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little-mad · 3 years

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Downsides of Thievery Pt. 1

~ Next Part ~

“Maybe stealing from an interdimensional diplomat wasn’t my greatest idea,” Gavin thought to himself from his current position in a jail cell.

He’d been hesitant about the job right away. Stealing from humans was one thing, but stealing from alteons was on a whole new level. However, the payment the client had offered Gavin had been too tantalizing to refuse. Who knew it was bad to be greedy?

“Shit,” he grumbled under his breath. How was he supposed to know the diplomat would have some weird magical artifact thing that could detect and identify trespassers? That was just unfair. Gavin was a good thief, so good that he’d managed to make a career out of it. If he had been caught due to his own ineptitude maybe he wouldn’t be so peeved. But this was just a matter of not having enough information. Thus making it unfair.

Prison was something every criminal feared, but it was also something every criminal prepared for in some sense. If Gavin was headed for prison, he might not be so worried. Sure it would suck, but at least he felt sure his undeniable charms would make him friends in no time. But Gavin wasn’t headed for prison--no, he was being extradited to the alteon dimension.

Gavin shivered at the thought. Despite having stolen from one, he had never actually seen an alteon in person. Pictures and videos could only do so much, at least that’s what people said. Apparently the true gravity of an alteon’s massive size couldn’t be understood until you saw one in real life.

Not only would Gavin quite literally be put in the hands of an alteon, but he would also be getting taken to a completely different dimension that only a few very important humans had ever visited before. Maybe he should’ve felt special.

Were the circumstances different, Gavin might’ve even felt excited for the adventure. His work had taken him all over the world, it would be thrilling to get to see a whole new one. However, he had a feeling he wouldn’t exactly be getting the grand tour.

It was at that moment that Gavin began to hear footsteps approaching his cell. A few moments later, two business-suit clad federal agents appeared. Gavin scrambled to his feet and took several unconscious steps towards the back wall. The key jangling in one of the agents’ hands told him exactly what time it was.

“Your ride is here,” the female agent announced, a slight smirk playing at the corner of her lips.

Gavin scowled.

The key carrying agent swiftly unlocked the door and beckoned for Gavin to exit the cell. “Come on, we don’t have all day,” he stated impatiently.

“Aren’t you going to cuff me or something?” Gavin questioned, taking note of the fact that neither agent had brought handcuffs with them.

The woman’s smirk grew but she remained silent. “The alteon won’t need cuffs to restrain you,” the man responded.

Gavin instantly felt the pit of fear in his stomach grow. Horrible images of himself trapped in gigantic hands were invading his mind. Being given over to the alteons meant that his civil rights would be essentially irrelevant. Unless alteons had laws protecting humans, which he doubted, then they could do pretty much whatever they wanted with him. Gavin swallowed hard.

“A-actually, I’m okay staying here…” he stammered. God, he hated how pathetic he sounded. Gavin’s line of work required a lot of guts, and while a healthy dose of caution was always good, he had never considered himself to be cowardly in any sense of the word. But now...well now he felt like the biggest fraidy cat in the whole world.

The male agent gave Gavin what almost seemed like a sympathetic look. “Sorry, but that’s not an option,” he said, once again making a beckoning motion with his hand.

“Dad was right. I should’ve become a doctor,” Gavin thought miserably to himself as he very reluctantly exited his cell.

The trip up from the cell block to the roof of the building pretty much felt like a march to death. Federal employees stared unabashedly at the man practically being sacrificed to giants. Some wore looks of pity, while others had smug expressions on their faces, as if to say “serves him right.” Were Gavin in a better mood he probably would have scowled at the nosy jerks, or at least stuck his tongue out at them. But as things were, he was in no mood.

Rael sighed as he shifted his feet impatiently. It didn’t elude him that every human in the vicinity stiffened at his movement. He refrained from rolling his eyes. It was irritating how the humans constantly acted so skittish all the time, as if he would suddenly go on some sort of rampage.

“Why did they have to give me this assignment?” Rael mentally groaned.

Unlike many of the members of the Imperial Guard, he hadn’t joined with some idiotic fantasy of glorious duels and honorable battlescars. Rael joined because he knew it was the easiest way to elevate his station. Plus standing guard at the palace was easy work that he was perfectly content with. That’s why he had been less than pleased when he'd been informed he would have to venture to the human dimension to retrieve some human criminal.

Prior to today, Rael had only seen a human once, it had been from a distance and only for a second as they were being escorted into the palace. Therefore, he’d had no personal reason to dislike humans. It was just that from everything he had heard about them, they sounded so...annoying. And so far, his experiences with them today had proven that to be fairly accurate.

Rael suppressed a sigh as he glanced around. Thankfully the building he’d been told to go to was at the edge of a human city, meaning he wouldn’t have to put up with civilians gawking at him. The federal agents gathered on the roof in front of him were bad enough.

The stories about how giant being in the human realm would make you feel rang true. Rael felt positively colossal next to people who looked to be barely taller than his fingers. Not to mention the building he was standing beside, which appeared to be three stories, reached no higher than his knees. “Humans are lucky our imperialistic urges died a century ago,” Rael thought. Taking over the human realm would no doubt be a piece of cake, even with their supposed technological advancements.

“Sir!” Rael’s attention was caught by the shout of one of the humans standing on the roof below. He looked down to see the speaker was the woman who appeared to be in charge. “We apologize for the wait, the prisoner is being brought up now,” she announced. It was almost amusing, the way they had to yell for their tiny voices to even be perceived by him.

“Good,” Rael responded simply, electing not to mention the fact that the prisoner should’ve been ready and waiting for him when he arrived.

After a few minutes, Rael caught sight of the door on the roof entrance swing open. Three humans stepped out. The two dressed similarly to all the other federal agents practically had to drag the third one out. It was difficult for Rael to see from so far away, but the odd one out appeared to be a young man. He had light skin, a crop of messy brown hair, and appeared to be quite slim.

Rael raised a single eyebrow. “This is the prisoner?” he questioned as he eyed the man. He didn’t look like much, which was applicable to pretty much all humans, but Rael found it hard to believe that this one could’ve successfully stolen from an alteon.

“Yes, sir!” replied the woman in charge. “His name is Gavin Stone, he’s believed to be associated with many high profile robberies,” she explained.

Rael spared the human called “Gavin Stone” one last look before giving a shrug and reaching for the miniature iron cage attached to his belt.

The cage, which had been especially made for this occasion, was quite simple in its construction. The thing didn’t even have a lock because the latch to open the door was too big for a human’s miniscule hands to manage. It would do perfectly for keeping the criminal contained throughout the duration of the trip back to the palace.

The moment Gavin had laid eyes on the alteon, his body had practically separated from his mind. Physically, he was moving forward with the guidance of his two escorts, but his mind was still struggling to process the impossibly large person looming above him.

If the alteon’s size wasn’t strange enough, the guy looked like he’d stepped right out of a Renaissance Fair or something. His skin was a soft brown color, and he had long black hair that was tied into a loose ponytail behind him. His eyes were a striking teal color that stood out against his angular features. As for his clothing, he looked to be wearing what appeared to be some kind of light leather armor over top of a forest green tunic. Oh yeah, and then there was the fact that he had pointy elf ears.

Gavin had known the alteon dimension was almost medieval in nature, and he’d known the alteons had pointy ears, but it was still so damn bizarre to see in person.

As Gavin was in the middle of gaping, the giant began to move. He flinched at the action, and he noticed everyone else on the rooftop tense up as well. Clearly nobody was comfortable around this--this thing! “How can they hand me over to that?!”

It wasn’t until he had been practically shoved to the edge of the roof that Gavin’s brain caught up with what his body had been doing. Frantically he looked around him. All of the agents, including his former escorts, had backed away from the edge of the building closest to the alteon. This left Gavin stranded, with a giant man a mere few feet away.

With a hard gulp, Gavin tilted his head back to look up at the creature who was about to snatch him away. Those teal eyes were glancing down at him, and in his hand was a cage the perfect size for holding a stupid human who really should’ve just become a damn doctor.

#so yeah...i've got some new ocs #get ready for some juicy fearplay in this sucker #g/t #giant/tiny #g/t writing #g/t story #g/t community #my writing #oc: Gavin Stone #oc: Rael #g/t fearplay

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cornacopicimagines · 5 years

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best of friends │t.h

pairing: single dad!mob!tom holland x single mum!reader

words: 9k (oh god, i’m so sorry)

warnings: SMUT, swearing, praise kink, oral (female recieving), slight violence, mentions of verbal abuse/ degration & rough sex if you squint

summary: Theo y/l/n and James Holland are the best friends that only 8-year-olds can get, their parents though are a little less happy with their lives. For James' dad; Mob-King Tom, he can't seem to catch cupid's arrow. Better yet, he refused to even let the stupid cherub let it fly free. For Theo's mum; y/n, it's her confidence that shakes her love life until there's nothing there. So it was meant to be.

a/n: at first i hated this fic (i still sort of hate the first part) but i think it’s really grown on me :)

masterlist

part 2

━━★✼☆｡

y/n smiled as she waved off the last group of kids, the small children giving her tight hugs before running off to their parents. She truly loved her job; she couldn't ask for anything other than the life she has right now but something has always been devoid. Alas, being a primary school teacher with an 8-year-old son can keep you busy enough to forget about your past problems.

"Muuum," Theo dragged on as he danced around one desk lazily, "when are we going home, I've got some cartoons to watch," he said snappily, y/n debated on whether she should call her son out on his attitude.

"Soon, you little devil," y/n replied, still happily dismissing her students. Seeing as most of the kids had gone or having a chat with their parents, y/n took that as a sign to pack up her classroom.

"I think Molly has a crush on me," Theo told y/n with a wide grin on his face. She stared up at him with a matching smile.

"Really, how do you know that?" y/n asked cheekily, she waited for her son's answer but only got a shrug and a sigh. She chestily laughed as she started to pack up her bag. "That's not an answer little man!"

"Ask James, he agrees with me," Theo defended.

"You two have really been making a ruckus in my classroom, I should probably split you two up," y/n falsely threatened as she slipped on a small touch up of her pale red lip gloss.

Theo immediately ran to the front of her desk with sad eyes, "please don't mum, we'll be extra good," Theo lifted his pinky finger to wave in her face, "I pinky promise."

y/n stared down and captured his tiny finger with hers, sealing the deal. As she grabbed the rest of her things from underneath her desk, she heard the small pitter patter of an extra pair of feet.

"Hi, Ms.y/l/n" a soft worried voice called out, y/n lifted her head to see James Holland with his bottom lip trembling and his eyes filling with hot tears not daring to spill over. y/n almost jumped over the desk to comfort the young boy.

"Oh James, what's the matter?" she asked gently as she gently wiped the liquid from his cheeks.

"I was supposed to-to be picked up-p a long t-t-time ago," James told her through stifled sobs. y/n felt her heart shatter with absolute sadness for this little boy. It had been an hour since school ended, his parents must be late. "I was wondering if I could go home with you until my dad or his assistant can come and get me."

y/n knew that James's dad did some shady business. She wasn't dumb; she picked up on everything. Whenever his so-called assistant would come to get James she would always ask what he did to dress so sharply and the blonde would constantly have a different answer or sometimes he would deflect the question altogether. She also noticed the gun that lay hidden underneath his jacket and the small pocket knives around his waist. She never thought too much about it because James was the sweetest kid on the planet and he made Theo thrilled, she would not take that away from him by alerting the police to a threat that she had nothing but a hunch about.

Theo burst into a roar of excited cheers as soon as the sentence fell off James's lips. y/n shushed her son before turning back to James. "As much as both of us would love that, you can't come home with us without your dad's permission."

"Can't you just call him?" James exclaimed as he corked an eyebrow at her, as small blush arose on her cheeks; sometimes she felt dumber than the kids. As school policy goes, y/n must have a small binder with all the parents' contacts in case of emergencies.

"Great idea," she complimented as she quickly went to make the phone call. Her finger skimmed around the book, finding the last name Holland and the first name Tom underneath James's page. She had heard that name before she just can identify where. Either way, she rang and someone answered after a few rings.

"Hello?" a male voice called out.

"Hi, this is Ms. y/l/n," y/n told him sweetly. "I have James here saying that nobody has picked him up yet," she told him.

"Fuck, I knew I forgot something!" the voice shouted, y/n was 99% sure the boys could hear it, "shit, Tom will gut me like a fish," the man sounded worried and flustered with panic and fear.

"Wait, who am I exactly talking to?" she pondered.

"Harrison, I'm Tom's assistant." Harrison rolled the assistant slowly. An obvious diversion that she wasn't idiotic enough to fall for.

"Well, if it makes any difference, Theo and James have just made plans for James to come home with myself and Theo," she spoke quietly. "Would that be okay?"

The line was silent for a second or two before Harrison quickly responded, "Yes that will be fine, someone will pick him up around 6," he snapped at her before cutting off the line abruptly.

y/n stared at her phone for a moment before she stared at the boys with a wide gleam. "You're coming home with us James and its homemade pizza for dinner tonight!"

With that, the pair of boys rejoiced and the three of them walked out of the classroom and towards the exit.

━━★✼☆｡

Tom sat in his impressively large chair, his eyes never leaving the clock that lay between photos of his family and his son James. He had been in meetings all day with people that pissed him the fuck off. All Tom had been looking forward to is seeing his son and spending his time playing with James. But yet, it had been an hour since he should have been out of school, meaning he should have been home 20 minutes ago. There as a few harsh knocks, Tom instantly knew who it was.

"Got some news mate," Harrison told him before he had even entered the room.

Tom let his head lean back and a hoarse groan slips out, "it better be good otherwise, I don't want to fucking hear it," Tom spat, "I've been in meetings all day, just wanna see my son."

"About that." Harrison trailed off. Tom felt his heart stop. He instantly rushed over to Harrison's side. "I forgot to pick James up from school today and-"

"You absolute dumbass!" Tom roared. "Other Mob bosses know who he is. I can't have him walking the school ground by himself he'll get bloody kidnapped!" Tom started to ramble, he hardly ever did such an infantile act. He hadn't rambled since James was left on his doorstep with a note saying he was Tom's son and that was eight years ago!

Tom couldn't help but feel guilt rack his body, a million thoughts ran through his mind and he felt as if he was on the verge of tears, but he refuses to let even one go. Suddenly, he snapped out of it and almost sprinted towards Harrison. His hands clasped around Harrison's collar and brought him in so fast, Harrison's knees buckled at the force and skidded across the hard floor. "If you didn't pick him up, where the fuck is he?"

Tom watched as Harrison gulped loudly. Tom hated getting violent with Harrison, but with the safety of his son. Tom would mow downfield of people if it meant James was alive.

"He is with his teacher and her son. She said that I have to pick him up later," Harrison told him weepily. Tom didn't know if it relieved him to know that his son was with good hands with his teacher, who Tom had only heard good things about from Harrison or that his right-hand man let his son go off with a woman Tom has never met. "Listen, she said they are making homemade pizza and that we are welcome to join her when I go pick James up."

"Hm, pick him up when it is necessary," Tom grunted as he walked off, suddenly much calmer than he was before. Harrison regained his composure and ran to Tom's side.

"No, I think you should go pick him up," Harrison told him. Coming from anyone else, Tom would have their tongue cut out, but Tom felt obliged to let it slide after his recent outburst at Harrison. "I think it would be good for James to see his own father come pick him up for once and it wouldn't hurt to meet Ms. y/l/n," Harrison spoke the last part with a wiggle of his eyebrows.

"Before you scheme and manipulate your way into making me do something, you know I don't want any woman taking advantage of me- again," Tom hated saying that sentence, he hated giving James's mother the satisfaction that she broke the heart of the world's hardest mobster. That a dancer from a strip club he owned broke the one heart that was never meant to; his. Tom took it as a sign that love wasn't in his card, only single parenthood. Though deep down, Tom wanted someone else, he didn't want to sleep around with expensive strippers and high-end prostitutes for the rest of his life, he would not die with that being his greatest achievement in the sex department. He'd never admit that to a single soul.

"Come on, get back on the horse," Harrison told him gleefully, "She's a nice woman and you've always complained that all the girlfriends you've had since James have hated children, well she works with your son almost every day. There's a fucking jackpot right in front of you, mate."

Tom groaned in disapproval, "How do you even know she's single, she got an 8-year-old son, she's married" he sighed

"You have an eight-year-old and you aren't fucking married you twat," Harrison scoffed, "plus I've never seen a ring on that finger," he held up his ringer finger and swirling it in his face.

"I don't want to do this anymore, Harrison," Tom complained as he smacked Harrison hand away, "I think it's time to give up, my schedule is too busy, I can barely see my own fucking son!" Tom called out as he rested his hands on his hair, "How can I sustain an actual relationship?"

Harrison said nothing but stared at his best friend. To Harrison, Tom looked flustered, angry and tense. Harrison knew that Tom blamed only himself for the misfortunes in his life, even though all the shit that was happening to him wasn't his fault at all.

Tom could see Harrison was pondering at him. He hated it. "If I do this, will you give it a fucking rest," Tom compromised. Harrison looked at him smugly.

━━★✼☆｡

y/n stood at the messy benches of her kitchen, shredded cheese fell everywhere and a three quarterly cut pepperoni stick was about to fall off. A warm and delicious smell over the house from the full oven; it was her favourite thing. Currently, y/n was finely chopping basil and rosemary while the two boys sat at the island table, flour and sauce almost covered the entire table and the power creates a ring around the boys.

"Now, Theo do you want to tell James how to lay the pepperoni to make sure it doesn't get all soggy," y/n asked him sweetly, trusting him enough to not have to turn around completely.

"Yesmum!" Theo called out as if she wasn't in the same room. She chuckled to herself before she dumped the herbs into a bowl and came over to the table, sitting on one of the free chairs.

y/n watched as Theo taught James the perfect placing of pepperoni on the spare pizza. It was if y/n intrigue of James's father had hit an all-time high as she stared at the young boy. Before she taught James, she remembers hearing a lot of rumours about James's father from the other teachers and even other mothers about how he was mysterious and them handsome. She used to giggle at the rumours; she supposed that some lonely suburban housewives concocted the rumours, that they had nothing better to do than lust after the young bachelor because their husbands can find the g-spot.

But now that she is teaching James, the rumours seem to come alive the longer she knows the boy. She can't help but fall into the trap of her primal curiosity because of a stranger she's never even met and that very stranger could deal with a shady past or worse a shady present.

"So, James, how your dad?" y/n asked innocently. James stopped placing the toppings to talk to her (much to Theo's disapproval).

"Oh, he's awesome, I don't get to see him a lot but when I do it's amazing," James squealed happily. y/n cocked her eyebrow at the boy.

"What do you mean, you don't get to see him a lot', doesn't your dad pick you up from school every day," y/n pressed, she knew she shouldn't be asking him these types of questions but she couldn't help it and James seemed happy enough to answer.

"My dad partner picks me up, his name's Harrison, and he's the best," James smiled widely as Theo tried to get him to pay attention.

"So, what does your dad do?" y/n queered again, genuinely interested in James' answer. The little boy scratched his head a bit before shrugging his shoulders in confusion, y/n laughed sweetly. "You know how I work as your teacher-"

"And you're the best!" James cut her off suddenly.

"Thank you, but what does your dad do during the day," she spoke quietly but it appeared James got the memo.

"My dad does deals with people where he shouts at them and sometimes, I see this icky dark red stuff on him, but dad just tells me it's just paint," James replied sweetly unaware of y/n shocked face. Sure, she had her doubts and suspicions, but she never expected them to be true. Her heart dropped into the pit of her stomach. She has the son of Tom fucking Holland in her house, likely without his knowledge. She'd be lucky if Tom leaves her bloody and bruised. y/n didn't want to believe that this angelic and adorable boy has the world's most feared mobster has a father. How the fuck did she not notice the queue with all the bodyguards that come along to pickup time, the expensive stuff that he brings to class and why Harrison is always wearing a very expensive suit just to bring an eight-year-old back home.

"We're done, ma," Theo called her out of her anxiety-driven haze. She smiled sheepishly as she took the pizzas from the boys and put them in the oven. "Are you okay, mum?" Theo asked again as he crawled off the chair and went to throw the scraps in the bin.

"Yes sweetheart," y/n replied shakily. What was she going to say to him, how was she going to explain, how is she going to keep her son safe, what if she-

Ding!

The doorbell rang, the sound almost deafened her. y/n steadied her nerves and walked over to open the door. Outside stood two bulky 6'4" men and a nicely dressed one in the middle. For some odd reason, y/n felt her cheeks heat and her heart rate pick up. The messily pushed back brown curls seemed to fall perfectly in place and frame his face. Massive diamond rings laced his fingers as he slightly tapped at his wrist, that she might add was decorated stunningly with pronounced veins that made her weak.

"Um, welcome," y/n spoke quietly, the man in the middle (who she assumed was Tom) stared at her darkly before stepping inside. The warm lighting of her hallway seemed to illuminate Tom's features y/n noticed the sharp jaw, and she was just able to make out his dark brown eyes underneath the Versace sunglasses. "Hi, you m-must be James's dad, I'm Theo's mum; y/n," she extended her hand to meet his.

Since she opened the door, entrancement seemed to flow through him. Sure, it wasn't romantically at first, but the woman surely intrigued him. She had her hair tucked behind her slightly sauced ears and behind a flour-covered apron seemed to be a tight-fitting red pin-up dress, which he compliments shows off her curves nicely. Tom felt like he had to smile at her, not in a joking way but in a way that he couldn't explain. In a way that he had to smile when he saw Tessa trip over her own feet. It was adorable; she was adorable.

When he heard her speak, it felt like a breath of fresh air had hit him. He felt as if he was in his childhood home again and she was the beautiful nanny Tom would have had a crush on. Tom felt instantly out of place when he walked in. He was so used to the dark setting and furniture of his massive mansion. He was so used to walking the long empty halls and going to bed in a vacantly giant room. Now though, her home felt so cosy. The walls were tight enough to feel warm but wide enough to not squeeze you. The rooms seemed busy with colours and clothes and her kitchen was small but still seemed homey.

In an act of complete defiance to himself, Tom thought he could live here if he wanted, and he wanted to. It was so different from his regularly scheduled life, her home, her arrangement and even y/n herself made Tom feel so out of place that he had to give her all his undying attention as if she was a magnet of everything Tom needed to balance his life. What the fuck is going on with him? So he snapped himself out of it.

"Where's my son," Tom asked her. He tried not to sound like a total dick, but it was hard not to. Tom felt worse when he saw y/n flinch slightly after he snapped, "I'm sorry," Tom has never apologised to anyone other than his son, he has to get his shit together quickly.

"Oh no, it's okay," y/n smiled warmly, the apology from the mobster made her feel a little better about her situation. "James is hanging out with Theo, you're welcome to stay if you'd like," she invited. Tom felt like he had to stay, and it didn't help that when James saw him in the hallway, he started to cry and whine.

Tom immediately ran to his side, but James pushed him away and hugged Theo, which he happily reciprocated.

"No, I'm not going, you can't make me!" James yelled furiously as he turned his back to his father. Tom sighed loudly. He bent down and placed his hand against James's back.

"Come on, little man, I don't want to intrude," Tom explained sweetly, his hand rubbing small circles. y/n didn't know a man such as Tom Holland could speak that softly and sweetly; it made her want to swoon.

"He's not in-intruding Mr Holland," Theo told her quietly. Tom noticed the boy had stumbled over the hard word. He couldn't help but admit defeat and regained his composure.

"Harrison told me you were making pizzas, it's been a while since I've had some well at least homemade ones," Tom announced loudly, "so I guess we are staying."

The two boys rejoice before they made their way back to the TV and left Tom and y/n by themselves. y/n awkwardly made her way to the kitchen, and Tom dismissed the two bodyguards behind him and happily followed her.

As he walked down the hallway, he took slight notice of the different photos that hung on the walls. Most of them were of Theo, one had him in a karate uniform holding a trophy and a toothy smile while another had a photo of y/n and Theo at the park. Tom couldn't help but smile at them. Once more did he have the feeling of need for all of this to be in his life, he wanted more, correction he needed more. He squeezed through her slim doorway and stumbled into y/n's endearingly kitchen.

He had never seen a mess like her kitchen; he saw flour on the floor and sauce on the cupboards. Tom couldn't help but let a small chuckle escape his lips as he sat opposite her.

Tom wasn't an idiot. He could see how scared he was making her just by sitting closer to her. y/n on the other end of the table was almost shitting herself, she could feel her throat becoming dry and tried her best to avoid connecting their eyes even if she desperately wanted another peek at his warm brown eyes.

Tom stared at her with guilt racking his body, "I will not hurt you," Tom told her gently and for some odd reason, he fought back the urge to hold her trembling hand as he spoke. y/n didn't believe him, she knew deep down that this is what he says to his victims before he blows their fucking brains out, until "I promise." Tom had even surprised himself with his words. He has promised nothing other than when he promised his son he could ice-cream for dinner one night, Tom wasn't sure what was washing over him but worse he didn't know if he liked the feeling or not.

Tom waited for her response. He waited for y/n to give him any cue to tell him she felt safe around him. Finally, y/n lifted her eyes to meet his. Tom hadn't really gotten a good look at the door. Her eyes matched her whole persona, it almost entranced him. They were young but filled with such wisdom and knowledge; he didn't know what to do. It was an obvious y/ec, but it was like he was experiencing the colour for the first time in his 27 year life.

y/n slowly lifted her eyes to meet his and Tom's heart jumped into his throat. Never has a woman had this effect on him; it addicted him. Tom spotted a faint smile on her sauce, dusted lips and couldn't help but return the favour. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't be this cold towards you," she spoke softly.

"Oh, it's fine. I get it all the time," Tom responded with a small giggle.

"That's awful," y/n immediately protested, her full attention on him.

"What I do is awful sweetheart, it comes with the job," he told her as he leaned back in his chair. y/n pulled back, how could she be so dumb?

Tom noticed her sudden shift in mood and cleared the air, "I don't mean to pry but is Theo's father around, I didn't notice him in any of the photos," Tom asked awkwardly, he genuinely wanted to know but immediately realised his mistake, "or is that not a talking topic?"

"No, it's okay," y/n responded with a light chuckle, something Tom desperately wanted to hear more of, "Theo's dad and I split badly and I haven't spoken to him in years," the memory still haunts y/n but she could only let fragmented pieces out at a time, "Theo has never met his father and I intend on keeping it that way."

Tom's brain started to concoct a sadly romantic fairy tale with both of them but he quickly scolded himself. Suddenly, y/n perked up. She jumped from the table, took one pizza out of the oven, and started to cut it.

"What about you?" y/n asked with her back turned.

"What about me?" Tom responded, nobody has ever asked him that.

"A good-looking man like you with a son has to be married," y/n exclaimed before placing a pizza in front of them both and calling for the boys, giving them their pizza.

"Sadly, no, I'm not married," Tom chuckled as he picked up a piece. "I had James with his mother on a whim I guess." Tom saw y/n cocked her eyebrow in confusion. "That's all I'm letting out." Tom crossed his arms and leaned away.

y/n though leaned in and batted her eyelashes, "No, you got me intrigued," y/n whined. "If you tell me, I will tell you my backstory the next time we meet."

"We're going to meet again?" Tom smirked widely, suddenly pulled into her spell. Tom saw the heat rise to her cheeks and her face scrunch up as she tried to rack her brain for a proper answer. She was gorgeous; he wanted to stare at her face for all eternity.

"O-of course," she stuttered, tripping over her own tongue suddenly. She doesn't know why she's acting like this. Sure he's a godly handsome man that is ticking all of her boxes in a matter of moments but her brain seems to keep forgetting that she's sitting just a few feet away from the King of the English Mafia. A man who could kill her in a second, still she couldn't help the primal attraction that was cursing through her.

Tom held his hand out to her. "All right darling, it's a deal," he spoke lowly. Any logical person would have kept their hand to themselves. Any reasonable educated person would not raise their hand and shake Tom's. y/n was a logical and educated woman, but not with Tom around. So she took his hand in hers and shook slowly.

"Jame's was- how do I say this? Not planned." Tom sighed as he played with the pizza in front of him. "When I first got control over the Mafia. I bought this strip club just down the street. I used to go in there almost every night. I thought if I went in it would make me feel like a true Mafia King. The Mafia King who sleeps with whoever he wants whenever he wants, but I guess I am more of a romantic than I thought. There was this girl, she was interesting, and I found her mesmerising from the second I saw her. So like an idiot I started to see her only, I bought her things, I gave her safety and let her decide in the Mob. I guess one night I forgot to put on a condom and she left me the very next night. Nine months later, James was wailing on my doorstep with a small note saying 'I am so sorry, he's yours and I can't look after him', I still remember the words on that stupid fucking note," Tom felt his voice crack, he peered over to James who was eating his pizza and pretending to fight the bad guys on the T.V, "I adore my son with every fibre in my being but I just wish things were a little different."

Tom swivelled around and saw y/n almost in tears, "I'm sorry," y/n snapped out of her emotional haze and started to wipe away some tears, "I don't know what came over me."

"That's all right, my mum was in tears for days after James arrived." Tom stared down, remembering the feelings of the room on that day, "happy tears."

y/n felt an overwhelming surge of emotion hit her like a truck. She has heard no one talk with such passion. "Wow, that's um-" she blushed, "quite a story."

Tom gave her a weak smile. He noticed the blush that bubbled to the surface of his cheeks. Tom noticed a lot of other things while she sat opposite him. He noticed the small dimples that would peak out if she smiled. He noticed the freckles that perfectly sprinkled her skin. He was sure that if he sat here for long enough, he could count every one of them.

"Is there something on my face?" y/n's concerned voice snapped him out of his lovesick haze. Tom shook his head slightly before y/n took the back of her hand to wipe the non-existing grime off her cheek only to smear sauce all over her.

"Well, now there is," Tom laughed before he leaned over and wiped the sauce with his napkin. y/n came closer to help him reach her but in the process only pushed her cleavage up, causing Tom's chair to slide out from under him. Their faces were so close, y/n felt the warmth from Tom's body wafting and swirling around her as if he was entrancing her. Problem was, she was fully under his spell now.

"Are you going to kiss my dad?" James ecstatic voice called out abruptly. y/n almost fell off her chair just from the pair eyes. Theo was standing just behind James with a smile that matched his friend as they watched their parents compose themselves.

Tom tried to piece an answer to give his son while still leaving his options open with y/n. "None of your business little man," Tom faked growled as he tickled James and Theo's bellies, causing them to run off squealing with excitement.

Tom turned around to face her, the faint glow of the kitchen made y/n look like an angel. He felt overwhelming an urge to fall to his knees and pray to her, but he slid it to back of his mind. Hoping that maybe he could do it soon.

They talked for what seemed like a second but in reality; they had been talking for an hour. Tom would give every cent away just to keep hearing her sweet-like honey voice. y/n as well couldn't get enough of him, the more she allowed herself to open up to him the more she seemed to love his company. He was intelligent, well-spoken and off the record; he was so goddamn attractive. y/n believes she was to go to the nearest church just for having him near her. Still, he made her feel safe. He made her feel something that she hasn't felt since Theo's father left her. It scared her. Her heart picked up and her brain started to overwork itself. He was just humouring her; he would leave her in a heartbeat; he's got rows of women begging to sleep with him, why would he want her?

"Oh god, w-would you look at the t-time," y/n stuttered as she rushed to get him out of the house before she broke down in tears. y/n jumped out of her chair and almost threw the plates into the sink.

Tom stood up in a panic. He was having a wonderful time with her, why was she so eager to get herself alone?

"It's only a quarter to ten," Tom chuckled as he checked the watch on his wrist. y/n didn't want to make him leave. If it were up to her, she would let the kids' sleepover and pull him into her sheets as fast as possible but her subconscious had other plans.

"I'm sure the King of The Mafia has a busy schedule," she replied as she ran to get the boys' plates and get them back to the kitchen. She was right, Tom did have a lot happening tomorrow. He was most likely going to get his hands dirty. He kept his mouth shut on that remembrance.

"Well, how about you come over to mine tomorrow night," Tom suggested. y/n stood dead in her tracks. "I need to repay you for this wonderful night." A blush formed on her cheeks.

She sighed and before she could even let a single syllable out-, "We would love to Mr. Holland!" Theo's voice shot up. His head appeared just behind her with a straight smile. Tom immediately matched Theo's, knowing y/n couldn't refuse the two of them.

"Yes, we would love to and we will-" y/n head dropped, "and we will be there."

Tom let himself fist bump the air as he went to get James off the couch. "How's 9:30 sound, I have some stuff to deal with beforehand?"

"Sounds g-great," y/n sighed. Tom quickly pecked her cheek as he went for the door. y/n turned to him in disbelief.

"Can't wait angel," Tom whispered just before he closed the door. Jesus Christ, he would be the death of her.

"He seems like a nice guy," Theo blank voice rang out. He leaned up against the back of the couch as he raised his eyebrows at y/n suggestively. she gave him a light smack on his arm.

━━★✼☆｡

Tom sat in his chair. The cloud of smoke and the sounds of ragged panting wafted over the room. Percy's head drooped low as he waited.

"Where's your fucking brother Percy?" Tom asked non-nonchalantly. His eyes never wavered off the man.

"Like I told you buffoons before," Percy lifted his head weakly, "I have no clue where my crackhead brother is," Tom glimpsed his prize. Percy's sweaty hair stuck to his head, the crusted blood started to fall from the gash on eyebrow onto his bound feet. Percy stared at him with one eye open; all he could achieve. Tom smiled gleefully.

"Don't you fucking lie to me, you little shithead!" Tom roared. His hands slammed down on the desk. Everyone to jump. Tom paced around to lean on the front of his marble desk. "I have some very important people coming in about-" Tom glanced at his watch, "10 minutes."

"I will not rat my own fucking brother out," Percy responded defiantly. Tom's patience was thinning with every tick of the clock.

"I don't want to hurt you, Percy," Tom faked a smile, "not tonight at least. So you better make this quicker than me taking a fucking piss." One of his men pulled Percy's hair back, "Where is you goddamn brother."

Percy felt the barrel of Tom's gun roughly shoved up against his temple. He fought back a tear. "Columbia, trying to smuggle your drugs into Ecuador," Percy revealed.

The door swung open to reveal a completely un-phased Harrison. "They're here."

Tom immediately straightened up. "Perfect Timing!" Tom started to his men, "get rid of him." As his men dragged Percy out of his office. Tom straightened his coat as wiped off the dried blood on his chin. Harrison chuckled lightly before Tom ran out.

"They're in the upstairs hallway," Harrison called out, but Tom was already too far gone.

The massive painting loomed over y/n. She had completely forgotten how powerful Tom was, the matter that Tom commanded respect had slipped her mind. He stood in a black suit. Like something straight out a mobster movie. she giggled to herself at that thought.

"I begged my mother not to have me painted, but she insisted," Tom called out to her. y/n jumped at his voice but softened when she saw him approaching in the same outfit as the portrait.

"Well I think you look devilishly handsome," y/n responded with a wide smile, a smile that made Tom's heart flutter. As he got closer, he noticed the absence of a certain 8-year-old.

"Where's the munchkin?" he asked as he searched around her.

"He's upstairs with James. He took Theo's hand and ran off as soon as we stepped into the door," she laughed. Tom couldn't help but smile along with her. He wondered if she let this side of her out often. Genuinely giddy and joyous. "Do you look at most women like this?" She broke his concentration. y/n stood there with her eyebrow quirked and a smirk plastered on her face. Tom begged whatever god was up there to allow him just a single kiss.

"Only to you, angel," Tom responded, his pearly white teeth shining through a wide smile. y/n's cheeks flustered and her whole face glowed red. He was pushing all of her buttons, wasn't he?

"Come upstairs, I want to show you something," Tom exclaimed as he captured y/n's hand within his. Tom led her up a small flight of stairs and into a large room. The dim bedroom had red plastered everywhere. The carpet was a soft red velvet and the sheet; a luxurious red and black silk. Hell even the walls were painted with a deep maroon. y/n looked over to him with shock. "Dont worry sweetheart, the surprise is outside," Tom chuckled before his calloused hand landed on the small of her back nudging her softly. y/n's breath hitched into the back of her throat.

y/n pushed the glass doors. The dense forest of trees sparkled in the bright moonlight. The faint glow of London's lights dimmed in the background. She knew this might not have been the most aesthetically pleasing view, but it felt more than it looked. The safety and security of the view made her swoon. "Is this a date, Mr. Holland?" y/n smirked as she sat down in the glass chair.

Tom had never heard his last name sound so sweet.

"Only if you want it to be Ms. y/l/n," he responded, quickly trying to conceal his blush.

She stared out for a moment. y/n didn't know why, but she felt like a shy teenager again. A girl sitting next to a hot guy who has no real interest in her. It was nostalgic in some sick way.

They talked for hours. Tom couldn't get enough of her. It was like she was some beautiful drug. A drug so addictive, he's hooked after one night. Every time a laugh surpassed her soft lips, Tom can't help but let his heart flutter. She, too, was quite enjoying herself. y/n let her walls down slowly but surely. The more he talked, the more she leaned. The more she felt as though this was fate. That though was a juvenile thing to even fathom. So y/n wondered what her life would have been if she met Tom before her ex. Would she be happy or would she still be silently crying to herself to make sure Theo didn't hear even a peep.

A curt knock at the door interrupted them. A middle age woman peeked her head in.

"They're both in bed," she spoke happily. "It took a while to get Theo off to sleep though."

y/n giggled, "I'm not surprised."

Tom stared at her for a moment, imagining that Theo and James were their sons, and she was his wife who always seemed to amaze him. Maybe in the near future, he thought to himself.

"Thank you Ms Smith," Tom smiled warmly at her, y/n looked over to him in childlike shock.

"You have a nanny!" y/n poked Tom in his bicep. He gently swatted her finger away.

"Less about me, angel," Tom sighed. "Now, we had a deal," Tom's eyebrow cocked, and a smirk filled his face.

y/n smiled weakly at him. I will need a shit ton of booze, she thought. She grabbed the bottle of expensive wine and poured herself a glass. She gulped it down. Then she poured another one, drinking it down quicker than the first one. Finally, one more glass of wine went down, and she was ready to open her mouth.

"Mind saving a little for me, angel." Tom chuckled lightly, y/n made work getting him a glass (and more for herself wouldn't hurt.)

"Okay, so it was my last year of high school. I had been fawning over this guy since I was twelve. Then, out of nowhere, he's pulling me into empty stalls and telling me he can't be without me and he's in love with me," y/n started, she was cut off by the man next to her.

"How could he not?" Tom quipped as he took a small gulp of his wine. y/n gave him a hard glare as she tried to steal his attention away from the flush of her cheeks.

"Anyway, it took a bit of time but like the idiot I am, I gave in. We went on a few dates; we were happy for a good while. Until those two stupid fucking lines," she felt her voice break. Her head started to feel dizzy. Like it would roll off her neck will the snap of a finger. "Maybe, I was feeling all maternal, and I told him I was pregnant. To my surprise, he stayed with me for my first trimester. He refused to tell his parents, I of course, had to confess to mine. Sometimes I think that was the first red flag. It wasn't until the middle of my third trimester things went downhill. It's normal for women to put on a little weight when they're pregnant. Obviously, he didn't have a fucking clue." y/n felt herself, get more furious and more upset with every word that rolled off her tongue. "He started telling me 'You look enormous', 'I have a fat whale for a girlfriend, 'I wish you had aborted that thing, so I wouldn't have to look at you like this'," She was in tears now, the salty liquid dripped from her cheeks onto her dress. Tom knelt in front of her, his hands rubbing small circles on her knees. "He abandoned me, right when it counted." She started him. Tom felt his heart shatter. "Everyone leaves me Tom."

"I'll never leave you, y/n" Tom reassured her, he took her shaking hands in his. y/n peered down, she shook her head.

"Tom, you don't want me," y/n sobbed, "No one does, it's okay."

"y/n," Tom hovered above her, his palms rested on her warm cheeks. "I want you, more than I have ever wanted something in my life." Their eyes met. "You are the most beautiful woman I have ever laid eyes on."

y/n was in disbelief, her hands rested on his wrist. Her cries stopped as soon as she felt his thumb stroking soft circles on her cheek.

Tom still saw that look in her eyes. The look of a woman so broken by a man who never loved her, who took advantage of her admiration. Something Tom needed more than air to breathe. He was making it his mission, that y/n would not leave his home until she finally knew that not only did her son appreciate her, but he did just as much.

So, he took a chance. He bent down and encaptured her lips with his. She tasted like everything, he dreamt of. She tasted like the cakes his mother would make for him on his birthday. She was the breath of sweet excitement when he smelled homemade pancakes. It surprised him he hadn't completely dissolved at this simple touch.

y/n sat in shock for a moment. Her brain tried to catch up to his movements. He didn't move against at first. She pressed into it. Her hands gripping slightly at his wrists as she reciprocated the tender kiss. She, too, felt the satisfaction of knowing what he too tasted like. She took notes of all the little details; the taste of freshly smoked nicotine, the smell of his cologne wafted around her; the pronounced viens in his hands. She was in heaven.

Their lips moved against each other. It wasn't needy or rushed. It was steady and passionate. y/n has experienced a kiss like this in her 24-year-old life. "Take me to the bedroom," she spoke through mousey breathless moans. Tom pulled away completely at this.

"I don't want you to feel like I'm taking advantage of you," Tom told her sweetly, y/n hands caress his cheek gently as she gave him a warm smile.

"You're not taking advantage of me Tom," she stood from her chair, never letting her eyes tear from his, "I want this."

Tom beamed. His hands snaked their way to the underside of her bum, pinching softly. Instructing her to jump, which she happily obliged. y/n could feel him, grasp at her bare thighs. Every time he touched her skin, it burned with sinful passion.

Perhaps it was the one too many wines she had downed in less than a minute or that this was the first man she's really been intimate with since Theo's father left. Either way, her skin felt so susceptible to each kiss her laid on her. Hyper sensitive to every pull at her skin. So responsive to his touches.

Tom took his time laying her on the sheets. He took his time to look at her flushed skin in the dim lighting at how she looked like something sent from God. Why God was sending him something in the first place was a question for later. As he sauntered away from her to lock the door, y/n noticed the decor until the feeling dawned on her. Was she really about to sleep with Mafia King; Tom Holland. She had only one answer- obso-fucking-lutely.

Tom tenderly pushed her onto her back, his face now level to hers. y/n thought she looked as red as a tomato, Tom would agree but wouldn't protest at all. He laid a soft kiss to her lips, then a slightly harder one to her neck, then to her collarbone. His hands snaked up her dress. His fingers clutched her hips, pulling her clothed heat closer to his already painful hard groin.

y/n watched every move he made, every attempt to bruise her skin. Tom whined quietly when his lips met the fabric instead of her flesh. y/n giggled and lifted her dress over head and onto the floor next to her.

Tom couldn't help but pull away to take a glimpse of her. Her flushed breasts hidden behind a plain black bra. Most wouldn't think too much of it, but he couldn't help himself. Tom could see her hardened nipples peeking through the material. He pulled the cup down slightly. Tom heard her hiss quietly at the sudden exposure. His lips came down to the bud gently. His teeth pulling at the erect skin ever so lightly only to flick the nub quickly. Hearing her quiet moans and praises spurred him on. He needed more.

"T-tom please," y/n whimpered quietly, her fingers tangling themselves in his messed brown curls. Tom smirked up at her.

"What are you begging for angel face," Tom asked her innocently.

y/n couldn't get a single word out with Tom's fingers dancing at the skin near her soaked panties. Even dipping underneath them for split seconds.

"Do something, with y-your," she struggled. Tom was enjoying every moment. "f-fingers."

"Your wish is my command," Tom rasped out as he pulled her panties down her legs and got between them. He let his pointer finger paint a long strip up her slit. y/n's hips buckled. "You're so wet doll, being such a good girl."

y/n could only let out a hum. Tom wanted to hear that divine voice of hers, so he blew a wisp of air against her clit making her cry out. He was lucking the boys' rooms where so far from here. "Look at me, I want to see those gorgeous eyes gloss over when I make you cum," he promised as he laid a chaste kiss to her inner left thigh. y/n couldn't wait another moment, she might explode. Slowly her eyes met his. His face was mere centimeters from her cunt.

Tom didn't take a second longer. As soon as her eyes were on him, he went in hard. His tongue latched onto her throbbing clit, pulling and sucking so hard it was audible for the both of them to fawn over. He couldn't forget about the promise he made, so his digits circled her hole delicately before he slipped two of his fingers into her.

y/n felt her whole body go numb. It was a feeling so exotic to her. Yet, here she was. Barely able to make a sentence as she tried to bite back constant moans that begged to be let out. Her toes curled even picking up some sheets beneath her.

Tom could feel her fingers pulled at the roots of his hair. He couldn't but moan against her pussy, causing vibrations in every nerve in her already sensitive body.

"Oh my god, y-yes," She let slip. y/n swears she's starting to see stars now. "F-fucking hell, you're a-amazing."

Tom allowed his fingers to hit deeper inside her with that comment. He was making her cum now, or he will blow without even feeling her yet. He wouldn't be able to live with himself if that happens. He pulled his mouth away from her clit with a loud pop, letting his digits do all the work. He watched her writhe and pull at anything she could grasp. God, she was so fucking perfect.

"Christ, j-just like that," y/n encouraged him, "I'm going to c-cum."

"Do it angel face, cum all around my fingers." Tom whispered to her, "let me taste your sweetness."

y/n felt her first orgasm wash over her like a tsunami. She needed to scream her heart out but quickly smothered her moan in the pillows beside her. Tom peered at her intently. To him, he was watching an angel. Seeing her cum is now his new favourite thing. Being the one to cause such pleasure within her makes him feel as though he's on top of the world. His fingers rode her through her orgasm until she hit the end. Her hair sprawled out as she tried to catch any breath left in her lungs. Hell, she was trying to regain some of her sight. Tom brought his fingers to his mouth. His tongue licked them clean. Her juices tasted like nothing he's ever had before and he immediately knows, there is no way he's letting this go.

Tom stripped himself bare now. He crawled above her once more. His curls falling slightly in his face. y/n opened her eyes to see him on top of her. y/n took this moment to run her hand down his torso. Each time her fingers lapped over a muscle, she felt herself recapture her arousal. Her fingers found the base of his dick.

He was bigger than what she thought, bigger than her ex. It started her a tad when she felt his hard length. She started pumping his slowly. Tom's arms almost buckled at the feeling.

"If you keep doing that, I'm going to cum into your hand," his pulled her wrist away from him to above her head, "and I just want to pound this sweet little cunt into oblivion." The words cause y/n to whimper, eager for him to fulfill his promise.

"Then do it," she leaned up to whisper in his ear. As she pulled back, he locked eyes with her. Utter shock and an animalistic urge filled his every thought. He didn't even give her a warning before he slammed right into her. y/n cried out and wrapped her legs around his waist.

Tom couldn't believe the feeling. She was hugging every vein, every mark, every inch of his cock and yet so was still so fucking tight. He pulled out of her, only to ram back into her. "Fucking hell, you're divine," Tom growled, still deep inside of her. Slowly, he picked up a rhythm.

Every part of y/n's post was filled the brim by him. He hit her g-spot almost instantly. His name became a chant to her as it never ceased to spill from her lips. Each time he pounded back into her, y/n's voice became horse and rougher. Her nails dug into his bag as she clawed for support. Any support she could get from him.

Tom's been with countless women. Now he's finding it hard to sustain a sentence. He can hardly make out anything other than y/n's name. He wasn't complaining though, her tight walls constricting around with every movement. Tom wondered for a moment if he died and went to heaven and was fucking the dirtiest angel he could find.

"You look so goddamn beautiful taking my cock," he praised. He let his head fall into the crook of her neck, smelling her perfume made him almost lose his shit right there. "You feel so good squeezing around me."

Every word was threatening to her. Every word was pushing her closer to her limit. Every word was forcing more moans out of her mouth. "I'm going to cum, Tommy," she warned him.

The nickname only helped Tom lodge himself deeper and harder into her, "I am too, don't hold back angel face," he pressed a kiss underneath her ear.

y/n's second orgasm rolled over more intense the second time than the first. She pulled her head into his skin, biting and pulling to contain herself. Her legs gave out on her and flopped from his waist and quivered beside him. Tom was quick to follow her. How could he not, with how firmly she was gripping his cock. He pulled out quickly and spurted out streams across her belly. The white liquid dripping over her skin made him see stars.

He collapsed next to her, heaving and panting. y/n turned to him. She placed a long kiss on his lips, bringing his face closer. Tom happily hummed against her skin.

He pulled her into a tight hug. Her fingers traced the outline of his pec. "I'm infatuated with you," he told her plainly. y/n didn't move nor did she flinch. She just stared up at him with a wide smile.

"As am I," she responded quietly. He wanted her to stay here forever, he had admitted to himself that he wanted to be near her for the rest his life. It was like she had cast some spell over him. He, though, had happily fallen for it.

In his eyes, she was a goddess among women.

━━★✼☆｡

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divinaes-bookofsecrets · 3 years

Note

Hello! May I please request a spirit guide reading, if you are accepting those at this time? My initials are NS, Sagittarius. Thank you in advance, and I hope you have a lovely day/evening.

HELLO , DEAR SAGITTARIUS ♐ 😘You travel with a great many Spiritual Guardians ; The one that's most important 😊 and most prominent is an enchanting witch goddess.

Her name is Wendolina‐Lynn aka Linà-Lynn but ýou may just call her WENDOLINA

Her sex: female

Her age: 44

Her lucky numbers: 4, 7, 19, 22, 300

Element: FIRE ELEMENT

Zodiac☆Symbol: ♈ Aries, ♌ Leo

(Her horoscope sign mixes with yours impeccably!!! She is your exact perfect match for friendship, even for a relationship in love 😍 but I do not, as a Shamanic Healer, suggest that you pursue any thing romantic with this highly mystical being )

PLANET THAT RULES HER: MARS , and THE SUN

Her Greatest Strength: Dynamic Energy, Motivation, Drive and Willpower, Passionate, Achiever, Enthusiasm

Her Weakness: Desire, Sex Drive,Temperamental

Magick Powers; Cleansing and Purification, Hexes and Banshment and Protection and Prosperity

Moon Phase: Full Moon, 🌙 🌔 🌖 🌛 Eclipse 🌑 Moon

SEASON; YULE

Her Energy is Tied To ACTION !

Time of Day: Noon

Direction: South

Tarot: Wands

Although Goddess Wendolina is eternally a Fire Sign 🔥 😍 She flows like 💧 Water She was born from her ancestors 🌟 in the 🌟 stars !! & She is currently 44 as of this year; She ages one year each and every decade! Lady Wendolina the ♈ Aries woman has been, by the Creator and Universe, molded for you. Ĺady Lina-Lynn iis not ýour typical witch, she's more of a witchesss! And her beauty knows no end. Your Witchess is dark looking if you choose to see her that way, but if you choose to see her fertile enlightening light 😉 ✨ you'll soon see how you are connected 😏 to this mystic enchanting goddess .

Here is she. 🍒🍀🌼🍇🐛🌷🦋🕸🕷🕸🌺🍂🍃

Lady Wendolina-Lynn , is an Aries Goddess of mystical ethereal feminist ♥ ✨ power. She believes in equality--- She thinks that men and women should be sharing more and have equal rights ✅ but of course this sounds a lot like Lilith story does it not🙄 well, there's a reason for that too. Lady Wendolina is actually one of Lilith daughters ! This explains how her down fall is her sex drive. Well, she's deffinitely an amazing Aries specimen isn't she?

Lilith gave her daughter Wendolina the Witchess all the glory, beauty, and powers to behold. She is, like Lilith, demonized 😈 by the men of Earth 🌎 ♥ and the Church.

Wendolina uses her witchy ways to look dark but subtle enough to still practice white magick with her powers. She is the most powerful ✨😈 demon spawn and we should all be proud she uses her powers for only good not evil ever 👏 she's such a sweet darling demonness spawn !!

She has two major looks that are her main makeup choices she (like above) dresses and does Lilith inspired makeup ---Then Wendolina-Lynn does space effect warpaint; representing the stars and the moon where she came from 🌟 🌙

Next ill explain the story of her Mother, Lilith, story as it ties into also the independent woman that your Spirit Guide is plus the independence she represents!

Lilith is an extremely controversial figure within Jewish folklore. Lilith's name is not included in the creation story of the Torah but she appears in several midrashic texts. Her symbolism, history and literature are debated among Jewish scholars, feminists and other intellectuals. There are multiple origin stories for Lilith but the most popular history told views Lilith as the first wife of Adam. According to the "first Eve" story Lilith was created by God from dust and placed to live in the garden with Adam until problems arose between Adam and Lilith when Adam tried to exercise dominance over Lilith. One story tells that Lilith refused to lay beneath Adam during sex. She believed they were created equal, both from the dust of the earth, thus she should not have to lay beneath him. After Adam disagreed, Lilith fled the Garden of Eden to gain her independence. Adam told God that Lilith had left and God sent three angels, Senoi, Sansenoi, and Sammangelof, to retrieve her. The three angels found Lilith in a cave bearing children but Lilith refused to come back to the garden. The angels told her they would kill 100 of her children every day for her disobedience. In revenge, she is said to rob children of life and is responsible for the deaths of still-born infants and crib deaths (SIDS). Male children are at risk of Lilith's wrath for 8 days after birth (until circumcision) and girls are at risk for 20 days. Although Lilith stole children's lives in the night, she agreed not to kill the children who had amulets of either of the three angels.

After the angels' departure, Lilith tried to return to the garden but upon her arrival she discovered that Adam already had another mate, Eve. Out of revenge, Lilith had sex with Adam while he was sleeping and "stole his seed." With his seed she bears 'lilium,' earth-bound demons to replace her children killed by the angels. Lilith is also said to be responsible for males' erotic dreams and night emissions. Another theory says that Lilith is impregnated, thus creating more demons by masturbation and erotic dreams.

🐉🌸ĹILITH AND WENDOLINA HAVE AN APPETITE FOR EARTH MEN🌸🐲

The open-ended nature of the Lilith symbol has allowed different groups to use her as a destructive female symbol or a symbol of female power. Many feminists see Lilith as not only the first woman but the first independent woman created. In the creation story she refuses to allow Adam to dominate her and flees the garden despite the consequences. In order to retain her freedom she must give up her children and in retaliation she steals the seed of Adam. In one account of this story, Lilith is said to "mount Adam" (click here for this version). This version of the story implies that Lilith sexually violated Adam; however, other stories portray Lilith as a demoness who kills children and takes advantage of men while they are sleeping. Jewish halakhic law forbids the spilling of a man's seed and Lilith takes advantage of this, during masturbation and erotic dreams, and uses it to replenish her own offspring.

Although Lilith is controversial some feminists have used her as a symbol of empowerment. For example, one Jewish feminist magazine is called Lilith labels itself as an "Independent Jewish Woman's Magazine." The publishers use Lilith as a title because they believe she is a symbol of independence. However, those who still think of her as a demoness could turn it around and once again label feminists as male bashers or men-haters. They see Lilith as wicked and vengeful towards men and children. With any symbol or icon used by feminists, especially within a religious context, there will be controversy and opposition. Whether or not the story of Lilith is accurate is not the main issue. The "first Eve" version of the story gives Lilith a role that many women can identify within Judaism and other religious traditions. She is an independent woman who challenges the oppressive system in which she is placed. Stealing the lives of children represents a certain madness that accompanies her solitude and exclusion. Despite Lilith's downfalls, she still remains a symbol of power simply by her survival and mysteriousness. She is open for interpretation and therefore allows women to reinterpret her symbolism and power within the tradition.

Picture Lilith's daughter the demoness 😈 spawn sort of like Mortisha Adams from the Adam's Family tv. Show. She's sweet, sultry, she could seduce you, and she's pale but deffinitely dark in a cheerful fun way !

Wendolina's mystical senses have brought her to you at this time to bring you a very important message ;

Here's your messages

Sagittarius predictions for May 17 - May 23

You may be lamenting that there don't seem to be any exciting new opportunities coming your way. You may feel bored and stuck in a rut, wishing that some unique proposition would be yours for the taking. Maybe there is something out there for you, but if you are stuck in a mindset where you are expecting something very specific, Sagittarius, you might not recognize a good thing that is different, even if you metaphorically trip over it. Be open to any chance that comes to you this week, even if it doesn't meet with your preordained idea of what can bring you the success you want. A positive change of circumstances is in the stars for you now, and this week, you may get a good glimpse of it. This could have to do with your home, your work, or your money - and may range from a change of residence to an increase in income or even an unexpected windfall. But this may not reach fruition this week - however, the tempting idea of it may come to you with the promise of fulfillment soon. This is a good time to seal deals, negotiate contracts, or ask for investors if you are in such a position. You should be brimming with energy and initiative right now.

-- Wendolina-Lynn aka Lina-Lynn

So watch out for your financial situation is about to change dramatically or you'll be moving residents please take this as a good thing that you've been waiting for this might just be the changes you need.

IF YOUR LOOKING FOR A GOOD SHAMAN , LOOK NO FURTHER: I AM HERE!!

All Spells..... $18 depending on what you wishing for or desiring as result

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knivestothroats · 3 years

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Im from a conservative racist area so not many people to ask but i was born female and ive always felt like i was male dressed more boyish thought of as a boy and always thought i was trans. But im too scared to come out . And i was scared that its not what i want . Like i like some of the female aspects and male aspects if that makes sense . Im sorry if i sounded mean not sure how to word.

Okay, so. Ultimately I can’t tell you your identity, but I can tell you my takeaway based on my own experience with gender.

If you feel male, feel comfortable dressing boyishly, and think of yourself as trans, then you probably are trans. I know that it’s a scary jump to make, but those are pretty much all indicators of being trans. There’s no prerequisite to being trans besides feeling like a gender that you weren’t assigned at birth. And that sounds like it’s the case for you.

For myself, I knew I at least wasn’t totally female for like 8 or 9 years before I really came to terms and was ready to deal with it. And part of my hesitancy was that I didn’t want to abandon womanhood, even though I, personally, rarely associated with anything feminine. But still, occasionally I would wear a dress or make up for a special event. I have tattoos of flowers. I grew my hair out for a few years. Most of my friends are girls. I’m a feminist.

But most of the time I shopped in the men’s section for flannels and jackets and hoodies and hats that I could hide my shape under. I shaved my head every couple years and didn’t wear makeup except for holidays and concerts. It was always kind of fun when I would get “mistaken” for a guy.

The conclusion I eventually came to for myself, was that I’m masculine-leaning genderqueer, and if a cis stranger is going to look at me and think “is that a boy or a girl” and then pick one, I would rather they pick “boy.” Gender is a spectrum, not a box you can check or a switch you can flip or even a scale you can slide on. Some people do feel completely male or comepletely female. Some people change from day to day. Some people feel like a mix of both. Some people feel like neither. Some people cherry pick from both but ultimately don’t completely identify with either. Some people are sort of floating off in space in a nebula cis folk can’t even conceptualize. It really isn’t necessary to hammer out the finer points if you don’t want to, or if you can’t.

There’s a quote I think about a lot from Naomi Alderman that goes, “Gender is a shell game. What is a man? Whatever a woman isn’t. What is a woman? Whatever a man is not. Tap on it and it’s hollow. Look under the shells: it’s not there.”

So, maybe you are a man. You don’t have to abandon all aspects of femininity. There are cis men with long hair, or who wear make up, or skirts, or like the color pink, or flowers, or paint their nails, or any number of other things that are considered feminine. Every human is an individual first.

I don’t know your situation, so I can’t comfortably speak to whether or not it’s safe for you to come out. But if you need - or want - to wait, it’s okay. It’s not weakness to prioritize your safety, or even comfort. There is no expiration date to transitioning. There are people who transition in their 30s, 40s, 50s, 60s, and so on. Like I said, it took me 9 years before I was ready to deal with it.

I guess my advice for now would maybe be to find an online community where you can explore your gender if you can’t do it irl. Even if you want to start a whole new blog where you go by a different name and pronouns, just to try living as that person and see how it feels.

There’s no rush to figure it out, and you don’t have to feel pressured to conform to the standards for binary genders set by cis people. If you’ll excuse the wordplay, you can transcend the barriers.

And now a message from another trans friend whomst I asked to proof read this: “Most importantly though - congratulations! Thinking about coming out and transitioning (however you might want to) can feel impossibly daunting, but it isn’t for naught. It’s a journey of understanding, accepting, and embracing your truest self. There is a joy unlike any other in becoming and living as your real self, and meeting others in the community who share your journey too. Transitioning, being trans, isn’t an act of hating yourself - it is the greatest act of self love you can ever undertake. In this day and age, you have access to more resources online and through public communities than the world has ever had before! Being trans is a wonderful thing. You are not alone no matter where in the world you are. There is no rush, and certainly we all face our own difficulties with it - but there are a million rewards you’ll find along the way.”

#hope this helps <3 <3 <3 #should i start a gender tag for this blog...#Anonymous

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lil-meow-meow-goes-rawr · 3 years

Text

Strange Happenings

⚓︎ Previous Parts: Betrayal, Doubts, The Race, A Challenge of Fate

⚓︎ Pairing: Jungkook x OC

⚓︎ Genre: Fantasy, Pirate AU, magic, time travel, romance

⚓︎ Warnings: mentions of blood/wounds

⚓︎ Rating: General

⚓︎ Word Count: 2.7K

⚓︎ Synopsis: Sakura’s entire world is turned inside out when she and Jungkook meet

He didn’t have to die.

Sakura angrily wiped a stray tear from her cheek. Her feet pounded against the pavement, releasing the pent-up anger with each step.

If only they had listened to me. He could have been saved.

Men and their ridiculous notions. Akira refused to listen to her advice and while he’d never come out and said it, she knew it was because she was the only female on the team. His ego had prevented the patient from reuniting with his family.

Shaking hands tugged at the band in her hair until it came loose, allowing the mess of dark frizzy curls to bounce down past her shoulders. Giving her head a firm shake, she didn’t bother running a hand through it. There was no use. The unmanageable curls would never cooperate, especially in the cold, December rain.

The day Sakura decided to become a healer, she had sworn to save as many lives as she could. It was the same oath her father took when suffering through the rigorous training programs. Three years of perseverance allowed him to become one of the greatest healers in all of Phainomai. He was Sakura’s hero. Vowing to be just like him, she entered the same training course and graduated top of her class.

Hugging her coat tighter around her body, Sakura fought back the scream building in her chest. Today’s failure in the operating room brought the number of patients to die while under care up to two. Her first loss occurred within the first month of her first job. She dove into this career believing she could make a difference; that every person who crossed her path would one day return home to their families. The moment the line went flat, her entire world came crashing down around her. Reality set in, blocking the light which once shone bright. She cried for a week, but her father refused to allow her to quit. He comforted her, offering a box of tissues and a tub of ice cream. His voice was soft but firm as he told her, “You can’t same them all, Kiddo. That’s just not how the world works.”

Tonight felt different from that moment nearly three years ago. If Dr. Tanaka had only listened to her. Sakura may not be able to save them all, but she could have saved this man. An accidental brush of her wrist against the man’s chest had shown her, even in his past life, he’d been nothing but a humble farmer. The fate handed to him the moment he entrusted his life to Sakura’s team was too cruel.

Akira Tanaka, lead healer of department and head surgeon of her team, enjoyed pushing Sakura around. At times she questioned whether he truly cared for the patients at all. Most days, he ran off at odd times, only to return hours later with no explanation as to where he had gone and a temper which kept everyone at bay. Tonight had been no different. He’d appeared only moments before the surgery and disappeared as soon as the last stitch had been made, leaving her to send off the rest of the team on her own.

Sakura quickened her stride. The winter wind was unforgiving despite her best efforts to block it out. The three mile walk from the hospital to her house was one she could make in her sleep. The neighborhood was friendly enough. She knew most everyone. Walking alone in the dark was never something she worried over but tonight was different. Her nerves were on edge. An unsettling feeling settled over her as she threw a quick glance over her shoulder. I’m being paranoid. Her emotions were shot from a long day at the hospital. A hot shower and a good night’s sleep would do her good.

The revving of an engine disturbed the stillness of the night. Turning toward the sound, Sakura barely managed to leap off the road as a bike came barreling around the corner. She recognized him as one of the riders from the race earlier. Apparently, the rush of the evening had yet to calm down.

The driver paid her no mind, his head twisting around to glance over his shoulder, laughter bubbling up from his chest. There was something so familiar about the sound. A feeling of returning home after years of being away. Without a helmet, the smirk he wore was evident as he turned back around in his seat.

~ A dozen men in blue uniforms, their muskets drawn, shouted as one voice. They gave chase. Their target – a young man dressed in torn rags with his hands bound before him – threw a glance over his shoulder. Induced by the rush of adrenaline, laughter bubbled up from his chest. As he turned back, a smirk pulled at the corner of his lips. ~

Sakura’s breath caught in her throat. That smirk – it was the same.

Her gift required the touch of another’s skin to see into their past lives. She was sure the man she saw in the vision was the same man who had just passed her by. Yet they were nowhere near close enough to touch, so how had she seen it?

Frozen to the spot, she watched as another bike sped around the corner, only a few seconds behind the first. Tires screeched in protest, forced to drift across the pavement at their rider’s will. Something was wrong. The first rider’s enjoyment was evident in his laughter, but the second racer appeared far too aggressive for a friendly race. The metal pipe in his hand made contact with the pavement, shooting out a wave of sparks as the rider spun to keep up with his opponent.

Shifting his weight, the first racer prepared for another spin back around but he faltered when his headlight pass over Sakura, alerting him to her presence. Their eyes met. A tidal wave of emotions crashed over him, too quickly to identify. Time slowed down and the world around them blurred until all that remained were the two of them.

~ The shot of the pistol shattered the suffocating silence. Sakura cried out as she pitched forward, the pain unlike anything she had experienced before. Someone’s arms shot out to catch her and she desperately grasped at their shirt, fighting back against the pull of unconsciousness. Terror shone through her dark eyes as each breath became more ragged than the last. ~

Mid-turn, the racer’s tires hit a patch of loose gravel, forcing the rider’s attention back to his bike as he fought to keep control. Taking advantage of the situation, the second racer pushed his bike forward, speeding up past his opponent and shoving the metal rod into his back wheel. The sudden disruption sent both bike and rider flying through the air.

The man crashed to the ground, narrowly avoiding a deadly collision with the six-hundred pound bike. The air stilled as the second biker sped away, leaving Sakura alone in the dark with the injured man. Terror paralyzed her, preventing her from rushing toward him. The moon was hardly visible behind the clouds, hiding the only bit of light she had. She should have turned and run but every instinct in her body told her to help him. Slowly, her feet shuffled across the rain soaked gravel, carrying her to his side where she dropped to her knees. He was unconscious but with a relieved breath, she noted his breathing was steady.

His glove, torn beyond repair, revealed a bloodied hand. The only other visible sign of damage was a large gash just below his left eye. Both were easy enough to heal with a few simple words, but she couldn’t be sure of any other injuries without the proper equipment.

His pulse. Check his pulse.

Sakura followed her instincts. She would help all she could in the moment but this man would need to be transferred to the hospital soon.

Reaching out toward his wrist, she froze as several images flashed across her vision. Images she couldn’t understand. Flashes of memories which showed the man before her had no better luck in the past life as he did in this one.

~ Hands bound before him, he stood before a crowd of spectators shouting angry condemnations in his direction. To his left, a man in a blue uniform stood at attention. To his right, a short pudgy man read from a large scroll. Each word he spoke spurred the crowd’s anger. They called for justice. They screamed for order. They demanded his death. ~

The next image she recognized from one she had seen before.

~ He ran from the men in uniform. The smirk he wore only moments before, replaced with a hard look of determination. His chasers were gaining. Musket went off. A bullet tore through his sleeve, narrowly avoiding contact with his shoulder. He found refuge, crossing into the line of trees but his victory was short lived. Blood oozed from the bullet’s point of entry to his lower leg. He managed a few steps before he collapsed to the ground. ~

The image faded slowly, lining up perfectly with that of the man lying before her. Fate was playing a cruel joke and this man was the victim.

A horrible realization settled over her. Those visions - how had she seen them? Her hand still hovered inches above his, never having come in contact. Jerking her hand back, she cradled it against her chest as she watched him with wide, terrified eyes. Nothing about this situation made any sense.

Sakura gasped, scrambling back as the man’s eyes shot open and he jolted up beside her. Terror clouded his eyes but his gaze was empty as he stared at her, as if he were still dreaming. Sweat coated every inch of his skin and he shook from what Sakura assumed was a fever. When he spoke, his words held no meaning.

“Aoi. I promised.”

His voice sent an electric shock through her body. That name felt as familiar as the man before her. He was, in a word - stunning. Features which should not have paired well, came together in perfect harmony. Soft, rounded cheeks; a button nose and large eyes gave him an innocent, child-like appearance. That innocence was contrasted with sharp lines and the body of a man who enjoyed his time at a gym. Those with physical type gifts were often blessed with naturally toned bodies. Having seen the way he handled his bike, it was no secret where his talents lay.

Groaning in pain, he brought his hand up to his head, seemingly forgetting she was there at all. “What’s going - ” he froze, his eyes wide as he frantically searched the surrounding darkness, “Aoi. Aoi! Where are you?”

Sakura attempted to steady her nerves with a deep breath before gently leaning forward to catch his attention. “I’m going to need you to calm down, sir. You’ve been injured.”

His wild gaze turned on her, a comment of disregard ready but he froze before the words left his lips. Swallowing hard, he let out a shaky breath. His eyes ran across her body several times.

Sakura felt oddly exposed in her work uniform and attempted to pull her jacket down around her exposed knees. “We really should get you to the hospital. It’s only about a mile down the road here. If you would like me to show you, I could - ”

“Aoi,” the man’s soft voice cut her off, “it’s me.” He was confused. His wide eyes did nothing to hide his fear.

Sakura pressed her lips together in a tight smiles, “So it is, though it seems you have me confused with another girl.”

“You don’t - you don’t know me? Aoi, it’s me.” His voice broke, shattering her heart.

“I do believe we’ve established as much,” standing, she brushed her dress off, “well, Mr. Me, it seems as though you’ve managed to hit your head a bit harder than I’d originally assumed. I think it’s best we get you to the hospital.”

The man lowered his gaze to the ground. She could almost see the gears turning as he attempted to sort through the mess in his head. “No,” he shook his head, frowning, “this was not what was meant to happen. The sorceress, she said - ”

“You went to a sorceress?”

The man lifted his eyes to her guiltily.

“You should know sorcerers aren’t any good. They hold too much power and all they ever do is con you out of your money. What did you go to a sorceress for?”

“I needed to get you back.”

Sakura wrapped her arms around herself, avoiding his intense stare. “Look, Mr. Me, you seriously have me confused for someone else. I’ve never met you before in my life.”

Huffing in frustration, the man struggled to his feet despite her protests. “We’ve met and I can prove it.”

“How?”

“You can see into another’s past lives, right?”

“How did you - ”

“It’s your gift. So here,” he extended his hand, “look into mine and you’ll see.”

“I don’t think - ”

“Please.”

Sakura’s fingers itched to reach out and take his hand. She shouldn’t, not after everything that had happened tonight. She knew it and yet she found herself slowly unfolding her arms from around herself.

The man offered an encouraging smile.

She stopped. “If I’m going to to learn about your past like this, I would like to have a name to go with the face?”

“Jungkook.”

“No last name?”

“Never found a use for one.”

Sakura raised a brow at the strange answer.

Moving slowly, she extended her arm and took his hand. The moment she touched his skin, she knew she made a mistake. Flashes of images - dozens at once, flooded her mind. They spun around her at dizzying speeds. Crying out, Sakura released his hand, digging her nails into her head against the surge of pain. Managing to peel her eyes open enough to see, she found a group of men, all with familiar faces blinking back at her. Sparks of yellow light danced among them. One by one, each extended a hand toward her. As they did, the flashes of images grew faster and clearer. Fourteen men stood at attention, each with their eyes trained on Sakura as if awaiting an order she couldn’t give. Jungkook stood beside her, his smile bright as he looked at each of the new faces.

Sakura drew in a shaky breath, struggling to keep her eyes open against the surge of images. These people, she knew them. She was sure of it. The one directly before her, with auburn hair that fell over his eyes and a remarkable resemblance to Jae, shifted his gaze to Jungkook. He did not move his lips, yet his words echoed through her mind in a deep, calming tone.

“Save him. Uncover the past and right the wrongs befallen you.”

Sakura blinked at him. “Did you say ‘befallen’?”

“Discover the truth, prevent the errors made in grief.”

“None of what you are saying makes any sense. Who are you?”

“You are our final hope.” Moving as one, each one of them lowered their arm, took a step back and bent forward in a bow. “Return to us what has been lost.”

The sparks between them came together to form the face of an elderly woman. Her skin sagged and her bushy hair stuck up at odd angles. When she spoke, her words slurred as if she were drunk. “Your destiny calls for you. At long last the promise will be fulfilled.”

“Would someone please speak without riddles?”

The face appeared startled by Sakura’s response. The woman regarded her with puckered lips before giving her head a light shake. “This is the one he wished to bring back? Men have no taste.”

Sakura scoffed, folding her arms across her chest, the rest of the world temporarily forgotten. “I am worth saving.” Hesitating a moment, she leaned forward and in a hushed tone asked, “Why exactly do I need saving?”

“Mortals truly are idiotic.”

“You say that as if you’re not.”

“I can not be bothered with this any further. Return to the place you came. Neither of you belong to this world. You have been here quite long enough.” The sparks slowly began fading away alongside the flashing images and the people, still dipped low in a bow. “I do hope you will show a bit more decorum the next we meet.”

Sakura tried to reach out to the woman, to beg for some sort of clarity, but the moment she lifted her foot, the earth opened up and swallowed her whole.

#In Another Life - AU #jungkook angst #jungkook fanfic #jungkook au #bts fanfction #bts fic #bts angst #bts au fanfic #bts fantasy au

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bunnyhanasong · 4 years

Text

Lost and Found

Main ship: pharmercy

Side ships: n/a

Genre: angst, hurt/comfort, reunion

Synopsis: Dr. Angela Ziegler has spent years focusing solely on her work and saving lives. When a familiar face comes to her in the worst way imagined, the level-headed doctor is left battling logic and emotion in a way she never wished to experience.

Note: This is a short story that I wrote for my creative writing course last semester that I have edited to contain Pharah and Mercy as opposed to my original characters I submitted it with. As I was writing it, I noticed how much inspiration I had taken from Pharmercy with the doctorxsoldier trope, so I thought I would edit it and post as a fan fic since I'm rather fond of it and got a very good mark on it. So, Mr. O if you're reading this; yes this short story was basically gay Overwatch fan fiction lmao. For now this is just a oneshot, though I have thought about expanding the story in the future. Feedback, comments, and suggestions for future pieces in this universe are very much appreciated and will motivate me to write again for this!

Content warnings: canon typical violence, medical talk, military talk, PTSD, traumatic injuries, takes place in a hospital

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Incoming trauma, IED blast with three major casualties; one DOA, two in critical condition.

Angela groaned as her pager beeped angrily at her, the words highlighting the screen causing her to shoot up from her bunk. The on-call room was dark and there were at least two other pagers beeping away, trying to get their owners up to meet the trauma. The bottom bunk she had been occupying for less than 45 minutes, though not exactly the pinnacle of comfort, was warm and inviting in that moment. Still, she pushed herself up and made to leave, trying to pull her blonde hair into a haphazard bun as she followed the other doctors out into the hallway.

The doctor and nurse in front of Angela were chattering in what she knew was Arabic, though her minimal knowledge in the language rendered eavesdropping nearly impossible. Angela was from Switzerland originally, so she only spoke German and English, the latter being thanks to school. She had chosen to learn English throughout high school and university, which came in handy since that was the tongue she spoke predominantly here. She was the head doctor of a Swiss medical aid team, sent to a military base outside of Cairo, Egypt to help their short-staffed trauma centre. None of her team knew Arabic, save for a few phrases, so they were relying on each other and their English knowledge to get them through the mission. As the head doctor and the most fluent English speaker, Angela was the one who received the most information from the Military doctors.

“Dr. Ziegler,” an accented voice brought Angela’s attention to the nurses’ station across the trauma bay. She made her way to the nurse who had said her name, a kind, stout Egyptian woman by the name of Salma. She had been the friendliest nurse by far and welcomed the Swiss doctors warmly. Coming to stand by the triage desk, Angela asked the nurse for more information on what had occurred.

“Our military had sent a team to patrol a territory not far from the base where reports had been made of criminal activity. I guess they stepped too close to unmapped land, an IED mine went off before anyone could react. We lost one immediately, the other two are on the bus in critical condition; ETA 10 minutes.”

Angela nodded along with her words, feeling her stomach sink at the fact that they lost a patient already. She shook off the thought though, no sense in getting emotional now; she would just need to focus on keeping the remaining two alive. She had already seen her fair share of explosion aftermath in her two weeks on base already, which was a terrifying wake up call for the woman. Still, as a doctor she had learned quickly that one must separate feelings from work, otherwise the emotional impact of the job would have put her out of commission years ago. She kept this in mind as she left the nurses’ station, passing a group of Egyptian staff barking orders in Arabic and making her way to a familiar redheaded woman.

“Ange!” the younger doctor greeted Angela in German with a sign of relief, “We have no idea where to even start with this. Do you have any more information on the trauma?”

Amelia Schmidt, 35-year-old and a cardio surgeon by trade, though here she had switched from daily open heart surgeries to more frequent traumas and millions of sutures. She had been Angela’s closest friend since they started working at the same hospital almost about eight years prior. She was certainly a spunky person, always ready to jump into action and meet the problem head on. Being in Egypt was changing that for Amelia though, she felt very out of her element and was finding herself relying on Angela a lot more than usual. The language barrier was certainly difficult, not to mention the culture shock, and Amelia finally felt the overwhelming weight of her profession full force. Still, she never lost her spirit and still kept Angela and the others optimistic, her jovial attitude making nightshifts and long days a bit more bearable.

“Two casualties incoming, both soldiers. Landmine went off and they must have got the front of the blast. Jump in where you can and keep an eye on the younger doctors with us in case translation becomes a problem. If you need help with Arabic, let Salma know like always.”

Amelia nodded at her friend’s words, “Okay.”

Angela didn’t have time to ask her friend how things had been while she had taken a short nap, because the doors to the trauma bay crashed open. There was a lot of shouting in multiple languages as Dr. Ziegler tried to direct her staff in German while the local doctors did the same in their language. She ran up to the medic pushing a gurney, asking in her heavily accented English what they were looking at.

The paramedic looked slightly confused but thankfully answered the blonde woman in English after a moment’s pause, “Private Ahmed Abassi, age 23. GCS 8, responds to pressure but currently nonverbal and only semi-conscious. He was thrown by the explosion and has a suspected rib fracture and shoulder dislocation. Abdomen seems stiff, we assume some internal bleeding but could not get a portable ultrasound in the field.”

Angela nodded as they wheeled into a trauma room, stopping so she could pull on a pair of gloves. She worked with the nurses who had come to help, doing a secondary scan of the patient’s body. She identified some shrapnel that caused superficial wounds but her main concern was the distention of his abdomen and the apparent pain response the young soldier had to it. He was barely conscious but groaned in pain as she palpated the area, apologizing to him gently in Arabic as she continued to check his chest and torso for injuries. Though her words were jumbled and she stuttered more than she liked, Angela still made sure to speak to her patient calmly through her exam, just in case he was more aware than they thought. She asked a nurse to get the portable ultrasound and x-ray so they could check for internal injuries, which was her greatest concern in that moment. As she was monitoring his vitals and reassessing his condition on the coma scale chart, one of her younger doctors ran into the room.

“Dr. Ziegler,” the young man asked in a slightly overwhelmed tone, “Dr. Khan is asking for your help in trauma one.”

Angela nodded and turned to a nurse she knew spoke English, “I will be back to check on Private Abassi in a bit, please get those blood tests and the type-and-cross orders ASAP.”

She followed the resident out into the hall and found Dr. Khan standing outside the trauma room in question. The Egyptian doctor was the head trauma surgeon there and was very no-nonsense. She was tall and slightly intimidating, years of military training apparent in her posture and demeanour. Still, she had been friendly and helpful to the visiting doctors, which Angela was thankful for. She didn’t even have a chance to ask what was wrong before the other woman spoke in a terse voice.

“Female in her early thirties. She is awake and noncompliant. Traumatic trans-radial amputation and other assumed injuries we cannot diagnose due to her adamance to leave. She needs to be examined and we need to operate but we first need to assess her mental state.”

Angela was a bit taken aback by the sudden information dump, “And you need me because...?”

“Your friend said you worked in psychology before switching to surgery, yes?”

Ah, so she wanted a psych consult. Angela had done a minor is psychology and worked as a psychiatrist for a couple years before deciding she much rather preferred the surgical side of her profession. It had been years since she had done a proper psych consult, but her knowledge of the workup and proper patient care had not escaped her.

“I did. Do you need me to do a workup now? Shouldn’t her physical injuries take priority?”

Dr. Khan shook her head, “We have reasons to believe this is a Post-Traumatic Stress attack. She took the biggest force of the explosion; witnesses say she threw herself towards it to protect her younger soldiers. She is a security chief, so we know she has seen a lot of battle already, and was held captive by enemy forces for a fortnight last year.”

“And unknown people touching her while she is in shock may cause her to become violent or prone to self-injury,” Angela concluded, nodding. She gestured for the trauma surgeon to take her to see the patient, following behind her into the room. It had been a while since she had done a proper psych evaluation, but she was hopeful that this would be simple and not include any communication barriers.

There was a large amount of hospital personnel in the room, surrounding a figure clad in a tattered military uniform. There was a group of nurses trying to dress the soldier’s arm, which had been amputated, probably by shrapnel, just below the elbow. That needed to be assessed and closed properly, but surgery was not an option until a proper workup was done. To do a workup though, they first needed to calm the patient so she would be compliant; which was already proving to be an issue. The soldier was thrashing in the nurses’ hold, trying to escape their grasp and the IV in her remaining arm.

Jumping into action, Angela waved away two security personnel who were trying to restraint the soldier’s wrist and ankles, “You are only making this worse by restraining her. Please refrain from touching the patient.”

Making her way towards the bed, she glanced back at Doctor Khan, “Patient name?”

She looked down at the patient and didn’t even hear Khan’s response. It wasn’t necessary; she new exactly who this was. If her name badge on her uniform, somehow still intact, wasn’t identifiable enough, the eye of Horus tattoo under her right eye gave away her identity. The patient’s terrified dark eyes met hers and Angela knew that there was recognition under the layers of shock and drug-induced haze.

“F-fareeha?” Angela murmured, shocked, and took a seat in the chair pulled up beside the hospital bed. She had already tuned out all the background noise of the room, focusing completely on the woman in front of her. She was trying very hard to separate emotions from the situation, but now that she knew who the patient was it was becoming increasingly difficult. Still, she had a job to do and that was the priority in this moment.

Returning her focus to the task at hand, Angela spoke softly to the injured soldier in front of her. She had obviously recognized the blonde doctor by now and was staring at her in confusion, as if she could not understand why Angela was in front of her. The way she looked at her was reassuring though, since she seemed responsive despite her injuries and apparent blood loss. Angela took a glance at the monitor for a moment to check her vitals, saw her heart rate and blood pressure were concerningly high, and took a moment to attempt to soothe the patient’s nerves.

“Fareeha, I need you to stay still, okay?” Angela tried again to reassume her doctor tone as she spoke to the soldier, “You need to let us take care of you. Take a deep breath for me, alright?”

The Egyptian woman tried to speak but she was having trouble, whether that be due to focusing issues or her pain. The other hospital staff were speaking loudly and it was clearly distracting the patient. She was trying to even her breathing like Angela asked, but too deep of an inhale caused her breathing to hitch and her whole body to flinch, which made her assume she had sustained some broken ribs. Fareeha fumbled around on the bed until she caught Angela’s hand with her remaining one, looking up at the doctor with tear-filled eyes. The blonde didn’t pull her hand away, sensing that she needed comfort in this moment, and just hushed her gently.

“Focus on me, alright? Can you understand me?” she had been speaking English the whole time, since she knew Fareeha knew it as well. It was easier than attempting to speak her rusty Arabic, which probably wouldn’t be understandable anyway considering how much her voice wavered. After a pause, Fareeha nodded shakily, wincing as her body disagreed with the movement.

“Good, stay still,” Angela was still holding her hand and gave it a gentle squeeze, “You’re safe, Fareeha. You had an accident out in the field but we’re going to get you through this.”

Angela was trying her best to stay calm herself, speaking softly and keeping the patient’s focus on her. She knew she was letting her emotions get the better of her but she couldn’t help it. Not when Fareeha had such a tight grip on her hand and her eyes held so many questions and so much pain. Still, she knew the most important thing was to keep Fareeha distracted so her heart rate stayed down, wanting to avoid any more panic. She could see the nurses still trying to staunch the flow of blood from Fareeha’s amputation, silently praying that the patient stayed unaware of that aspect of her injury for the time being.

“M-my… my t-team?” the soldier’s voice was raspy and she spoke through gritted teeth but to Angela it was a relief to hear, “Are… t-they o…okay?”

That question made Angela hesitate, glancing back anxiously at Dr. Khan. She didn’t know how to respond to that, since she was not aware of how Ahmed’s condition was faring and did not even know the name of the soldier who had been killed by the blast. Fareeha squeezed her hand, trying to catch her attention again, and Angela sighed. Of course it was just like Fareeha to only care about her team when faced with life threatening injuries herself, ever the selfless hero she was.

“Private Abassi is in surgery right now, Chief Amari,” Khan supplied quickly, “Your other members are either back at base or in the waiting room.”

Angela did not want to lie to Fareeha but knew they could not tell her the truth about the deceased. It would not be fair to distress her like that, not now, and it would certainly ruin things after they had finally gotten her calm. The doctor just nodded along with the attending surgeon’s words, making eye contact with Fareeha.

“Fareeha, you need surgery,” though the extent of her injuries was not yet known, it was obvious she would need to be anesthetized to have her traumatic amputation corrected and cleaned up. She was unsure if the patient had even registered that she was missing her hand and forearm, most likely due to shock or the concern for her team she seemed to hold over her own health.

“Surgery?”

Angela hummed in affirmation, frowning at the way the younger woman sounded so confused, “Can you let the other doctors look you over? I promise you are safe; we just need to make sure you’re not bleeding internally or have any fractures we missed.”

It took a little more coaxing and Angela promising to stay right beside her before the younger woman agreed. The Swiss doctor held her hand the whole time, spoke to her gently in English and broken Arabic, hoping to calm her nerves. The doctor’s shaky attempt at speaking her mother tongue made Fareeha smile despite her pain, a familiar and warm sight that soothed Angela’s own anxieties. When Doctor Khan confirmed that Fareeha had suffered major bruising and a few rib fractures, as well as a concussion, she ordered some scans to make sure there was no bleeding or injury they had missed.

The other staff members were still bustling around, ordering scans and cleaning up the space. Angela had stepped away to speak to the attending doctor, explaining how she knew Fareeha and what steps they had to take now. The soldier in question was slumped back into the uncomfortable neck brace she was stuck in, still trying to crane her neck to see the only familiar face she knew in the room.

“Angie?”

The nickname Angela had not been called in years made her jump, sure Amelia called her “Ange” sometimes but that was different. There was a mixture of fondness and fear in Fareeha’s voice as she called out to the blonde doctor, who had been speaking to Khan in a hushed tone across the room. Turning her attention back to the patient who called for her, Fareeha’s dark eyes searching for reassurance before the unfamiliar nurses wheeled her to the operating theatre.

Angela walked back to her side, not even thinking as she reached out to brush matted dark hair off Fareeha’s face, “You’ll be alright, Fareehali.”

The affectionate nickname surprised the younger woman, “W-will you be here… when it’s d-done?”

Angela nodded, “Of course. I promise.” The fear and uncertainty was clear on her face and it broke Angela’s heart, seeing this strong soldier so scared. She held onto Fareeha’s hand for a little longer, promising her that the surgery would be over before she knew it and Fareeha was in good hands.

When she was reassured that there would be a familiar face there when she woke up, the solider let the staff members wheel her down the hallway. Angela was left in the hall by herself, dumbfounded by the situation she had just been thrown into. She went back to the trauma bay in a daze, worry eating away at her stomach as she slouched heavily against a wall.

“Ange?” Amelia’s cheerful voice drew her out of her thoughts, “You okay?”

Angela shrugged, already feeling the dull ache of a migraine throbbing in her skull, “Patient’s gone to surgery.”

Amelia raised an eyebrow, “You’re not operating? You have privileges here and usually you never pass up the chance to operate.”

The older woman had taken a seat in a chair, her head falling into her hands as she felt her body weighed down with the emotions she had tried to fight off. She stayed quiet for a moment as she tried to collect herself, feeling her friend’s concerned stare drilling into her. Angela didn’t raise her head to look at Amelia and her reply was muffled.

“Can’t operate. Not on her.”

“Who?”

Angela sighed, “The security chief with the traumatic amputation. She’s… uh… she’s my ex-girlfriend.”

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

The first thing Fareeha was aware of when she woke up was the scent of disinfectant, which was so strong it felt like a hit to the face. The second thing she noticed was that her left arm was numb, and a quick glance down explained why. Her elbow was wrapped in a tight layer of bandages, but the rest of her lower arm was gone, an empty space on the bed where it should be. She recalled one of the nurses mentioning something about a traumatic amputation, but it had disappeared from her mind in a haze of adrenaline and pain medication. She was not too sure about much that had happened in the trauma room, to be honest; everything fuzzy with the weight of anesthetic. Now, though, the reality was hitting her; she was missing her left arm and might never fight again.

She felt a weight on her other arm and turned her head, much too fast which made her wince, and saw a familiar figure beside her. Angela Ziegler was there in all her glory, slumped over in a visitor’s chair that had been pulled as close to the bed as possible. She was fast asleep, her hand clutching tightly to Fareeha’s remaining one as if she would disappear if Angela let go. She was still clad in her beige scrubs, her rumpled white coat having been discarded over the back of the chair, and her hair was a mess, tumbling over her shoulders as if it had fallen from its haphazard knot. Despite her clear exhaustion and disheveled state, Fareeha would never be over how beautiful the Swiss woman was, and she felt her heart clench painfully as she remembered how bittersweet this reunion was.

Their breakup was not exactly a bad one; there had not been any ill feelings or fights. It was mostly a mutual decision out of necessity rather than falling out of love. Fareeha had been an exchange student in Switzerland back in her second year of University. She soon met Angela, a quiet and calculated med student well on her way to her degree. They quickly became friends and improved their English together as a means of communication. Like so many cliché love stories, their friendship grew closer until it was more than that. They dated for a while, Fareeha staying in Switzerland longer than her exchange had been for, and they were happy. Thing were good and Angela even made solid plans to visit her girlfriend the next summer in Egypt when she undoubtably would have to go home.

When Fareeha went back to Egypt, they made long distance work for a while and it was still okay. It was when the Egyptian woman told her girlfriend she would be joining the army that Angela knew things wouldn’t work out, not then anyway. They were too far apart and she needed to focus on her career, Fareeha’s military service would leave her plagued by fear for her partner’s safety and distract her from the hospital. Fareeha proposed a break, understanding Angela’s point of view but knew the older woman would never stop her from doing what she wanted. Angela had let her go without a fight and they parted ways, though there had been many tears on both sides and a long skype call of apologies and regrets.

They had stayed in touch at first, friendly and civil, but soon grew apart. Mostly due to Fareeha’s training and deployments, which prohibited her from using her phone often. Eventually their correspondence lulled until it stopped all together. It had been maybe three years since they last spoke by then and Fareeha was completely overwhelmed by the doctor’s presence. The fact that she was here though, since she must she have had work to be doing, was reassuring. It made her feel safe to have Angela here, especially since her mind threatened to swallow her in a whirlwind of memories and trauma. Though it didn’t stop the panic completely, Angela being there was enough to keep her from falling deep into her head in that moment.

The effects of the anesthetic were wearing off, though she still felt groggy from the IV of what she assumed was morphine. She certainly wasn’t complaining about the drugs though, since she knew her pain would have been almost blinding without the steady flow of pain relief into her bloodstream. Now that her head was clearer, Fareeha tried her hardest to distract herself from the overwhelming numbness she felt on her left side. She felt as though maybe the fact that she had had a traumatic amputation hadn’t sunk in completely beforehand, but now that the pain was breaking through her hazy mind, she felt the panic over the topic rising.

Thinking about it only made it worse, Fareeha noted, but she couldn’t stop herself. Left in the silent and bland hospital room to her own devices, her head was filled with memories from the accident as they all flooded back. The yell of shock that left her friend Noor as she realized too late that she stepped on an unmarked mine. The way she had thrown herself to grab her friend but had been too late to stop the damage. The force of the explosion that sent them all flying backwards. It all came back in a rush, overwhelming her beyond belief.

Her head was aching, she had a concussion if she remembered correctly, and she just wanted to go back to sleep. Sleep would surely bring nightmares now, though, and the solider was not sure how much more panic she could handle at that point. Fareeha tried to focus her mind on Angela instead, observing her sleeping form languidly in an attempt to keep herself calm. She gave the doctor’s hand a gentle squeeze, more as reassurance for herself than anything, and it caused the other woman to stir.

“Fareehali?” the nickname was mumbled and tired, followed by a string of words in German that Fareeha was unable to place properly. It had been too long since she head or spoke in Swiss-German, her third language, and she was too out of it to recognize what the doctor said. Hearing her voice was reassuring though, even though the sleepily mumbled words pricked at her heart more than she would like to admit; mind flooded with memories of their past. This time she wasn’t waking up in their shared bed next to the beautiful doctor, who was too tired to speak in anything but her mother tongue but still greeted Fareeha good morning with gentle kisses and a strong hug. This time she was injured and in the hospital, Angela was her doctor and they had been broken up for over half a decade. Thing were bittersweet, she sighed to herself, and this was certainly not how she imagined their reunion.

“Hi, Angie,” Fareeha replied as the blonde lifted her head, her grip on the other woman’s hand not faltering for a moment. It took a little while for Angela to wake up properly, her unruly hair sticking to sleep-flushed cheeks as she lifted her free hand to rub at her eye. After a moment though, she seemed to jump back into doctor mode.

“How’s your pain?” she questioned, glancing over at the machine beside the bed to check Fareeha’s vital signs. Fareeha couldn’t help but smile weakly at the focused look on her face, thinking she looked downright adorable when she was fussing over her like this. Perhaps an inappropriate thought for a soldier being treated for traumatic injuries, Fareeha would just blame her gay brain winning over logic for that though.

Fareeha shrugged weakly, “Can’t feel my arm,” she nodded pointedly to the bandaged stump that was propped up on a pillow as if it wasn’t obvious. She tilted her head back into the pillows and winced a little, “Head hurts.”

Angela frowned at that, reaching up to absentmindedly smooth her messy dark hair down, “I’m sorry, Fareeha.”

“Nothing anyone could do.”

“you… threw yourself in front of the explosion?”

Fareeha flinched but nodded all the same, “Not my finest idea. It seemed like the right thing to do though; I had to protect those kids. Dumbasses, the lot of them, but at the end of the day they’re good soldiers.”

Angela shook her head, “You could have died, Fareeha.”

“I could die any day, Angie. That’s how this line of work goes.”

“But…” Angela’s eyes were full of pain as she stared at her, “I can’t lose you… not again, Fareehali.”

That confession had Fareeha pausing, taken aback by the statement. It had been three years since they last spoke, six since they broke up, yet by that admission it sounded like Angela hadn’t let her go completely. Maybe she had not let Angela go either, still, that was a loaded statement and the solider was unsure of how to reply.

“Angela…” Fareeha spoke gently, though her tone was guarded, “It’s been so long.”

The blonde scoffed, blue eyes holding a challenging edge to their stare, “And? That doesn’t mean anything… I miss you, Fareeha. When I saw you in the trauma bay earlier, it was like my worst fear being realized before my eyes. If you had died down there or in surgery, I don’t know if I could have handled it.”

The Egyptian woman felt her heart sink as tears welled in Angela’s eyes. She hated seeing her in pain, hated that she couldn’t fix it immediately. The older woman had always been so strong, so calculated and sure of herself, so to see her now close to tears and almost shaking; it made Fareeha want to cry as well.

“I’m sorry,” Fareeha’s voice was barely above a whisper, “I didn’t want to leave you… I didn’t want to scare you like this.”

“I know…” Angela mumbled, hiding behind her curtain of blonde hair. She laughed at her own emotional behaviour and swiped at the tears on her cheeks, “This is so unprofessional of me.”

“Angie… how long have you been in Egypt?”

Angela looked at her with a sheepish smile, “Two weeks. We’re here for a couple months, unless something severe happens.”

Fareeha nodded, “Did you… think about contacting me?”

“I did, actually,” Angela laughed a little, “I contacted your mother. I wasn’t sure if you still had the same phone number so I found Ana though the trauma centre’s records, she works here sometimes, yeah?”

“Not as often as she used to but yeah. I haven’t talked to her in a while to be honest.”

“Fareeha!” Angela shook her head, “Call your mother for once, dumbass. She misses you.”

“I know”

The doctor sighed and observed her for a moment, “I… miss you.”

“Angie,” Fareeha sighed, watching her with pain in her eyes.

“I do.”

“I know” Fareeha said again, “I miss you too.”

Angela was holding onto her hand again, silent tears streaking down her cheeks. Fareeha tugged on her hand until she took the hint, slouching down so the soldier could wrap her arm around her. Angela melted against her strong body, trying to be careful and avoid straining her injuries. It felt safe like this, something neither woman had felt properly in years; the familiarity and warmth that came with the desperate embrace. This was the comfort both had missed so dearly, something the doctor had let go of out of fear of the unknown. Yet here they were six years later, the only reassurance they found from the unknown being in each other’s arms.

“Promise me,” Angela mumbled into her shoulder, “That you won’t scare me like this again. I can’t lose you, not after all this.”

“Angela, you couldn’t handle the distance last time…”

“I don’t care,” the Swiss woman wore her stress and exhaustion on her face as she lifted her head, “I’ll do whatever it takes this time. I’ll stay here if I have to, transfer all my work here. I can’t leave you, Fareeha, certainly not like this.”

“I-” Fareeha took a shaky breath, “You mean that?”

“Whatever it takes,” Angela’s tone was serious and firm, a sure nod punctuating her tearful words. Fareeha knew she wasn’t lying and she knew from experience that Angela never broke her promises. She also knew that the blonde was the most stubborn, head-strong woman she had the pleasure of meeting.

“Okay.”

“O-okay?”

“I promise,” Fareeha concluded as she held tightly onto the woman who had truthfully never stopped being the object of her affection, “I won’t leave you again.”

That admission made Angela burst into tears again, holding tightly to the younger woman as her whole body shook with a mixture of relief and emotion. Fareeha just held her as best she could, pressing a cautious kiss to the Swiss woman’s forehead, apologizing so quietly it was almost inaudible. It was an apology for a lot of things, leaving her; scaring her; not being there to protect and love Angela for all those years. Angela just scoffed and told her to shut up, returning her affection with a gentle kiss on the lips that held six years of pain, regret, and love.

Even though the future was terrifying and their reunion was as bittersweet as reunions go, none of that seemed to matter in that moment. All that mattered was the promise of safety and comfort they had found in each other all those years ago, a promise that felt stronger than any war, IED, or distance that threatened to separate them again.

#i finally have time to write again i need to write the next chap of foolish girl #overwatch #angela ziegler #mercy #fareeha amari #pharah #pharmercy #overwatch fanfic #pharmercy fan fiction #overwatch fan fiction #my fics #ptsd tw #military tw #hospital tw #amputation tw

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amphtaminedreams · 4 years

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The Eras of Lana Del Rey: Lookbook no.9

Hi to anyone reading,

Hope you’re okay! AND that you didn’t end up here because you searched the Lana Del Rey tag so you could see people ranting about her-you’re about to be very disappointed. Sorry. This is not about to be some Question for the Culture discourse because the world is bleak enough right now and the last thing we all need is to be reminded of that saga.

Being a Lana Del Rey fan is easy, they said. She’s not a controversial artist, they said. And yet 2020 had to do what it does best and fuck everything up.

Whether people like her or not, it’s made me so angry reading all the abuse she’s been getting about her appearance for the last couple of weeks, because I really thought that if we could agree on anything it was that attacking individuals for the way they look because you dislike something they’ve done (with the exception of shit like racist tattoos and blackfishing) is, you know, awful and judgemental as fuck? Like you do realise when you treat the word fat as a pejorative that the fat people you don’t have a problem with understood that you meant it as an insult too? I think what all those people tweeting about Lana’s weight, and that includes some of her fans, are forgetting is that she was in her early 20s when she was thrust into the limelight. As much as there’s this conspiracy that her dad bought her a career in the music industry, she’d made the decision to go it alone and had lived in a trailer park as a struggling musician for years. On top of that, we have the unreleased tracks with lyrics seemingly referencing an eating disorder in her younger years. OF COURSE her body is going to look different. Why is it that we treat weight gain as an inherently bad thing without any insight into the other factors that constitute a person’s “health”? It’s fucking insane that so many feel they have the right to comment on other’s bodies in the first place and it breaks my heart that she might be reading these comments. This wasn’t intended to necessarily be a rant about how much I love this woman but all the shit I’ve read about her on the internet these past few months have pushed me to it. You'll respect your queen of alternative music or I shall stan twice as hard on your behalf. You can thank me later when you come to your senses xoxo

I’d love to say it was intentional that I finally finished this post the week Violet Bent Backwards Over the Grass was released but that would imply I have my shit way more together than I actually do. If I’m being completely honest, I’ve only heard L.A Who am I to Love You so far 1). because I want to wait for the hard copy for the rest and that doesn’t turn up til September and 2). because I do not have my shit together, lol. That being said, there is no doubt in my mind that I am going to love it-one thing I have always loved about Lana’s lyrics is how well they paint a picture and this is something that poetry only more freely allows for the exploration of. That ability to create such a strong narrative voice and atmosphere is a talent that extends to her visuals and the production of her records too, and is something I really missed when it comes to the Norman Fucking Rockwell era. I’m just going to say it: a strong aesthetic is to NFR as memorable songs are to Lust for Life. Lacking. Am I allowed to say that as a fan? The collaborations don’t do it for me, okay, and as as NFR is concerned, aside from The Greatest/Fuck It I Love You video which went down the whole neon surfer girl route, it’s hard to identify a cohesive theme. It’s understandable that at this point, she would want to just focus purely on the music, and it goes without saying that NFR will stand the test of time in that regard but I don’t think we can deny that when people think of Lana in the future, it’s not gonna be a green windbreaker that comes into their heads.

^Illustration credit to Filip Kozak (https://filipkozaksart.tumblr.com/?fbclid=IwAR3vwLX2pNxoFNhTPD1ky14LllPqlLtL1GxGlD79xuHxdtzcHLw-6aNBZWo)

And here’s where this Filip Kozak illustration comes into it; after years of it sitting in my camera roll for years, it finally has a use. There’s really nothing better to illustrate how mundane life has become this year than the disproportionate level of excitement my photo-hoarding-self experienced realising it would fit perfectly into this post and is thus eligible for deletion. Up there with being able to fit a whole box of biscuits onto the shelf at work rather than having to individually take out as many as I can and then shove them on top of the existing box of biscuits one by one. Truly riveting content on this Tumblr page. Back to the point-by using this as my stimulus for the post rather than the Lana Del Rey albums as outfits tag that went round on Twitter, I can conveniently exclude NFR as an outfit inspiration category, and that saves me from having to buy a charity shop windbreaker with its price bumped up 150% by some upper middle class Depop e-girl or boy who uses the word peng as a descriptor like it’s a nervous tic. To make up for leaving out NFR, I’ve tried to branch out a bit and do the outfits not just based on the music videos or album covers but also from street style and stage looks and photoshoots from around the same period too. It was hard not to be influenced by the general “vibe” and sound of the albums either when I was planning outfits, whether it’s the grand, orchestral instrumentals of Born to Die or the 70s psychedelic rock inspired riffs of Ultraviolence and hopefully that’ll show as well! Enjoy:D

Born to Die (Release Date: 27th January 2012)

It’s been 8 years, and when you ask most people what they think of when they hear the name Lana Del Rey, they’ll probably dismiss her as the one who sings about being sad and doing coke and sleeping with older men. That’s the Born to Die impact. Say what you want but it’s one of only a handful of albums released by a female artist to have spent more than 300 weeks on the Billboard 200 chart and it really established the mythos of “Lana Del Rey” because before all this, before all the think pieces from other women claiming she’d set feminism back hundreds of years with her music, before she ousted grayscale Effy Stonem as the queen of angsty teen Tumblr (which as you can probably guess was a subsection of the internet I was very much engulfed by, lmao), she was just Lizzie Grant, a relatively normal aspiring singer songwriter in her early twenties. But as Lana Del Rey, she was someone else-some beautiful, mystical being that personified the sentiment of being born in the wrong era. Whilst every other singer’s record labels seemed to be trying desperately to thrust them into the future and keep them on top of all the musical and stylistic trends, it was refreshing to hear someone whose music and visuals captured all the most glamorous elements of the past. Part Priscilla Presley/Jackie O reincarnation (the National Anthem video really illustrated how Lana is just as much a storyteller as she is a musician), part high level mobster’s wayward wife à la Michelle Pfeiffer in Scarface, she was the good girl by day and the bad girl by night, and I think that’s a duality we can all relate to or would like to think we’re interesting enough to relate to deep down.

Her style from around this period was EVERYTHING. She had those grungy Tumblr girl elements, the camo jacket and the oversized pieces and the leather jackets, but she also heavily drew on the styles and silhouettes of the 50s and 60s with the beehives and the new look Dior inspired cinched waist dresses. Even now in 2020, I think this period is what most people would think if they were asked to describe Lana’s style. I made sure I got the grungy pieces in there with the chunky boots and the vinyl and the oversized leather but the foundation of her looks back then were usually these daintier throwback pieces like the white silk dress and the corset and the mint fur trimmed coat (House of Sunny’s Penny Pistachio coat).

Favourite lyrics from the album? “Now my life is sweet like cinnamon, like a fucking dream I'm living in” from Radio. Nobody asked but I’m gonna give it to you anyway.

Born to Die: The Paradise Edition (Release Date: 9th November 2012)

Lana’s Paradise EP contains probably my absolute favourite song of her’s, Ride, and with that, the beautiful opening monologue that will stay in my mind forever. This era was of course ushered in by Tropico, the short film that included the premiere of the songs Bel Air, Body Electric and Gods and Monsters, which established the ethereal tone of this period-it’s in the name, after all. Both the album and the videos were other-worldly and leaned heavily on religious symbolism which I’m sure pissed off many a middle-aged bible basher at the time. Most prominent in her lyrics were reflections on the freedom of the open road which corresponded with visuals of biker gangs and desert dwellers and modern interpretations of the Wild West, as was an attempt to capture the nature of the so-called “American spirit” which as Lana portrayed it shared more qualities with a kind of celestial, transient being than any kind of solid concept or identity. She played an emotionally detached stripper and a haunted saloon-style-bar singer (almost looking like a runaway bride) and Eve the “first woman” all in the same album and honestly, if that’s not iconic, I don’t know what is. We saw SO many incredible red carpet looks in this period too which built upon this idea of her as the fallen angel tempted by original sin that Tropico established; I feel like this era was all about laying bare the soul of the character she played, this broken, delicate but ultimately liberated being that was so dangerous to the idea of the strong, stable modern feminist ideal. She went about it in COMPLETELY the wrong way in a post that betrayed the ignorance of the privilege she has as a white female performer, but I think this is what she was getting at in it and Ultraviolence only went on to bolster her critics.

In response to the criticism she still receives about the choice to wear a Native American war bonnet in her Ride music video, I’d like to say that it really seems like she’s learnt from that-actions speak louder than words and so though it’s not my place to say whether this makes up for that error, the work she’s done with Native American reparations-focussed foundations since and the money she’s donated to the cause says a lot about her intentions. Again, I want to stress that it’s not my place to say! But it’s a detail that is often overlooked so I thought I’d mention it here.

“I was a singer, not a very popular one. I once had dreams of becoming a beautiful poet. But upon an unfortunate series of events saw those dreams dashed and divided like a million stars in the night sky, that I wished on over and over again, sparkling and broken. But I didn’t really mind because I knew that it takes getting everything you ever wanted and then losing it to know what true freedom is.”

Ultraviolence (Release Date: 13th June 2014)

AH, Ultraviolence. My favourite of Lana’s albums and imo, a masterpiece. ONE skip. ONE. Sorry Guns and Roses. I got stoned in my back garden and listened to this (for research purposes ofc, heh) and ended up deciding that this is what I want to listen to when I die (also whilst stoned). It sounds dramatic but listening to this album in that state of mind is such a heavenly experience that I’d be too zen to notice myself slipping away into nothingness on the basis that if I didn’t as long as I could stay in that bubble of awe, nothingness forever wouldn’t be so scary after all. I know, I know, that sentence has big Jaden Smith’s old tweets energy. But if an album is what helps me get over an existential crisis, I beg you allow me the nonsensical ramblings about how I felt like I was ascending into the stars.

Though in terms of the lyrical content the public perception is probably correct, I think the reputation Ultraviolence has as Lana’s darkest, most gothic album (which is something I’ve in incorporated into the outfits I put together) is mistaken; instrumentally and visually it drew more on 70s psychedelic rock and the bohemian counter culture of the period than anything, and her stage looks are a clear reflection of that, and also the outfits I was most excited to channel. It seems counter-intuitive to the moody atmosphere I associate the tracklist with but it’s my go-to summer album; it’s raw (probably her most stripped back work along with NFR, lots of the songs are barely edited) and it’s gloomy but let’s be real, hot as fuck-don’t bother making a sex playlist, just put Ultraviolence on shuffle, and you’re good to go. This was the album where Lana debuted some of her most criticised lyrics and where the notion that she glamourises abuse comes from, one of the points she also seemed to be getting at in the Instagram post, but imo it’s fair to say that she sang truthfully about the initial allure of a dangerous relationship and the nature of the mindset that facilitates staying with somebody poisonous where you do feel like you’re nothing without them. Turning horrific experiences into romantic tragedies is how Lana has always made her music and yeah, out of context there are some fucked up lyrics on the album, but policing how a woman expresses her trauma and complaining that she glorifies weakness because she wrote honestly about the reality of a complicated partnership is hardly any more “feminist” than the lyrics themselves. I can only guess that the reason Lana felt the need to bring up this criticism in 2020 is because these darker themes are going to be revisited in her upcoming album and that in spite of the issues with the way she expressed herself, this time critics will be more accepting of how she chooses to address these themes.

On a lighter note “yeah my boyfriend's pretty cool, but he's not as cool as me” will always be a great line. Simple but effective. If my boyfriend ever is cooler than me it’ll be doing Lana a disservice.

Honeymoon (Release Date: 18th September 2015)

Considering that a lot of other Lana fans are of the opinion that this is her best album, I find it weird that I really don’t remember all that much about this period, other than High by the Beach being released and then hearing Salvatore and Freak for the first time. I guess because she didn’t do a Honeymoon specific tour and didn’t make that many public appearances in this period? It was definitely harder for me to find visual reference points beyond the HbtB music video and the cover art, so I mostly drew on the general vibe of the album, a cinematic accompaniment to a summer in Italy or the South of France, filled with exotic instrumentals and the sense of impending romantic doom that Lana does so well. I suppose if I associate the visuals of this era with anything it’s idyllic florals and warm tones, bygone country club pool days, a rich American’s vacation in Southern Europe, long walks on the beach (and as our Lord and Saviour Jujubee once said, big dicks and fried chicken). Apparently inspired by Lana’s relationship with Francesco Carrozini, it’s a hazy story of some ultra-feminine, submissive archetype becoming unhealthily enchanted by a mysterious “foreign man” who’s ultimately not all that good for her, which as the story goes turned out to be quite prophetic. Going against the grain, it’s my least favourite of her albums after Lust for Life, but in spite of that, I will always remember how obsessed I was with the sax riffs (I think? I don’t know my instruments all that well so forgive me, lol) on Freak and I definitely understand why it’s a firm favourite for so many.

“You could be a bad motherfucker, but that don’t make you a man.” was truly a cultural reset of a line.

-on an unrelated note, OMG, I never realised how I have my mouth open in literally every fucking photo I take, somebody tell me how to pose, please and thank you-

Lust for Life (Release Date: 21 July 2017)

Lust for Life is a controversial one. On the one hand, I appreciate that this album was the victory cry of a happier, more independent, politically-aware Lana in spite of it apparently being a far more optimistic sounding album than the one she wanted to release, but on the other there were way too many collaborations for me and this meant that the album lacked a sense of cohesion and the characteristic narrative thread that usually runs throughout her tracklist. Aside from Love, Cherry, Get Free and Tomorrow Never Came, most of the songs on the album aren’t hugely memorable and it’s a crying shame that a collaboration with STEVIE FUCKING NICKS of all people left so much to be desired. Coming from two witchy icons, I expected something absolutely magical so maybe I was setting myself up for failure, but come on. We could’ve had a real anthem there.

Aesthetically speaking however, this is one of my favourite eras for Lana, which is unsurprising when you consider the tracklist contains references to both Woodstock and Coachella. I’m not gonna lie, I think seeing Coachella fashion in my early teens was my style awakening-I remember seeing Vanessa Hudgens’ outfits and being like, wow, I want to be her (oh, what a fall from grace)-so the late 60s/early 70s flower power groupie style Lana adopted in this period really spoke to me. It was all long hair and dreamy pastels, and this era included some of the most head-to-toe coordinated looks we’ve ever seen from her. Of course I couldn’t completely abandon the grungy touches that I love, that I tend to associate with the early Lana street style days and the Paradise and Ultraviolence music videos rather than with this album, but I’m never gonna pass up an opportunity to whack out a good floral two piece and putting together Lust for Life inspired looks is the perfect excuse to do that.

So, that marks the end of this post! If you made it to the end, thank you so much for reading! I have a Yesstyle lookbook and review to edit but now that I’ve finished that, I’m trying to go down more of a style inspiration focussed route with my lookbooks rather than just putting together outfits from clothes I’ve just bought (though I might still do one every so often to bring in a new season-let’s just ignore the fact that they’re all blending into one bc climate change for now, one catastrophe at a time please universe). I find that if you have a specific idea in mind of what you want, it’s super easy to find something similar on Depop and Ebay and that way you avoid buying new things and also take old things off a person’s hands that might otherwise end up being thrown out by a charity shop and then dumped into a landfill from there. Something I’d LOVE to do before this year is out is put together a lookbook based on the most stylish TV shows of the last decade, but that probably won’t be for a while-even so, if you have any recommendations of series to watch which could fit into this category, let me know!

To finish, I need to go a little bit off-topic so forgive me, but I truly don’t know why this even needs to be said: WEAR A FUCKING MASK. IT IS NOT A POLITICAL ISSUE. IT IS A BASIC HYGIENIC PRACTICE THAT HELPS SPREAD THE STOP OF A HIGHLY CONTAGIOUS DISEASE! RUDIMENTAL SCIENCE! NOT A CHANCE TO PROVE HOW “EDGY” YOU ARE! SERIOUSLY, STOP MAKING A FUCKING PANDEMIC ABOUT YOURSELF! NOBODY ENJOYS WEARING THEM BUT THEY HELP PROTECT OTHERS! SO UNLESS YOU HAVE A VALID MEDICAL REASON NOT TO BE WEARING ONE, DON’T BE A SELFISH PRICK!

Sorry to sign off on a rant-y note with something that has nothing to do with Lana, lol, but all the stupidity has been grinding me gears lately and I had to let it out on behalf of all retail workers: if we can wear a mask for 9 hours at a time, YOU can tolerate the mild discomfort of wearing one for 10 minutes. I know this doesn’t apply to the majority of people but there’s always a couple of arseholes, isn’t there!?

Stay safe,

Lauren x

#ldr #lana #lana del rey #fashion #fashion blogger #style blogger #outfit inspo

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imagitory · 4 years

Text

HPHM Profile: Carewyn Cromwell

<<<updated: 12/6/2020 // original template by @hogwarts-misery >>>

“I can’t just live my life however I want! Maybe I want to — sometimes I want to — sometimes I want to so much that I think of just saying ‘forget the Cursed Vaults! Forget about R and their death threats and the fear and the not-knowing-what’s-coming!’ But...I can’t. As long as Jacob is out there — as long as I don’t know whether he’s alive or dead — whether he needs my help or not — how can I put myself first?! How can I justify chasing the Quidditch Cup, or joining the Dueling Club, or singing in the Frog Choir, when anything great I might do won’t mean a thing, without my brother there cheering me on whether I win or lose!? How can I fight for my dreams...while not knowing if Jacob will be able to share them with me? What sort of person would I be? What sort of disgusting — selfish — cowardly — terrible person would I be, if I abandoned him!? How could I face my mum again — face myself again — if I just threw my brother away?!”

[PROFILE]

NAME | Carewyn Lane Cromwell

NICKNAMES | Carey (by her friends, especially Bill, Charlie, and Tonks); Winnie (by her mother); Pip, Pippa (by Jacob); Cursebreaker (by Andre) [Note: In AUs, Jacob calls Carewyn “Wyn” instead of Pip, as “Pippa” is a reference to the Robert Browning poem “Pippa Passes,” which often doesn’t exist in other universes. XD]

GENDER | Female (cisgender)

SEXUAL / ROMANTIC ORIENTATION | Asexual / Panromantic

[PERSONALITY]

In some ways, Carewyn is an ideal heroine. A bright, compassionate girl, she often finds herself drawn to those less confident than her and feels the urge to protect and take care of them. Even when she was very little, she ended up “mothering” her older brother Jacob by encouraging him to eat and sleep more and offering advice, just as much as he often “fathered” her by inspiring her and shielding her from any perceived threats. But don’t mistake this young Cursebreaker for a saint -- Carewyn actually is an incredibly proud person who protects her fragile, sensitive heart with a hard shell of seemingly unbreakable confidence and cool insight. There is nothing she hates more than showing her insecurities and fears, and so she does her best to always look her best and put her best face forward no matter what, even around the people she cares about. This means that almost none of her many friends have any idea about the demons Carewyn is secretly fighting in her pursuit of the Cursed Vaults and her brother. Carewyn dresses the part for whatever situation she’s in, and she always feels most comfortable when she feels in control and believes she has the moral high ground -- admittedly her moral compass is pretty strong on its own, but she also buries any more selfish and meaner feelings she has as deep as she can, pushing herself to be the best, most moral person she can be, even if it’s difficult for her. She wants to be everything that everyone needs, and unfortunately that can result in Carewyn setting standards that are way too high for herself and secretly resenting and berating herself whenever she falls short, or worse not even participating in something she thinks she can’t put all of herself into or wouldn’t do well in. Her self-loathing is so strong that when something traumatic happens to her (such as Jacob’s disappearance or the death of Redacted), she can suffer from severe spells of depression where she neglects her own well-being and as a consequence forcibly removes herself from the people around her so as not to let others see her in such a terrible state. Because of her own high standards for herself, as well, Carewyn also can be judgmental of others, not being prone to change her mind about a person easily. When backed into a corner, Carewyn can freeze up, but when her own self-preservation or her loved ones are threatened, she can bite back really hard, though she’ll almost always regret losing control after the fact. Carewyn has a very organized mind and works best when she has a plan and knows where she’s going at any given time -- ambiguity and mystery are not this girl’s friends. This sadly can result in her being a real stick in the mud, which makes her an easy target for pranks and mischief. Fortunately, despite her overly serious attitude, Carewyn has a nice dry sense of humor and is a very passionate, driven person. In her fifth year, she was even made a Prefect largely due to her protective, nurturing instincts, though it’s good to note that that doesn’t make her a rule follower. Carewyn only respects rules and the people enforcing them if they have earned her respect and she sees the reasoning behind them. If there’s one thing Carewyn can’t stand, it’s condescension. Carewyn’s core interests are singing (her favorite wizard band is the Weird Sisters and her favorite Muggle band is the Eurythmics), Charms, magical history, and magical creatures.

[BIOGRAPHY]

DATE OF BIRTH | August 29, 1973 (Virgo)

BLOOD STATUS | Half-Blood

FAMILY INFO | Carewyn is the second child and only daughter of Evan Bach and Lane Cromwell. Carewyn’s mother Lane alienated her parents, younger brother, and older sisters -- a well-respected, but very overbearing magical family called the Cromwells -- upon moving to Wales and marrying Evan, who was a Muggle. Unfortunately Evan and Lane’s marriage took a turn for the worse after Jacob was born. Jacob’s magical abilities peeked through at an early age and were interpreted by Evan as deliberate misbehavior despite Lane’s best attempts to diffuse any tension. Nine years into their marriage, Evan and Lane were surprised by a late addition to the family -- their daughter, Carewyn. Rather than bringing Evan and Lane closer together, however, Carewyn’s arrival only seemed to drive Evan further away, as he already had had no instincts about how to be a father to Jacob and felt even less sure about how to raise a daughter. Deciding it was better to give up and just let Lane do what was best rather than mess up, Evan withdrew from Carewyn almost completely, leaving Lane and even his son Jacob to look after her. Fortunately Jacob, an nine-year-old boy at the time of Carewyn’s birth, adored his little sister immediately and went out of his way to coddle and protect her however he could. When Jacob turned 11 and received his Hogwarts letter, Lane was finally allowed by law to tell Evan about her magical heritage and the Wizarding World, but by that point, Evan and Lane’s marriage was so rocky that the revelation finally made it buckle and fall apart. Evan left his family that very night, leaving Lane heartbroken. Knowing her family would insist upon her returning to their estate in Yorkshire if she went to them for financial help, Lane instead charted out alone and raised her two children completely on her own while working as a magical historian and Runes expert. Although Lane, Jacob, and Carewyn lived in poverty for almost all of Jacob’s school career and Carewyn’s childhood, the Cromwells managed to dig their way out of debt a year before Jacob disappeared, now sitting on the perimeter of “lower-middle class.”

MYERS-BRIGGS TYPE | INFJ “The Advocate”

[MAGICAL ABILITIES]

WAND | Hornbeam and dragon heartstring, 11 inches, inflexible (broken by Rakepick) // Laurel and phoenix feather, 12 inches, unyielding (nicknamed her “Excalibur wand”)

BOGGART | Voldemort [Carewyn’s greatest fear is a threat she has no hope of overcoming, fighting, escaping, or controlling...which, yeah, is Voldemort in a nutshell!]

ANIMAGUS FORM (IF ANY) | Robin

PATRONUS | Abraxan Winged Horse

[AFFILIATION]

HOUSE | Slytherin

QUIDDITCH POSITION (IF ANY) | She prefers playing Chaser in Quidditch friendlies, but she’s been reluctant to commit to the Slytherin team due to her extreme focus on finding her brother and fear of letting Orion and the others down.

PREFECT? | Yup!

[ACADEMICS]

BEST CLASS(ES) | Charms, Care of Magical Creatures, History of Magic (thanks to her mum!)

WORST CLASS(ES) | Transfiguration, Divination

OWL SCORES |

Charms - O

Transfiguration - O

Potions - O

Herbology - O

History of Magic - O

Care of Magical Creatures - O

Defense Against the Dark Arts - O

[RELATIONSHIPS]

PARTNERS |

Andre — In the beginning, Carewyn was completely and totally dedicated romantically to Andre, having attended the Celestial Ball and gone on two dates with him. In the darkest part of her heart, though she was a bit afraid that she wouldn’t be “exciting” enough for Andre in the long term, given that he’s always been quite popular and outgoing and she’s only really gotten any esteem at Hogwarts for being a Cursebreaker, which she didn’t really ever want to be. Add onto this some tension brought on by the All-Wizard Tournament where Andre got so obsessed with winning that he took help from his girlfriend and then flat-out didn’t even consider helping her in return and Carewyn’s severe trust issues, and soon the two had a lot of trouble communicating properly. When times were good, they had a lot of fun together, but if they ever weren’t, the two just couldn’t seem to connect and fix it as a team. Not long after the All-Wizard Tournament, Carewyn finally told Andre she needed a break, and after a talk, they decided it was better to end their romantic relationship and try just being friends again. Despite the break-up, they both remain incredibly fond of each other and respect each other deeply.

Chiara — In the beginning of my game-playing journey, I had considered matching Carewyn with Chiara in the long-term. Ever since they first met, Carewyn has both identified with and greatly admired Chiara. Even if Chiara has had such a rough life, she remains ever gentle, kind, and forgiving -- everything, in essence, that Carewyn wants and tries to be -- all without seemingly even trying. She’s never expected anything from Carewyn, no matter how big her reputation as a Cursebreaker has grown, and is always supportive of her choices. She even wants to Heal others, even if her werewolf form is so hell-bent on destruction and harm. Chiara, meanwhile, identifies with and admires Carewyn just as much for her nurturing, sensitive heart, and thinks she’s one of the bravest people she knows. She understands Carewyn’s self-loathing from a first-hand perspective since she struggles with it herself, but she can’t understand it in the sense that she sees Carewyn as a truly wonderful, strong person who should be able to love herself just as much as she loves others. Carewyn frequently spends time with Chiara in her Animagus form during the full moon to keep her company, singing sweet songs to brighten her darker nights. A Chiara/Carewyn ending would’ve been what I considered the “Peaceful” ending, AKA the “Soft uwu” ending -- but it also sort of struck me that the two’s personalities and demons were similar enough that there wouldn’t be as much chance for growth for both of them, and there wouldn’t be as much action or engaging contrast in their interactions, as they would both be pretty universally supportive of each other except when they’re blocking the other out “for their own good.” Even if Carewyn doesn’t end up with Chiara romantically, though, she cherishes her as a friend and would do anything to make her happy.

Diego — This option sort of came out of nowhere, but quickly developed from a crackship into a genuine ship for me, given that like Chiara, Diego would be able to bring some sunlight into Carewyn’s life and be a dependable partner who wouldn’t put high expectations on Carewyn’s shoulders. As for Carewyn, she finds Diego’s flirting absolutely hysterical. Part of this is because Carewyn herself is asexual, but she also just isn’t the sort to actively “flirt” with people. Funnily enough, however, Diego’s charm does end up endearing him to Carewyn anyway, though not for the reason it might charm others! Although she does find his behavior funny, she can still tell he’s sincerely trying to compliment the people he’s talking to, and he’s also amazingly modest despite his clear talent at wizard dueling. Add onto this that he likes dancing, and music-loving!Carewyn has found he’s an all-around pretty fun guy to spend time with. Diego also isn’t turned off in the slightest by Carewyn finding amusement in his flirting, either -- if anything, he finds it rather endearing, as Carewyn is usually so serious and he thinks she should laugh more often. A Diego/Carewyn ending would’ve been what I considered the “Fun” ending, AKA the “Romcom” ending -- but it also felt as though it was an ending that could only come to be and work well in peaceful times, with Diego not being as well-equipped in dealing with Carewyn’s darker spells or in dealing with more serious issues or deep heart-to-heart conversations.

Orion — This, after a lot of deliberation, is the final end-game ship I’ve decided for Carewyn post-Second-Wizarding-War. Orion really wasn’t what Carewyn expected out of a Quidditch captain when they first met in her third year and his fourth, but being related to two Ravenclaws, she actually finds his vague, philosophical bent kind of refreshing. It can still frustrate her sometimes due to her desire to plan ahead, but she sees how his off-kilter affect keeps others on their toes and, therefore, can shift control over a situation his way. (Rather appropriate display of cleverness, for a Slytherin.) Learning his backstory prompts a lot of empathy from Carewyn as well, given that she also didn’t have any real friends before attending Hogwarts, and she greatly admires how wise Orion has become both about himself and about life, even after going through what he’s gone through. After being on his team for that short time, Carewyn’s developed a lot of respect for Orion, and even after leaving, she’s remained very supportive of her house team and especially of Orion as their leader. Even if Carewyn’s not on the team, she keeps up with Quidditch not just out of love for the sport, but because of her desire to see Orion’s team do well. As for Orion, he got the sense they were kindred spirits ever since they first played side-by-side in the match against Hufflepuff and quietly laments that she’s never been a permanent member of his team. He frequently cites that Carewyn has “more fire than a Firecrab” -- although he can find it a bit overpowering at times, her passion was the thing that first sparked his interest in her, and over the years, Orion has come to see her as an equal, admiring her not just for that passion, but for her determination, courage, and selflessness. Orion and Carewyn are also both incredibly insightful, thoughtful, sensitive people who have the tendency to “create a family” out of their friends that they support and nurture in an almost parental manner. After Carewyn left the Slytherin team after the match against Hufflepuff, Orion attempted to persuade Carewyn to rejoin several times over the years due to his lingering fondness for her, even though he’s always respected her decision not to. It’s only after Carewyn returns to the team to help Slytherin win the Quidditch Cup for the first time in ten years and gets injured in the process that Orion learns that he and Carewyn have the same Patronus -- an Abraxan Winged Horse -- which, according to the old wives’ tale, suggests that they are soul mates. By then, however, Orion is set to graduate within weeks and he knows that Carewyn’s life is of course consumed with dealing with the Vaults. And so he decides not to pursue the chance of a relationship solely based on a superstition, however much he regrets his lack of action later. As adults, the two reconnect after the end of the Second Wizarding War and an unconventional romance starts between the two. This endgame ship gives Carewyn both things I wanted for her while shipping Chiara/Carewyn and Diego/Carewyn -- peace and fun -- while also matching her with someone who can bring some balance and positivity to her life and help her let go of her inner demons and yet who she can also defend, protect, and love with all of her fire. And because of their differences -- Orion being so chill, passive, and philosophical and Carewyn being so sensible, perfectionistic, and passionate -- they’ll constantly contrast and challenge each other too.

FRIENDS |

Bill — The Weasley family overall filled the void in Carewyn’s heart that Jacob left behind, none more so than Bill. Carewyn adores Bill like few others and supports him in his Cursebreaking 110%, to the extent that she probably would help him do it even if it didn’t involve the Cursed Vaults. Bill quasi-“adopts” Carewyn into his family pretty early on, but only grows closer to and fonder of her over time, as she’s the first person who he’s ever been able to lean on the way he always let his siblings lean on him. Bill’s accompanied Carewyn to every single Cursed Vault, and he is her right-hand man when it comes to who she’d pick to help her with something dangerous. By the time Bill’s graduated, the two stand on relatively equal footing despite their age gap, and after the death of Redacted, Bill and Carewyn solidly become each other’s best friend and confidante, leaning on and supporting each other more than anyone else. The rest of Carewyn’s friend group likes to jokingly refer to her and Bill as the “Mum” and “Dad” of the group, given their shared tendency to “parent” the others. Bill was the one who coined the nickname “Carey” for Carewyn, and the rest of her friend group has totally run with it since, none more so than Charlie and Tonks.

Charlie — If Bill is Carewyn’s surrogate big brother, Charlie is Carewyn’s twin brother from another mother. Carewyn loves talking about dragons with Charlie. (They’re just so cool!) Charlie and Carewyn also like playing in Quidditch friendlies together, even if they’re in different houses, and they can often be seen handling Prefect duties together. Ever since Charlie, Bill, and Carewyn went into the Portrait Vault with Ben and Merula, the two Weasley boys and Carewyn have been closer than ever. Charlie and Carewyn in particular have latched onto each other in Bill’s absence, given how close both of them were to him. As adults post-Hogwarts, Charlie frequently crashes on Carewyn’s couch whenever he flies in for a visit from Romania, if his mother doesn’t insist upon him staying at the Burrow. Charlie and Carewyn refer to themselves as a pair as “Fireballs,” because Chinese Fireballs are the only dragons known to live among their own kind -- and so the word represents how Charlie and Carewyn see each other as kindred spirits.

Rowan — Rowan was Carewyn’s first friend at Hogwarts, but recently they’ve sort of been growing apart, due to Rowan’s extreme focus on academics and Carewyn’s extreme focus on finding her brother. For Carewyn, it feels like she’s changed a lot in five years -- starting as the shunned younger sister of the delinquent Jacob Cromwell and growing into a renowned Cursebreaker who has learned so much and made so many different friends and now tries to protect Hogwarts and her fellow students however she can -- while Rowan has rigidly stayed put where she was, remaining as studious and socially awkward as ever. Carewyn doesn’t resent Rowan for this -- on the contrary, she’s always admired Rowan’s single-minded ambition to be the youngest professor in Hogwarts history, damn what anyone else says, and wishes she had the luxury of chasing her own dreams that doggedly. But at the same time, Carewyn wouldn’t have felt good about herself, if she’d stayed the way she’d been when she first arrived. She sees herself as having been weaker, less competent, and less capable back then, while Rowan was always so brilliant and both emotionally and intellectually ahead of everyone else. Rowan and Carewyn have grown into very different people over the last five years, but Carewyn still loves and treasures Rowan like few people in the world as her first real friend and the friend that in some ways she wishes she could be more like.

Talbott — The two at first didn’t see eye-to-eye at all, given that Talbott tends to hide most of his positive emotions at first and Carewyn hides her negative emotions constantly --- but once the ice broke between them, the two really connected and became good friends. Carewyn loves Talbott’s sense of humor and was also pleasantly surprised to find out what a great writer he is! She often volunteers to read whatever he’s working on, which kind of weirds Talbott out, but he secretly is happy she likes his stuff. When Carewyn wants some peace, she’ll take some time to fly around in her robin Animagus form, and she always loves it when Talbott joins her for a flight around the grounds. Carewyn often sings little tweeted songs the entire way, and even if Talbott teases her for it, he does actually really enjoy it. Post-Hogwarts they work together a lot, as Talbott is an Auror and Carewyn is a lawyer.

Ben — Ben was one of the very first people who Carewyn took under her wing, and even now, she remains a bit protective of him. She was always really proud whenever he expressed more courage and initiative in the past, but with the advent of sixth year, Ben has grown a lot more reckless and blunt, to the extent he could easily get himself into a dangerous situation and get hurt. Carewyn isn’t sure at all how to react to the development, but she doesn’t like it -- not one bit. Ben himself is struggling with how much Carewyn wants to look at him as someone to protect while never letting anyone else do the same for her. Because he’s known her longer than most, he’s seen Carewyn’s own dramatic transformation from a quiet, but overemotional little girl into a micromanaging, fussing, stoic, confident Mama Bear, and as much as he’s glad Carewyn’s gotten more confidence, he laments being on equal footing with his friend and feeling like he could help her as much as she helps him. Once they get their emotions and issues sorted, Ben and Carewyn become closer than ever, to the point that he, Merula, Charlie, and Bill are co-leader of the Circle of Khanna with Carewyn.

Barnaby — At first Carewyn couldn’t help but look down on Barnaby a bit given how dim he could be, but once he agreed to help her, she was surprised by how sincere and sweet he really was. Soon enough she felt her protective instincts kick in, and now she’s incredibly encouraging and supportive of him. These days you can usually see them chatting excitedly about magical creatures together in class -- Carewyn’s really happy to see Barnaby succeeding in Care of Magical Creatures as well as enjoying it, and Barnaby loves it whenever Carewyn sings to the creatures they’re working with in order to soothe them.

Jae — Although their personalities are pretty diametrically opposed, even down to house placement, Carewyn gets along pretty well with Jae. She doesn’t entirely see the appeal of him dealing with shadier merchandise, but he still agreed to help her when she needed to go to Knockturn Alley despite the risks and he’s a pretty sharp, resourceful person. Carewyn mostly just thinks he should push himself more, rather than just be content with where he’s at. After learning how much Jae likes cooking, Carewyn has enjoyed spending time with him in the kitchens whenever she wants to try out a new recipe.

Penny — Carewyn was actually a bit startled when popular Penny first took an interest in her in their first year. In their fifth year, Carewyn grew a bit more protective of Penny with the Portrait Curse capturing her younger sister, Beatrice -- now that Beatrice and Penny have started to grow apart, however, Carewyn now finds herself stuck between them, feeling sympathy for Beatrice’s position but still valuing her friendship with Penny.

Liz — Carewyn and Liz’s friendship is a bit more casual than others, but they’ve really connected well thanks to their shared interest in magical creatures. You can usually see Carewyn hanging out with her, Charlie, and Barnaby in Care of Magical Creatures.

Badeea — Art buddies! Carewyn is very encouraging of Badeea’s artistic talent, and the two love talking about music and Charms together.

Tonks — Carewyn greatly admires Tonks’s wish to be an Auror and loves how funny her imitations can be, but more often than not ends up being the butt of one of Tonks’s pranks.

Tulip — Like Tonks, Tulip loves pranking Carewyn. A LOT. Carewyn doesn’t find most of her jokes that funny, but can’t stay that mad at her.

Fred and George — Carewyn has only just met the twins, but she can already tell they’re going to be a handful. But they’re Bill and Charlie’s brothers, so in Carewyn’s mind, they are already family, so she feels a bit of protectiveness toward them.

Cedric — When Carewyn met Cedric, her first reaction was immense pity, given how much attention he’d managed to accrue in his first year alone when he clearly didn’t feel like he deserved it. Cedric reminds Carewyn of herself in first and second year, when she was still so shy and insecure whenever people would talk about her, so the Slytherin Prefect feels a lot of compassion for Cedric. She sort of hopes everyone will lay off him a bit so he can just have a normal school life without so much pressure.

Percy — Carewyn hadn’t thought she’d ever encounter someone that she would consider a stick-in-the-mud...until she met Percy Weasley. His rat Scabbers is kind of cute, though -- when he doesn’t bite!

Skye — Carewyn appreciates all of the help Skye gave her when she first started playing in Quidditch friendlies, but at present, she’s not talking to Skye, thanks to her going off and starting unfounded rumors about the Ravenclaw Beater, Erika Rath, the way that people spread rumors about Carewyn when she first started at Hogwarts. NOT COOL, SKYE. Orion deserves better than to deal with that sort of drama!!

Murphy — Both he and Carewyn are planners, and that’s great...but Murphy only plays Wizard Chess, a game he’s great at and Carewyn is terrible at, and that’s not so great.

Professor McGonagall — The Deputy Headmistress is by far the professor Carewyn respects above all others. Even if she finds her class very challenging, she gives every assignment her all because of how much she respects McGonagall and wants to impress her. McGonagall herself nurtures a soft spot for Carewyn, even despite her being in Slytherin, due to her strong moral streak and desire to protect others.

Professor Flitwick — Charms is Carewyn’s best and favorite class, and Flitwick is a large reason why. Carewyn also really admires Flitwick’s talent in wizard dueling and is always thrilled to learn new dueling spells from him. Flitwick had a soft spot for Carewyn’s brother Jacob back in the day, since Jacob was in his house, and he’s nurtured a similar soft spot for Carewyn because of her great talent in and enthusiasm for Charms.

Professor Kettleburn — Carewyn adores Care of Magical Creatures and, by extension, Professor Kettleburn. She just really doesn’t want to lose as many body parts or clothing pieces as he has. Kettleburn always enjoys when Carewyn sings to the creatures in his class -- he finds it incredibly creative and entertaining.

Hagrid — Carewyn loves Fang SO MUCH. And Hagrid too. Just not his rock cakes. And Hagrid...well, Carewyn’s just so tiny, but with such a big heart!

FOES |

Rakepick — Pre-Portrait Vault, Carewyn didn’t trust Rakepick as far as she can throw her, largely because she couldn’t get a good fix on her. Even Snape, who Carewyn clashes with at times, seems to have a wonky code of honor (META: largely because she is a Slytherin and -- more notably -- is at school before she could see how terribly he treats Harry and Neville!), but Carewyn wasn’t even sure if she could ascribe that to Rakepick. Her initial judgment seems to have been justified, given how Rakepick acted in the Portrait Vault -- but Rakepick’s betrayal, which was somehow even worse than Carewyn could’ve imagined, has only served to make the young Slytherin feel less sure on her feet, as she’s started to connect the dots and realize that her comrades may have trusted Rakepick for the some of the same reasons that they’ve trusted Carewyn herself. Rakepick and Carewyn have encouraged the others, but have also never trusted them with their true feelings or motives, and they both led them into danger all because of their desire to get to the Cursed Vaults. Although they pursued the Vaults for different reasons, they were both relentless, resourceful, stubborn and proud in their pursuit -- and in enlisting others to help them in that pursuit, they were both responsible for every terrible thing that ensued from it.

Ismelda — Carewyn really doesn’t like her intense interest in pain and suffering -- like...at all. Even if she might put on a strong, unflappable face, Carewyn is way too big of a bleeding heart to enjoy death or pain. Ismelda also considering using a Love Potion on Barnaby soured Carewyn to her quite a bit, though Carewyn is glad Ismelda changed her mind and they were able to come to some sort of a truce.

Merula — Their rivalry was much more intense when they were younger and Merula was actively bullying Ben and Rowan -- nowadays Carewyn just uses her help when it’s useful and ignores her when she’s being her usual awful self. After seeking counsel from her mother and Rowan, Carewyn was even nice enough to give Merula her spot on the Frog Choir, even if she’d really wanted it herself. Although Rowan staying constant and unchanging throughout the years is something Carewyn admires in her, however, she absolutely loathes the quality when it’s expressed in Merula. At the end of year 5, she and Merula came to something of a truce, but with the start of their sixth year, Merula’s taken a couple giant steps back in her evolution, which greatly frustrates and disappoints Carewyn. Carewyn wouldn’t ever call Merula her friend, but...well, she’d still been happy to see Merula had actually been able to prove her a little wrong and become a slightly better person. It’s awful to see her regress after going through that slight improvement.

Professor Dumbledore — Although Dumbledore is an amazingly powerful wizard with a very amiable attitude, over the years Carewyn has gotten very, very frustrated with how much she’s told to stop trying to deal with the Vaults. On top of that, the Headmaster of Hogwarts frequently obfuscates things a bit too much for Carewyn’s liking. She can sense that he is trying to be helpful, but that in a way makes things all the more frustrating, as she finds his methods so phenomenally misguided. Carewyn tries to conceal just how low her opinion of the man has fallen, but in truth she’s become rather resentful of him.

Emily — Oh gosh. Given how fond Carewyn is of Bill and how ridiculously condescending and prone to bullying Emily can be, Carewyn understandably despises her. She hates her more than she ever hated Merula.

PETS (IF ANY) | Mimi (orange tabby cat), Sir Robin the Brave (toad), Lune (bat), Balto (Cruppy)

ANIMAL PRESERVE (IF ANY) | Wicket the Niffler; Tumnus the Porlock; Arjuna the Abraxan; Belle the Fairy; Esmeralda the Welsh Green; Leila the Thestral, Peter Quill the Knarl; Apollo the Hippogriff; Barnaby Jr. the Bowtruckle

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vicunaburger · 4 years

Text

The Origins of Rockulus the Mighty

Fandom: School of Rock: The Musical Pairing: Dewey Finn x Violet Willoughby (OC) The Players: Dewey, Violet, The Students Word Count: 1,178 Warnings: None

Notes:

- This takes place during the events of the show/movie - meaning Dewey is still posing as Ned in school - Introducing~ my self-insert/OC~ Prof. Violet Willoughby: local English professor at a nearby college, been on a few dates and sleepovers with Dewey, is totally in on the substitute scheme

OKAY THAT’S IT HERE WE GO.

The map of Horace Green was decidedly unhelpful.

The school was built like a maze of classrooms identical in size, with no real identifying markers save for a number system poorly explained in the bottom corner of the page. Eventually, after stopping several students and faculty along the way for guidance, the visitor finally arrived at the door to Mr. Ned Schneebly’s room.

Well, technically it was Ned’s room, but Ned wasn’t teaching.

Violet adjusted the visitor’s badge that was clipped to the front of her coat, making sure it was in plain sight before she knocked on the door. A few moments went by before the door opened just a little and a female student peeked out from behind the frame. Giving a small wave to the sharply dressed student, she smiled, holding up an insulated lunchbox in her other hand.

“I’m looking for Dew- Do you know if Mr. Schneebly is in?” Violet cleared her throat, feigning a light cough. “He ran out without his lunch this morning.”

The student gave Violet a rather thorough once-over, taking note to read the text printed on her badge, “You’re a professor?”

Violet nodded, “At the college on Main. I would have brought my transcripts, but they are really expensive to have reprinted.”

Before the student could ask anymore questions, Dewey Finn opened the door the rest of the way, giving the girl a less than subtle shove, “Vivi! Come inside, don’t mind the kid. In fact, ignore all of them.”

Flashing his patented goofy smile, Dewey dragged Violet inside, kicking the door closed behind them. The students had their desks all arranged in a circle toward the blackboard, which featured a crudely drawn viking with a guitar. At it looked like a viking, judging by the horns and full beard. They all sat up at attention at the sudden arrival of a classroom visitor, doing their best to all look like model pupils.

“Hey guys, this is my friend Violet. Treat her like you would treat me, but better, you got that?” Dewey led Violet to his chair behind the desk, brushing it off before she sat down.

“Good afternoon, Miss Violet.” The replied in unison.

“Oh god, thank you, but no need for all the formality. I’m just here to drop off lunch,” Violet shook her head, her garnet colored hair swinging in its ponytail. “Really, I don’t want to interrupt a lesson.”

Dewey leaned over the desk, waving his hand at the class dismissively, “Don’t mind them. I can’t believe you brought me lunch; and it’s not even in a takeout box.”

“Mr. Schneebly; according to the Horace Green Rulebook, you’re not supposed to have visitors during school hours unless they are a direct family member or visiting teacher.” One of the students interrupted.

Slowly, Dewey turned to face the classroom as though he were the slasher in a horror film, “Thank you for reminding about rules I could care less about Summer, but it just so happens that Vivi is a professor. Therefore, a visiting teacher.”

“But… she’s not teaching us anything!” Summer insisted.

He looked about ready to leap over and strangle the poor girl, but stopped suddenly and pointed to the blackboard, “It just so happens that she’s going to help tell the story of Rockulus the Mighty. The greatest hero rock’n’roll has ever known.”

Violet nearly choked on her own spit, her face turning a deep shade of fresh tomato. Rockulus was a character Dewey had made up for more… playful intimate times when she would stay over for the night. The fact that he just spoke the name so causally in front of his students made her want to sink into the floor in embarrassment. She knew he would never go into vivid detail about what really happened during the hero’s adventures, but it was still a shock to hear.

“Rockulus is made up,” A student called out from the back of the room.

“He’s not made up, ask the professor.” Dewey hopped off the desk, entering the center of the desk circle; a ringmaster of the circus. “She knows all about myths and legends, don’t you Vivi?”

Clutching the edge of the desk with a white knuckle grip, Violet nodded slowly, “Of course I do. He isn’t as well known as some of the other heroes of the modern age, but he has left quite an impression on those who follow his stories.”

Confused, the students collectively decided that maybe Mr. Schneebly wasn’t pulling a lesson out of his ass like usual. If a college professor agreed with him, maybe this rock hero was something worth hearing about.

“When Rockulus was born, all the monsters in the land descended onto his village, for his coming was foretold in the great Prophecy. He would rise to be a mighty hero, bringing music to the people of the land, fighting for freedom and justice.” Dewey started to act out his fantasies, occasionally slamming his hands down on a desk for emphasis. “One night, he set off on his own to find a way to bring sweet, sweet rock to the masses.”

He glanced at Violet, who was thoroughly enraptured with his tale. She had such a look of pure enjoyment on her face, it caused him to lose his train of thought, and he stuttered as he fumbled for the next line.

“I believe that was when he had a vision in the wilderness of The Man.” Violet gently encouraged him, “His sworn enemy.”

“That’s right!” Dewey raced to the blackboard, sketching a stick-figure with a suit and tie. “The Man is the enemy of all freedom. He feeds off the hopes and dreams of all the people he controls, using their life force to grow more powerful.”

After a beat, he drew a stick figure with a suspiciously familiar hairstyle, exaggerated chest, and skimpy bikini next to the picture of Rockulus. Violet rolled her eyes, but let him continue unimpeded.

“The Man had kidnapped the beautiful goddess Ambrosia~” He began.

“Isn’t ambrosia something they serve at picnics?” Summer made a face, clearly unimpressed at her teacher’s lack of forethought.

“Shut up.” Dewey snapped, “Anyway-”

“It totally is.” Violet interrupted this time, addressing Summer directly. “It’s not great either. Sticky.”

“You’re not supposed to agree with her,” Dewey gave an exaggerated pout.

Violet stood up, walking over and attempting to straighten his tie, “I can when she’s right. Keep going, Mr. Schneebly.”

Distracted, Dewey forgot he was in the middle of his classroom, leaning forward to try and plant a kiss on Violet’s cheek. Dodging his efforts, she went over to sit on his desk, sticking her tongue out at him when her face was out of view of the student body.

“Rockulus set out on a quest to free the foxy goddess from the clutches of The Man, but his powers proved unable to defeat such an enemy.” He continued, “But that is a tale for another time…”

Writing Tags: @mr-geuse @paxenera @leiasolo77 @go-commander-kim @ashemspirit

#writing time #Self Insert #dewey finn x oc #dewey finn x self insert #school of rock musical #school of rock broadway #school of rock fanfiction

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ftauriellas · 4 years

Text

chicago’s very own auriella yates has been spotted on madison avenue driving a porsche 718 spyder , welcome ! your resemblance to jasmine tookes is unreal . according to tmz , you just had your twenty - fifth birthday bash . your chance of surviving new york is uncertain because you’re guileful , but being unadulterated might help you . i think being a virgo explains that . three things that would paint a better picture of you would be the lingering scent of her perfume on crisp white sheets , the soft touch of short satin dresses against her thighs , and the soft glistening of diamonds during golden hour .

hi again , kitty gorls ! it’s jin showing up on your dash for the last time with my sweet peach miss auriella yates . she’s a rendition of a hailey b . chara that i have , so she’s quite the mess , but as lovable as ever ! as you’ve probably figured , i didn’t have much muse for guiliana anymore so i decided it was best to let her go and bring someone else ( also , i’m really sorry about not fulfilling that starter call . please don’t hate me 🥺 ) . my muse is soaring for auriella so be prepared for me to slide into your dm’s for plotting up a storm ! that being said , here’s another long one !

basic information .

FULL NAME : auriella kaia yates .

NICKNAME(S) : auri , mostly .

BIRTHDATE + AGE : september 9th , 1997 + 22 .

ZODIAC : virgo .

HOMETOWN : chicago , il .

GENDER : cis female .

NATIONALITY : american .

ETHNICITY : african american , brazilian , west indian , barbadian , and european .

HEIGHT : 5′5″ .

LABEL(S) : the harlequin , the trust fund baby , the vainglorious , the coquette , and the sovereign .

ROMANTIC ORIENTATION : biromantic .

SEXUAL ORIENTATION : bisexual .

LANGUAGE(S) SPOKEN : english and learned basic french in high school .

OCCUPATION : socialite , makeup artist , and businesswoman .

POSITIVES : impulsive , alluring , unadulterated , facetious , and melodious .

NEGATIVES : complaintive , acquisitive , guileful , starry - eyed , and bellicose .

biography .

auriella yates is the sixth child of eight , born to simone and joshua yates in the windy city of chicago , illinois . she has three older brothers ( chance , charles , and clark ) , two older sisters ( adriana and amelia ) , and a younger brother and sister ( calvin and aurora ) . patrick and simone for some reason found joy in naming their sons with c names and their daughters with a names , but it works for them nonetheless . the family could afford such a grandiose lifestyle in chicago thanks to simone’s lifestyle and wellness brand called honey & lemon ( goop , who ? ) that has since expanded from a newsletter to e - commerce , pop - up shops , a magazine , and a podcast . patrick , on the other hands , is a famous vegetarian chef that has launched three cookbooks while also having his own cooking series on the food network along with a cookware partnership at target . together , they own a vegetarian restaurant in downtown chicago called lemongrass .

growing up , since auriella had so many siblings , she never had an uneventful day . their parents strongly believed in their children playing outside instead of being stuck in front of the television all day , so they often took advantage of their large backyard when they lived in the suburbs of chicago . they were the parents who let their rowdy bunch ruin their perfect grass because they wanted to play in the mud . their parents may have afforded them luxuries that others didn’t have and while their parents had been busy people , patrick and simone refused for their children to be raised by nannies . they were heavily involved with everything that their children did , ranging from their pre - school graduations to their high school proms .

auriella had always been a rather outgoing girl throughout high school , and she knew she was cute so she started an instagram page when she was about thirteen or so . originally , her pictures were just cringey dirty mirror pics and photos with her friends , but as she explored the app more and more , she discovered makeup and her love for it ! so , despite the terrible youtube - tutorial makeup that she tried to recreate , auriella never gave up on her ability to do better . as she moved through high school , her makeup skills got better and better , so once she graduated , auriella knew what she wanted to do in life !

she went on to attend make up first in chicago , and obtained certificates in basic makeup i + ii , media makeup , and media: runway , editorial , and fashion . once she was finished with her schooling , auriella went on to grow her brand and get her name out there . she used instagram a majority of the time , and thanks to that and word of�� mouth , she grew a significant following and went on to have a few celebrities under her belt . thanks to the help of her parents , auriella decided that she wanted to get into the makeup business entirely , and decided to stick her foot into makeup production .

the brand originally only focused on her favorite thing : eyeshadow palettes ! the palettes were originally rather small , consisting of four to six colors as they perfected the formula . she eventually began to receive rave reviews and decided that it was time to expand into everything else : mascaras , lip products , foundations , blushes , highlighters and everything else under the sun . from there , kaia beauty is now being sold in sephora , ulta , and on kaiabeauty.com ! she had the second largest foundation drop ( following fenty beauty because we stan miss rihanna in this house ) .

that being said , running her own business is one that auriella is still getting used to despite it being two years since the launch . she’s thankful for the expansion of her brand and she’s still working out of her townhouse because she hasn’t found the perfect space for a headquarters just yet ! it’s one of her biggest dreams at the moment and she wants to expand kaia beauty into skincare but the end of the year .

personality .

the label she mostly identifies with would definitely be the harlequin . she can be really loud and playful at times , and she can easily get called out for not taking things seriously .

at the same time , though , she can be pretty sexual in her speech . she has no problem with people looking at her differently for doing so . she really lets a lot of things roll off of her shoulders , but she’d be a liar if she said that some things didn’t get to her .

auriella can be really full of herself and simple compliments can typically leads to her going on and on about herself , so please feel free to shut her up at any given time ! much like anyone her age , she can be found prowling around on instagram or twitter and can never go shopping without taking at least three to seven mirror selfies .

headcanons .

she lives in a beautiful townhouse on west fourth street and she’s really proud to say it because she bought it with her own money ! she likes to be different so she really hates range rovers and instead drives an audi q5 ! sounds kinda dumb since she lives in nyc , but she likes it because it gives her freedom to go where she wants when she wants to .

she never leaves the house without a purse and never without a pair of earrings on ( she thinks she’s ugly without them ) . she’s obsessed with all things cartier and she loves to accessorize , but not to much . she keeps scrunchies in her purse at all times , so if you need one just ask !

when it comes to her style , i draw a lot of inspiration from instagram if i’m being honest . she wears a lot of denim shorts , oversized tees , cropped sweaters , bodysuits , chunky sneakers ... honestly , the whole nine yards . for some examples click x , x , x , x , x , and x .

she’s been vegetarian since she was a kid because that’s all her dad ever cooked ! sometimes the scent of meat makes her sick and sometimes she fakes it so people will leave her alone . she’s definitely the one who shows up to the function with her fake burgers , but you know she has a bottle of vodka along with it .

finds joy in doing the little things ? she’s not the greatest at art but really enjoys buying a canvas and trying her best to recreate or create something ! probably gets a lot of art ideas from tik tok ( those kids are seriously talented ) and really likes to do her makeup even when she has no place to go . she loves laying on her couch and doing nothing ( and sometimes she might be kinda naked when she does it ) .

secret .

okay so , auriella’s secret is that an ‘ anonymous ’ source leaked her nudes to the press , but her parents paid off publications from releasing them . that was mostly done because she was about 17 / 18 in those pictures but of course they’re not age on them so there’s that ! the source of course wasn’t that anonymous and it turned out to be an ex ( which is really gross so this won’t be a wanted connection ) , but she’s not ashamed of them by any means !

#wealthyhq:intro

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milas-imaginarium · 5 years

Text

Else world; Cadenza. /Jason ToddxReader/

Let me introduce myself, I'm Mila and I'm a storyteller. Mostly I write in Spanish because that's my native language but I decided to write something in English. This is an "else world" inside Batman's, this story is part of a big one that I'm building to turn it into a comic, however...

The main character is Jason Todd and Reader, I want you to identify with this character even if she/reader has a name, I like when you can feel part of the story. As this is an "else world" you'll find some weird things, some others that are not canon and the sequence of events can be a little different but I'll try my best to keep our beloved characters the same, I hope you can enjoy this story and of course my future comic.

WARNINGS: Fluff and the English of a non-native speaker. (Sorry for possible mistakes!)

ººº

PART TWO PART THREE I

PART ONE

Gotham City opera house

Part of being Bruce Wayne's kids was to go wherever his duties as a socialité called him; galas, meetings, interviews, public events in general. Richard Grayson seemed to blend perfectly in that environment but Jason, Jason Todd was the opposite, however, he tried his best every single time when his presence was needed just because his secret life depended on that. It doesn't mean he was angel-like as Richard, he was a playful smart kid with talent to be charming but also to be as badass as Batman let him.

"He's charming Bruce." Said a woman dressed in a white pearl dress caressing Jason's hair, the boy remained quiet, any teenager at his age would do the same, that woman was stunning.

"Certainly he is." Answered Bruce grinning, playing the Cassanova as always. That attitude was a pain in the ass but that was better than the miserable life Jason had back in the crime alley, with a snap of delicate fingers, he came back to reality.

"That mind of yours flew far away, sweetheart." Joked the woman turning to Jason who blushed violently before walking away "The doors are open." explained himself as an excuse "If you made me come here tonight instead of" Bruce looked at him alarmed, Jason chuckled "Let me play videogames, at least hurry up and get in, we can't miss the recital."

Oh God, that boy was something else. Bruce and his date followed Jason smiling, when they arrived to the VIP box the boy was ready to take a nap but as soon as the music started the sweet melody clenched his heart, the dim lights gave to the show a magical aspect, people in fancy dresses danced along with the piano as a fine figure approached the center.

"Dancing bears, painted wings, things I almost remember" The teenager sang with a peaceful soprano voice, "the movie, yes, I knew it!" Said Jason aloud earning some bad looks, he coughed ashamed and kept quiet admiring the singer, Mía, who was almost his age.

"Someone holds me safe and warm, horses prance through a silver storm, figures dancing gracefully across my memory." The orchestra matched perfectly her voice while the music flows through the theatre embracing everyone's ears and Jason was not the exception. The beautiful girl dress in yellow cast a spell on the young black-haired boy, that song reminded him the long nights in the cold, his thoughts were melancholic but also warm in a way he couldn't explain "Glowing dim as an ember, things my heart used to know, things it yearns to remember"

ººº

"Mia, it's a pleasure to meet you." Said Bruce to the girl who was in front of him, she smiled with blushed cheeks and gave a quick look to her proud mother. "He's my son, Jason." he introduced his second child who was speechless "Nice to meet you, Mr. Wayne and Jason, of course." Her courtesy matched perfectly with the gown she was wearing.

"Your mother told me about your plans" Bruce explain under the curious look in Jason's eyes "And about your charity program which I think is so generous." Mia was a talented girl who sang since she was five years old, she intended to be one of the greatest female classic singers but also use her talent to help, the best way was to collect money for shelters or homeless people using her voice to catch the attention of the ones who can help.

"We know Gotham city is a place were...Help is needed, My Mia decided to come to you expecting, how do you say that?" Asked Mia's mother with a smile "Money? Publicity?" Jason spoke without think, the middle-aged woman blushed profusely "Support, Jason, support" Bruce answered. After a while, the conversation left out the two teenagers, an awkward vibe rose between them but Jason was ready to break the ice or at least try.

"El recital estuvo increíble." Jason talked testing his Spanish.

"Gracias..." Mia said with a tiny smile, the girl opened her mouth but Jason was faster.

"If you're curious about no, I don't speak Spanish but I know some words." He smirked showing that naughty expression he had when using Robin attire. "I don't enjoy events like this but this was different. The first song..."

"Once upon a December" The young singer interrupted shyly.

"Yeah, that one..." Jason's blue eyes focused on the pretty girl's and kept quiet. "The song, I mean, yeah...I, I liked it"

Grinning, Mia thanked the weird kind of compliment Jason gave to her and playfully added "My voice will be always for you...If you want to listen to it." And the awkward sensation vanished between them, for the first time Jason felt like a normal teen and Mia got lost into the most gorgeous ocean blue she ever saw.

Destiny is a mystery, it could be possible that it doesn't even exist but something was sure, Mia's presence in Jason's life changed the course of how things were supposed be not only for Wayne family but for herself. It was relatively easy to fall into a vertiginous lifetime adventure having the perfect partner.

ººº

Comments? Everything is well received. Thank you <3

#Jason Todd #red hood #bruce wayne #dc comics #jason todd x reader #jaybird #jason todd x y/n #dick grayson #nightwing #jason todd fanfiction #dc fanfic

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rai-jin-andro-jin · 4 years

Text

Non-Binary Week 2020

Day 2 + 3 because I missed yesterday:

Day 2 (July 13): Coming to terms

This day is for coming out stories and how you realised you were nonbinary.

Like a lot of people, I grew up with the belief that sex and gender were the same thing; there were two genders, and because I was born with female parts, I was completely and undeniably female. And what it meant to be female was just as rigid: gender roles up to the ears determined what I wore, whether I cut my hair, what I said, what I didn’t say, who I hung out with, who my enemies were, who I could trust, what careers I could have, who I could be attracted to, and what I could think about.

When I entered college, I was away from a lot of these forces that policed my life. For the first time, I was asked on a daily basis to think for myself: and I couldn’t just point to another adult, or the Bible, or to anyone else to explain why I lived the way I did. I had to be able to support myself and my stance and my beliefs. When I was asked to do so, I realized I didn’t even agree with half of the beliefs I held; the other half I discovered were rooted in lies and misinformation about other people, specifically minority groups.

So, over my three-year college career, I grew and changed. I came into contact with different ideologies and was allowed to choose for myself what I wanted to believe and why. I shed traditional femininity both slowly & quickly -- I got an undercut in my hair, stopped shaving my body hair, and wore more comfortable/practical clothes (which ended up leaning toward “masculine” in my case). I still identified as female though -- it was my way of defying traditional gender stereotypes and screaming “I’m breaking the rules and I’m still a female -- respect me or step out of my way!”

During my final year of college, I shaved off all of my hair. Also during this time, I started to discover that I was not straight, but in fact attracted to more than one gender. I first identified as bisexual, but over the next couple years came to embrace the label “pansexual” as well, as I found it less limiting and more inclusive from a linguistic perspective (though I myself consider bisexuality and pansexuality to be basically synonymous in my case). Past college, I started to recognize how the world saw me. Not only did I sometimes tread in the butch lesbian sphere, but I also was misgendered as male quite often, especially after my haircut -- an occurance that didn’t bother me, and instead entertained and intrigued me. I wasn’t trying to pass as male, nor was I interested in transition. I didn’t identify with male pronouns, but they didn’t bother me either. I thought these instances were fun and proved that gender was more fluid than most people realized. It gave me a window with which to play with my own gender.

In the next year or two after college, I found more comfort in dressing androgynously. I didn’t try to present as purely masculine or feminine, nor did I try to lean either way. Instead, I strove to view myself as neither. I identified for a while as androgynous, as it felt detached from both sexes and genders. I enjoyed finding clothing that made my gender appear questionable, and I loved to blur the lines of my presentation. I did it because I could, because it felt the most authentic. I felt like I was showing the world who I truly wanted to be, and how I wanted to be treated. I wanted to be free of the confines of what society deemed was male or female, masculine or feminine. I believed and still believe that no one should ever be gendered at all unless they ask to be. I believe that everyone should be able to define who they are to others, and should be fully respected for it. So often, so many of us are given only a few options, if any at all, and told to make do. We are told that if we stray from these norms, we are unattractive, unwanted, and just doing it for attention. But in reality, we just want to be seen and loved for who we are, for who we choose to be.

Non-binaryness seemed foreign to me for a while. Informed by my upbringing and lack of information, I saw the non-binary identity as something I didn’t fit into. I didn’t meet all the requirements in my head -- non-binary people were other people I knew, other people who’s lives and experiences were different and thus more legitimate than mine. Because of that, I hesitated to identify as non-binary for a long time. But then, as I did more research, read more personal accounts and stories, and connected with friends in real life who were queer and non-binary, I felt like I belonged. I realized I was allowed into that unattainable “non-binary club” that I had built up in my head because it actually wasn’t unattainable at all. It was a community full of people with a wide array of experiences. And mine was not an unfamiliar or unwelcome one. I looked upon the word non-binary, and I realized, with utter joy and happiness:

“That’s me!”

Shortly thereafter, I came out to my friends on social media, and then to some of my family. I went from she/her to they/them, and I wasn’t ashamed or embarrassed, for the first time ever. I felt supported and validated by my friends, more than I ever thought was possible. It was the greatest feeling to finally find a piece of myself.

Even now as I explore the plethora of non-binary identities, I’m still discovering myself. Non-binary describes me just fine! But if we’re getting specific, I don’t have any ties with gender at all, and I’m actively trying to unlearn my gender conditioning to be the best person I can be. That is why I also identify as agender.

It’s a crazy thing to wrap my head around, even as I’m still overjoyed to have a label that explains me and my existence. But the overwhelming feelings that course through my body are ones of happiness. I have a place in this world, whether I know my name/labels or not. I always have had a place, and I always will. And now more than ever, I fight for my place and protection, as well as others’ whose identities are shunned, their protections & rights denied. I want everyone to experience the joy of belonging, not because they fit a mold, but because they’re happy with their own choices and identity. I hope everyone can experience that fully, in all the ways it can possibly occur, for all identities imagineable.

Day 3 (July 14/International Nonbinary People's Day): Nonbinary Joy

Share all things positive about being nonbinary!

I think these can really apply to any gender, sex, orientation, etc., but these are just catered to my personal experience! I think if I had to name this phenomenon, I would call it “Gender Liberation.” So here’s what it feels like to be liberated from gender and gender expectations:

You can wear whatever the hell you want and watch people get real confused.

You get to use they/them pronouns, or whatever pronouns you want; language no longer ties you down!

You get to call yourself whatever you want! You get to choose your name.

All those horrible expectations that make you uncomfortable? Gone.

You get to connect with other non-binary people and hear about their beautiful experiences.

You get to interact with the queer community, which is a beautiful, accepting, and loving collection of people who defy cultural norms and exist exactly as who they are, unapologetically. They are a wonderful group of people to look up to. Anyone who lives and loves to the fullest without shame is one to look up to.

You get to wear your hair however you want and nobody can tell you otherwise.

You get to think about the world without the shades of a binary lens! Turns out the world is so much more colorful!

You get to have awesome flag colors.

You get to have awesome discussions about gender.

You get to be unapologetically complicated, because everyone is way more complicated than their gender, but now, you actually know that and are allowed to exist that way.

I mean, look at the word “non-binary” and tell me that isn’t just the most freeing thing you’ve ever read. Look at the word “agender” and tell me you didn’t just breathe a sigh of relief. No more fucking stupid-ass rules!

Did I mention that you’re allowed to be fully authentic without judgment? Did I also mention that you can finally unlearn all that self-judgment and internalized gender roles?

Gender is fully opt-in.

Now that you’re liberated from all those awful rules and head-spaces, you can think about more important things, like for example: cute people, your favorite books/shows/movies, yummy food, plants, cats, simple joys, arts and crafts, making friends, falling in love, nature, doggos, the whole earth.

Also, now that you’re liberated, you can help to liberate other people by fighting for their rights, because you know that people like you (and people not like you) are being denied basic human rights every day around the world; now you know about it and you know they deserve better, so you can use your voice to help educate and inspire solidarity and community.

Wow, there’s like so many things you can do and be, and no one can tell you not to anymore. Looks like you’re truly confident and happy with yourself! :) That sounds like autonomy at its best!

What *isn’t* awesome about being non-binary?? Absolutely nothing.

#non-binary week 2020 #non-binary #enbie #enbie pride #day 2 #day 3

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xxx-producer-xxx · 4 years

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THE BLACK COCK AGREEMENT

We want to hear from all the white girls who love black cock already or who are ready to see why so many girls agree with what they say, “Once you go black you will never go back!”

All BBC Girls Club candidates must fill this form out and submit it to us via the website.

The Black Cock Agreement / Contract for all White Females

I, Sophia agree to the following rules, and will adhere to them faithfully:

I will submit myself mind, body and soul fully to Big Black Cocks (BBC) as often as possible from now on and for the rest of my life in all of the following ways, as well as those not listed.

1. You are no longer dressing for yourself. You are no longer dressing for your husband. You are no longer dressing for other women, as most women are prone to do. You are dressing for other men, black men. You are dressing to attract and please black men. You will dress the part always. I agree that I will, 24 hours a day, 7 days a week, 365 days a year, dress in the absolute sexiest clothing with which I can get away with, depending on the circumstances. When at work, I will wear the sexiest clothing allowed by my employer, for example. When at a restaurant, out shopping, visiting friends or family, at school or college, at sporting events, going to movies, out clubbing or dancing or even at church, etc., I will wear revealing short mini skirts or dresses, and low cut tops, see through when possible. I will rarely wear pants or jeans unless they are skin tight, low raise hip huggers or spandex. When I do wear pants, they MUST be tight and show camel toe. My normal clothing, however, will be sexy short skirts (or dresses), and sexy, revealing tops.

Note: Dressing to please and attract black men takes more time and work but it will pay off tremendously in amount of attention you receive and how it affects your attitude. You should always keep in mind what the men you are trying to attract will probably like but in general follow this simple rule when choosing what to wear: Think dress first, skirt second and pants only as a last resort. This will be a radical change for many women but it’s important to remember that most men (and virtually all black men) prefer their women in dresses as opposed to pants. Dresses and skirts are sexier to most men and they provide easier access in erotic situations. Until I started this lifestyle, I wore pants the great majority of the time but it’s rare now that I step into a public situation when I am not in a dress or skirt. You never know when you will have the opportunity to attract that certain man and you need to be dressed for the opportunity when it comes. The good news is that the lifestyle will probably makes you feel like dressing up more and the more you wear dresses and skirts, the more you will find yourself wanting to.

2. I will do my hair and makeup to look the absolute sexiest and sluttish I can get away with, depending on the circumstances. I will keep my fingernails long and painted as well as my toenails. I will wear lips stick and lip-gloss 24 hours a day, 7 days a week, 365 days a year.

Note: Apply and reapply lipstick. The men want to see signs that you can’t wait to suck their cocks and lipstick is a great way to send that signal. Bright Reds and pinks are best, and really the brighter the red the better. Lick your lips often in public.

3. I will fuck delicious, beautiful, BBC as often as possible from now on. As a white slut for black cocks, I agree to never say no to any sexual advances from any black man that wants me. I further agree to never say no to any and all sex acts a black man may want to do with me or to me.

4. I will inform any and all Black Males I suck or fuck that I have signed this Black Cock Agreement and will present him with a copy on demand. I further agree to frame and post a copy of this Black Cock Agreement in my bedroom as near to my bed as possible and in a clearly visible area for all to see.

5. I will suck and fuck all Black Males eagerly and will enthusiastically service my partner’s Black Friends, school friends, work or business associates, or any other black male as directed. I further agree to submit to any and all black males directions to have sex with other females with our regard to my own sexual orientation. I will enthusiastically service such females as direct with out any limits at all.

6. I will suck white males ONLY when it is absolutely necessary, such as for the sake of a relationship or as a reward, but I will try to avoid sucking white males whenever possible. When I must suck white cocks, I will not swallow the cum, and will spit it out unless directed by a black male to swallow it. I WILL always swallow cum from sucking Black Cocks.

7. I will not fuck white males, even if I am married to a white male unless directed to do so by a black male. All white males, even my husband must use a condom when fucking me, and there must be no risk of a white males cum entering my cunt or ass ever unless directed to do so by a black male. .

8. I agree that I will never ask or expect a black male to use a condom with me. I will happily allow all black males to cum inside my cunt, even when I am fertile and may get pregnant.

9. I acknowledges that since I actively desires to engage in relationships with black males where I am used sexually by superior Black men I agrees to release any and all black males, including my Owner if applicable, who may possibly impregnate me during sexual encounters, from all financial liability. I also agree that in any situation where multiple superior black males may be responsible for the pregnancy, I will forgo any paternity tests, or similar tests, that may be used to identify the father. Furthermore, I agree to extend both the release of financial paternal liability, and paternal identification, beyond the term of this contract and agree to not actively pursue paternal financial support or identification for a period of no less than eighteen (18) years after the termination of this contract.

10. I will respectfully and humbly address any and all black men as “Sir” and any and all Black women as “Ma’am”, or any other title that the I am directed to use by them.

11. I will answer and respond, without hesitation or trepidation, to the names “whore”, “slut”, “bitch”, “cunt”, or any other name or combination thereof, that the any and all black males may call me, in public or when alone.

12. I will NOT wear panties, except when it is necessary, such as around the time of my period, or when it is ABSOLUTELY essential for another LEGITIMATE reason. Such reasons will be very rare. When I do wear panties, they will be very sexy and tiny, such as lacy or very sheer thongs or G-strings

13. I agree that it is an obligation on my part to encourage other white females (“white” includes Asian, Hispanic, etc.) to go Black. This includes my mother, any sisters, daughters or other female family members, friends, daughters friends, women I just met, girls I work with or go to school with, etc. I also agree that I will do my best to have other white females sign an agreement similar to this one, includes my mother, any sisters, daughters or other female family members, friends, daughters friends, women I just met, girls I work with or go to school with, etc.

14. I will be nude in my house at all times, unless there is a very good and legitimate reason not to be, such as the presence of others who would vehemently object or are underage. To the greatest extent possible, nudism will become my lifestyle at home. I will also be totally nude when in the presence of black males at their homes or apartments, unless directed by them to say in my sexy closes. .

15. I agree that, when sitting while in the presence of black males, I will keep my legs spread wide apart to indicate my availability.

16. I will keep my cunt cleanly and smoothly shaved at all times (no hair whatsoever) unless otherwise directed by a black male, and I will use lotions and powders to help ensure I am always fragrant and fresh.

17. I agree to have a dirty mouth in the presence of all black males. I will use only graphic words such as “fuck” (not “sex” or “making love”), “cunt” (not “vagina” or “pussy”), “cock” (when describing Black Cocks). White penises should be described as “dicks” or “pee-pees” and other such terms), “asshole” (not “anus” or “butt,” such as when saying, “Fuck my asshole.”) These are examples only. Such graphic terms should be used at all times rather than the mild terms.

18. If married, I will suck and fuck my husband as little as possible and follow all limits set above. I will watch INTERRACIAL porn with him, and refuse to watch any porn that contains white dicks fucking white women. If your husband continues to watch porn featuring non-interracial sex acts you will with hold all sexual attention from him until this changes.

19. I will only use or allow to be used on me big black cock shaped dildo, unless otherwise directed by a black male. I also agree to allow all such big black cock shaped dildo to be used on and in my cunt, ass and mouth with out limit. A black cock slut should not be using dildos less than 1.75 inches thick & should easily be able to take 2 inches in thickness if the need arises. Also dildo’s should be a minimum of 8 inches in length.

20. I will keep my body free of any additional blemishes, such as tattoos or other markings, EXCEPT that a tattoo on the lower back (just slightly above the waistline) that says “Black Cocks Only,” or “Black Cock Slut,” is fully acceptable. Tattoos on or near the cunt are only acceptable if they say Black Owned or depict the Queen of Spades symbol. Piercings of the nipples, and or piercing of the clit, hood or inner labia, or cunt lips are also acceptable.

21. Any bikini that I wear, such as to a party or public pool were total nudity is not permissible, MUST be extremely brief and as sexy and revealing as legally possible. Very sheer G-strings are the best.

22. None of the above indicates that I will engage in any activity that may be illegal in my area.

IN WITNESS WHEREOF, I have caused this agreement to be written and executed. The signing of this agreement by me, (I, Sophia) , constitutes my full understanding that this is a legal and binding contract on me.

I further states that I, , being of sound mind and of legal age (18) to enter into a voluntary and legally binding agreement / contract, do hereby proclaim that I have read and understand this contract in its entirety, and that I agree to abide by and comply with all the tenets, conditions, and provisions contained within. I further acknowledge that I believe, with no uncertainty or doubt, that the Black race is biologically superior to the white race, and that I, as a white female, am biologically conditioned to be used by all superior Black Males and superior Black Females for his or her own sexual enjoyment and entertainment. I therefore agree to this contract in its entirety and agree to take full responsibility and be held financially responsibilities that may come from it, having agreed to this without any reservation, and having signed under my own free will and without any duress.

Furthermore by accepting this agreement, I acknowledge that I understand all aspects of this agreement / contract. This contract agreement shall be binding upon me for life.

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starringemiliaclarke · 5 years

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Emilia Clarke on Game of Thrones finale's shock twist: 'I stand by Daenerys'

Emilia Clarke read a paragraph in the final script for Game of Thrones.

She read it again and again. Seven times, she says, she read the words that revealed the devastating fate of Daenerys Targaryen, a character she’s portrayed on the HBO global phenomenon for nearly a decade.

“What, what, what, WHAT!?” the actress recalls thinking. “Because it comes out of f—king nowhere. I’m flabbergasted. Absolutely never saw that coming.”

It was October 2017. The actress had recently completed filming Solo: A Star Wars Story and had just returned to London following a brief vacation. She electronically received the scripts the moment she landed at Heathrow and recalls that she “completely flipped out,” turned to her traveling companion and said, “‘Oh my god! I gotta go! I gotta go!’ And they’re like, ‘You gotta get your bags!’”

Once at home, the actress prepared herself. “I got myself situated,” she says. “I got my cup of tea. I had to physically prepare the space and then begin reading them.”

Clarke swiped through pages: Daenerys arrives at Winterfell and Sansa doesn’t like her. She discovers Jon Snow is the true heir to the Iron Throne and isn’t thrilled. She fights in the battle against the Night King and survives, but loses longtime friend and protector Ser Jorah Mormont. Then her other close friend and advisor Missandei dies too. Varys betrays her. Jon Snow pulls away. Having lost half her army, two dragons, and nearly everybody she cares about, Daenerys goes full Tagaryen to win: She attacks King’s Landing and kills … thousands of civilians? Daenerys’ longtime conquest achieved, she meets with Jon Snow in the Red Keep throne room and … and then … then he …

“I cried,” Clarke says. “And I went for a walk. I walked out of the house and took my keys and phone and walked back with blisters on my feet. I didn’t come back for five hours. I’m like, ‘How am I going to do this?’”

Sitting next to Clarke on the flight, as it so happens, was Kit Harington, who plays Jon Snow. Harington deliberately hadn’t yet read the scripts so he could experience the story for the first time with all his castmates. Clarke, positively bursting with wanting to talk about her storyline, found the flight maddening. “This literally sums up Kit and I’s friendship,” she says, and sputtered: “Boy! Would you? Seriously? You’re just not?…”

At the table read, Clarke sat across from Harington so she could “watch him compute all of this.” When they got to their final scene together, recalls Harington, “I looked at Emilia and there was a moment of me realizing, ‘No, no…’”

And Clarke nodded back, sadly, ‘Yes…’

“He was crying,” Clarke says. “And then it was kind of great him not having read it.”

The main story driver of Game of Thrones’ final season is the evolution of Daenerys Targaryen from one of the show’s most-loved heroes into a destroyer of cities and would-be dictator. Author George R.R. Martin calls his saga “A Song of Ice and Fire.” Jon Snow is the stable, immovable ice of Winterfell; Daenerys the conquering, unpredictable fire of Dragonstone. After years apart, they came together in season 7. The duo fell in love, help saved the realm from a world-annihilating supernatural threat and, in the series finale, their coupling is destroyed — Daenerys perishes, while a devastated Jon Snow is banished to rejoin the Night’s Watch.

Was this ending Martin’s original plan? The author told showrunners David Benioff and Dan Weiss the intended conclusion to his unfinished novels years ago but, since then, the HBO version has made several narrative detours. The showrunners are not giving interviews about episode 6 (and told EW they plan to spend the finale offline — “drunk and far away from the Internet” as Benioff put it).

Regardless of the final season’s narrative’s origin, the Thrones writers have planned Dany’s fate for years and have foreshadowed the dark turn in the storyline. In previous seasons, producers would sometimes ask Clarke to play a scene a bit different than what she expected for a seemingly heroic character. “There’s a number of times I’ve been like: ‘Why are you giving me that note?’” Clarke says. “So yes, this has made me look back at all the notes I’ve ever had.”

After Episode 5, “The Bells,” the reaction to Dany’s “Mad Queen” turn has been explosive and frequently negative. Some critics insist Daenerys doesn’t have the capacity for such monumental evil and the twist is an example of female characters being mishandled on the series. Others say Dany’s unstable sociopathic tendencies were indeed established, but the final season moved too fast and flubbed its execution.

For Clarke, the final season arc required mapping out a series of turning points. Dany’s attack on King’s Landing might have seemed abrupt, but from the beginning of the season Daenerys has reacted with increasing anger, desperation and coldness to one setback after another, shifting the Mother of Dragons into new emotional territory that would ultimately lead to her destruction.

Sitting in her dressing room on the set of Thrones last spring, Clarke broke down Daenerys’ entire season 8 internal journey leading up to the apocalyptic King’s Landing firebombing in a single breathless monologue.

“She genuinely starts with the best intentions and truly hopes there isn’t going to be something scuttling her greatest plans,” she says. “The problem is [the Starks] don’t like her and she sees it. She goes, ‘Okay, one chance.’ She gives them that chance and it doesn’t work and she’s too far to turn around. She’s made her bed, she’s laying in it. It’s done. And that’s the thing. I don’t think she realizes until it happens — the real effect of their reactions on her is: ‘I don’t give a s—t.’ This is my whole existence. Since birth! She literally was brought into this world going, ‘Run!’ These f—kers have f—ked everything up, and now it’s, ‘You’re our only hope.’ There’s so much she’s taken on in her duty in life to rectify, so much she’s seen and witnessed and been through and lost and suffered and hurt. Suddenly these people are turning around and saying, ‘We don’t accept you.’ But she’s too far down the line. She’s killed so many people already. I can’t turn this ship around. It’s too much. One by one, you see all these strings being cut. And there’s just this last thread she’s holding onto: There’s this boy. And she thinks, ‘He loves me, and I think that’s enough.’ But is it enough? Is it? And it’s just that hope and wishing that finally there is someone who accepts her for everything she is and … he f—king doesn’t.”

And losing Missandei? “There’s a number of turning points you see for Daenerys in the season, but that’s the biggest break. There’s nothing I will not do after losing Missandei and seeing the sacrifice she was prepared to make for her. That breaks her completely. There’s nothing left to making a tough choice.”

Executing Varys for treason? “She f—king warned him last season. We love Varys. I love [actor Conleth Hill]. But he changes his colors as many times as he wants. She needs to know the people who are supporting her regardless. That was my only option, essentially, is what I mean.”

Burying Cersei Lannister under the collapse of the Red Keep? “With Cersei, it’s a complete no-brainer. Lady’s a crazy motherf—ker. She’s going down.”

Yet Clarke also had another, more personal reaction to Dany’s meltdown. “I have my own feelings [about the storyline] and it’s peppered with my feelings about myself,” she admits. “It’s gotten to that point now where you read [comments about] the character you [have to remind yourself], ‘They’re not talking about you, Emilia, they’re talking about the character.”

Like many actors who have played the same role for a long time, Clarke identifies with her character and has put much of herself into the role. She believes in Daenerys’ confidence, idealism and past acts of compassion. As the actress wrote in a New Yorkeressay in March, she played the Breaker of Chains through some life-threatening personal hardships, secretly enduring two brain aneurysms during her early years on the show. “You go on set and play a badass and you walk through fire and that became the thing that saved me from considering my own mortality,” she wrote. Clarke has drawn strength from Daenerys and infused Daenerys with her strength.

“I genuinely did this, and it’s embarrassing and I’m going to admit it to you,” Clarke says. “I called my mom and—“ Clarke shifts into a tearful voice to perform the conversation as she reenacts the call: “I read the scripts and I don’t want to tell you what happens but can you just talk me off this ledge? It really messed me up.’ And then I asked my mom and brother really weird questions. They were like: ‘What are you asking us this for? What do you mean do I think Daenerys is a good person? Why are you asking us that question? Why do you care what people think of Daenerys? Are you okay?’”

“And I’m all: ‘I’m fine! … But is there anything Daenerys could do that would make you hate her?’”

During EW’s visit to Northern Ireland last March, I took a walk with co-executive producer Bryan Cogman into the dark woods near the production camp. It was around midnight and bitterly cold. Our boots scrunched on the muddy gravel and the bustling sounds of crew activity from the set slowly receded into the distance.

“Emilia has been threading that needle beautifully this season,” Cogman says. “It’s the hardest job anybody has on this show.”

As we pass crew members our voices cautiously go silent. While Dany’s Mad Queen arc was known by all, her death in the finale was a secret even among many who work on the show. Killing Daenerys was a massive and difficult move. On a show that’s introduced dozens of distinctive breakout characters, Daenerys is arguably the most easily identifiable and iconic. She is T-shirts and coffee mugs and posters and bobbleheads and memes and the name of hundreds of kids around the world with GoTfan parents; a fearless figure of female empowerment.

“I still don’t know how I feel about a lot of what happens this season and I helped write it,” Cogman says. “It’s emotionally very challenging. It’s designed to not feel good. That said, I don’t think that’s a bad thing. The best drama is the type you have to think about. There’s a dangerous tendency right now to make art and popular culture to feel safe for everybody and make everybody feel okay when watching and I don’t believe in that. The show is messy and grey and that’s where it’s always lived — from Jaime pushing a little boy out the window to Ned Stark’s death to the Red Wedding. This is the kind of story that’s meant to unsettle you and challenge you and make you think and question. I think that was George’s intent and what David and Dan wanted to do. However you feel about the final episodes of this show I don’t think anybody will ever accuse us of taking the easy way out.”

I point out Daenerys’ final season arc shifts the entire series, or at least her role in it. Upon rewatch, every Daenerys scene will now be viewed differently; the story of the rise of a villain more than a hero.

“Yes, although I don’t know if she’s a villain,” Cogman says. “This is a tragedy. She’s a tragic figure in a very Shakespearean and Greek sense. When Jon asks Tyrion [in the finale] if they were wrong and Tyrion says, ‘Ask me again in 10 years,’ I think that’s valid.”

Tyrion actor Peter Dinklage says the showrunners on set compared Dany’s dragon-bombing of King’s Landing to the U.S. dropping nuclear bombs on the Japanese cities Hiroshima and Nagasaki to decisively end World War II in 1945. “That’s what war is,” Dinklage says. “Did we make the right choices in war? How much longer would [WWII] have gone on if we didn’t make horrible decisions? We love Daenerys. All the fans love Daenerys, and she’s doing these things for the greater good. ‘The greater good’ has been in the headlines lately… when freeing everyone for the greater good you’re going to hurt some innocents along the way, unfortunately.”

Gwendoline Christie, who plays Brienne of Tarth, adds there’s another political lesson to be learned in the final season as well. “The signs have actually always been there,” Christie says of Daenerys. “And they’ve been there in ways we felt at the time were just mistakes or controversial. At this time, it’s important to question true motives. This show has always been about power and, more than ever, it’s an interesting illustration that people in pursuit of power can come in many different forms and we need to question everything.”

Killing Daenerys also forever changes Jon Snow, leading to his circular fate: returning to serve the rest of his life at The Wall. Harington spoke about the show’s finale in a production tent on the season 8 set, his voice so cautiously low a recorder could barely pick him up. Harington explained he avoids talking about the death scene on the set, and he and Clarke came up with a secret hand signal to refer to it — touching a fist to their heart.

“I think it’s going to divide,” Harington says of the finale’s fan reaction. “But if you track her story all the way back, she does some terrible things. She crucifies people. She burns people alive. This has been building. So, we have to say to the audience: ‘You’re in denial about this woman as well. You knew something was wrong. You’re culpable, you cheered her on.’”

Harington adds he worries the final two episodes will be accused of being sexist, an ongoing criticism of GoT that has recently resurfaced perhaps more pointedly than ever before. “One of my worries with this is we have Cersei and Dany, two leading women, who fall,” he says. “The justification is: Just because they’re women, why should they be the goodies? They’re the most interesting characters in the show. And that’s what Thrones has always done. You can’t just say the strong women are going to end up the good people. Dany is not a good person. It’s going to open up discussion but there’s nothing done in this show that isn’t truthful to the characters. And when have you ever seen a woman play a dictator?”

There’s plenty of tragedy for Jon as well, he points out. “This is the second woman he’s fallen in love with who dies in his arms and he cradles her in the same way,” Harington notes. “That’s an awful thing. In some ways, Jon did the same thing to [his Wildling lover] Ygritte by training the boy who kills her. This destroys Jon to do this.”

Back in Clarke’s dressing room, the actress is preparing to film one of her final scenes on the series. Understandably, she can’t quite bring herself to feel sorry for Jon Snow.

“Um, he just doesn’t like women does he?” Clarke quips. “He keeps f—king killing them. No. If I were to put myself in his shoes I’m not sure what else he could have done aside from … oh, I dunno, maybe having a discussion with me about it? Ask my opinion? Warn me? It’s like being in the middle of a phone call with your boyfriend and they just hang up and never call you again. ‘Oh, this great thing happened to me at work today —hello?’ And that was 9 years ago…”

Clarke’s phone call metaphor is characteristically witty, and the actress has given some fascinating insight about the season as a whole. But nothing yet quite feels like the bottom, the blunt truth of how she feels about Daenerys’ fate.

“You’re about to ask if me — as Emilia — disagreed with her at any point,” Clarke intuits. “It was a f—king struggle reading the scripts. What I was taught at drama school — and if you print this there will be drama school teachers going ‘that’s bulls—t,’ but here we go: I was told that your character is right. Your character makes a choice and you need to be right with that. An actor should never be afraid to look ugly. We have uglier sides to ourselves. And after 10 years of working on this show, it’s logical. Where else can she go? I tried to think what the ending will be. It’s not like she’s suddenly going to go, ‘Okay, I’m gonna put a kettle on and put cookies in the oven and we’ll just sit down and have a lovely time and pop a few kids out.’ That was never going to happen. She’s a Targaryen.”

“I thought she was going to die,” she continues. “I feel very taken care of as a character in that sense. It’s a very beautiful and touching ending. Hopefully, what you’ll see in that last moment as she’s dying is: There’s the vulnerability — there’s the little girl you met in season 1. See? She’s right there. And now, she’s not there anymore…”

A crew member comes for Clarke and she stands up. It’s time for her to go. Clarke begins to walk away, turns around, breaks away from the staffer, and comes back.

There’s one last thing she wants you to know.

“But having said all of the things I’ve just said…” Clarke says. “I stand by Daenerys. I stand by her! I can’t not.”

Source

Emilia Clarke on Game of Thrones finale’s shock twist: ‘I stand by Daenerys’ was originally published on Enchanting Emilia Clarke | Est 2012

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