeared in the San Francisco Oracle (c. 1966-1968), the beatific junky proposes that “academies be established where young people will learn to get really high…high as the Zen master is high when his arrow hits a target in the dark…high as the Karate master when he smashes a brick with his fist…high…weightless…in space.” As high as Wu-Tang get, I might add, Allah allow us pop this shit. Burroughs believes it’s “[t]ime to look beyond this cop rotten planet.” The students in Academy 23 “would receive a basic course consisting of training in the non-chemical disciplines of Yoga, Karate, prolonged sense withdrawal, stroboscopic lights, the constant use of tape recorders to break down verbal association lines. Techniques now being used for control of thought could instead be used for liberation.”
Small Professor is already present in such an academy, his “lab”—be it Albert Hofmann’s Sandoz Laboratory or RZA’s antediluvian lab. Like Bobby Digital, Small Professor experiences the “Lab Drunk,” the studio stupor: Stumbled into the lab half-drunk—honey-dipped, stinking blunts. The neural activity of Madlib’s psilocybin; the mind expansion of MKUltramagnetic; outlaw practices: tripping on LSD or sampling on an MPC—same diff, really. “The experience,” Leary wrote in the East Village Other, “must be communicated, harmonized with the greater flow.”
PART I
[December 23, 2023 | 9:10 PM]
Small Professor: Ah, fuck. I was supposed to plan this out. Just took 2 tabs to the dome officially at 9:00 PM. At some point tonight I will be looking around at my room like I just got here from outer space.
[10:14 PM]
Caltrops Press: Where’s your head at right now?
SP: Difficult to see. Always in motion is the right now (to paraphrase Yoda). Right now I am listening to “Right Now” (HAIM, live).
CP: Are you alone?
SP: I believe that to be true, but we can never be 100% sure, can we? I don’t presume to speak for you of course, but I’d wager that you may have, at least once, considered that The Truman Show could be real life, after all. According to this, though, yes:
CP: Somebody once said, “Every day is Truman Show. True men show their face and expose flesh…” Do you think acid allows you to see beyond this reality?
SP: No. It allows me to see this one more clearly. Time, or whatever it is that we collectively agree is this forward feeling momentum, seems to slow. So you (me) see the same things that you see everyday, but that your brain kinda knocks aside after a while. Things look new.
CP: Are you typically playing music when you trip? Does the music slow down? Not literally. But do you process it differently? And, of course, I’m curious if you ever try to make music in this state?
SP: I like making music that barely makes sense in whatever state I’m in at that time, so when I come back to it I’m even more confused. Like leaving yourself a drunk voicemail, but on purpose. I’m generally high—it’s just a matter of how. And to the last question: Do or do not, there is no try.
PremRock: I think [Small Professor's] work has benefited from discovering [hallucinogens]. He’s pretty passionate about ’em! I think it’s made him more expansive and he’s more eager to try far out ideas. He was always psychedelic in nature, but this just provided more of a conduit.
Zilla Rocca: Even without shroomz he always had a bugged-out sense of melody, rhythm, and layered samples. Smalls has always been a seeker. We connect like that. We love unearthing old rap to learn from it while appreciating all the new styles.
When brothers start buggin’, I bug the most.
—Jungle Brothers, “Simple As That”
CP: I’ve never fucked with psychedelics, so I generally have either a romantic or sensational notion of what it must be like. Have you ever had any experiences where things went really weird, or have you ritualized it enough so that you know what to expect? Like it’s become yoga or meditation for you by this point.
SP: Yeah, it’s pretty meditative. The first time I had acid was so surreal that nothing else could dream to compare.
CP: When was that? Do you still remember the details?
SP: Well, first of all, I couldn’t have started such a journey without such caring guides, for they did not have to take time from their lives to explain how much to take, how much not to, to be mindful of the kind of media you’re ingesting while in that space—like nothing too scary and shit like that. They specifically said, “Maybe watch a comedy tonight. Something on the lighter side of things.”
CP: I’ve heard that’s important, having a guide.
SP: So I believe I initially started off with the smallest amount I could take, cuz I didn’t know any better. But the effect was immediate. I remember going outside and just standing in an empty parking spot in front of my crib and watching it rain. It was night already. I was like, Wow, this is the best rain I’ve ever seen, and I’ve seen a lot of rain. And then I went out to get more tree. On my way home though, so…okay. How do I explain this? So, my Lyft driver on my way back to my house, he and I strike up a conversation. At the end of our talk, which included a phone call to someone of high stature in the 5% community who spoke to me directly, I embarked on the path to knowledge of self.
CP: Like, sincerely? Or only until you stopped being high?
SP: Well, I know now it started there. But I’ve always known that I am god, in some way. It’s just that, after you find out, what do you do with that knowledge of your own god-dom? That’s one thing I can appreciate about psychedelics. It’s like, Alright, well, if I know my brain is capable of such a thought or a piece of music in this one state, then I should be able to get back to it.
CP: I get that. Like, “I’ve done this before, so I can surely do it again.” But, for so many artists, they struggle to capture whatever it is. I know a lot of times I’ll look back on something I’ve written and then ask myself, How did that even happen? Because the process—the making of something—is often so unconscious.
Curly Castro: Smalls calls me after the fact (bka “a trip”) and regales me with a cornucopia of odd and odder occurrences. I will say that one time [redacted] and that’s when [redacted] and what could say after [redacted]. I just told him, Say Less.
CP: How long will this trip last? You took two tabs at 9 PM, and it’s been 4.5 hours.
SP: Oh, I’ll be up for a while. Night hasn’t even begun.
CP: I need to crash because I’ve got to be up early. But keep dropping whatever random thoughts you have here. We’ll call this Part 1.
SP: Fantastic, Pt. 1
SP: “God is never small.” Those are the words that man said, and my reply was, “...I am? I am. Ohhhh. I am.”
[Small Professor links me to a video showing Donald Lawrence & The Tri-City Singers performing “I Am God.”]
SP: Also, I’m quite proud of the fact that my government name [Jamil], oddly Arabic considering how Christian my dear mother is, quite literally translates to “Beautiful Ruler,” with my first name actually meaning “god” in certain places (“Jamil” is one of Allah’s 99 aliases—I found that out earlier this year). My mom HATES THIS BOYEEEEE. She thought it just meant “handsome.”
SP: Words mean things but don’t have to.
SP: [Denmark Vessey & Scud One’s Cult Classic] (This is my official trip soundtrack.) “Throw bricks at him if you can’t build wit ’em, / Whoever marquee, top bill, I’ll Kill Bill ’em.”
SP: It’s 8:23 AM. Still trippin’.
PART II
[December 24, 2023 | 9:15 AM]
CP: You awake? If so, talk to me about “Dettol.”
SP: I feel like that beat was made along with a few others in that same span of time with Roc Marci in mind. Not only in terms of the drum un-emphasis but also being intentional about giving an MC room to operate, to breathe. On Midnight Marauders, both “Electric Relaxation” and “Lyrics To Go” are special beats because they operate within the parameters of 4/4 time but the bar lengths aren’t the typical 8. On “Dettol,” you have mostly 8-bar loops until it shifts to 12 for one measure, and then it starts over. (Not sure about my beat math there.) So the Armand Hammer guys had to each approach that in their own way. Couldn’t have drawn it up any better. “Numbers look crooked like King Kong shook it.”
CP: (That’s your second Slum Village reference in this convo.) Paraffin was the first album I heard by them, so that beat would’ve been the third Armand Hammer song I heard overall. And that “giving them space” idea definitely benefited me—a guy who hadn’t been paying attention for years, specifically because lyrics weren’t grabbing me like they used to.
The psychedelic experience is not just an internal, private affair. The “turned on” person realizes that he is not an isolated entity, a separate social ego, but rather one transient energy process hooked up with the energy dance around him.
—Timothy Leary, “You Are A God, Act Like One!”
CP: How did you originally connect with woods and ELUCID?
SP: I may have been aware of ELUCID as early as 2005 by way of his Tanya Morgan/Lessondary/Okayplayer fam associations, but 2007 when he dropped Smash & Grab is when I instantly knew, Ah, this guy’s one of the best rappers ever. By 2009, that became, The best ever. That was the Myspace era, so we connected on there musically but also on some homie shit. We were working on a song of his in like 2011 or ’12 for the BIRD EAT SNAKE mixtape, “Dumb Out.”
ELUCID: BIRD EAT SNAKE is a whole lifetime ago. I had just met woods. I was also just beginning to develop the Cult Favorite record with AM Breakups. I was super charged creatively and was fortunate enough to have a lot of space to develop that. “Dumb Out” was such a strange beat that made my pen move immediately. Nothing overthought or drawn out. Just really chunky, vibed out, and punchy energy. I just began to acquire these attributes during the making of that tape.
CP: “Don’t eat the brown acid…”
SP: Originally woods was supposed to be on there. I distinctly remember this being one of the first times I heard him because…okay. He recorded a verse on this beat and ELUCID sent his acapella but no reference to guide from. And I’m very good at matching up acapellas, so the fact that I could make no sense of his flow—where to place it in the mix—always stuck out to me.
CP: Is that why he didn’t end up on the song?
SP: I don’t believe so. That would be funny if true, though. Because it feels like I have more music with those two than what tangibly exists.
CP: Also funny because, as their audience has grown—exponentially of late—the “discourse” returns to whether woods raps “on beat” or not.
SP: Once I understood that the question of if he’s rapping on- or off-beat is the wrong one—when it should be, Why do I hear this as off-beat? How do I hear what he heard to deliver it that way?—that’s when it clicked for me.
CP: Was “My Blank Verse” your first beat for them officially?
SP: That was the very first song me and ELUCID made together. Don’t think it was for anything in particular, initially.
CP: Got it. So it wasn’t approached as an Armand Hammer track, per se. Just ended up on an AH project. When did you connect with ELUCID in person?
SP: I wanna say I met him in person at a show in Philly, at the Khyber. But the time I remember the most is when I was in Brooklyn with him (this actually might have been when we met up to record “My Blank Verse”), and he showed me the block where B.I.G. grew up. I like to imagine my power levels increasing on that day due to the residual holy hip-hop energy on the premises.
CP: That’s dope. I’m surprised to hear you recorded the track in person. Both because so much is done remotely now—the producer and the MC separate—and also because ELUCID, I’ve read, is pretty private when it comes to recording. Maybe that came later, though.
SP: Yes, that did come later to my knowledge. But also, I’m special.
ELUCID: This was the era when Willie Green’s studio was still in his apartment. I had just started recording with Backwoodz, and “My Blank Verse” was indeed recorded that afternoon. I usually don’t have people hanging in the studio while I record, but I think my comfort level with Jamil speaks to the ease I feel in our dealings.
SP: I also remember going to meet ELUCID in New York specifically to get a flash drive that had he and woods’s verses for the Sean Price “Midnight Rounds” song they all should have been on together. His internet was down.
CP: Why didn’t that track come to fruition?
SP: woods’s hook was an interpolation of Apache’s “A Fight” (because, midnight rounds). The label was like, “Oh nah!” Word for word! Bar for bar! Sean P would have appreciated it.
CP: Jersey’s own.
billy woods: At that point in my “career,” I was kinda disappointed to get cut but not surprised. I guess I had a long history being snubbed regularly by peers and institutions in the indie music scene, so it just seemed like, Yeah, more of the same. I was pleasantly surprised to be invited, and unpleasantly unsurprised to be disinvited.
SP: So, kept ELUCID’s verse and subbed in my man Castle, making this song the spiritual successor to a track I did on me and Guilty Simpson’s Highway Robbery, also featuring those two. Things fall apart, but they also come together. How they’re supposed to.
CP: What’s the story behind “No Grand Agenda”? Also, where are we at in terms of the trip?
SP: It’s slowing but at a light jog now. The beat for “No Grand Agenda” was originally part of an album I did made up entirely of exactly 1-minute long songs called You’re Killin’ Me Smalls. There were 60 songs. ELUCID was one of the only rappers I sent it to, specifically because it wasn’t “supposed” to be for raps. I had an ex who stomped out my computer and hard drives one day, including the original files for this project. All except for that one.
SP: “Are we sure there’s no grand agenda?” And ELUCID took my stems and arranged it how he heard it. It was meant to loop in on itself, like the other songs on that project. It was originally named “Kelvin Spacey,” and I’m sure I’m misremembering but I wanna say “Dettol” was originally named “Kelvin Duckworth,” if only to verify Zilla Rocca’s guess that I was the producer in question that had sent woods a beat named after his favorite Portland Trailblazer.
CP: So you’re saying, like any good friend, ELUCID jacked that beat?
SP: Oh, I remember him asking to rap on it, perhaps for nothing in particular at the time. But who am I to deny the goat? And it’s obvious to me that this is how it was supposed to go; ain’t nothing coincidental or accidental, dunn.
ELUCID: The making of “No Grand Agenda” was a cornerstone for a foundational era of style for me. I felt like I made a song that seamlessly weaved both verse and chorus in a way that felt absolutely hypnotic. It was a new belt for me, this sense of control. Small Pro was one of the first producers to trust me enough to send his beat stems. During this period is where I began producing more of my own music, so I also wanted to arrange the song how I heard it. Thankfully, Jamil dug it.
CP: What do you like about ELUCID’s rapping?
SP: Some of it is the voice. Some of it is the things that he’s saying. But mostly, my favorite rappers all share this in common: they can get busy on any style of beat, any tempo, any sound, any Small Pro time puzzle. I was listening back to his older stuff a little while ago and heard him doing whole specific styles on one song, and never doing it again. The versace, versace flow, in particular. It felt like he was bored at the time and peered ahead three years to see how everyone was rapping, came back, did it, and that was that.
ELUCID: [Working with Small Pro] is a special thing. Something that I’m still exploring. I think a Small Pro x ELUCID tape would be ill. Knowing his attention and care in the translation of my bars and flows is the type of partnership real MCs aspire to. It just hasn’t happened yet!
SP: He and woods both have had a way of inspiring me through specific lines. “Go where the drummer commanded me,” for example. It’s me. I’m the drummer. And woods, a few songs before “Dettol” says, “Beg producers to take out the drums,” which he said was meant to be a joke, but I took it literally and started making beats that could exist with or without drums equally.
All of my Backwoodz-related songs are credited as “Small Pro,” not “Small Professor.” I was on shrooms the week after my birthday earlier this year when I realized those are now different entities. Especially because woods was once like, “Wait, you did ‘No Grand Agenda’?” And I was like, “I did….I think? No, that was Small Pro.”
The last full project I—or I—did before moving back to Philly was a reimagining of A Jawn Supreme 1-3 from the Small Pro remix perspective. It was my—or my—first time remixing my own music, hearing things without the drums I put on them originally. It was an enlightening time. I hear voices at the fortress.
CP: I think it’s rare for a producer to be so attentive to what the MCs are saying, let alone to look at what they’re saying as guideposts. The idea of a differentiation between “Small Pro” and “Small Professor” is interesting. Where does the Small Pro path ultimately lead? Into this larger Armand Hammer universe?
SP: I feel like when I started out making beats my natural inclination has been to make things as busy as possible. Small Pro is like, What if I take away instead of adding? Or, How can I still have a million things going on in the track but it sounds bare or like, not done? “My girl say this beat sound unfinished, / I said, ‘Yeah, that’s where my voice go.’”
SP: (Not sure when I passed out. I knew the crash was inevitable.)
[December 24, 2023 | 6:47 PM]
SP: To your point about it leading to the AH-verse, that may be part of it too. They’ve both inspired me as rappers but also their production decisions and choices—ELUCID quite literally, as his production has always confounded me, but woods too. Two producers who have had just as much an influence on me as anybody I worshiped when first starting out are August Fanon and Messiah Musik—modern legends. Fanon can make beats for literally anyone. But Messiah’s natural style is one that both Hammers can sound great on from the get-go, whereas I have to consciously get myself into that mode. They also both sometimes do odd and potentially challenging things regarding time in their beats, as I do, but in their own way.
CP: Do I remember seeing you mention somewhere that you still use Fruity Loops and Cool Edit?
SP: Yup. I wanna say since 2008. Well, technically since 2003. But I’ve been using the same versions of those two programs for a minute now. Still using Windows XP, too. It’s comforting to me. And ridiculous. Like Rasheed Wallace faithfully wearing Air Force 1s his whole playing career.
CP: I love that. Some real “if it ain’t broke don’t fix it” ethos. Any rules for yourself when it comes to sampling? Strictly vinyl or are you irreligious when it comes to source format?
SP: 98% of my beats are made from mp3s. The remaining fraction is YouTube or some other source. Haven’t used vinyl for sampling purposes in many years but ironically try to make my beats sound like vinyl. As far as rules, everything I thought was law were things I later learned the musicians I look(ed) up to sneered at.
CP: Ain’t that the truth. Very little is sacred when it comes to process, I find. That’s a lot of ego. What efforts do you make to have the beats “sound” like vinyl?
SP: On “Dettol” is my go-to record crackle sample. That’s also in 98% of my beats, and something I specifically remember was like, corny or something, but—ah, here it is: Slum Village reference #3 to fulfill the rule—on “Hold Tight” Dilla uses a needle pop as a snare bolster as well as the accompanying static. It’s there for added depth and texture but also can act as a counter-rhythm to your percussion. Reality features an inherent level of static in the form of cosmic microwave background radiation around us at all times. Art imitates life.
[December 25th, 2023 | 11:41 AM]
CP: “No Christmas this Christmas…”
CP: I always like to think of the story—apocryphal or not—of Evil Dee using bacon grease hissing on the stove for extra crackle.
SP: The turntable hum is freakable too. Makes for a great bass sound but also something you can feel.
CP: Do you ever have acid trips accidentally interfere with other obligations? I imagine you’re always planning for a blocked out number of hours. But best laid plans…
SP: There’s a recovery period the next day, so that can be interesting to navigate. But yeah, I usually am in my room avoiding external interactions on whatever kind of trip it is. In my experience with acid, you gain more control over your “self,” and shrooms is the opposite, where your sense of self and awareness is reduced. Go home, brain—you’re drunk.
CP: The loss of control is something I just can’t handle. Have you ever found yourself in a situation on shrooms where you emerge later, like, “Damn, that was a bad look”?
SP: Yeah. My first time taking an 8th to the face (I ate it on a burger) after getting to and past the point of looking in a mirror and not recognizing my face for a sec. I later came upstairs and my BM had made some, like, lasagna? And it was so good that I’m just there demolishing it over the stove—like I was Garfield. Her friend walked in the kitchen at that moment and I should have been mortified, but in that moment there was only delicious lasagna.
CP: Real Gs move in silence like lasagna…
CP: Listening to Terror Management on Xmas morning. Is “Marlow” your beat/song with the most synchronicity between you and the rapper?
SP: It’s up there. That album is interesting to me because of the repeating motif of having two beats from different producers for one song—always thought that was cool. The intro on that beat had the spoken part added after the fact, so it did really feel like some good ole fashioned teamwork.
CP: And specifically the serendipity of you naming the beat for your late father, correct? I imagine an artist won’t typically name their song after the name of the beat. Was there a reason you named that beat, out of so many, after your father?
SP: Originally it was a play off of the artist’s name I sampled (a lot of my song titles are born this way), but I can also say it makes me think of my father’s dark side. He was one of the happiest, generally cheerful people I’ve ever known, but I’ve seen him go into green belt mode when pushed too far—only a few times, but it was like, Oh snap.
woods closed his set with “Marlow” at a Philly show last year shortly after my pops passed, and it’s one of the nicest gestures anyone has done for me. I was at the bar crying like a newborn fucking baby, god.
billy woods: That was a special moment for me, too. I really love that song. Pro and I have not worked that much together, but a lot of what we have done is really dope. He has produced a handful of Armand Hammer songs but they all hit, in my opinion. But [“Marlow”] is a song I really love and has come in and out of my setlist, but always makes it back in. The fact that it happened at that moment, and that it had that extra meaning for him was an honor for me.
SP: That album [Terror Management] as a whole has always intrigued me because of the repeating motif of two producers each having a beat on one track (this happens on some Armand Hammer albums too, now that I think about it, but it’s a different effect when it’s two MCs on each beat instead of one).
CP: Lots of doubles—the name, the sides of your father, “Small Pro” versus “Small Professor,” two beats, etc. Double-consciousness, perhaps. Not necessarily in a Du Bois sense; more so in the sense of realities.
SP: I’m all about man’s rugged duality.
CP: Did you and your father connect over music?
SP: Oh, absolutely. Our music rooms were down the hall from one another when I got started in college, and over the years he would start wandering in to hear what I was working on. Eventually, as he started transitioning into working in DAWs, he would ask for advice with things he knew I would be able to help with. He loved showing me whatever he was working on, and I knew he valued my opinion as one of the people responsible for a lot of my music edumacation in the first place.
[December 26, 2023 | 12:26 AM]
CP: Would you reciprocate and show him what you were working on? Did he look upon hip-hop favorably?
SP: He was from probably the last generation that didn’t grow up with hip-hop, and by and large it was probably offensive to him on two fronts: as a pretty religious dude the language and subject matter was too much, and musically all he heard were the loops, repetition, and sounds he loved and recognized being used all over again in an inferior, simple way. (I found a lot of the samples from Mobb Deep’s second album amongst his tape collection.) But over the years, as he saw how seriously I took it—as well as being impressed as a person who played 7-8 instruments by what I was able to do with two computer programs and mp3s—he was able to appreciate it as an artform (at least, the production side) even if it wasn’t quite his thing.
He’s also half the reason I’ve always been enamored with non-common time signatures, a key feature in a lot of the music he dug—that Weather Report, Yellowjackets, Return to Forever, Herbie Hancock, Steely Dan, late ’70s, early ’80s chamber. My mother was more into “traditional” jazz and classical. They shared gospel personally—and professionally—as working church musicians. On my first album, there’s a 5/4 beat that I remember excitedly showing him because it took me forever to get the chops lined up in an un-choppy fashion, and there’s a switch on there between drum pattern grooves much like what you would find on a jazz fusion-type song. I felt like if I could impress him, I must be doing something right. The last time we hung out before the cancer did him in, he was showing me how far he had gotten learning how to play drums, and I got on the sticks and tried to replay the patterns on some of my beats (emphasis on tried). The “trouble don’t last” jawn, in particular, to which he responded by telling me I was already a drummer. Memories live.
The times I saw his email pop up in my Bandcamp purchase notifications, I figured it was just a proud dad supporting his firstborn…nah, he was actually listening. His favorite project was the album I did along with my group Them That Do, which was my version of Madlib’s Shades of Blue on the beat tip. Besides digging the actual sound (updated jazz rap), I think he was most taken by the fact that he couldn’t quite tell what was sampled from where and that I had made all these sound from sometimes vastly different records seem like they were supposed to be together, and the beats made sense from the perspective of a person who understood music theory.
CP: “I said, Well Daddy, don’t you know that things go in cycles.” Beautiful that you guys got to share those moments.
SP: (I even said the part about two beats on Terror Management twice.)
SP: My brother (the actual drummer of the family) just sent me “Spain” by Chick Corea, one of our dad’s favorites. Speaking of my brother—who I credit with teaching me how to program drums and how to count bars and all that—one time we were on our way to church with my dad, and Steely Dan’s “Black Cow” was on. Pops started to try to explain the lyrics, what a “black cow” was, why they were very high…all that.
So a few years back I was proud to send [my father] “Gas Drawls” from Operation Doomsday because this story has always cracked me up, but also that’s a great-ass sample chop (and one that he appreciated, as opposed to the time my broski and I were buggin’ out over the beat for Jay-Z’s “Kingdom Come” and he was like, Is nobody doing anything original anymore?).
[December 28, 2023 | 12:56 AM]
CP: You should’ve sent him Lord Tariq and Peter Gunz after “Gas Drawls” and been like, “See.” As a drummer, does your brother fall more in line with your musical tastes or your father’s?
SP: I’d definitely say my brother has a much more diverse and varied musical vocabulary/understanding/tastes than I. We both grew up hearing, and then eventually listening, to rap. Twenty-three to twenty-four years ago when the neo-soul era was beginning, we were smack-dab in the middle of it, in the literal eye of the storm. Things Fall Apart, Like Water For Chocolate, Black on Both Sides, Reflection Eternal were just coming out. Musiq Soulchild was on the radio. Voodoo (which I didn’t get into until much later when I listened to it riding through Zanesville, Ohio countryside in 2007 [it’s still “Brown Sugar” over everything, though]) was everywhere. But there was also his actual school music education from primary to college, as well as listening to people from all instinctive travels and paths of rhythm, so he knows it all—or because he’d be like, “Shiiii, no I don’t!—a bit about a bit.”
I keep saying “my brother” when I have two. My younger bro is the drummer but my older brother’s tape collection was everything in high school (actually, even before that I was stealing his It Was Written tape when I was in seventh grade to play on the way to school). Being eleven years older, he was in high school when the great 90s east coast revolution was happening, and his Nike shoebox archives reflected the sounds of the time. As far as his tastes go, if DMX was still with us and dropped an album today, he’d get it without a second thought.
[December 28, 2023 | 11:10 PM]
CP: Sorry to trail off. Got a bit busy on my side. Would you be down to hit me with a handful of your most interesting beat names at the moment?
CP: This is art.
SP: The “Will Smith as…” series is new. They all slap.
[Small Professor posts a since-deleted message on X quoting Werner Herzog talking about stealing a 35mm camera from a Munich film school. The quote: “I don’t consider it theft. It was just a necessity. I had some sort of natural right to this tool. If you need air to breathe, and you are locked in a room, you have to take a chisel and hammer and break down a wall. It is your absolute right.”]
CP: I love this. “A natural right” to make something. Like a compulsion within. (I also love Herzog, so I appreciate the anecdote.) Do you remember where you first acquired that cracked Fruity Loops (and maybe Cool Edit, too)? If I think back, I probably had a friend hand me a disk, a CD-RW, back in like 1999 or something. God knows what sketchy site he downloaded them from.
SP: In college when I first started doing beats, I torrented everything—movies, programs, especially music—with nary a second thought. It’s a good way to give your computer a bad cold, which I did on several occasions. And I too appreciate Herzog because I love no myth more than my own as well.
CP: Have you got any myths on par with rescuing celebrities from wrecked cars or nonchalantly brushing off bullets to your abdomen?
SP: No, but I can say I did albums with both Sean Price and MC Paul Barman.
CP: Indisputable. I think this is an appropriate spot to (un)officially close this. Anything else you want to talk about?
SP: Gotta give a shout-out to the Jungle Brothers for making Crazy Wisdom Masters in 1991. PremRock told me legend was that they made it on shrooms and when I listened to it on acid I was like, Oh, yeah, y’all were high as fuck when this was made. I could tell not only because the music itself is bugged out but even the pace of the record is accelerated. They had some songs on there that were a minute-and-thirty-seconds but so much was going on , sometimes different things in either stereo channel that it gives off the effect of being on a trip and you’re noticing—for what feels like the first time again—that everything is happening everywhere at once.
Listen to Crazy Wisdom Masters when you get a chance. It’s a personal classic that I’ve listened to at least fourteen times this month. Warner Brothers did them dirty (this was their M.O. apparently—this was the same time period they were beefing with Prince) by delaying the entire record two years and having them clean up the tracks, and disrupting the carefully curated listening experience by taking tracks away and rearranging the entire thing. J Beez wit the Remedy, the resulting hodgepodge, would drop on my birthday in 1993, and when I first heard it, I was like, Hmm, something’s awry here, and that’s how I found out about Crazy Wisdom Masters.
CP: I think I downloaded it or thought about downloading it recently when people started talking about it again. Is there a “definitive” version to look for? I know Bill Laswell had uploaded a version to his Bandcamp page a while back.
SP: That’s a good question. The version I found that concludes with “For the Headz At Company Z” is the album as the god(s) intended.
Just as Small Pro is distinguished from “Small Professor”, “Crazy Wisdom Masters” is a distinct personality from “Jungle Brothers.” Small Pro is a definitive, lost Laswell version—a ra ra kid who catches wreck with randomness. He doesn’t channel, but grooves, as the most psychoactive Afrika Baby Bam and Mike G doppelgänger. We end up doubled-over; “dope-sick,” if you will. You sleep on it, then you wake up in the morning and dwells on it, as Small Pro casts his spells on it. (It’s as Simple As That.) SP’s Comin’ Through, and when he does, multiple realities accelerate as he explores radical possibilities. He’s chewing on the chemicals and raising up the levels on the decibels. We—his audience of lab assistants, his dilated pupils [and peoples]—“experience the ultimate, the infinite.”
Images:
Most images are from the Vol. 1, No. 10 October issue of the San Francisco Oracle or unknown issues of the Chicago Seed | Small Professor “Sith Lord” photo courtesy of Matthew Shaver for WXPN | The Grateful Dead tapers section photo, Unknown | Screenshots by Small Professor | Apache tape photo by Caltrops Press | Gilbert Shelton, “The Fabulous Furry Freak Brothers,” East Village Other (detail) | “Deadhead” poem by Joseph Rathgeber
#small professor#backwoodz studioz#underground hip hop#elucid#billy woods#zines#armand hammer#wrecking crew#zilla rocca#premrock#curly castro#acid trip
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25 | Legends of Darlaria
⨰ summary: You wake up amidst a war with no recollection of your past. Faced with suspicion and distrust, you struggle to assimilate into a foreign nation—otherwise known as your home. But on your enlightening journey to search for your identity, you come face to face with the General of the Army.
⨰ pairing/rating: yoongi x reader & jungkook x reader | PG-15
⨰ genre: 70% angst, 30% fluff | war!au & magic!au
⨰ warnings: profanity, mention of death
⨰ wordcount: 4.4k
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⨰ previous | series m.list | next (ACT II of LOD)
⧖⧗Circa Saphh⧗⧖
Where did he go wrong?
He and Lieutenant Ki had once been so close. They assumed their positions of power at the same time. They learned from each other, grew together as well. Hell, he looked up to her. She taught him the value of each individual soldier. She taught him how to use empathy in a war. She taught him never to treat anyone like a pawn on a gameboard. So why did she use him? Did she lie when years ago she confessed that she regretted ever thinking she could be a better leader than him? Had she always been waiting for the right time to swoop in?
It’s true that their friendship dwindled ever since she became his lieutenant, but he always thought it was because they were attempting to keep things professional. He always thought it was because she didn’t want to cross the line after Doyun left. Was it really because she resented him? And now that she’s one step closer to becoming the General of the Solarian Army, she can’t take his bullshit that she endured for years?
Threatening usurpation, for fuck’s sake! Even he admits he had been a blundering, stubborn fool, but she didn’t have to involve the whole army. She didn’t have to involve you.
He’s been back in the officer meetings, where everything feels the same: the repeating codes, the battle plans, the arguments. Nothing has changed. Yet, he feels out of place. He feels as if the little authority he had is gone. He wonders if his own officers deem him pathetic. He wonders if they secretly wish he had stepped down to let Lieutenant Ki take the reins. He even wonders if they wished he died when he was lying there, immobile in his tent.
He can’t trust anyone anymore.
Not like he trusted Doyun.
He soon realizes no one has called him by his name in a long, long time. Doyun was the only one who had the guts to do it; she had always seen him outside of his identity as the Solarian General. But she’s dead now and there’s no one left to see him as who he really is: Yoongi. Just plain Yoongi. The one who is a medium of all four elements, not just fire. The one who used to cry a lot. The one who would rather be scolded by his mother than rat out those who’d caused trouble. The one who never wanted power but was forced to take it because of his bloodline.
But maybe there’s still hope. Because with you, he feels safe. Because other than the fact that you address him with honorifics, you make him feel like he is just like any other Solarian in the nation. Because with you, he knows that even if he were stripped from his title, you’d stay by his side. So maybe he can trust you too. You’d already apologized to him after all. Just three days after the threat, you’d barged into his tent in near hysterics, telling him that you miscalculated and that you’re ashamed of yourself and that you should’ve been there for him instead of plotting behind his back. But he was never angry at you in the first place. There was nothing to forgive. He knew the threat wasn’t your idea.
What he had really been anticipating was Lieutenant Ki’s apology. But it never came. She simply pretends as if nothing happened. As if she didn’t casually threaten to turn his soldiers against him if she didn’t get his way. How much does she look down on him for her to be so brazen? It frustrates him. He’s not perfect, but he still deserves an ounce of respect from his own lieutenant.
He hates himself for getting so caught up in Lieutenant Ki’s betrayal like this. Since when did he have an ego? Since when had he gotten so stubborn? He tries to channel his energy into making sure you won’t lose your life out there. He often supervises your training and nitpicks everything about it. He decides to create the battle plans three weeks in advance to prepare. Then, he makes you go over the battles over and over and over again. He secretly wishes you perform badly just so he can rescind his approval with good reason. But he’s seen your skills; you’re no average fire medium anymore. The passion you have for Solaria, for everything you believe in has only grown since you reconnected with the spirits of fire. He knows deep inside that after the first one, you’ll be going to battles regularly.
It terrifies him.
He can’t remember the last time someone died from something other than a battle wound.
⧖⧗Circa Opal⧗⧖
The moon is dim today, but that only allows for the stars to shine brighter. You stare up into the sky, nestled in front of Heli, petting his warm fur and thinking to yourself. It’s a chilly night tonight, but the winds that flutter the leaves of the trees at the edge of the forest don’t really bother you. Instead, it’s peaceful. When you close your eyes, you feel like you’re lazily drifting away into the night, floating up and up until you’re resting amongst the stars. It’s a good feeling.
“May I join you?”
Your eyes flutter open, heart already leaping in your chest.
It’s him.
“Of course,” you say, moving over a bit so he has room to sit in Heli’s warmth. The fire tiger welcomes him with a small huff. He situates himself right next to you—close enough that you can see him quite well despite the darkness, but not too close so that you’re touching. You haven’t talked to him privately since you apologized to him. You’re unsure if that’ll make this conversation awkward—if a conversation even happens, that is. The General seems completely fine with being silent. So are you.
He’s been watching over you for the past several weeks. You can tell that he’s worried by the way he nitpicks your every move and has you coming over to his tent nearly every day to go over the battle plans again. It’s a little endearing to see how much he cares. But it’s all the more pressure for you to come back completely unscathed.
“You’ll get to see war tomorrow,” comes his soft voice. “I hope you’re not too scared.”
“I am a little bit,” you admit. “But I’m more afraid of what will happen if I were to perform inadequately.” You turn to him, a teasing smile on your face. “I’m terrified that I won’t meet your expectations.”
“What a strange fear,” he says. “Most soldiers are afraid of death. You seem to be afraid of me.”
You laugh. “I suppose I am.”
“Do you recall the battle plans for tomorrow?”
You grin, nodding your head. “I could rewrite them with my eyes closed.”
“Good, good,” he replies. “So don’t wander off.”
“I won’t,” you say. “But I can’t promise that I’ll always be in your line of vision, either. I don’t want you worrying about me on the battlefield. You should only be worrying about yourself.”
He just hums. “I’ve done this a thousand times over; I think I’ll be fine. I just don’t want you to come back traumatized.”
“I think I’ll be fine, too,” you say. “Technically, I’ve done this before. Maybe my instincts will kick in. And… and maybe being on the battlefield will jog my lost memory.”
“Possibly,” he answers. “But do you want your memories to return?”
“If you asked me just a year ago, I would’ve hesitated and then said ‘yes.’ But now… Now I think I’ve moved on. This feels like my life now.” You scratch behind Heli’s ear, which makes him purr happily. “I no longer want to be the person I was before. Who I am now matters so much more.”
He nods. “I agree.”
“I don’t want you to overexert yourself tomorrow, though,” you say. “It would be your first battle since your injury.”
“I’ll be fine,” he says. Then, he grins a shit-eating grin. It’s something that you rarely see on him, but something you’d like to see more of. “Weren’t you the one who told me to worry only about yourself?”
You scoff. “Well, yes, but…”
“Then let’s stick to your advice,” the General says. “Let tomorrow be a mystery to us both.”
“A mystery,” you repeat. “I’m not sure if I enjoy mysteries.”
“I find that hard to believe,” the General replies in his quiet voice. “Tomorrow is a mystery. Overmorrow is a mystery. The day after overmorrow is a mystery as well. Is it not that our entire lives are just a mystery unfolding?”
You turn to the General in surprise. “I never thought about it like that. I suppose I was wrong, then. You do make quite a good point.”
“Why thank you,” he answers with an endearing smile that seems to warm you from the inside.
There’s a few seconds of silence before you decide to speak again: “Are you scared? For tomorrow?”
“Am I scared?” He cocks his head. “Only that you’ll be out there with me.”
You laugh. “I promise I won’t get hurt.”
He only raises his eyebrows. “If only it was something you can control,” he sighs. “All I can do is wish you luck tomorrow, my officer.”
Your face feels warm, although the breeze has become quite chilly over the course of the conversation. Even small moments like these are enough to send you over the moon. Small moments when he glances at you when he thinks you’re not looking. Small moments when he calls you his officer. Small moments when he shows how much he worries. After finally having gotten your way through an unforgivable threat, you thought you were walking on thin ice; instead, he’s been kinder than ever. It makes your heart clench just thinking about it, and you wonder more often these days how things would’ve turned out if it hadn’t been for the damned war.
“I wish you luck too, sir,” you say.
He just nods, closing his eyes and letting the night breeze caress his cheeks and brush aside his dark hair. You do the same, allowing your other senses to heighten. You hear Heli’s soft purs, the whispering wind, the soft crackles of the fire tiger’s flames. You can smell the freshness of the nearby forest, the crispness of the night air and the familiar scent of the General as well.
As the two of you sit comfortably side by side, feeling tomorrow’s battle looming over your shoulders, you realize you wouldn’t mind a good mystery. Even if uncertainty makes you nervous, you are certain about one thing: there’s more to come from your relationship with the General. Who knows? Maybe one day you’ll finally call him by his name. And he, yours.
You toss and turn in your sleep the whole night, and by the time you wake up, it feels as if you haven’t slept at all. As you untangle your blankets from your legs, you think that maybe you are subconsciously scared. It’s a battle, for Sooht’s sake, and the last time you went to one of these, you came back with broken ribs and a wiped memory.
But you shouldn’t be scared, right? Not when Suhyun and Nayoon have told you that you’re more than ready. Not when you know the General will keep you in his peripheral vision and stop at nothing to ward off danger. Still, you’re nervous. Death makes you uncomfortable. Pain does too. What if you shut down on the battlefield? What if you freeze? What if you crumble? And worst of all, what if you feel pity for the enemy?
The Darlaeans are still humans, even though they feel too monstrous to be so sometimes. You don’t think anything could force you to kill one of them. The worst you’ll do is inflict injuries, but of course not fatally. The mission is to gain ground, not kill everyone in your path. But the mission often gets muddled amidst the anger, the frustration, the blood and the dead. You’re scared that you’ll get caught up in a fight of hatred when you should really be fighting for freedom.
But you digress. Maybe you’re overthinking this. Or maybe this is something that should be overthought. You just hope that the casualties are low today and the General comes back home safely.
When you finally manage to rise from your cot, you nearly step on the container that Joon had made for you three years ago. From your turbulent “sleep,” you must’ve knocked it out of its hiding place. Settling down on your straw mat, you reach for the container.
It almost feels like the spirits have orchestrated this very moment.
Just yesterday you talked about your desire to never remember your forgotten memories. So what about the necklace? If it’s the only relic of a past that you don’t want to remember, should you dispose of it? Is this a sign? To get rid of it before you fight for your nation? Or… are the spirits trying to tell you to wear it once more?
It’s true that you were wearing it when you woke up three years ago in the medical tent, confused, in pain and terrified, but still alive. In a way, the necklace could very much be a good luck charm. So should you wear it to this battle, too? To make sure you get out safely, for the General’s sake?
You seem to answer your own question, already taking the necklace out of its case. It’s more beautiful than you remember. Simple, but elegant. The white gem sparkles even though no light shines upon it. And for some reason, you feel comfort holding it so close to you; warmth spreads through your body, making the ends of your fingers and toes tingle. But maybe you’re just imagining it.
Nevertheless, you bring the necklace up close to examine it, running your fingers along the chain and admiring the dainty clasp. You almost forget what’s waiting for you later in the day while you marvel at its beauty. But someone reminds you just in time.
They clear their throat outside of your tent. “You can back out now before it’s too late, Officer.”
You smile, shaking your head. “What was that, sir? I can’t hear you from outside my tent.”
You can hear his playful sigh. There’s a bit of a rustle, and then he’s entering the space. “I said, Officer, you can back out now—” He halts mid-sentence, staring at the necklace in your hands, his expression suddenly unreadable.
“O-Oh, this?” you say, a little uneasy at his reaction. “I… I had it on me when I woke up three years ago. I’ve been keeping it safe all this time, but I realized it’s sort of my good luck charm. I was thinking of wearing it today.”
To your relief, the General nods, his eyes softening. “I’m sorry. I was just surprised I never saw you wear it before. It’s beautiful.”
“Thank you,” you say, lifting up the necklace to admire it more closely. “Can you… can you help me put it on?”
“Yes,” he answers. “Of course.”
You move your hair out of your way, turning your back towards him as he approaches you slowly. You hold your breath as he gently places the necklace around your neck, his fingers warm and tender as he locks the clasp. Even when he lets go, he is careful, doing it carefully so that you’re not jarred by the coldness of the chain. And even when he lets go, his fingers linger as if he doesn’t ever want to pull away. “A fancy good luck charm, isn’t it?” he whispers, though you’re not sure why.
For some reason, you whisper back, “I suppose it is.”
You can feel his warmth on your back—or maybe you’re just imagining it. He’s so unbelievably close. You freeze when you feel his fingers caress your hair. All too soon, you’re holding your breath again. Is time speeding up or slowing down? You can’t quite tell. And as he gently covers the clasp of your necklace with the locks of your hair, you close your eyes and let out a shaky breath. He feels so close. This feels intimate.
You don’t know if you should speak, for what would you comment on? You’re afraid of ruining the moment, breaking the trance that both of you are seemingly in. But then he speaks for you.
“I trust you,” he whispers.
You blink. He trusts you? Out of all the things he could’ve said… he trusts you? You turn around and find him staring at you, black eyes swimming with an emotion you can’t quite discern. But after several seconds, he shakes his head, face reverting back to his stoic expression. “Gather your soldiers, Officer,” he says. “The trek to the second sector will take two hours.”
He leaves as swiftly as he had arrived, and you’re left alone in your tent, watching the red curtains flutter. He’d left so quickly that you didn’t even get a chance to tell him that you trust him too. Not that he doesn’t already know.
The two-hour trek feels too long.
As the Solarians began winning the war, it’s been taking a longer time to get to the battlefields—a tribute to all of the gained territory. What used to take an hour has doubled. It’s a good thing, perhaps. A sign that the end of the war can come, and in Solaria’s favor.
You walk next to Captain Kim Sebin, who still mostly keeps to themselves. Their face is unreadable and frankly a little solemn. You don’t want to be invasive, so you keep silent. Besides, what would you talk about while marching toward a battle? ‘Oh, look how nice the weather is! In a few moments, we’ll be massacring hundreds and hoping we won’t die!’
In front of you is Hyojung, who, upon the General’s insistence, will be fighting solely on Zeru. The air horse trots across the terrain, head held high and wispy tail swishing confidently from side to side. He turns his head back every once in a while, though, to see if Hyojung is faring well. While the second sector major’s legs have made a decent recovery in the last two years, she still has difficulty running. To hide her liability on the battlefield, she gets to fight on horseback, which is usually reserved for the General.
But the General never seems to mind. In fact, it’s much rarer to see him on Zeru’s back when leaving for or returning home from the battlefield. “The injured need it more than I do,” is what he always says. So he walks by Hyojung and Zeru’s side, leading the rest of the second sector soldiers to the battlefield.
Behind you, the soldiers are chatting about. With the battle being in such low stakes, most of them don’t seem too nervous. After all, some of them have been doing this for much longer than you have. You try to keep your mind numb. You try to focus on the ground underneath your shoes. You focus on the tiny blades of grass that have sprouted arbitrarily along the dirt terrain. You focus on the weather, the heavy feel of the air, the light taste of the wind.
And soon, you reach the battlegrounds.
There is fog in the sky today. When you squint across the land, you can see glimpses of the Darlaeans—their legs, some parts of their torsos—but their faces have been obscured.
What an eerie sight.
You place a hand on your racing heart to calm it down.
Deep breaths. Deep breaths.
Next to you, Captain Kim begins to sort the soldiers into formation. They wordlessly turn to you, expecting you to do the same. So you begin issuing orders, trying to hide your shaking hands behind your back. Someone puts a warm hand on your shoulder.
“Good luck.”
It’s Hyojung. She gives you a supportive smile, and even Zeru paws at the ground and lets out a small whinny. You nod. “You too.”
You watch from the front of the lines as the General steps forward. How terrifying would it be to be at the very front, leading a battle? To be the first person that everybody wants to target? How terrifying is it to stand there alone, with no one to protect you?
From the other side, you see a tall figure standing in front of the Darlaean army. The Forgotten Kingdom’s General. The fog envelops their body, hiding away everything except for their shiny black boots. Leather. Your soldiers have warned you about this; the Darlaeans kill innocent cattle and exploit their hide, their meat, their bones. It’s quite disgusting and even thinking of it makes you shudder. How can they be so cruel? You also catch a glimpse of the Darlaean General’s long cape, the ends of it fluttering in the breeze. How ostentatious.
The two Generals stand in solitude, and for a long minute, it feels like a waiting game. Who will make the first call? Who will begin the fighting, the death, the pain? The tension makes you nervous, and your hand instinctively flies up to palm at the diamond pendant underneath the collar of your uniform.
“Hey.” You turn your head slightly to see that your co-captain is talking to you. “Don’t be so nervous,” they said. “You’ll be fine.”
You give them a weak smile. “Thanks.”
But your legs are shaking against your will. Your hands have become so sweaty and clammy that you wonder if you’ll even be able to wield fire with them. Why weren’t you this nervous the night before? Why are you in a near-panic state now?
You know why.
Because this feels so real. And a part of it… it feels familiar too. Somewhere in your mind, you know that you’ve lived this moment before, standing on the battlefield, nervous, with your hand placed on top of the pendant of your necklace. Screaming, crying, wailing, cracking, slicing—you hear it all in your head. Your eyes are seconds away from glazing over, from dissociating, but then you see a vivid purple streak in the air. It’s bright, so bright that it pierces through the fog and manages to blind you for a split second.
“It’s starting,” you hear whispers from behind you.
“That was the cue.”
And sure enough, the General answers with a roaring flame that shoots from his fingertips and soars straight up and across the empty field. Scarlet red intertwines with deep violet and they explode together in the murky gray sky. Your heart seems to stop beating.
You hear the valiant cries of soldiers from both sides. You hear the thunderous footsteps of those advancing the terrain. You see your own two feet beginning to carry you forward. You hear your own breath—a little too loudly. And your heart beats too quickly in your chest.
But there’s a part of you that is glad to be here. A part of you that is proud. You fought for this. You want to be here.
You can see them now. The Darlaeans. Their murderous faces, their black uniforms, their outstretched arms.
It’s terrifying. They look like they want to kill you.
You’re falling behind.
Soldiers before you in the lineup are already throwing fire at the enemy. Some are dodging the Darlaean’s metal spheres. Others are sprawled on the ground, crawling away or not moving at all. The ground becomes tainted in red. But instead of being paralyzed in fear, you continue to run forward.
Someone tries to shoot an attack in your direction. You move to the side just in time to hear the metal sphere whiz past your head. Another tries to block your path, hand already outstretched to attack, but before they can, you blind them with a blast of fire from your fingertips and run. By the time they regain their vision, you’ll be long gone.
The adrenaline keeps you steady and as you begin to gain traction, the fighting feels more and more natural. You dodge every attack, weave through the bodies on the floor, send blinding light toward those who block your path—it feels like a repetitive, yet lethal game. One wrong move and you could be dead.
Out of the corner of your eye, you see the General. He’s favoring his left shoulder, but faring quite well despite his limited movements. He lights his enemies on fire. Wherever he goes, bodies burn and drop to the ground into ashes. The red flames reflect in his black eyes, and for a moment, you realize he looks menacing. Sweat drips down his face, tinging the ends of his hair, too. There’s blood on his hands, but you don’t think it’s his own. He seems to have been trailing behind you this entire time, ready to take action if anyone were to hurt you in any way.
A part of you is grateful, but another part of you worries. Maybe he doesn’t trust you after all. Why else would he be trailing behind you? Does he think you’re not capable of—
You meet eyes with a man. A man who halts when he sees you too.
You don’t know why but your hand flies to your pendant, which had untucked itself from your uniform.
Something electric sizzles down your spine.
Your jaw goes slack.
Your vision becomes blurry.
Suddenly, images flash before you.
Him reaching behind you to clasp your necklace on. Him leaning down to kiss your cheek. Him wiping the tears rolling down your face. Him making you laugh, him making you smile, him making you cry. Fighting with him, dancing with him, running with him.
It all comes so quickly. Too quickly.
You’re left breathless.
It’s him.
The man in your dreams.
The man who gave you the necklace.
The man who loved you.
But…
Why is he wearing the enemy’s colors?
Why is he raising his bloodied sword?
Why is there a flash of light?
Why are you suddenly falling?
And why? Why do you hear the General screaming your name before your world goes black?
⨰ previous | series m.list | next (ACT II of LOD)
⨰ a/n: i had the most horrendous, absolutely disgusting week ever 😭 i ended up sleeping quite literally 2 hours per day, but i absolutely didn't want to disappoint on the literal FINALE of legends of darlari's ACT I. i apologize if there are more errors than usual, but this is it! the completion of the first act. thank you for reading this far; it's been an amazing journey writing this story, and i hope to offer more in the coming acts!
please consider telling me your thoughts with a comment, an ask or a reblog :) i love hearing readers' impressions/rambles/predictions! if you want to join the taglist, send in a private message, ask, reply to this post or reblog with your request!
#jungkook fanfic#yoongi fanfic#yoongi angst#bts fanfiction#thebtswritersclub#btscreatorscorner#btsgoldnet#btshoneyhive#bangtaninn#houseofddaeng#bts fic#bts fanfic#yoongi x reader#jungkook x reader#bts angst#magic au#war au#bts series#bts fics#legends of darlaria#lod
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Everybody talks
Pt.1
The teacher stood at his podium as he spoke to the students "So... as third-year students
Aldera Junior High, it's time to start thinking seriously about your futures and what you
want to do with your lives. I could pass out some career aptitude tests. But... Why bother? I know you all want to go to the Hero Track."
The students cheered as he said that. "Yes, yes, you've got some very impressive Quirks but no power usage allowed in school.
"Get a hold of yourselves..." He stayed with his depressed and exhausted tone before bakugou spoke up. "Hey, teach... Don't lump me in with this bunch of losers."
His dead and emotionless tone was starting to get bland and dry, but she kept listening to the teacher and those around her. "I'm the real deal but these guys will be lucky to end up as sidekicks to some busted D-lister." Katsuki spoke up as Y/n snickered, she loved how katski said everything with his full ego on display, it was quite entertaining "Ha! You think you're better than us, Katski?!" One of the students said with a glare. "Let's go, I'll take you all on!" Bakugou said with fierce anger and an even more egotistical tone. The teacher spoke up once again "Huh, you've got impressive test results. Maybe you will get into U.A. High."
Some of their classmates murmured "He's gonna try for the national school?!"
"That school has a 0.2% acceptance rate!" The. The last spoke up "It's impossible to get into!"
"And that's exactly way it's the only place worthy of me. I aced all of the mock tests.
I'm the only one at this school who stands a chance of getting in. I'll end up more popular
than All Might himself!" He gloated falsely, she was sure he wasn't joking even though she deeply wished he was. Bakugou spoke up again. "And be the richest hero of all time!People all across the world will know who I am,and it all starts with U.A. High! And none of you damn extras have the fucking balls to one-up me-" He was cut off by his teacher speaking up once again Oh yeah, Midoriya and l/n. Don't you want to go to U.A. too?" The class erupted in laughter. It was getting ridiculous on how they teased Midorya relentlessly because of his quirkless status. "Midoriya? You're kidding, right? There's no way of getting into the Hero Course without a Quirk." One black haired student with long fingers stated bluntly with a hinge of amusement in their voice.
"Well, actually they got
rid of that rule. I could be the first one..." Midorya replied rather sheepishly, afraid of what responses he would get. While you on the other hand, supported your friend with your whole heart, mind, and soul! He had always been there for you, now you would always be there for him.
"Listen up, Deku... You're even worse than the rest of these damn rejects, you Quirk-less wannabe!" The angry blond shouted with nothing but pure hatred "You really think they
let someone like you in when they could have me?" Bakugou continued, but Y/n stepped in. "Shut the fuck up, Izuku has done nothing wrong short of out a pin needle in that over-fucking-inflated ego of yours! So shut the fuck up bakugou. "It's been so long since she had referred to him as bakugou, and nkr used honorifics. She must have been done with this silly boys quarrel. "No way!" Midorya interjected "You've got it all wrong. Really! I'm not trying to compete against you." He defended as he continued "You gotta believe me! It's just that... I've wanted to be a hero
since I was little. I may not have an quirk... But I can still try my hardest, can't I?"
He asked earnestly, that's all he'd ever wanted to be. Not the best... But his best. That's more than some could say..
"You'd never be able to hang with the best of the best. You'd die in the exams!" Shouted katsuki as he glared daggers at poor Midorya.
"Defenseless Izuku!" He continued "The schools already crappy, you really wanna embarrass it more by failing so hard?" The teacher stopped him before he could keep talking down on izuku "Hey, that's enough bakugou. While it's true, it's totally uncalled for" Bakugou said nothing as he rolled his eyes and rested his chin on his hand.
"Oh, and y/n. Please refrain from foul language." She regrettably nodded and sat back in her seat.
After class has finished, the murmurs of the remaining students could be heard
"Oh yeah, we should go to karaoke tonight." One said as they slung their bag over their shoulder. "Yeah, let's go... But man, that fight from this morning. Did you hear about it? Its all over the news." Y/n was already waiting at the door, being as she had already had her things and belongings placed and in her bag. She decided to help izuku with grabbing his things, the only thing left was his very 'Secret' book, Which only she knew the contents of it. As they both prepared to leave katsuki gruffly spoke up. "I don't know where the fuck either of you are going... Especially you Shitty face, but we're not done." Katsuki said gruffly, a smirk plastered onto his face with glaring and murderous eyes. "What ya got, his diary?" Another student, one of his lackeys said questioning the notebook in katsuki's hands.
The book read "Hero Analysis for the Future".
"Don't tell me you're taking notes
on how to be a hero. It's so pathetic!" Katsuki laughed as y/n glared him down. "He's delusional!" A lackey said with a laugh. "Yeah, real funny, guys." Izuku responded rather sheepishly. "Just give it back." "Listen, just give the damn book back. Please bakugou"
y/n pleaded with him, but he had no intention of listening to anything she said
"Most first-string heroes show potential early on, people look at them and just know
they're destined for greatness." Bakugou said as he still firmly held the book. "When I'm the only student from this garbage junior high
to get into U.A., people will start talking about me like that. They'll realise I'm legit,
the next big thing."
Y/n sighed as she looked over at bakugou and she thought 'i miss the way it was, when we were all friends.. but ever since he got that damned quirk everything changed... a long with his damned ego...'
"That's not ego talking, I just know I'm good." He replied as of he had read her mind
"Ego..." Izuku whispered. "Here's a little word of advice, nerd: Don't even think of applying, or else." He snarled as izuku whimpered "That's just sad." One of the students piped up as they looked at the dejected Izuku. "I thought you'd at least had some fight in you."
"He finally gets it, he'll never be a hero." Said bakugou as he looked down at the poor, green haired boy. "Better to find out now
instead of later, I guess."
"You know, if you really want to be a hero that badly, There actually might be another way..." Said katsuki with a smirk... Somehow she knew what was coming next, but her body wouldn't let her do anything, let alone say anything. "Just pray that you'll be born with
a Quirk in your next life, and take a swan-dive
off the roof of the building." That's when she finally spoke up. "What... The... Fuck..."
She spat venomously as she glared at him through her hair. Her finger tips were lightly sparking with electricity as she slowly balled them into a fist "Something wrong?" He snarled and glared down at her figure. She took a deep breath before she spoke. "Izuku... Go." He reluctantly nodded and complied and left the classroom to go home.
"What the fuck is wrong with you bakugou!?"
She shouted angrily as her fist grew lighter. "That's going to far! Even for an asshole like yourself" "I mean, if the shoe fits." Bakugou replied with a grin. He rolled his shoulders before shifting his stance to a more casual one. "besides, that loser's nothing more than a speck of dust on my shoe." She balled her fists tighter as she looked up at him near the podium where he was standing "He was your best friend for God's sakes bakugou! We were all friends... I was your fucking friend.. so what the fuck changed?"
She said angrily as she crossed her arms. Katsuki tilted his head back, giving her an indifferent look before settling back down onto the podium and crossing his arms. "Friend?" He scoffed. "He was nothing more then a loser who held me back. Don't mistake my pity for friendship." Bakugou's voice was cold, as if he were an ice statue. His words cut like knives. "So shut the fuck up l/n." He spat back. "None of this concerns you, this is between me and that damned deku." "No... Not anymore its not. And what about me asshole! You were my first real friend, my only one when I came to this god forsaken fucking city..." She said with an unidentical tone... He couldn't tell weather or not she was sad or angry. Katsuki shifted his stance slightly, before lowering his tone and body slightly to appear more casual. "I admit that you may have been my first... Friend." Katsuki was the type to always maintain a tough-guy facade. "It wasn't like I cared about you though." He smirked. "yeah, I noticed..." She said with a soft smile and she grabbed her bag*
"Well, see ya... Good bye bakugou" In those moments he hadn't realized what happened... until seconds later when she was out the door... it hit him 'good bye... bakugou'. Katsuki stiffened at the words. They sounded... Colder than she made them seem. The words made him feel a chill run down his spine. He looked at Yuji, his eyes widening. He was blank... his eyes only filled with confusion untill it hit him...the words singed his mind "fuck.." He whispered as he shoved his hands in his pockets ans walked out the door
#bnha bakugo katsuki#bakugo katuski#mha fanfiction#bakugou#katsuki bakugou#x reader#x fem!reader#ong this shit is gonna me fall harder for a fictional man than i have ever fallen for one before... This man is my new addiction 😫
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okay but what does Megumi think just happened with the Zenin? Like, if he doesn’t know how important his technique is to them, what does he think they did all that for?
He genuinely believes that they did it to murder him.
I’m pretty sure it’s canon that Megumi walks into his first year having no goddamn clue how special his technique is. Like. Sukuna is the one who tells him he has special grade potential. He doesn’t seem aware as to how powerful the ten shadows could be until gojo tells him that a six eyes was killed by it.
Megumi sort of missed the memo as a kid because he was 1) literally six and 2) the Zenin were the weirdest goddamn people he ever met and most of their lunacy was written off as a result. He doesn’t really like thinking about the Zenin now, so he hasn’t put anything that happened back then under serious inspection.
The Zenin also just didn’t explain a huge amount to him as a kid, at least not in terms he understood, and a lot was misunderstood as a result. Like, take the fact that they call him “Ten Shadows.” Thats basically an honorific to them. In the Zenin’s collective mind. it’s a show of respect and value. He’s got the most powerful technique in the lineage and they acknowledge it when they speak with him. It’s more important than being the clan head.
Except Megumi was a goddamn six year old who wanted to be called his fucking name.
He always thought they were laughing at him when they called him that. They bought him because he inherited a technique and they would never, ever let him forget that fact. It’s like being hired for your proficiency in Microsoft and your boss only calling you “Excel Spreadsheet” because that’s the only value you have to them. That’s also what set tsumiki off against Maki in chapter five—her brother had just flatlined in front of her, and someone from the clan that abused him as a little kid is still fucking mocking him.
It’s a lot of miscommunications like that, and they’re mostly the zenin’s fault. Straight up, Megumi thinks the Zenin hate him. All he remembers of them is how much he would get hit when he was there. That doesn’t exactly breed the impression that he’s the most special boy in the world to them.
And he thinks they hate him because of gojo.
He’s not aware of the dynamics of his technique’s value to them, but he is aware that gojo adopting him and tsumiki was a politically dicey act. The Zenin purchased him from his father. He is intimately aware of the fact that the Zenin view him as their stolen property. He knows it must have been humiliating on a public stage for gojo to intervene and save him from them.
He genuinely believes that the Zenin did all of that to murder him in the most painful and humiliating fashion possible as a way of spiting gojo.
Death is one of the few things gojo can’t recover from. If they were just hurting him, gojo would eventually find out, kick the shit out of them, and come out on top. But he can’t reverse them killing Megumi. In a way, murdering him is one of the few ways they can get one over on gojo. It gives them the last word—yeah, gojo had a few good years with megumi, but in the end, if the Zenin couldn’t have him, no one could. They won.
He just doesn’t have the context that Maki does. Megumi doesn’t know how valuable he is to them. He thinks he’s the most hated and disposable guy in that place. This was all just… a slow and humiliating way to die. Like, having to fight in an exorcism he can’t pull the plug on with no safety net after being completely worn out was a death sentence in his mind. Even if he somehow survived, they’d just force him into another fight and kill him there. Gojo said it’d be a couple weeks before he could check in, and Megumi was coming up on day two or three with the Zenin and realizing that he probably wasn’t going to make it to daybreak, let alone until gojo realized he was missing. No one was coming, and the Zenin were going to kill him sooner rather than later. It was just math to him. He didn’t have a way out, and they weren’t letting up, and the only reason they could have to do it would be to kill him and get back at gojo for taking him to begin with.
He was going to die being called the technique they bought him for, beneath the fangs of his own serpent, in some stupid fucking kimono they had decorated with his shikigami. He didn’t know it was ancient. He thought they made it as another way to mock him while they made him kill himself for their entertainment. They forced him to endure humiliation after humiliation for days, and they were just finally done playing with their food.
#sea glass gardens#this is also why it would be a really difficult thing to tell him the truth now#he thinks they did all of that out of hate#telling him that they did it out of love would be the most horrifying thing possible#he can’t even sit up right now#if it’s hate he knows he can expect them to take potshots for a while#he can deal with that#but love? obsession? they’ll never let him go#he’s just not in a mindset to take that right now
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“ i don't know who i am anywhere else. ”
[[ this specific prompt triggered Something in my brain pardon me while i go wacky over it for a sec /pos (also formatting change bc the hellsite has decided to remove the option to edit ask replies, at least on mobile) ]]
-- [ asked by @mute-call ] --
To say Michael knew the feeling would be an understatement. What he didn't know – or, he supposes, hadn't realized – was that other people felt it, too. Fazbear Entertainment ... it had always been the Aftons' and the Emilys' burden to carry. Their creation, their story, their tragedy. Sure, others had been dragged into the mess in the past – Jeremy, those poor kids, their families – but he hadn't even stopped to consider how some of the other employees had been affected by the company.
Mr. Bell — Steven ( he keeps forgetting, they're more or less on equal ground now, and even if they weren't, they've been casual acquaintances long enough that he doesn't need to keep using honorifics for the guy ) especially. He'd been with the company nearly as long as Michael could remember, and, granted, that wasn't all that long, minus a few key events he would rather forget, but the point still stood. God knows the kind of shit he'd seen in his time here.
Michael was struck with the sudden urge to wrap the guy up in a hug. The kind with a few firm, comforting thumps on the back. Or at least clap a hand on his shoulder. Or something.
It'd been a long time since a real human person had earned an emotion other than mild annoyance from him, but Bell had done it.
Even still, he did exactly none of those things. Because those weren't things he did, and it would be weird if he did them at all, let alone to Mr. Bell of all people, the guy he's kind-of-sort-of-known for years now and only in a professional capacity. He'd probably explode from embarrassment. Or get asked if he needs to be drug tested. Or both. Maybe not in that order.
So, narrowly avoiding that absolute fucking nightmare, ( god, that would've been horrible, this is only their third or fourth time interacting outside of work and it's only because someone fucked up their schedules, Bell seemed like he was having a bad day, and Mike 'had nothing better to do' — he felt bad and wanted to help out but don't tell Steven that ) he just inclined his head and gave him an affirmative hum. If a small smile came with it, then, well... Can't blame him.
"Yeah, I... Yeah. This place... Hasn't really been the best, for me. But it's not like I can leave, y'know? Fazbear's is my home... Whether I like it or not," he said, ending it off with a soft chuckle as he remembered that Steven may not be as... Disillusioned with the company as he was.
Michael's reason for staying may be entirely different from Steven's, but... Steven doesn't need to know that. Better to keep him from knowing all the shit Michael's tangled himself up in with this company. Better to keep him from worrying. Safer for him, too, probably.
"Just, uh... I know how you feel. I'm here for ya, buddy." God. This is why he doesn't have friends. Not because it's hard, but because he sucks absolute ass at it.
#m | ic: threads ; michael#others | ic: threads ; steven#interactions ; michael & steven#mute-call#[[ replies tag ]]#timeline is a little fuzzy on this one just. yknow. fuck it no timeline just 2 bros hanging out#failbesties. i love them already.
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An intro page or something; Ain't it nifty?
Heyy
Anyway, I'm 2ndPlanet or V. Feel free to call me either or take a very easy guess as to what my name is and call me that, I don't really mind.
I go by any pronouns and consider myself to be non-binary, I'm omnisexual [or bi for those who don't know what that is]. I was born in early April 2003, and I'm currently 21 years old.
I'm a writer and novelist, I post chapters of my story The Alchemist Arcana on Kindle Vella periodically as I work on it. It's an alternating pov fantasy romance adventure, if you want to know more feel free to ask.
Do not interact list
Do not interact with me if you are: Ableist, Racist, Transphobic, Homophobic, A Minor, A Chaser, A Pedo or associate with the MAP community in any way.
My page is not for you and you will be blocked. I'm trusting you to be mature enough to respect my boundaries while you are in my space.
Do not bring up self-harm, weight loss, and/or use any slurs in my asks or dms
Things I Write & Reblog + My Fandoms
This is a Smut/Erotica blog, this is the type of content you will find here, it's okay if you're not into these kinds of things, but this is what's here; I'm warning you.
Most of the stuff I write is Mlnb [Men/Nonbinary] and a lot of the people I reblog stuff from are trans men. I know a lot of wlw creators don't want men in their spaces and so for the sake of my followers and these creators I will not be using that tag or reblogging from anyone whose blog is men dni.
I write in both 3rd and 2nd person, x reader style content. The reader's gender is typically not specified, will tag if it is though.
The following is a list of general concepts you may see:
Regency
Dumbification
Prince kink
Omegaverse
Vampires
Breeding
Overstimulation
Blindfolding
CNC
Dub-Con
Somnophilia
Degradation
Marking/Biting
Demons
Obsession
etc.
A lot of the time I write for a more general audience and use honorifics instead of names, an example of this being "The King" or "Your Lover". However, I do also write fandom content.
At the minute I'm only in three fandoms, I ONLY write for Genshin, however, I'm very into Stray Kids and Hermitcraft10/Geminitay if you want to chat about either.
Speaking of requests
Suggestions, Asks, & Requests
You are welcome to send me anything rather anonymous or not. You can request content or ask questions, whatever you want to do I would love to hear from you.
Said request content can be from the above fandoms or just general writing like I mentioned as well.
I don't currently have a tag list or an anon list at all, but let me know if you would want that.
Masterlists & Trigger Warnings
Vs Flytraps ⇄ Genshin ⇄ Kiss the Crown ⇄ more to be added...
All my trigger warnings are in bright pink at the top of each post. The things I reblog I do not tag with trigger warnings even if they don't have them already listed, so read at your own risk.
Take care of yourself please and don't read something if it is going to negatively impact you.
Miscellaneous
I like to talk so I wanted to give you more information about myself. None of this is important I just feel like sharing.
I have a learning disability I've never known exactly what it is just that I have it.
My favorite Western artist is Cameron Phillip, Outro: Dreamworld fucking slaps.
My monthly song theme is as follows:
Pseudophed by Penelope Scott,
Tunnel Vision by Melanie Martinez,
Worms by Ashnikko,
Devil by the Window by txt.
LONG LIVE THE DARK PINK AESTHETIC!
F2P, AR50, Sucrose Main, Scara-Miko-Yoi haver. My UID is 661128590
Pretty please send me stuff,
I promise to not bite you unless you ask me to
#minors dni#introducing myself#writeblr intro#writing masterlist#writing masterpost#intro post#pinned
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Moderation
So, the local Boomers are up in a tizzy because a volunteer teacher for one of Quebec's School Boards asked five year-olds with the flimsiest grasp on French grammar asked kids to refer to them as Mx. As in, they're non-binary.
For us adults, this is totally fine. For English speakers, who are used to a fairly flexible grammatical structure, this is fine as well. For Francophones, however, who know that basic pronouns and conjugation can sometimes take more than a year to really sink in, this is like throwing a sledgehammer in a bunch of bowling pins while expecting kids just out of preschool to be able to tack gender fluidity to something as rigid as French.
As you can expect, both sides are in an uproar. The Prescriptivists are pulling the "those gosh-darned Millennials and Gen Zs!" card, the proponents of nouvel ortograf are claiming that enbies should be able to live their truth no matter in which language, and pedagogues are trying to remind both sides that while recognition is fair and good, it might be a tad unfair to ask of kids who can't wrap their heads around gender politics and Sociology to have the wherewithal to remember that other teachers are fine with monsieur or madame, while one specific individual in a single school is asking that they be called Mx.
This is pretty much where I'm sitting, and I consider myself a die-hard Progressive, linguistically. French is fucking hard enough already, we really should just focus on the basics and then take the kids by the hand to say "You know how I've been letting you pick both pronouns to addess me? Well, now that we're a few years into the curriculum, you're old enough to figure out that for some people, using Mx. and Eux is preferred. You haven't offended me by calling me by either honorific before, but now that this does make sense to you, I'd really rather you used this new one, please."
The real question is if this would strike both the traditionalists and the Enbies as being fair.
#thoughts#French language#linguistics#neopronouns#Mx. is pronounced “mix” in French#It probably amuses a bunch of kids
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Take it From Your Hot Neighbor Baby (Virgin!Sub!Midoriya x Reader)
Art credit: Heijiu Comics
Requested by anon: OMGGGGGG I love your writing, I was thinking If I can make a request on a smut with my baby Izuku Midoriya. Where he's so beautiful and innocent and the older neighbor next door from him likes him and basically targets him for sex which is the reader of course, and he likes her too. So then she totally doms him and invites him to her house and basically go at it as Izuku's innocent's self can't handle the pleasure the reader gives him!If you could do that I love your writing, If not it's cool!!!
Warnings: slight dumbification, precious bby izuku is 19, everything that happens here is consensual, unprotected sex, pet names, overstimulation, virgin!sub!izuku (mainly), Aged up!AU, filthy smut, dirty talk, cursing.
18+
A/N: Thank you for the request, I hope you like it!! i loved writing this :D (feel free to send me another to write, i’m already almost done with what i suspect is your other one xD)
Words: 4k
You grinned as the shared wall between you and your neighbor shook, signaling that the boy from next door was finally home.
Midoriya Izuku, a passionate and utterly clueless broccoli-haired boy turned fresh pro-hero, sweet and sensitive, everything you ever wanted in a partner. That, and he was clearly too shy to approach you.
You had been neighbors with him and his mom for forever but only until recently, after his admission into UA did you start to see him in another light besides platonic. And it wasn’t until he graduated that he had completely dominated your interest in another way entirely.
It was no secret that he used to be a scrawny kid but since his high school days, he had bulked up considerably.
Now, with the body of a tank and a soul bursting with positivity, you were completely hooked.
It really was astonishing to you how he continued to maintain that innocent personality after becoming a pro-hero. No one was that optimistic and oblivious all at the same time.
You had started out with smaller hints, bringing him food once a week to make sure he was eating properly, taking care of him when he was sick or injured and just too stubborn to admit it and go to the hospital, you name it and you’ve done it.
What was extremely exciting at first to be interacting with him like this dulled the moment you realized this baby was so innocent that all your signals were completely going over his head.
The dumb baby. Your dumb baby.
He was fast approaching 20 but you were willing to bet he hadn’t even gotten laid yet. With the way he walked, it was as if he was still the same kid you had met ten years ago.
Your parents had long since moved out of the apartment, going closer to where your grandparents were since they were getting older and needed to be taken care of. You had politely declined their invitation to go with, asking if you could take over the lease on the place since they would no longer be living here.
As their only child, they had a soft spot for you and let you do as you pleased now that you were old enough to be living on your own. They even helped you out with the rent even though that was entirely unnecessary.
Your day job paid enough.
An upbeat tune floated throughout your apartment and you danced along to the music in nothing but a thin cami and a pair of scarlet lace panties. Since it was so hot today, you had decided to forgo actual clothes. It was perfect, but you were definitely still sweating.
Tapping a finger to your chin thoughtfully, you recalled how your adorable and hot neighbor’s mom was out working all day and wouldn’t be back until late. Plus, you knew that he had no hero work today, courtesy of the boy telling you himself via text when you checked up on him earlier this week.
Pulling an oversized t-shirt over your head so that it brushed just below your thong clad ass and fell off of your shoulders, you fluffed your hair, giggling to yourself at your reflection in the mirror.
Today was the day you would make Midoriya yours.
Grabbing a few cookies from the kitchen that you had made just last night because you felt like it at that moment, you flung open your front door, knocking on his a second later.
Hopping in place excitedly, you couldn’t contain your enthusiasm. You hadn’t even bothered to message him that you were coming over, knowing that he would prefer it be a surprise.
“Izuku!!” You cheered when the door opened, immediately thrusting the plate of cookies out towards him.
He staggered a couple steps back, unprepared for your sudden attack but rubbed the back of his head with a sheepish smile, emerald eyes shining with gratitude.
Midoriya bowed gratefully. “Thank you, Y/N!!”
It had taken literally years before he was comfortable calling you by your first name without any honorific attached to the end of it. But it was worth the wait as warmth sparked through your heart and a soft smile adorned your features before it was replaced with a mischievous one.
Bounding up to him, you pressed your chest against his purposefully, making it so that you almost lost your balance. You gasped in mock surprise when he instinctively wrapped his arms around your waist to catch you, relishing in how strong his arms felt around you.
Midoriya stuttered as your boobs were practically smushed against his face by how close you were to him. Were they always that big?!
It wasn’t like he masturbated to you everyday or anything. Definitely not.
He groaned, throwing his head back as your body heat encompassed him.
Who was he kidding, he jerked off to you every spare second he got. He couldn’t help it though. Your beautiful smile always beckoning him over, those alluring eyes of yours enticing him closer and closer until he felt as though he could combust merely by standing in your presence alone.
Giggling, your teeth sank down into your bottom lip and you batted your eyes at him. A shudder ran down his spine and you bit back a smile at the blush that sat on his freckled cheeks.
“Do you want to come over for a little while?” You asked softly, feigning shyness and you rubbed your thighs together. “I have something I want to show you.”
The action didn’t go unnoticed and Midoriya’s mouth dried as the swell of your breasts peeked up over the low scoop of your shirt when he glanced down.
“Uh, y-yes?” He uttered, voice shaking with uncertainty as he automatically agreed to what you had asked him without even thinking about it.
You giggled, eyes lighting up in excitement. “Great!!”
He stumbled after you as you dragged him next door to your apartment, losing his balance and falling on the couch as you pushed him inside.
Your eyes shifted from playful to concern as he landed on his back with an ‘oomph’.
You were quick to cup his face, examining him closely. “Oh no, Izuku, are you alright?”
“Y-Y/N!!!” He stammered out, face bright red at your proximity.
“Are you alright?” You repeated, uncharacteristically serious and seeing as how you were asking him more than one question, he nodded to both.
You chuckled, leaning in close. His cheeks burned at your proximity and although you wanted so badly to tease him, you needed to get something straight first.
“You ever been fucked before, baby?” You cooed sweetly and a visible shiver shot down his spine.
He gaped for a moment, not used to you saying something so brazenly but shook his head wordlessly.
You smiled, your tone taking on a gentle lilt as you sensed his nervousness. “Want me to be your first?”
This time he didn’t hesitate.
“Yes.” He whispered, barely breathing as he finally confessed what he had been longing for ever since he turned of age. “Want you so bad.”
You didn’t outwardly show it, but your heart skipped a beat at his admission and the butterflies fluttered uncontrollably.
“Yeah?” You bit your lip to contain the wide smile. “Something tells me that you want to be played with, am I right?”
A whine bubbled past his lips and your smile turned wicked. Oh, you were going to have so much fun with him. You wondered how he would look when you played with his nipples, which you sure would be so sensitive it would have him hard in a heartbeat, or how he looked writhing under you when he was about to cum.
Anticipation thrummed through your veins and you couldn’t believe that after all this time, you finally had the opportunity to give him that kind of pleasure.
“Such a good boy.” You crooned softly and he audibly keened, stretching towards you desperately as you denied him a kiss. “What’s your safeword, baby?”
Midoriya’s head was spinning and his brain was short-circuiting from how unbelievably close you were to him. The sweet smell of your perfume flooded his senses and he swallowed thickly, very much aware of how little clothes you were wearing. You had yet to touch him and he was already a goner.
“S-Safeword?” He stammered out, his eyes shutting automatically as you threaded your fingers through his hair, a small moan breaking through the weighted silence as you scratched his scalp.
You observed his every move, every flutter of his lashes as he fell under your spell without even trying to succumb.
“Mmhm…” You hummed. “A word that you can use at any time and I’ll stop everything.”
A safeword was for both parties but you were fairly sure that you wouldn’t need it, being more experienced than him and aware of your boundaries. But just in case, you whispered that little tidbit of information in his ear so that he wasn’t left out of the loop.
“What if…” Midoriya gulped, restraining himself to keep his hands at his sides no matter how desperately he wanted to kiss you. He wanted to know if they were as soft as they looked. “C-Can’t I just tell you to stop?”
You frowned a tiny bit, not put off by his question but rather how fucked out he looked already. The poor boy was already straining in his pants, the bulge making your mouth water but you kept your head on straight.
“You can.” You agreed. “If that’s what you want, we can do that.”
He glanced away from you, thinking hard. He wasn’t all innocent. He had watched porn before when dared to by Bakugou after one of the class movie nights at Heights Alliance back when they were at UA, and he was embarrassed how quickly he got attached to the videos that had bondage and overstimulation.
It always looked so enticing. He wanted to know what it felt like to be pinned down and overpowered until pleasure rode on every one of his senses.
He wanted you to do that to him.
“W-What about if I just used your name?”
Midoriya cringed as soon as he suggested it and took it back faster than you could react, another idea tumbling out of his mouth in a split second.
“Black?” He whispered, avoiding eye contact with you.
Baby boy blinked so nervously, worried you might refuse or reject him for any reason and you took his chin in between your thumb and forefinger, drawing his face close to yours.
“Alright baby, that’s perfect.” You reassured softly. “Either one of us can use it and then everything stops, okay?”
He nodded, getting more excited as your breath fanned across his lips.
“Need to hear you say it.” You demanded quietly.
His green curly hair bounced as he nodded vigorously. “I understand!!”
Midoriya stiffened for a moment in surprise as you finally pressed your lips against his, sealing his first kiss and he swore his heart stopped beating. Then, he melted into putty as you moved your lips skillfully against his, coaxing him to return it with as much lust and passion as you were igniting within him.
You pulled away to lean in close to his ear, trailing a finger up and down his chest playfully.
“Let me take care of you, Izuku~” You cooed, slyly licking the shell of his ear, savoring in the shiver that shot down his spine as a result of your ministrations.
You continued down, planting hot and wet open-mouthed kisses along his jaw as he whined and wriggled beneath you. Trailing down his neck to his collar bones and then his bare chest as you ripped open his shirt in one swift movement, you pinned his wrists above his head.
A protest ripped from his throat at your display of dominance.
“Y-Y/N!! I wanted to—”
“To what?” You questioned smugly.
Midoriya whimpered pathetically and you smirked.
He blushed, looking away. The boy was built like a bull but was an absolutely softie, innocent pure little bean at heart. He didn’t have what it took to take over.
“You wanted to touch me?” You asked, laving your tongue around one of his sensitive nipples. “You wanted to be on top?”
His face scrunched up at the strange sensation, biting the inside of his cheek to keep from crying out as you bit down on the tender flesh.
You licked your lips seductively, making a show of your tongue grazing over your teeth as you gazed down at him through hooded eyes. “Do you think you deserve to touch me after being such a bad boy?”
You heard him every night. The walls were thin in the cheap apartment complex you lived in. Too thin.
“Don’t touch me until I say so.” You ordered.
You heard every wanton moan that bubbled past his pouty lips, such pretty little sounds that you wanted to hear all for yourself. You were jealous of the others in the vicinity that can undoubtedly hear him as well. The only thing that settled your heart at ease was the luscious cries of your name falling from his lips.
And now, all your neighbors would know just who he belonged to.
Midoriya gulped nervously and you reveled in the adrenaline pumping through your veins at being in control and dominating him. Your shirt rode up as you straddled his hips, and he wriggled beneath you, wanting nothing more than to touch you.
You trailed a finger from his chest all the way to his navel, teasing the waistband of his pants. He whined as you wiggled your ass down to sit comfortably on top of his thighs. Deftly unbuttoning his jeans, your eyes flickered back up to him.
“Oh my, these look so uncomfortable.” You mock pouted, sneakily biting the zipper of his fly and pulling it down. “Do you want me to take them off for you?”
You grinned as he involuntarily bucked his hips up into your feather-light touch, tears collecting at the corner of his eyes in frustration. Slowly pulling down his pants and boxers together, your eyes bugged out as you saw what he was packing.
“Oh…” You mused. “I wasn’t expecting this.”
If you thought he was big, you were dead wrong. This boy was hung as a horse. Well endowed to the max, he was easily packing eight inches and you couldn’t even fit your hands all away around his thick girth.
You stroked him as best as you could but judging by that guttural groan that erupted from his mouth, you’d say you were doing a pretty good job.
“Please!!” Midoriya begged, practically sobbing as you teased him and it was like music to your ears. “Please, Y/N, make me feel good!!”
“Yeah,” You whispered, suckling on the vein that ran on the underside of his stiff member. “You want me to make you cum, baby?”
“Yes, please!!” He cried, fisting the fabric of the sofa, remembering your rule not to touch you yet.
But it was killing him.
The foreplay had made you wet enough to take him and you weren’t keen on waiting another second longer.
Positioning yourself over his leaking head, the tip of his engorged shaft rubbed against your puffy folds as you pushed your thong to the side.
Midoriya’s eyes bulged out of his head as he saw the red lace and he couldn’t stop his hands from shooting to your waist as you threw your shirt up over your head, leaving you in that thin cami that left nothing to the imagination.
“F-Fuck—” You cursed as you sank down on him, thighs trembling from the effort of taking him. “Izuku, baby, you’re so big.”
He was rock hard and pressing against your inner walls just right. It had been so long since someone had filled you up like this and now that you had him, no one even came close to any of those prior.
Midoriya was huffing, moaning uncontrollably as the rush of pleasure he got by being encased in your tight heat so quickly. His hands gripped your hips, kneading the flesh of your ass as he started to rock you back and forth in his lap.
You completely ignored the fact that he disobeyed your order.
“Dumb baby,” You cooed softly. “Does that pussy feel good around your cock? Huh? Tell me.”
“Yes— hhgh, I love it so much, Y/N, you feel so tight, ahh!!” He mewled, unable to think of anything else except how good your cunny felt fluttering around him.
His face was beautifully flushed, unable to tear his gaze off of where his cock had disappeared into you. The sticky wetness smeared against his hip bones made your arousal evident and he was impossibly turned on at the vision in front of him.
You threw your head back as he took over control, gyrating your hips for you before you were even adjusted to his massive length. A breathy moan tumbled out of your lips as his fingers knotted their way into your hair, yanking it back so that your hips canted into him with every thrust.
“I-Izuku!!” You moaned loudly as he roughly and sporadically pounded into you.
You squealed as he pulled you down to his chest to get a better angle, all the breath vanishing from your lungs as he planted his heels and fucked up into you so fast that you would’ve fallen off from the force if he wasn’t holding onto you with an iron grip.
“Sorry, Y/N!!” He broke off with a whine and burrowed his face into your neck as you clenched around him, his hips stuttering. “But I’m about to—”
You shrieked as he released inside of you, painting your walls with his thick, milky white cum. Chest heaving, you pushed him down and straightened up, clicking your tongue.
“Such a selfish baby.” You crooned, controlling your breathing enough to put up a confident front. “I didn’t even get to cum yet.”
His eyes widened in horror at not satisfying you first. “Oh, Y/N, I’m so sorry, I didn’t— Gah!!”
His earnest apology was interrupted as you began bouncing on him again, keen on reaching your high. His spent length twitched inside of you and he whimpered, eyes screwed shut at the pain.
“Y/N!! It… It hurts!!” Midoriya whimpered pitifully, his eyes screwed shut at the overstimulation.
“Aw,” Your smile was sadistic and you threw your ass back into his lap intentionally, causing him to throb within you. “Does it?”
“Yes!!” He cried out. “Fuck, please stop!!”
You pouted sadly, gyrating your hips faster. “But I haven’t even cum yet.”
It was too much. Your words spun with those sinful rocks of your hips was making a lethal mix of pain and pleasure shoot through his system and he whined, pawing at your hips.
“Y/N, please!!” He begged, unsure what he was begging for at this point.
It didn’t take long for him to get hard again. You weren’t sure if his short refractory period was a side effect of his power or the fact that he had just lost his virginity to you and wanted you again, but you were definitely going to oblige him either way.
Midoriya arched into your scalding touch as you leaned down to kiss him once again. Your soft lips and the hot cavern of your mouth distracted him as your tongues danced together and he almost forgot about the fact that he was balls-deep inside of you.
Until you started to move again.
His cry was muffled as you licked it out of his mouth before pulling away.
Your grin widened and you rocked your hips back and forth at a mind-blowing pace, reducing the blubbering boy beneath you into a whimpering mess.
But your confident façade soon vanished as his hands found purchase on your hips and bucked up wildly.
The grin slipped off your face and you whimpered, fingers splaying on his bare chest for balance as he went wild, fucking up into you with abandon.
You could do nothing else other than hold on and pray you wouldn't fall off of him as he took over.
Biting your lip, you desperately tried to regain control. “Izuku—”
He gritted his teeth, ignoring you and your eyes widened as green lightning started to surround his body.
Your eyes widened. “Wait—!”
He didn't.
Your head tipped back and the loudest scream you've ever produced ripped from your throat as he used One for All to completely destroy your pussy. But to your disbelief, he didn’t stop, he didn’t even slow down when you contracted around him.
His hips slammed up into yours at a breaknecking speed and tears blurred your vision as you cried out, sobbing with pleasure as he finally made you cum.
“Y/N, you’re milking my cock so much!!” Midoriya blurted out with a raspy moan as another orgasm spiraled to you and you shrieked, this one hitting harder than the last.
At some point, you blacked out.
When you came to, Midoriya was hovering over you worriedly, his green eyes glistening with concern as he called your name over and over again.
Sitting up with a groan, you realized that he had laid you down on the couch and covered you with a blanket.
“Y/N?” The boy asked, brushing the hair out of your eyes as he sat down by your side.
You offered him a smile, every bone in your body protesting as you sat up. Midoriya was helping you in a second, ignoring your feeble protests that you could do it yourself.
The next minute, he played with his fingers awkwardly.
“Was… Was it good for you?” He asked timidly, blinking his big eyes up at you.
You cracked a smile at how earnest he was. Cutie.
“Of course it was.” You murmured, planting a soft kiss on his forehead before staring straight into his eyes. “You know this means you're mine, right?”
Midoriya blinked his doe eyes, mouth parting slightly. “Eh?!”
You smirked. “Yup.”
“Really?!?!” He asked excitedly, leaning forward to stick his face close to yours and you giggled.
Adorable. Simply adorable.
“Yeah, baby.” You whispered, cupping his face and pecking his freckled cheek. He was so sweet. So pure.
You couldn’t wait to defile him more. Wait until he was exposed to the world of BDSM.
Licking your lips slyly, you smirked. “You’re all mine.”
Taglist: @katsukis-sad-angel
#my hero academia#boku no hero academia#midoriya x reader#midoriya x reader oneshot#smut#midoriya smut#izuku smut#deku smut#deku x reader#izuku x reader#deku x reader smut#izuku x reader smut#midoriya izuku#my hero academia midoriya#deku fanfiction#deku x reader fanfiction#midoriya fanfiction#midoriya oneshot#my hero academia smut#overstimulation#pet names#this is filthy okay xD let me live my life#virigin deku smut#bnhacity#midoriya izuku x reader#midoriya izuku x reader smut#bnha#bnha smut#deku#deku x reader oneshot
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Hello! May I request something for the Bakusquad August (event???) Where the group of friends accidentally and unintentionally keep leaving the reader out?? Like they've been hanging out without the reader, and when they're all having a conversation with each other and the reader tries to say something someone just cuts them off? ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ Then they start noticing the reader's change of behaviour around them and then when they confront the reader about it, reader suddenly breaks down and explains how they've been leaving them out and stuff- Thenn they apologize and the rest is up to you ʕ •́؈•̀ ₎
That turned out way longer than I thought it would be O-O Sorry if it's too specific btw!! I've just been craving a lot of angst with fluff lately (;´༎ຶٹ༎ຶ`) But if you do do it, thank youuu!!!
Forget-Me-Not, Friends! - Bakusquad August Event!
Bakusquad August Masterlist
Pairing: Platonic!Bakusquad x Ex-Bakusquad Member!Reader, Platonic Dekusquad x Dekusquad Member!Reader
Genre: angst, smidge of fluff
a/n: I really like this ask, not done angst for a long time! And I'm deciding that I may keep anonymous asks on forever, because I just never remember to turn them off. Definitely not because I love you guys too much, no no no...
(L/n) sometimes wondered whether [insert pronouns] existed or not, because [insert pronouns] so called ‘friends’ surely didn’t make [insert pronouns] feel that way. It all began on Monday, when the class was talking about what they did over the weekend just before class started. (L/n) had nothing to say, but was excited to see [insert pronouns] friends nonetheless. For some reason, whenever the [insert hair colour]ed [insert gender] try to speak, [insert pronouns] would be ignored, but when Kirishima said the exact same thing, it would erupt in laughter and jokes. It wasn’t fair, but (L/n) was optimistic enough to believe that tomorrow would be a better day. [Insert pronouns] was wrong, so so wrong.
It got worse with every growing day, to the point that Mina would organise hangouts without telling or including [insert pronouns]. To say it hurt was an understatement. (Y/n) drifted away from the group and sat at [insert pronouns] desk, only to see a frowning freckled face, and short-haired brunette above [insert pronouns].
“Are you okay, (L/n)-chan?” (L/n) looked up, it was Ochako speaking. {Insert pronouns] suddenly felt all fuzzy and warm inside, a completely foreign feeling to [insert quirk]-user. None of [insert pronouns] friends had ever added an honorific onto the end of [insert pronouns] name before. In fact, (L/n) couldn’t remember the last time [insert pronouns] and Ochako had had a decent conversation, but she treated the [insert gender] like someone she’d known for years. That’s how friends were supposed to treat each other, right?
“I��m not okay, actually,” (L/n) admitted, sighing sadly, “My quote on quote friends keep ignoring me, it’s really annoying when Kirishima suddenly becomes the funny guy in the room, Mina and Denki plan hangouts without me, and Bakugou, Sero and Jirou don’t even bat an eyelid in my direction.” Deku looked sympathetically at his classmate. He had almost never spoken to [insert pronouns], except at the sports festival when [insert pronouns] had managed to come second place, yet despite this, he knew what it was like to be in (L/n)’s shoes. The freckled boy smiled at his classmates as he proposed they all hung out together. (Y/n) thought about the offer at hand, before quickly accepting. The others didn’t care about [insert pronouns]? Well, [insert pronouns] didn’t care about them either.
An eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth. Or, in this case, and eye for an eye, a friend for a friend.
Days passed, and only then did the Bakusquad notice (Y/n)’s absence. [Insert pronouns] was hanging out with Ochako, Deku and Iida. What went wrong? Were they not fun anymore? Would (L/n) rather spend [insert pronouns] with a bone-breaking teacher’s pet, a rip-off Kirby and a stuck-up stickler for rules? Eyes widened when the [insert quirk]-user would roll [insert pronouns] eyes at Mina and Denki when they offered to hang out with [insert pronouns], (Y/n) would crack side-splitting jokes unintentionally, and never even breathed in Sero, Bakugou and Jirou’s direction.
Enough was enough.
“Oi, (Y/n)-”
“Don’t call me that, only my friends are eligible to call me that.” (Y/n) had [insert pronouns] head held up high, as if [insert pronouns] was looking down at the people before [insert pronouns]. Bakugou scoffed at the behaviour presented before him.
“Stop being so stuck up (Y/n), it’s fuckin’ annoying and childish.” (L/n) rolled [insert pronouns] eyes at the blonde, and spoke up again.
“You know what’s fuckin’ annoying Katsuki? The fact that none of my own so called ‘friends’ can tell whether or not I’m in the room. The fact that you all don’t notice my presence but can notice my absence. The fact that you all hang out without me in peace, but cause trouble when I don’t hang out with you. There’s a reason for that Katsuki, THERE’S A FUCKING REASON.” (L/n) spat out every word like it was venom, coated in poison. {Insert pronouns] was full on ranting, [insert pronouns] voice getting louder and raised at least two octaves with every new sentence. The bakusquad, and everyone in the room at that point, were trembling with how angry and upset their classmate was getting. But, (Y/n) wasn’t going to stop ranting anytime soon, no. {Insert pronouns] had some people to put in their place. Every word was like a slap in the face. Mina was on the verge of tears, Jirou holding her to her chest. (L/n)’s voice cracked.
“Why?”
It took only one word for the heartbroken, grief stricken hero to break apart the Bakusquad. And it took only one word for (Y/n) (L/n) to break down. Iida rubbed his best friend’s shoulder in an attempt to comfort [insert pronouns].
“We’ll be going now.” Iida, (L/n), Deku and Ochako walked away from the Bakusquad.
And, with that, the Bakusquad was no more.
“We’re sorry.”
#ainsley writes#mha#bnha#bnha x you#boku no hero academia#mha x reader#mha x you#my hero academia#bakugou x y/n#bakugou x reader#bakugou x you#kirishima x you#kirishima x y/n#kirishima x reader#denki x y/n#denki x you#denki x reader#sero x reader#sero x y/n#sero x you#mina x you#mina x reader#mina x y/n#jirou x reader#jirou x y/n#jirou x you#bakusquad august#bakusquad august event#dekusquad x reader
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you want it that bad don’t you?;
❥ 5k words | nsfw | mafia au | levi x reader
❥ being in the mafia isn’t fun and games— and levi has no problem reminding you.
❥ content: gun kink, rough sex, “sir” kink (?)
you tapped on your crossed legs as you sat in the waiting room, adjusting the black skirt that sat pretty on your legs, in anticipation and slight nervousness. hange rambled beside you, and you tried not to block her out but your own thoughts were quite captivating. you weren't sure how it happened but you fucked up big time, and you weren't sure how ready you were to face the repercussions.
"i mean how did you even manage that, ___? did you just shoot him in the head and go 'oh shit, i killed him.', you're in some sh-" you cut hange off with your own leveled tone, chuckling slightly at the irony of the situation.
"i know, hange, i know. it went something like that..." you shook your head and raised an eyebrow at her as she began laughing, the eyepatch over her eye raising up in the slightest as her cheeks did causing you to smile, a little light in the dark moment you were bound to face.
armin stepped out with a worried expression on his face, sympathy crossing it when he spotted your figure tensely lounging in the lobby chair. he nodded his head at you as you stood up nervously, you'd hope your relations with the underboss would save you. he gave you a shy half-smile and hange covered her mouth with an 'oooo' causing you to glare at her and shush her, your life was ‘at stake’ and her jokes weren't helping. "uh, ____... don levi is.. he's ready for you." armin's voice shook as he spoke, he seemed more worried than you.
"don't worry armin, i'll be fine." you reassured the timid boy. sometimes you wondered how he even got into the mafia, his short stature and soft looks were sure to be underestimated until he kicked ass, not to mention his intelligence probably made up where he was lacking.
"are you sure about that? did you see the way he kicked eren's ass just for him to even GET in the mafia? you're gon-"
"hange! please." you put up a hand to still hange's voice.
"better be lucky you're not taking this up with boss erwin." hange continued, causing you to earn another sympathetic look from armin.
you turned around to face hange, your eye twitching. did she know who you were dealing with? "you mean unlucky? i rather have him any day."
"okay, okay, i don't want to get in trouble too let's go!" armin ushered you to the grand door of the underboss' office, your heart thumping at what, or better yet; who would lie beneath it. you’d better whip something up before you entered the gates of hell.
armin knocked at the door twice before slowly opening it, he mumbled something to levi before looking back at you and opening the door wider, you took slow steps into the brightly lit office, the curtains on the windows in the back drawn shut so that the only light illuminating the office were the luxurious lamps that detailed every corner. you took multiple steps forward until the only thing separating you and the devil himself was a brown polished oak desk that was carved to perfection. beyond it? the intimidating subordinate of the boss, levi ackerman, his pristine hands supporting his face as his legs crossed. his black trench coat that you knew costed more than you would make from any mission adorning the brown leather seat that he sat on, his posture perfect just like every strategically placed strand of hair on his head.
you breathed in and put on your most charming smile, keeping your hands behind your back as you bowed at a 90 degree angle, if bowing all the way to your feet would save you, your head would've been drilled into the ground right about now.
"don levi, my favorite person." you started, as he eyed you intently, the scowl on his face growing by every minute you were in his presence. he stayed silent for a good moment before uncrossing his legs, the fabric on his jeans seeming to become cleaner by every dust of his hand.
"what happened." he snarled, hoping you would have a good reason that your captive was dead, which meant the mafia no longer had the upper hand on their enemies now. yes, you knew you fucked up big time.
"okay, so well.. you see, we were heading towards the hideo-"
"not that far back you brat. stop wasting breath and get to the point. why is our captive dead?" he snapped, leaning forward on his desk, your breath hitching in the slightest.
you took a step forward and placed all eight tips of your fingers on the wood tapping them slightly as you looked at levi with a face that showed remorse on all levels. "sir, the captive was seated in the back of the vehicle with us. his restraints were loosening and he was yelling at everybody in the truck, especially to me, the one with the gun." you started, puppy dog eyes beginning to grace your face as if that would help. "the whole time he was cutting the restraints with a knife when he was back in the seat, an-"
"and why did no one catch this?" levi interrupted, his face growing even more furious by the second you spoke.
"because... well we were all trying to get him to calm down, and-"
"for fucks sake weren't you brats trained to catch shit like this? now we're facing repercussions because he's dead."
"i didn't mean to kill him-"
"but you did. he's fucking dead, how did he die, caporegime?" he didn't even use your name, the way he addressed you by your title making you cringe in the slightest, backing away from the desk as he stood up and came around the desk, a gun slinging in his hand that wasn't supporting his weight as he now leaned against the table, waiting for your response.
"commander... i, he, he was waving the knife around and the truck, the vehicle was starting to go off of the road because," you took a huff of breath as you pulled your thin trench coat that was falling off your shoulders more over to conceal the small skirt and button up you had underneath. you crossed your legs as you stood, your black heels clinking as they shuffled on the ground. "well, i panicked,"
"you panicked?" levi scoffed.
"i came up with the best solution, which was to shoot him." you answered bluntly as you stared at levi, his eyes narrowing at you. you took a small step forward as he sighed. "levi-"
"the best fucking solution, ____?" great, back to a first name basis, "what happened to all the years you fucking trained for shit like this? you know combat and so does everyone else in the damn truck!" he began to come forward to you, gun moving around a little to reckless for your liking and you backed up even more.
"lev-, commander, sir, it was an accident! or else, everyone else and i would be dead!"
"an accident? tch? now if i shot you right now would it be an accident, ____?"
your back hit the wall as levi cornered you, the barrel of the gun now touching the cream colored walls as did your head. although levi was short, you were still deathly intimidated, your chest noticeably heaving up and down as the flimsy trench coat was pooling at your elbows, the button up your wore revealing your cleavage, and you sure didn't miss the small gaze from the underboss, his steely eyes connecting with yours once more.
you tried not to let the small smirk become noticeable on your face as you tilted your head up in the slightest, side eyeing the gun to your left then raising an eyebrow at levi directly in front of you.
"but you won't?" your response came off more as a question then an answer, you're nervousness still racking as levi's eyed widened in the slightest at the small disappearance of fear in your eyes.
anybody else in your position would've probably been beaten to a pulp right about now, or even dead. but luckily for you, your small relations with the underboss was saving your ass altogether.
the gun was lifted from the wall and slipped its way into your mouth harshly, and you could hear the 'chink' of the trigger as he cocked it back, your mouth struggling to close around the barrel. you could taste the steel of the device and you felt the coldness of the gun that matched the cold gaze that was upon you. you let your tongue slide around the front of the gun.
you were playing a risky game.
you placed your hands on levi's chest, causing the gun to falter in your mouth as he dragged it down to your chin. "levi, baby," he cringed, eye twitching at the lack of honorific as you let your hands glide down the tie around his neck, your trench coat dragging on the floor behind you as you walked forward, levi stepping back, still in contact with you.
"i can fix this.." you mumbled, causing the underboss to grab your wrists with one hand and swing them down to your sides, pinching the bridge of his nose as he walked back to his desk, refusing to be lead on by you. he knew his position and regardless of what you do or did with him, he couldn't let the way the coat lingered off your body, or the way the two buttons of your button up revealed the thin lace trimming of your bra, or the way your skirt was riding up as you were backed into the wall fool or distract him. he sat back in his seat and used his hands to speak, the gun in his hand flailing around as well.
"how can you fucking fix this? you're gonna get another hostage, huh? you know how hard it was to get him? you gonna deal with his fucking body? remember where you fucking stand _____."
you slowly walked towards levi, letting your coat fall completely onto the floor, levi going on his rant as you got on your knees in front of the tall leather rolling chair placing your hands on the matching black leather belt that levi wore, caressing it, letting your hands move side to side on it.
"i can fix this."
you looked up at levi with a look of sultry, the way your eyelashes only let a slight shimmer of your eyes seep through as you looked up at him, and the way that extra layer of gloss that coated your lips could be imagined around his dick made him let out a shaky breath as he gripped the gun in his hand tighter.
"get under the desk."
you stopped yourself from grinning as you used all fours to crawl, levi avoiding your gaze. once you were seated under the desk you took it upon yourself to unbutton another button, thanking the heavens that you decide to go for the dress shirt instead the other white mock neck that's still sitting in your closet of your studio apartment. you pushed up the black lace bra that you wore up to accentuate your breasts as levi twirled his seat until you were enclosed under the desk fully.
you began to unbuckle his belt, your hands lingering a little longer on the silver buckle before you unhooked it and folded it neatly, placing it on the floor beside you as to not anger levi any further. after all, he still had the steel weapon in his hand, as a matter of fact his arm hung loosely over the side of his chair, the gun in close range to you.
as you tugged at levi's unzipped pants he lifted his hips in the slightest to help you pull the jean fabric down, pulling his member out of the slit in his grey boxers. you smiled a little at the way it stood proudly because of you and looked up at levi who was now looking down at you, although he still avoided your eyes. you noted the permanent crease between his brows making his expression look even more angry. at what? you weren't sure, maybe it was your shit execution at your mission, or the fact that he was faltered and was letting you do this during his office hours.
you loved yourself.
before you could wrap your hands around levi's length he used his free hand to pull slightly on your ponytail that held your slicked hair back. "don't make a mess." he muttered before you placed your slender fingers around him. he sucked in a breath as you licked at his tip, his dick feeling like it was growing with every touch you made around him. the effect you had was incredible.
"yes, levi."
"sir."
"yes, sir."
maybe on any other day you wouldn't be so quick to comply, you had a bite to you, but you knew your limits and today wasn't the day. you puckered your lips and kissed the tip of levi's cock before going down on it letting it reside in the wet, warm heat of your mouth. "mm," you relished in the way it felt heavy on your tongue, and you let it sit there for a moment before beginning to bob your head up and down.
levi removed his hand from your hair, relaxing under you and letting out a shaky sigh, he didn't want to let you know how much he was actually enjoying this rendezvous but oh, you knew. you probably would have been more oblivious if it wasn't for the mere whimpers and grunts that left him, or if it wasn't for how silent the room was besides those same sounds that he stopped before they could vocally leave his throat.
you opened your mouth and swirled your tongue around his member, using your hands to get what you couldn't reach at the base of his cock, twisting your hands slightly as your worked at the top. you then placed your hands on his lap and picked yourself up in the slightest to go down on him as far as possible, humming, sending the vibrations down on his dick, the sensation running through his body. a slight shudder left levi, him preventing himself from bucking up into your mouth which he knew would cause a mess.
"did you like that, sir?" you pulled yourself off his tip for a brief moment, in an attempt to tease levi without you know... tempering the man. you continued to work at him with your hands as you looked up at him, fluttering your eyes and keeping your mouth open ajar. your lips were reddened and your lip gloss would need to be reapplied later.
"who told you to stop?"
you let out a small chuckle which you hoped levi didn't hear, and if he did he didn't comment on it because you hurriedly slipped him back in your mouth, giving a particularly hard suck that made whatever he maybe wanted to say stop short with a moan that he quickly covered up with a clearing of his throat.
you were so stuck on pleasuring the underboss that you didn't even realize it when he lifted the gun and twirled the chamber until it landed on an empty spot, before he shot it directly at in front of him to clear the cocked gun, returning it to its neutral state. the sound of the pressurized air leaving the barrel made you jolt and your teeth grazed his length as your jaw tightened, your heart rate speeding up until you realized you were fine.
but that didn't convince the snoopers lingering outside the door.
"i knew she was gonna die." hange shook her head with a pout as she sat beside the door to the office, not even worried about the risk of getting caught. "she didn't make a noise... hm, i'll never underestimate levi's aim again." she let out a small gasp. "imagine if he heard me calling him levi! i'd probably end up like ____." hange clutched her chest as she let out a small laugh, shaking her head once again at your expense and at her joke.
meanwhile, armin was pacing back and forth in front of the door trying to stop his tears from spilling. "hange! how can you joke about this when, when she could really be dead! you know lev- don levi would really... no, she can't be dead. i'm gonna check."
hange closed her eyes and tilted her head back as she listened to armin. "you know that's a bad idea! imagine if you went in there and there's just like blood everywhere, like-"
"hange!"
"well besides the blood, he'd probably shoot you too so there would be no witnesses. i'm just kidding, you'd just be in a bad spot. oh, but ma-“
"that's it, i'm going in." armin was shaking as he knocked on the polished door, making sure to use his small handkerchief to wipe off any marks his knuckle could've made. "sir, is everything alright?" his voice was awkwardly unleveled, it cracking halfway through his sentence.
levi's hand flew to your hair as he pulled it back in the slightest to stop your motions. "sh." he made sure he was presentable just in case, setting the now uncocked gun down on the desk before clearing his throat. "is there something you need subordinate arlert?" levi spit out his words in slight frustration.
armin twisted the door knob, looking away in fear at the sight of blood, gaze focused on hange who sat on the floor to the side of the door. "no, i, i just was making sure everything was okay, i... i heard a gunshot."
you smirked at the sound of armin's voice now clearer as he spoke. you thought for a second...
you know what? you decided to take a risk.
levi's grip in your hair was looser as he focused more on him and armin's small conversation instead of you and you took it as an opportunity to do the same hard suck you did earlier, levi's breath hitching, cause his voice to falter as he spoke to armin, his grip on your ponytail tightening once more.
"and that would be your business because, brat?"
you smiled at your success, trying to move your tongue despite the heat from your scalp as levi expressed his anger through his hold.
armin gulped and squeezed his eyes shut. "very well, sir. i'll be shutting the door now."
"and don't interrupt me again, that goes for you and anyone else in the hall."
"yes, sir."
and with that, you heard the heavy door shut and you knew what was to come. levi yanked your head back a scowl on his face as he watched your head abruptly bob backwards off his member, you licking your lips innocently.
"what the hell is wrong with you? do you have an actual fucking death wish?" he hissed, your ponytail feeling like it could rip off at any given moment.
"what if we got caught, huh?" levi rolled his eyes and scoffed in shock at your carelessness. he was such a tough nut to crack. "fuck..."
"levi, rel-"
"it's fucking sir. commander, captain, stop addressing me like we're equals." he let go of your hair and moved his steel grip to your shirt, gathering the white fabric in his hands as he pulled his chair back, pulling you from underneath the desk, panic ensuing in you. he pushed you back until your thighs hit his desk causing it to scoot back in the slightest as you stopped yourself from flying back with your hands.
"cap-"
"shut up. every word that comes from your mouth is irritating me."
you pursed your lips and watched levi study your face, his gaze constantly flickering down to your body as well, watching your disheveled form as your chest heaved up and down. frankly, you were afraid to even move, you were sure one more mistake from you would've made him burst. but, as you watched levi pull his member back through his slit you opened your mouth anyways. "commander, please." you didn't want to be left hanging, the wetness that was pooling in your own underwear wasn't going to fix itself.
"what could you possibly want." he stopped his motions for a minute, the desperate expression on your face reeling him in slightly.
you were frozen for a second, before you scoot back on his desk and pulled your skirt up it bunched up at your waistline. you hastily looked around before you grabbed the gun that was sat beside you and put on your best seductive expression. “captain..."
you spread your legs as you rubbed yourself overtop of the matching lace fabric of your bra, the newfound sensation causing you to bite your lip. you pushed aside your underwear as you teased yourself, letting your slick gather over the tip of the gun. you made sure levi was watching before you pulled it away and examined the tip before bringing it to your lips and slowly licking up your own secretions while looking up at levi, not missing the way his eye twisted, or the faint red that tinted his pale cheeks.
he stepped forward and you tried to contain your smile for the one thousandth time that night, before he grabbed the gun from your hands, staring you straight in the eyes and huffing, turning around. "captain!" you couldn't stop now, you grabbed his wrist and pulled him towards you until the tip of the gun was pressed against you once more the cold metal making your breath stutter.
your body tensed up, holding in a whimper as you looked at levi with a pout, using your other hand to turn his face towards you, your thumb brushing over his bottom lip.
his upper lip twitched as his eyes flickered down to your own. levi leaned forward until both of you were face to face. he leaned even closer so that your noses barely touched until you were staring deep into his rocky eyes, flecks of black outlining the grey, and then there was the abyss of his pupils.
"you want it that bad don't you?"
you whimpered again and your eyes fluttered. you let go of his wrist and placed both of your hands behind you on the desk, nodding your head. "yes, sir." you felt like you repeated for the umpteenth time.
"tch," levi glared at you before pulling down his boxers. "desperate, dirty."
and you didn't even care because you won, like you did most of the time.
you layed down on the desk causing levi to twitch as your head touched his papers, him quickly moving them to the floor and making sure nothing would fall or collapse, although he kept his desk mostly empty. you couldn't recall any pictures family members decorating the desk, the only thing you could remember probably being a stapler, papers, and maybe a nameplate. "mm, thank you captain." you smiled as you layed back and pulled your black undergarment off, sitting it beside you instead of flinging it onto the floor.
levi didn't respond as he grabbed your hips and pulled you forward, positioning himself at your entrance. you anticipated the way he would slide into you like he did everytime, slowly and carefully, always studying your expression to make sure he wasn't hurting you, and so he did this time as well. you groaned at the sensation of him entering you, every inch filling you up completely and you struggled not to make much noise, trying not to give any hints to what was happening in the large room. "sir..." you hissed as you felt him bottom out inside you.
levi groaned at the feeling of him being buried inside you completely, tilting his head down to look at the way he disappeared you completely, his mouth hanging open in the slightest, and it made you feel special. the way you were in this position, as other people could barely touch him.
"do i feel good?" you asked, propping yourself up on your forearms to see him inside you as well. levi didn't answer as he began to move inside of you, the wet noises of him pulling in and out raw filling up the room, causing you to throw your head back as you whined. "please, you can go faster."
levi did just that, picking up his pace, voluntarily rocking his hips as he moved inside of you causing the desk to shake. you moved your legs to the side of him and pulled him closer to you so he could hit deeper, careful not to let your heels touch his top. "fuck, le-, sir... i know you can go faster than that." you groaned.
levi clicked his tongue and his pace picked up again, him now initially slamming into you with every hit of your hips against each other, a slapping noise eliciting everytime, and your breasts now bouncing up and down from how hard he was pounding into you. "you gonna stop complaining now?"
his voice caught you off guard, as you looked up at him, your eyes half lidded, your mouth in an o-shape, and him staring back at you, his skin slightly shining almost as if he was about to sweat, and your skin reciprocating. "fuck, yes... it feels so fucking good."
you could feel that sensation tumbling in your stomach with every stroke, you're breathing become ragged as you tried to grab at the desk, you tightening around levi. “i think, i think i'm gonna come." you voiced, your eyebrows furrowing as you tried to concentrate on the feeling bubbling up inside of you. "can you make me?" you teased again as you threw your head back and arched your back, trying to make levi talk again. you could tell he wasn't the vocal type during sex. or maybe it was because you were in an office.
levi pulled one of your legs from behind him and scooted your body up on the desk, pushing your leg towards your chest as he looked up at you, his own mouth hanging open as he grunted with every hard thrust.
"remember where you stand, ____."
he drilled you harder, every thrust he made shaking your body and causing his dick to almost leave you completely every time, before burying you completely as well.
"yes, sir."
"call me that again," levi shut his eyes tight as he bit his lip trying to conceal his moans, forcing your leg down some more, pounding into you trying to reach his own high, his own feeling trying to crawl its way to the surface, he wasn't even worried about a mess at this point, the sound of his name plate clattering to the floor not even making him open his eyes.
"fuck sir, i'm almost there, please!" you whispered as you looked down to see your wetness gathering at levi's base, and that made you tumbled over the edge as you cried out, feeling every nerve in your body pinch as you climaxed, your forearms dropping to the table causing your back to hit the desk before you arched it. "levi!" you whimpered as he went even faster his own climax teasing him.
"fuck," he groaned softly before letting go of your leg and grabbing your hips, pulling you towards him as he released inside of you, letting his cum seep into you, a ragged breath leaving his throat before he hissed pulling out of you.
the both of you caught your breath and you rolled off of his desk with a smile despite your legs being wobbly while you stumbled to grab your underwear.
"hey," levi started as he wiped himself clean with a napkin he kept inside his desk. "don't get that anywhere." he used his head to motion down to your cunt.
"oh? your cum?" you knew he what he was talking about, and you laughed. "don't worry. i'm thinking about keeping this in me for a little while." you bit your lip as you pulled up your panties, patting them before you pulled down your skirt and started to button up your top again.
levi gave you a disgusted expression and sighed before shaking his head and spraying down his desk, wiping it down and placing his belongings back where they were while you dressed yourself up again, him already have gone through that process.
you picked up your trench coat off the floor in front of levi's desk before walking up to him slowly. "sir," you smiled, adjusting his tie, his irritated expression making you chuckle. "i told you i'd make it up to you."
levi scoffed and backed away, placing his miniature cleaning products back in his drawer after cleaning his weapon, and using the small cologne bottle in his desk to try to cover up the faint smell of sex in his office.
"you just make sure you get your situation under control. that's still not over. get two subordinates to help you out and get this shit fixed by the end of the week. you're not off the hook, and i still have to review this with boss erwin, i'm still under him."
you raised your eyebrow and scoffed. "so much for that god complex earlier." you mumbled as you walked away and towards the door.
"what?"
"nothing, captain."
"get out."
"alright, alright." you giggled as you tied the waist of your trench coat and opened the door to his office before stepping out.
"thank goodness, you're alive, we thought you died!" you were squeezed into a hug by armin and hange, hange hugging your feet as she was seated on the floor and armin's arms around your waist.
"what?" you questioned, pulling both of them off of you.
"so how'd you do it? how are you standing here to this minute, ____?" hange asked dramatically, shaking your legs as she spoke.
"hange what the hell, get up. what are you guys talking about?"
"we thought he killed you.." armin whispered, as his eyes darted between the door and your confused face.
you rolled your eyes and crossed your arms, beginning to walk away from the door and towards the staircase of the building.
"please," you smirked to yourself as you added a small strut to your walk. "not in a million years. he wouldn't kill me."
trust and believe, you knew where you stood.
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The Rotten Apple 🍎: Part 3
I am participating in @wackydrabbles prompt # 121 Use Your Words which will appear in bold. Because Ellie is who she is, she uses the prompt twice. #i cant with this chick.
This continues on!!!!! To catch up on what you’ve missed so far please click:
The Rotten Apple 🍎
The Book: TRH/TRF (Future Ellie Rys Walker)
Pairings: Liam x Riley / Ellie x ?)
Word Count: 1533
Warnings: Profanity, mention of past sexual experience. Attempted stabbing sort of... You’ll see.
Rating: PG-13
Nico is my own character, all others belong to PB, though I REALLY want to take credit for Ellie cuz this chick is only inspired by PB in name only.
Song Inspiration for this chapter: Hold Me, Thrill Me, Kiss Me, Kill Me by U2:
I don’t own rights to the music.
Original Post Update: 11/20/21 at 7:27PM EST.
When Ellie pulled the covers back, she knew he would blatantly stare at her body , as men were so predictable. Ellie in this instance only was her mother’s daughter. Ellie was very aware from puberty, that men found her very attractive. She looked just like her mother. Riley Brooks, when she came to Cordonia was beautiful, and her mother still was; she still had her thick hourglass shape after years of child bearing to give the King of Cordonia heirs. She did well at it, three out of four of her children carry the royal bloodline of Cordonia. Riley could still turn her King's head rather quickly.
Ellie had a body type very reminiscent of her mother when she came to Cordonia. Nico bit his lip as his eyes greedily took in her form for a few moments, before he averted his eyes pushing the covers to cover her body; Nico's breath quickened.
“Princess, why are you here? We couldn’t have done what it looks like we did?”
“First off, Princess isn’t what you were calling me last night Nico. I’m not into that particular brand of kink. Despite popular belief, not all royals like to be called by their honorifics in bed.”
She glanced down at the sheet.
“And it’s obvious that you enjoy looking at my body, because I can see every inch of you erect under that thin sheet. I have to leave soon, we shouldn’t let that go to waste.”
Ellie gripped his leg, and he slapped her hand away.
Nico was not convinced at all at what appeared to have taken place.
“I asked you to leave Eleanor. And you left… I remember.”
“Do you remember kissing me, and the way you fondled my body? You touched me.”
His face reddened, but touching did not mean he had done what this situation looked like.
Nico quickly became accusatory towards the crown princess but respectfully.
“Is this a game to you? Why are you trying so hard to convince me I did this with you? When I know I couldn’t, I wouldn’t? What is it that you truly want from me, Princess Eleanor? And I don’t think sex is it.”
“Couldn’t was definitely not in your vocabulary last night, while you were fucking me Nico.”
“Stop that! Something feels very off about this Princess Eleanor, do you think I’m stupid or something? I know myself well.”
Time to go for the jugular. She thought, Ellie’s eyes filled with tears.
“Why are you treating me this way? Like I’m the villain here? I am the one that found you last night. Lonely, craving the touch of a woman. That pain, in your eyes, that’s there right now, wasn’t there last night when we were together. It was replaced with something else. I was there for you when you needed me most, on a very basic carnal level.”
Ellie got out of bed slipping back on her gown and robe, wiping the tears from her eyes.
“Now I know you just used me for a moment of pleasure. Did you ever think the reason every relationship you’ve ever been in fails is because it’s your fault, for your lack of trust in people?”
Nico looked shocked and taken back by her words. His features had softened and she could start to see a look of guilt in his eyes.
“Princess Eleanor……”
“Leave me alone!!!”
She allowed herself to burst into tears in front of him as she quickly slipped by him running out of his room.
When Ellie was what she thought to be a decent distance from his room, she wiped the tears from her eyes, and a slow smile crept across her face.
“I Got you now Nico Karahalios.”
Several hours later
Ellie was sitting in her first class at the Crown Academy when her phone beeped.
"Eleanor, we need to talk."
"New phone who dis?"
“You know who this is.”
Ellie's phone began to ring.
Her professor gave Ellie a look as she went to walk out of the classroom; Ellie came up with a quick lie.
"It's my father. You know, the King of this country."
"Make it quick, Princess Eleanor."
Ellie raised an eyebrow.
"Or take your time and send the King my regards."
Ellie walked out of the classroom.
"Hello?" Ellie responded with a hint of playfulness to her voice.
"You know it's me. We need to talk."
"Come get me."
"Eleanor, I'm still on leave."
"Well then you don't want to talk then do you Nico?"
She hung up on him.
She smirked at her phone.
Within the hour, the classroom phone rang.
"He's here now? On the way to my class?"
The professor looked at Ellie.
"Gather your things Eleanor. Your guard is on the way here now."
There was a knock on the door.
Nico stood at the door in his signature black King's Guardman suit and black sunglasses. He looked cleanly shaven; he looked like his normal self.
"The King requests the Princess Immediately."
Ellie gathered her things together at a snail's pace with a slight smirk.
"Well don't keep the King waiting, Princess Eleanor."
She still continued gathering her things slowly.. She could tell by the way his face was positioned even with his shades on, Nico was intently watching her.
As they walked down the hall, him a few paces ahead of her, surveying the area for any threats not knowing the real threat….was Ellie herself. At least to him anyway.
"The King requests me urgently?"
"Yes, Your Highness." Nico confirmed as they past several staff members.
Ellie laughed softly.
Finally outside the building Ellie speaks to him in a matter of fact voice.
"My parents are in Italy, Nico."
"You're playing games Princess, and I am not your toy. I asked to talk to you. We really need to talk."
"And I told you to come get me."
"And I did even though I don't know how I am to explain that I came to get you when I am technically still on leave."
"Do you believe something happened between us, Nico?"
"I do not, Princess Eleanor; it makes no sense."
He pulled through the gate up to the royal entrance to the palace, opening the door for her.
Ellie glared at him.
"So nothing happened between you and I?"
"No Eleanor, nothing happened, I don't understand what your motive is with me here, but I will figure it out.. Figure… you out."
"Then why is it I know that when you come you grunt phrases in Greek? It was pretty easy to figure out what the word grigorótera means. It's faster, am I right?"
Nico looked surprised, and started to speak but stammered.
Ellie scoffed and was annoyed at him. "Use your words."
She impatiently tapped her foot at him. “I’m done with this. If you don’t mind, I'm going to enjoy the rest of my afternoon relaxing by the pool.”
Nico grabbed her arm while she pushed her way by him.
He immediately let go when he saw the absolutely dark and furious look on the Crown Princess’s face.
“My apologies,Your Highness. I shouldn’t have…..”
“Yes. There are a lot of things you SHOULDN’T have done.”
With her parents away in Italy and her siblings still at school, Ellie was left to her own devices. Being still early in the afternoon and it being a warm sunny day, she decided to go for a dip in the pool. Ellie thumbed through her multiple bathing suits with a critical eye, looking for just the right one. She settled on one she had only worn once that upon revealing herself in it, the King nearly lost his mind. King Liam was rather protective over his daughters and his wife when it came to their attire.
Ellie seductively walked out to the pool in her barely there bikini. knowing she was being watched picking a lounge chair in the sun to meticulously rubbing sunscreen over her body.
“Ellie…. He’s not going to fall for it. This is a fool’s errand.”
“It isn’t Father. He’s just trying to resist right now. Besides, I've planted doubt. He’ll come to me again.”
She thought he would show himself, but he didn’t, but she knew... he was watching her the whole time.
That evening as she had just settled into her bed, flicking off the night table lamp she heard something on her balcony.
Instead of calling for security, she grabbed the stiletto Aunt Liv had given her for her birthday.
Ellie crept to the balcony door, opening it, and swiftly stabbed the night air with the stiletto. He grabbed her arm mid air and twisted the stiletto out of her hand before pushing her back into the room.
“Jesus Christ! Are you trying to kill me?” Nico exclaimed in a forced whisper putting the stiletto on her dresser.
Yes.
“No. Why are you here Nico?”
“You tried to tempt me with your display earlier.”
“Since you’re here, it looks like it worked.”
Nico stared at her in silence.
“I told you to use your words.”
He stepped closer to her. She was surprised by the look in his eyes.
“Do we really need them for what I’m about to do to you?”
She smirked at him. “No.”
Well.....Ellie was right.
#bebepac writes#the rotten apple#wacky drabbles#liam x riley forever#evil drake#evil ellie rys#trh fanfic#trh fandom#trf fanfic#trf fandom#play choices#choices fic writers creations
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