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biggameplayertrentaa · 5 months

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II. Trippin', Fallin'

word count: 4.1k warning: angst, smut 18+ summary: fwb!jude wants more while the reader just wants to protect her heart. author’s note: this is a three-part series that will contain angst, smut, and fluff. below is/are the song (s) that coincide with this part! let me know what you think!

You really had no one to blame but yourself. It was you who urged your coworkers to go on their holidays early. It was you who insisted that planning and creating content for the break would be no difficult feat for one person. It was you. Now, you were currently slumped against the white walls of your office, legs extended, while your thighs supported your overheating, and humming laptop. You found this position a lot more comfortable than the seated position your silver rolling desk chair had you in. At least, that is what you have deluded yourself into believing, as the amount of work you were tasked with was slowly driving you crazy– you concluded that your desk chair was to blame.

It was day number 9. Your coworkers and the rest of the team went home 9 days ago and you were still trying to curate enough content that would keep the fans fed and satisfied while the boys rejuvenated and spent time with their families. This also meant that it has been 9 days since you last saw—or even properly chatted with—Jude. You would be lying if you said this wasn’t your intention. It was all starting to become too much with him. After the closet, it was like a switch had flipped. He was always a gentleman–always the type to check if you got home safe, or if you ate, or if you slept well. And he actually cared–not only asking the questions because they were expected to be asked.

“The ‘friends’ goes before the ‘benefits’ part.”He always said.

But this was different. Now, instead of merely asking you these questions, he was taking the initiative to ensure you actually did get home safe or eat. For 9 days, Jude has made it a point to text you as you were walking the short distance from your office to your flat, insisting that you detailed every step of your journey, urging you to be hyper-aware because it was always pitch black by that time. He also began to have food delivered straight to your office on particularly busy days, when the only thing you truly had time to do besides work was to breathe.

Jude had gone from considerate to overly attentive.

You didn’t allow yourself to dwell on the fact that his actions triggered the dormant butterflies in your stomach to suddenly take enthusiastic flight. Instead, you focused on the heavy, anxiety-laced knot that lay amidst the butterflies and the small, yet overbearing voice of doubt that constantly whispered reminders of your previous relationship and Jude’s reputation. A reputation that–in his defense–is incredibly well concealed…and seemingly a thing of the past, as you have yet to hear of any of his teammates snickering about his little escapades since the two of you began to embark on this sexual relationship.

Nonetheless, the obnoxious knot and the nagging voice were enough to force you to keep Jude at a distance since the Christmas dinner– even if the 20-year-old was persistent. The buzzing of your phone pulled you from your thoughts. “Speaking of the devil.” You say aloud as the contact name, ‘JB’ flashes across your screen. Smiling at the irony, you had half the mind to let the call go to voicemail, but you would be lying if you said you weren’t curious as to why he was calling you in the first place. Though you were only answering him sometimes, the past 9 days were spent solely communicating via text messages. Intrigued, you hesitantly slide a finger over the screen.

“Jude.” You say, pressing the device to your ear, removing the now uncomfortably hot laptop from your thighs. “Hey, babes.” Jude greets. You can practically hear his smile through the phone, which alone causes the smile already plastered on your face to widen. “What’s up? You know I’m busy.” Though you meant to sound stern and all reprimand-y, your tone was playful and teasing.

“I know,” You hear him chuckle through the line, “But it’s already 8 and you haven’t had dinner yet.”

Your eyes immediately flick to the clock nailed to the wall directly in front of you. Damn, time had truly slipped away from you; you could’ve sworn it was no later than 6. “How do you know that?” You asked though he was right.

“Because you don’t eat unless I deliver food to your office and I didn’t do that tonight.”

“Yeah, you’re starting to slack off.” You don’t miss a beat and neither does your stomach as you suddenly become aware of your intense hunger when it grumbles lowly.

“Lucky for you,” Jude says, completely dismissing your quip, “I cooked tonight and I have the house to myself.” You couldn’t help but snort at his words. He cooked?

“You don’t cook.”

“Okay, I ordered in,” He admits, “but, I plated it.”

“Lovely, now what does that have to do with me?” You know exactly what he is getting at, but you couldn’t help but give him a hard time. It was fun.

“Come over, have dinner with me, and tell me about how much you love to hate your job.” Jude’s tone is authoritative, deep, and dripping with an unknown something that makes you subconsciously clench your burning thighs together. His tone also doesn’t give you much room to disobey.

“Give me like, thirty minutes.”

***

Just as you promised, you were knocking on the front door of Jude’s modest home approximately thirty minutes later, after first stopping to retrieve your vehicle. His house was small, hidden away just on the outskirts of the vibrant city, and beautiful. It is not often you come to his place, since he lived with his mother, but any time she was away for whatever reason, Jude would always invite you over. You never turned him down, either. His house was always clean–surely the work of Ms. Denise—and also radiated a feeling that you can only describe as home. It was everything and more in comparison to the nothing that was your dingy, messy flat.

Jude opens the door, adorned in loose, gray joggers and a white tank top despite the frigid December weather. You rolled your eyes at his fuck-me-fit. His lack of subtly never seized to both amuse and amaze you. He greets you with a smile and a tight bear hug. Immediately, you are consumed with the smell of laundry detergent intertwined with the woody, musked scent of his cologne. You lean into him, burying your face into his chest as you inhale–hoping the intake of breath didn’t catch Jude’s attention, but you couldn’t help yourself; he smelled so good. He squeezes you firmly and it is then you realize how much you missed being around him. That realization is enough to make you pull away first.

“Hello.” You say simply when he finally guides you inside.

“Hello. How was work?” Jude asked, hands working to remove your pea coat and scarf. You answer by throwing him an unimpressed look, hoping that the silent effort would be enough to properly relay your misery. He chuckles, taking your hands in his larger ones before slotting his fingers through yours. You tense, the action feeling foreign outside the confines of a bedroom. Even more so now that it is rooted in romance and not dominance like it typically was between the sheets.

You open your mouth to tease him about it, but instead of your usual witty remark, you let out a surprised gasp, hands immediately flying to your mouth as you took in the scene in front of you. Having pushed all of his furniture against the wall, Jude managed to construct the coziest indoor picnic in his living room. On the floor laid a red blanket, Chinese takeaway plated and resting beautifully right on top of it just as he promised; along the perimeter of the blanket were flameless LED candles, perfectly mocking the actions of a live candle as it flickered, cracked, and popped. You could hear the faint instrumental of an R&B tune humming softly as you turned to look at the beaming boy beside you.

“Wha-”

“I was serious when I said I wanted to be with you.” He states firmly and simply, urging you to sit on the blanket with his hands.

“Jude, I don’t-” You began to form your argument, mind already queuing your typical, dismissive response. Jude, prepared and accustomed to your avoidance, cuts you off.

“Give me a chance tonight.” He pleads, moving to stand in front of you so he could look you in the eyes. You reluctantly meet his gaze, instantly softening when you take in his flustered state. “Humor me; let me show you how much I want you,” Jude leans down, pressing a feathery kiss to the corner of your mouth, “how much I want us.” He says, finally covering your lips with his own. You sigh into the kiss, shoulders immediately slumping just as you lower your defensiveness. When Jude pulls away, his smile is infectious and placid. He motions you to sit, You oblige, situating yourself in a criss-cross position near a pile of soy sauce packets. He sits diagonal to you, long legs stretched in front of him.

“We have all your favorites: chicken fried rice, egg rolls, one extra fortune cookie, and extra, extra soy sauce.” As he speaks, he points to each respected item enthusiastically. Cued in, your stomach growls just as he finishes. Jude says very little as he watches you eat. Though you felt his eyes on you, you ignored him–this was your first meal of the day, and your priorities lay with your stomach.

“Do I need to start delivering breakfast and lunch to your office too?” Jude asks when your plate is finally cleared. You take a swig of your water before you respond.

“Please don’t,” You stack your empty plate on top of his, “sending me dinner is already doing way too much.” With the plates in your hands, you stand and walk to the kitchen. Jude wastes no time trailing you. When you stand in front of the sink, he positions himself directly behind you, breath fanning your neck.

“Leave ‘em.” He says when you jerk the faucet awake but you ignore him and begin lathering up the dish sponge.

“You bought dinner, it’s the least I can do.”

“I’ve been buying you dinner every night.” He notes.

“Even more reason to do the dishes then, yeah?” Jude laughs at this, accepting his defeat. After you are done, he dries and puts the plates away before interlocking your fingers with his and leading you back into the candle-lit space of his living room.

“Thank you for this.” You say when the two of you are finally seated directly beside each other on the makeshift picnic blanket, knees and shoulders grazing and bumping due to the lack of distance between the two of you. “Thank me fa’ what?” Jude murmurs, index finger reaching out to draw lazy patterns on the skin just above your knee. Your eyes follow his finger’s movement. “For all this,” you gesture to the romantic setup of his living room, “and for taking care of me.” You add quietly, looking down timidly as you pick at some of the lint on the fabric of the blanket. Though your actions indicated otherwise, you did appreciate Jude’s efforts, especially this past week when you had practically no time for anything besides work. Jude cups your chin, forcing you to meet his gaze. The fake flickering flames of the plastic candles cast a soft orange glow that accented his brown skin, only further contributing to the radiance of beauty that was already there. He looked so cozy, staring at you with a soft gaze and a smile that, though lazy, was still prominent enough to meet and illuminate his eyes.

You weren’t sure if you wanted to kiss him or run out of his house and never speak to him again.

“You don’t have to thank me.” He says, eyes flickering from yours to your slightly pouted lips. “I was serious when I said I wanted to be with you, now I have to be serious about making you feel secure with me.”

The words are only half registered when Jude finally bends down and smashes his lips to yours. Your body immediately goes rigid, but before you allow your mind to whip you back into your disciplined ways, you throw your arms around Jude’s neck and sigh into the kiss. You did agree to humor him. You also would be lying if you said the night was not weakening you at the knees. Smiling against you, Jude takes a nip at your bottom lip, thrusting his tongue in your mouth once you grant him the slightest opening. His tongue finds yours, lapping at it as he moves to sit you on his lap.

“Was this your plan all along, Mr. Bellingham?” You tease breathlessly as his fingers begin to work at the buttons of your blouse.

“Getting you naked is always a part of my plan.”

Jude nudges the article of clothing past your shoulders once it’s unbuttoned, lips immediately making their way to your neck. He places wet, open-mouthed kisses along its length, occasionally nipping at the exposed skin before soothing it with the tip of his tongue. He places a kiss on your shoulder, right where your bra strap is, as his fingers work to unfasten its clips. With his attack on your neck never seizing, Jude manages to expertly rid you of your bra, leaving your top half completely nude.

When he finally detaches his lip from yours, his eyes fall to your exposed breasts. Taking your nipple between his index and thumb, Jude rolls the hardened bud softly. You’re holding your breath, arms still thrown lazily over his shoulder as the steady heartbeat between your thighs begins to intensify and make itself known. Jude’s eyes flicker to you. He bends down slightly until his parted lips are hovering only inches away from the nipple he was toying with. Without breaking his piercing glare, he takes it into his warm mouth, “Jude.” You whimper, throwing your head back.

“Hmmm?” He hums, eyes still trained on you, tongue still working its magic.

You tug at the bottom of his tank top, hinting at your desire for its removal. Jude reluctantly pulls away, quickly ridding himself of the top. Once it is discarded, the two of you stare at each other wordlessly, heaving chest pressed to heaving chest. You feel as though your entire body is on fire, but your mind is devoid of any thoughts that didn’t concern him or his dick.

“Strip fa’ me.” Jude’s accent is thick, heavy, and dripping in lust. Its tone and cadence rip you from your thoughts, dazed.

“Huh-”

“Strip.” He emphasizes his point by forcefully tugging at the sides of your pencil skirt. Without another word, you rise to your feet. Under the belittling intensity of his fiery gaze, you slowly shimmy out of the material, the only thing you’re left in now is your pantyhose. Jude kneels in front of you before you have the chance to even attempt to take them off. He bunches up the flimsy material around your thighs, shoving it down with so much force that you hear a loud tear. Before you can chastise him, his mouth is over your clothed core. “You’re already so wet.” Jude sounds more pleased than anything. He speaks his praises into the growing wet patch that already decorated your panties. The vibration of his voice makes you buck your hip and throw your head back.

“I know, just for you.” You say honestly.

“Just fa’ me?” His smile is cheeky, his eyes now displaying a prideful glint.

You just nod, creating enough distance so you can drop to your knees and be leveled with him. Jude pulls you into him, positioning the two of you so that you are seated on his lap again, his already-hardened cock pressing tenderly between your slippery folds. You instinctively rock your hips forwards, causing both you and Jude to suck in a harsh breath. Your pussy is slick, you slide your clit up and down his length with ease.Wanting more, you take his glistening cock in your hand and lift yourself slightly until his oozing tip is aligned with your dripping hole.

“Oh fuck.” You whimper, still tight from the lack of proper foreplay. Jude’s bottom lip is tucked between his front teeth, thick brows knitted together in pleasure, as he begins to softly massage the flesh of your stilled hips. “You can take it.” He encourages, peppering feather-light kisses along your collarbones as you attempt to adjust to his size. You’re grimacing in a mix of pleasure and pain, but you still nod at Jude’s words, slowly sinking down onto him until you feel that familiar burn in your stomach.

“That’s it,” Jude coos, fingers now massaging pressured circles up the length of your back, “That’s my good girl.” His words ignite something in you.

You raise up until just the very tip of his cock is against your opening, practically on your tiptoes now. Ignoring the burning in your knees, you begin to bounce on him. The claps of your ass cheeks, Jude’s groans, and your screams are echoing loudly through the living room. His hands are still on your back to keep you steady, but Jude allows you to fuck him, yielding complete power to you as you selfishly and desperately sought your orgasm.

“Are you gonna cum fa’ me baby?” He questions though he has already taken note of your quivering thighs and short intakes of breaths. “I know you are, baby, just let go fa’ me.” His fingers find your clit, wasting no time in rubbing tight circles against it. “Just let go fa’ me, you deserve it.”

This is exactly what you need to hear to push you over the edge. You cum around him, shaking and sputtering a mess of incoherent phrases you nor Jude can make sense of. As you attempt to come back down to earth, completely delirious from your orgasm, Jude positions you to lay on your stomach in front of him. He caresses your ass, placing a stinging slap on its surface before following it up with a tender kiss. Spreading your cheeks apart, he spits on your exposed, already-wet pussy. He backs you into his face and then licks a teasing swipe along your slit. You are completely thrown, naturally arching your back and moaning into the blanket as he begins to devour you in a similar way you devoured your fried rice.

He moans into you, driving your hips back until his face is so close to your core, that you are sure he can’t breathe. Jude is relentless and determined though, refusing to loosen his grip, even slapping the side of your thigh warningly when you try a create some space between his face and your pussy. Your vision is blurred with tears, fingers gripping desperately at the disheveled blanket underneath you. You feel Jude insert two fingers inside of you, scissoring them as he pushed them in and out of you, tongue still lapping at you faithfully.

“I’m about to-” You begin, your entire body now shaking from the pleasure you were experiencing, but before you can finish the warning, he completely withdraws himself from you. “Jude.” You pathetically whine, lifting your head so that you can turn to look at him. He had his cock in his hands, pumping it slowly as he took you in with hooded eyes.

“Hmm?” He sings, his movement never once seizing. “Do something.” Is all you can get out and he chuckles. You watch him lean over you, lips slightly parted as he teasingly brushes them against the skin of your back. You shudder when you feel his tongue flat against your skin, licking up its length in a way that makes you see stars. As he continues to lick and kiss, you can feel the tip of his cock graze against your opening. You push against and Jude immediately catches the hint, burying a couple of his delicious inches past your moist, silky walls. He keeps his movement controlled, and measured, seemingly reveling in the feeling of having you molded so perfectly around him. When he finally bottoms out, hips flush against your ass, the two of you sigh in relief. Jude rocks his hip forward, body leaning against you completely as he builds a slow, deep rhythm. You can feel his labored breaths against the shell of your ear and the thudding of his heart against your back but all you can focus on is how you can feel him in your tummy.

“You feel so good.”

The two of you groan out simultaneously, causing both of you to burst into a fit of laughter. The wholesome pause was short-lived, as Jude cut it short with a harsh slap on your ass and assertive thrust. You turn to look at him, a devilish smirk playing on your lips as you push your hips back against his to meet his movements. His actions stutter only slightly, his brows quirk in a slight mixture of curiosity and anticipation as he looks down at you. You hold his gaze as you expertly throw

your ass back against him, hips whining in a half circle as you confidently took him. He only lets you have your fun for a moment, taking back control with a particularly hard thrust that lurches you forward. You are almost flat on your tummy now, Jude lying almost entirely on top of you as he pounds into you. You were hearing colors and seeing sound with this new angle, his cock was now hitting your deepest crevices.

“I’m convinced your pussy meant to be wrapped around my cock.” Jude groans through gritted teeth.

You’re close again and you know he is too, as his thrusts are now faltering and his breath is even more hoarse and rigid than it already was. The words are spoken against your ear lowly and though you only half-hear them, you nod profusely. Jude lets out a breathless laugh, hips now grinding into you as he wraps one of his arms around your neck, while the other supports his weight,

“Tell me it’s mine,” He says, the arm around your neck tightening as the pleasure infused tears spilled past the barriers of your eyelids and onto the picnic blanket.

“It’s yours!” You scream with no hesitancy, the words feeling familiar and natural on your tongue.

“What’s mine?” Jude’s pace had increased subtly, but his movements were still disciplined “This pussy.” You say, not missing a single beat. He groans against your ear and nods in enthused agreeance, “That’s right. And me,” he delves into you even deeper, his tip now grazing an area inside of you that you weren’t aware existed, “I belong to you.” The sound you let out is animalistic and embarrassing but you are having a hard time caring about anything else except the man on top of you.

“Tell me it’s yours.” Jude urges, bringing your head up and tilting it to the side so you are looking at him. “Tell me this cock is yours.” He demands firmly, his gaze intense and piercing but not intimidating enough for you to comply with his request. The words tumble past your lips as naturally as the moans that followed did, sending you into your second earth-shattering orgasm of the night and Jude into his first. As he fills you, he’s holding you firmly to his chest, spewing a mix of sweet nothings and pure admiration for you.

***

The light of the early dawn sky was enough to dull the flickering light of the few plastic candles that managed to stay upright. Jude’s arm and the makeshift blanket are thrown lazily over your waist. He is snoring beside you on his tummy, still nude from the previous night’s activities. You don’t allow yourself to take him in fully, knowing that he is destined to wake up at any moment meaning you have very little time. You carefully remove his arms from around you and place them at his side.

Jude stirs but does not wake and you let out a breath you did not know you were holding.

You locate and throw on your blouse and pencil skirt as quickly and as quietly as you possibly can. Once you get yourself together, you walk to Jude’s front door on your tiptoes. Doing your absolute best to ignore the guilt that is slowly making its way into your conscience, you step outside of his home and into the crisp morning air, not even sparing a glance over your shoulder.

authors' final thots:

#Spotify #jude:)#jude bellingham #jude bellingham smut #jude bellingham imagines #jude Bellingham series

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semischarmed · 11 days

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River

River was a walking enigma.

Instagram, TikTok, Facebook- hell, I even tried looking for a yearbook. Nothing. I had nothing on the guy. Like an illusion, he merely appeared, did his work diligently and then promptly vanished. In fact, his most common phrase around the office was a “Sorry, I can’t- busy.” His distance seemed to put some people off. That only made me want him more.

When Chelsea threw a quitting party, he dropped in, chatted for a few minutes and then left without saying goodbye- except to Chelsea. He wasn’t rude by any means. I’ve only ever seen the guy be polite. I personally found it quite hot. His mysteriousness brought an allure about him.

During another quitting party- a dinner for Mark this time, I tried to make conversation, asking him why he was named River. I actually asked the question in a few roundabout ways. Most I ever got was a “just what my parents named me- they thought I’d have brown hair”. I tried to pry for his hobbies, asked what he did for fun and he only responded with a “I watch baseball, go to the gym, watch TV. I guess”, before asking me about mine. The conversation was cordial, and probably a little boring, but I was captivated. This had been the closest I ever sat next to him.

My breathing quickened, ever so slightly, as I watched his shirt struggle to contain the form within. I traced the vascularity in his hands, the craftsmanship in the sculpt of his neck, the fabric of his shirt stretching taut when he would reach to grab a napkin. There was a full plate of food in front of me but I was only salivating at one thing.

The conditions were not ideal- but what choice did I have? The guy was like a ghost. I laughed a bit at the irony. I sat right across, trying to filter the scents and the sounds of food and camaraderie to focus on him. This would take all my brain power. I steadied my breathing and sharpened my focus, as I continued to answer and ask mundane questions about some work projects we both had. I started my work, mimicking every microexpression, every slight movement. I tailored every word from my mouth- even my delivery to slowly match his. This had to be subtle, of course- I’ve found out the hard way in the past how creepy this process could look in public if done too quickly.

River’s eyes blinked slower, like a haze was forming in his mind. I followed suit, weaving my slight impersonation in and out of our conversation. Like a pulse, I felt our movements begin to sync. Almost there. Now came the tough part, slowly drawing him out and isolating him without lo-

“C’mon, let’s all get shots- uh… River you ok bro?” Mark asked.

He shook off his daze, surprised at himself before laughing off the weirdness.

I was pissed the rest of the night, forcing myself to hide the permanent glare I would have worn for Mark.

As the night drew on, River left early- of course, and I continued on, staying a bit longer to wish Mark well in one final toast for the night.

That would be the last time in a while I’d be so close to him. The following drought was unbearable. For the next few months, no one quit. No big holidays were coming up, and our office wasn’t much for parties. Instead, I had to satiate myself with glances and the occasional short conversation.

= = = =

“Does that work for you two?” My boss asked. I nodded readily, eyeing River’s response. Another nod.

Fuck. I practically jumped when the boss said those words. A presentation. A presentation with River. A chance.

I think I deserved an Oscar for my acting in the few weeks after we were both tasked with the presentation. A wrong font here, corrupted save there, a missed chart. I “worked” tirelessly on the presentation with River, making sure to leave enough mistakes and gaps to drag the process out.

The guy was too polite, and I knew I had to use that against him. I ran the clock, watching the days progress into weeks and his brow furrow as stress deepened. Of course, I had to play my part, acting innocent at every step. A quick “sorry” for every mistake I planted was enough to ease suspicion. I even faked a confession about roommate drama causing my decline in performance. I thanked how private he was in that moment- I lived alone. Ever the hero, River was quick to take on the responsibility- even covering for me on few occasions. I knew I had to get inside this man.

Then came the day before the big presentation.

“I- uh… okay. Maybe we can finish this at my apartment,” He stated, clearly uncomfortable. I held back a moan.

= = = =

“You can set your stuff down there”.

It was a bit boring compared to what I expected. He was definitely put together at work, so it was a bit surprising to see some mess littering his apartment.

A few posters dotted the walls. Some basketball guy, I guess. An action movie. A generic college banner. His furniture boxy and grey, and the carpets running through the floors were in need of cleaning. Perhaps unsurprisingly, his kitchen was pristine, practically sparkling, aside from a small collection of protein powders and supplements.

“Uh.. sorry I don’t really have any snacks.”

He sheepishly opened the near-empty fridge and offered me a choice in drink. Some kind of pre-workout beverage and water. I took the water.

“Okay, I need to head to the gym for a bit. You still have a few slides you wanted to add, right?” A Hoodie-wearing, duffel-toting River asked. I nodded, trying not to look too eager and straining to keep my eyes from staring at his well-defined legs.

And then, there I was. Alone in River’s apartment. Alone with River’s apartment. I ran to his dirty laundry pile.

“Mmmphhhh” My eyes rolled back as I took the deepest inhale of my life. These were River’s boxer briefs. The same ones he had just worn. Doused in the scent of a day’s work. It was damp- guess River was a sweaty guy, though the long walk and couple flights of stairs to get to his apartment may have also been culprit. I was paralyzed in bliss, as I took in every note of his natural musk.

It reverberated deep in my chest as I continued to circulate every ounce of River I could inside me. The underwear was practically glued to my nose and mouth before I finally relented and drew them away, gasping for air. Exquisite.

My dick jumped at the sight of a single strand of his pubic hair, like flickering flame. A perverse smile planted itself on my face as I gingerly pulled my clothes off. I shivered as the cold, damp fabric that had just touched his bare flesh was now touching mine. I felt his hair on my flesh, now caked in his sweat. The elastic snapped around my waist as I released, a bit tight. My breaths fell shallow, ragged as I sat there basking in his cold embrace.

Next came the tank top. I mentally hit myself for not putting it on first, as it was a significantly less erotic experience. Still, as I slipped my arms through the holes that his once filled, my dick couldn’t help but twitch in approval.

I ran to his bed, gripped his sheets, and stifled another moan with his pillow. This man had, until today, been a full on mystery to me. And now, here I was- deep in the recesses of his apartment, nestled in the indent on his bed, buried in fabric stained with traces his scent and natural grime. I was drowning in the all aspects of his daily life. It was an intimacy with River previously unheard of and practically a miracle I hadn’t cummed yet.

The next few moments were sluggish, mind hazy and drunk in pleasure, as I wore my jacket and pants over the River clothes I had already had on me. I mentally thanked myself for wearing tighter clothing earlier today, as I felt them compress River’s undergarments tighter on my flesh. I walked back, sitting on the dining table and pretending to work.

A few minutes later, the door clicked open and a panting River waved. He no longer had a hoodie on and left nothing to imagination. I eyed the feast before me.

I fucking knew it. This kid was ripped.

I salivated as my eyes followed every contour of the body that would soon be mine. His flesh was flush and glistening with sweat.

“M-must have been some workout,” I mumbled. I couldn’t stop myself from staring.

“Yeah, fucking kicked my ass today,” River said with a short laugh. My dick twitched. River never swore, never gave off a jockish vibe at work, but here he was, beaten tired and unable to contain his natural state behind a facade of politeness.

My lip quivered when his post-workout scent wafted into my nose. It was divine. True to his name, River had an earthy, deep musk about him. A delayed, almost sour afternote followed, the kind that clings to the nose. It riled me up, knowing this offensive, raw blast of testosterone had been working next to me for the past two years, hidden by layers of work clothes and pleasantries. River was cleaned, masked and sanitized for corporate America. And now I had a private showing to it. I was feral. I wanted-no, needed to be piloting this hunk for myself.

My trance was broken when River dropped to his couch, laughing slightly. This wasn’t his normal laugh- it dropped all pretense and I recoiled out of reflex, thinking back to that same laugh that emanated from the football jocks back in high school.

A lazy pair of eyes drifted up to meet me. “Sorry bro, just new a few minutes.”

I gulped. This was my chance. No need for precision, no need for focus. River was vulnerable. In any other circumstance, I’d be syncing to his movements, slowly, imperceptibly altering his as he would start following mine. Then I could pull him into my trance, lead him to a safe area as I continued the process. This was different. River served himself up on a platter for me, beaten to near immobility by his workout. No way was I gonna miss this. I stripped quickly, abandoning my original plan.

Without a word, I walked closer to him, grabbing his wrists.

“W-what are you”. In that instant, i jumped on top of him, allowing my body to follow the contours of his.

He grunted in defiance while I began to grind in pleasure. “Ughhh! Fuck bro. I can’t! I can’t wait. I can’t wait to be River!”

The process was quick- his drenched, energy drained flesh practically grabbed at mine, drawn by my own energy into itself. It was osmosis. I moaned as I saw the process start, and River’ meaty form encapsulate my own. His arms and legs splayed as he screamed at the intrusion. “What the fuck are you-“ He grunted in pain as he felt our two forms begin to meld. I laughed a perverted laugh, eyeing how deep I was inside him. His lack of energy had been his downfall.

I licked the inside of his head, feeling him shiver and whimper at the intrusion. I whispered venomously. “What am I doing?” I thrusted myself deeper into his muscled form, “I’m becoming River. I’m gonna wear you like a fine red suit.” I felt my facial muscles match his and pulled him into a smile he did not intend to make. “You boring prude. This body was built for sex. You’re starving this poor thing. I bet it’s backed up.” I whined in half-whispers. “Let me take you for a ride.” River moaned in horror, kicking his legs into the sofa in discomfort as his muscled back began to close over me. Possessing the ginger felt like a warm, dank hug. “You feel that?” I teased, this time his voice mimicking mine. He could no longer respond as it had become my mouthpiece. Instead, his head repeatedly slammed the sofa in resistance, forced to wear a smile that was not his own.

I laughed, feeling our combined chest heave in deep pleasure as I jammed my fingers deep into each bicep. I drilled into each arm, relishing in feeling his muscle fibers slip past me. Power. He shook as he tried in vain to resist my fingers filling into his. Putting on those vascular hands like well-fitted gloves. “Fuck yeah bro… that’s the stuff. Dominate me. Command me. Control my every move. My nerves are itching for their owner. Put this ginger meatsuit on…” I mock in his voice. Tears welled in my eyes, as I felt him continue to slam our slowly merging head into the sofa. I purse our lips before moaning further. “Wear my clothes…” My legs wove into his, twisting and binding into one. “Wear my personality…” the bottom half of our merged face laughs, while my new eyes blink away angered tears. I felt his memories begin to flow and surround mine. His rage and desperation flowed through me. The slamming slowed, coming to a complete halt as a reborn River’s eyes blinked into a lewd, sinful glee. “Wear my life.”

I stood up, piloting my new body towards the mirror. “You’re still in there, aren’t you?” River’s outward defiance no longer showed over his perfect flesh but his mind was a raging storm. “Good.” His body lit in searing pain, sore muscle tendon and fiber forced to flex. I felt the storm calm as he was stunned. I myself winced slightly before my arousal imprinted itself through River’s face. This was my pain now. I could feel every fiber of his musculature tearing and repairing themselves. Building back stronger with the pre-workout mix he had drunken earlier. Building back with me embedded deep inside. Our leg wobbled in pain, before I slapped it back into submission, forcing it to flex. “Fuck yeah, that’s the stuff.”

I roared and patted my new chest and abs. “YEEAAAH!” Just one last piece of me was left. An intentional dessert I had left not internally bonded with River.

I let his normally stoic face relay the erotic pleasure I felt in wearing this flesh. I then pulled a “serious” face, bringing pained biceps into a flex. “We gotta live up to our name bro… gotta let the river flow”. A greedy tongue licked the dripping sweat hanging off ginger hairs of his armpit. I wanted to savor this. The tangy, salty nectar lingered in our shared tongue before I began to make out with my new reflection. With a grunt, I slammed River’s pelvis into the mirror, groaning as my growing hard-on began to fill into his dick. At first contact, I felt our senses mingle and the cold metal of the mirror. I grunted, trying to reign in the lust. With our linked sensitivity, I could feel my original body’s dick worming itself into my soon to be River-flavored cock. I thrusted my rod up, relishing in the soothing bare metal beneath the perverse cock and cock sleeve combination.

I grabbed at my new rod with one hand, while the other greedily dragged across my new body, feeling every new muscle and crevice and damp piece of the hunk. River thrashed inside me, disgusted at feeling his own flesh violate itself. At watching this new carnal entity that wore his face and name.

“S-someone’s gonna find out. Someone will fix this” He threatened in my mind.

“No bro… you’re the perfect host. No one at work knows a thing about you”. I cooed in his voice. “When we quit, when I take this thick ginger cock for a joy ride-“ tug “No one…” tug “No one will know.” I groaned as the last of his dick bonded to mine. We were complete. “I’m River now!” I shouted before devolving into whimpers of pleasure as I felt River’s warm seed stream out of me.

River’s softening, sore wood was forced back into full mast as I eyed the full extent of my- now his- depravity. Not wanting to waste a drop, I smeared my new lotion onto my new flesh, caking in layers of his drying sweat with layers of drying semen. I could only hear gagging in my mind as River was forced to taste his own produce. It’s my body now anyways, why shouldn’t it reek of sex and his natural musk?

#male possession #male merge #male corruption #male skinsuit

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thisblogisaboutabook · 4 months

Text

The Fated Truth

Azriel x Reader

Truth-Teller’s origin story. A multi-pov oneshot.

A/N: this story came to me after listening to the songs seven, vigilante shit, it’s nice to have a friend, and my tears ricochet by taylor swift.

warnings: attempted sa, language, suggestive language, parental abuse, violence, main character death

The Angel

-Ladies always rise above -

Remove the dagger from his heart.

-Ladies know what people want-

Wipe the blood from the corner of your kohl lined eyes.

-Someone sweet-

Spit on the bastard.

-Someone kind-

Swipe at the next overgrown male.

-Someone fun-

Hit your mark, swing around, drive your dagger into the brute on your six.

“Well, shit.” you think to yourself as a group of ten overgrown bats rush toward you. Siphons glowing.

The irony isn’t lost on you that yet another thing they withheld from you would contribute in damning their very existence. A female with siphons was considered absurd and absolutely out of the question, it wasn’t your place - yet this incontrolable blast of raw killing power begged to differ.

One moment those pricks were running toward you and the next, they were ashes in the wind.

Looking at the dead females around you, pure rage boils within. Your insides could be cooked at this point for all you know. Not a single feeling but uncontrollable rage.

A gasp breaks the silence. One of the females is still alive. Running to her, her eyes filled with panic, breaths rapid and shallow. You lean down and whisper to her before unsheathing your dagger and holding it up. Her eyes widen in terror but not at you - behind you. You turn to look.

“Azri-“

The blast of power hit before you could finish saying it - your mate’s name - your final breath.

~~~~~~~~~~

The Journal

Nine year old Y/N

“I made a new friend! His name is Azriel. He’s like me! He’s two years older than me and can’t fly but he still has his wings. I wish I still had mine, we could learn to fly together. Azriel has burn scars too but his are on his hands instead of his back like mine.

He’s really quiet but it’s okay, I talk and he listens! He has shadow powers though. I don’t think I’m supposed to say this but they’re really cute! One of them followed me home from my chores today.

I have to go now. Dad is yelling. I think he’s mad again.”

11 year old Y/N

“Father hit me again last night. I got upset and my power hiccuped. I asked him for a siphon and he locked me in the cellar for asking. I have bruises that hurt really badly but I’m okay.

Azriel saw me this morning. I tried to hide the bruises but he notices everything. I cried and he listened to me. Sometimes I think he’s the only person who sees me.”

13 year old Y/N

“One of father’s friends came over two nights ago - they were drinking. I had to refill their mugs of ale and the friend grabbed me inappropriately. Father laughed. When he left the room his friend pulled me into his lap and his hand drifted below my waist. I was scared and my power flickered, throwing me backward and flipping the chair over with him in it.

The blast broke his arm and nose. I don’t feel bad.

I tried telling father what happened but he didn’t listen. He locked me in the cellar from that night until this morning.

One of Azriel’s shadows found me and picked the lock. Father either forgot he locked me away or didn’t care because he never came to check on me or give me food. I found a canteen of water on one of the shelves though.

Azriel retrieved me as soon as his shadow notified him. He took me back to Rhysand’s Mother’s cabin and she fed me. Azriel stayed by my side as I took a bath - there were even bubbles. I’ve never had a bath with bubbles before. Azriel saw my scars peaking over my towel after I climbed out of the bath and instinctively clenched his hands. I took them in my hands and kissed them. Our scars prove our strength. He tells me mine are beautiful but his are too. All of him is.

He’s my best friend.”

15 Year Old Y/N

“I spent the day with Azriel yesterday. Sometimes we sneak away and train. He teaches me self-defense maneuvers and even some Illyrian fighting techniques. My powers have been growing a lot lately too. I am still not allowed siphons though. It’s getting harder to contain but training with Azriel serves as an outlet.

I got into a fight with father again two nights ago. He threw a knife at me. I avoided it but if it hit me, it would have landed in my chest. He called me an “ungrateful whore just like my mother.” I was told that mother died in childbirth but sometimes I wonder if it’s not true.

When he locked me in the cellar this time, I let out a blast of power. It ripped a shelf off the wall and down with it came a dusty box I’d never seen before. I opened it to find a beautiful obsidian-hilted knife and a note that said:

For my beautiful babe. May the light of truth always find you, even in the darkest places. I will always love you. -Mother.

I can’t believe it was there all of this time. It broke my heart to know that she had been locked away in the cellar too. The only thing she was able to give me. She loved me. Those words meant so much. Someday I will be reunited with her in the realm beyond and she’ll share her truth with me.

Oh I almost forgot!! Azriel snuck into my room this evening and I showed him the knife. He held me while I cried tears of joy and sadness over this gift from my mother.

He’s going to train me in wielding it.”

16 Year old Y/N

Father was away on a training exercise last night so I went to a party at Rhysand’s cabin. It was fun but Morrigan was there. She’s so beautiful and I think Azriel likes her. He looks at her like she’s the brightest star in the sky.

He’s my best friend and I have loved him for a long time but sometimes, I feel an ache in my chest. Maybe I love him as more than a friend? I left the party early and trained with my hunting knife alone at our usual spot. He didn’t come looking for me.

This morning he stopped by and we practiced together. He seemed sad for a bit but I didn’t press. He tends to prefer more physical methods of expressing his feelings. He was still sullen afterward so I brought him back to my house for tea. We laid in bed together for hours. I know it’s frowned upon but it’s never gone past holding each other. He needs touch as much as I need his listening ear.

I think I’m going to ask him to spend the night.

17 year old Y/N

Yesterday was my 17th birthday. Father didn’t pay any mind to it as always. He says it’s “a reminder of what I did to my mother.” He drank himself into oblivion which left me free to leave the house. He probably never realized I left.

Sometimes I want to tell him that I know his secret - that there was more to her death than my birth but I know better. The following blow up would be catastrophic. At this point, my power has been growing so much that I think… I think I’m more of a danger to him than he is to me.

But… something big happened. Azriel took me flying. We looked at the stars and he flew me far north to see the Aurora. It was almost as beautiful as him. I may or may not have cried tears of joy.

Az playfully kissed my tears away but then something happened - what started as friendly kisses sparked a flame within me and I… I noticed a shift in his scent too. We locked eyes and he kissed my lips. Hard, fervently, like maybe he sees me as something more. We landed in a clearing under the Aurora and kissed for hours.

I love him. I love him wholeheartedly.

18 year old Y/N

Something happened last night! Az and I have spent a lot of nights together recently. Any time father is away, he comes over and we lay in bed kissing and talking for hours until his shadows inevitably lull me to sleep. But last night, I kissed his jaw and down his neck - he grabbed my wrist and growled!! Not a scary growl but a… possessive growl. He told me that if we started this, he wouldn’t be able to hold back.

So…. I kept kissing him. Lower. And Lower. And, well… the rumors about wingspan are true.

We had each other over and over all night, until Cassian and Rhys came knocking on my door looking for him.

18 Year old Y/N part two:

Father has hardly been around. He’s been visiting other camps. I’m thankful for the break from him and especially thankful for the time I’ve spent with Azriel. We’ve spent countless hours entangled with each other over the past few months. My power has been stirring a lot, it’s still growing. Training hasn’t been enough so this physical outlet between Azriel and I has been a lifeline. I can’t get enough of him. He told me he loved me - and I knew this time it was different. He truly loves me and not just as his friend. He knows that I love him too.

But things have also been trying… Morrigan has visited a few times recently and he’s still so enamored by her. Honestly, I get it. But it still hurts. Sometimes I want to say something about it but I don’t want to cause problems. There’s a rumor that she slept with Cassian a couple of years ago and things have been different between Azriel and Morrigan ever since. He broods more than ever when she’s around.

Maybe I need to fuck him senseless, until all he can think about is me.

Just kidding, but seriously.

19 Year Old Y/N

“I have a secret.

A really big, life altering secret.

Azriel is my mate. I don’t know if he knows but last night - things were really passionate, when we came together, that golden thread people talk about, it just… SNAPPED for me.

Things have been really bad with father lately and there have been more wing clippings happening. My heart hurts for the girls. I used to feel sad because I never had a chance to touch the skies (until Azriel learned to fly and carried me into them) - but to have been able to fly for so many years and lose the ability. I couldn’t imagine. Those males deserve to suffer.

Father made a comment recently saying that he gave me a ‘gift’ by cutting off and burning my wings as a child. It made me furious - my power slipped. It destroyed most of our living room furniture and half our kitchen table. I could scent the fear in him when it happened. I think if he wasn’t such a coward - he would have killed me. I have hardly seen him since.”

20 Year old Y/N

“Azriel is taking me to a formal party at another camp! I can’t wait. Rhysand’s mother even made me a dress for it. It’s the most beautiful clothing I’ve ever owned. She also added a hidden sheath for my knife.

I just finished getting ready - I feel like a shooting star. I’ve never felt so… so powerful and gorgeous. My eyes are lined with kohl and my hair is braided with silvery strands woven in.

Tonight is the night I’m telling Azriel. I’m nervous, so, so nervous, but he deserves to know that we’re mates.

Morrigan will be at the party too. I really hope I’m not making a mistake by telling him tonight. I know he still cares for her so I will wait until after the party and it’s just the two of us in the sky before telling him. Maybe he’ll take me to look at the Aurora again.”

~~~~~~~~~~

The Survivor

The infamous Shadowsinger made his way to her - approaching slowly, trembling, two palms up in the air as if to placate her.

He knelt down to the female who cried out in a blood curdling scream of pain and fear.

“P-pl-please don’t!! Don’t hurt me!”

“I’m here. You are safe.” The Shadowsinger choked out.

She didn’t understand. Why would he kill that female? She was only trying to help.

“Y-yo-you ki-killed h-her.” She cried out right before everything went black.

~~~~~~~~~~

The Shadowsinger

Devastation. Pure devastation threatened to rip Azriel to shreds. What the hell happened in a matter of hours?

He’d barely seen Y/N at the dance. She’d arrived to the party with all eyes on her. She held her head high, wearing her scars proudly. He couldn’t help but admire how she let them shine tonight. He’d walked in with his hand on her back his scarred skin to her scarred skin. It wasn’t a flaw at all, but a lovely match. They were beautiful together.

Tonight was the night he would ask her to move in with him. He was now making a small salary - enough to buy a little cabin for the two of them. It was time for her to get the hell away from her horrid father. He planned to take her to view the aurora that she loved so much - and present her with a special gift - her very own siphons. She was the strongest Illyrian female he knew - really she was stronger than any Illyrian he knew aside from maybe him, Rhys, and Cassian. She’d struggled with her power and the misogynistic Illyrian bastards in Windhaven refused to allow her or any female such a privilege.

He’d worked out a plan with Rhys, who convinced the smith that crafted the siphons that he was going to try his hand at wearing siphons one more time - claiming he had a new method of siphoning his power through them that would prevent shattering. While they both knew it was bullshit and the siphons would never work for Rhys - they would then gift them to Y/N without raising suspicion.

Mor was at the dance tonight. He had gone over to visit with her and shared his plans for tonight with her. She squealed and leaned in to give him a kiss on the cheek and a huge hug, requesting a celebratory dance. They’d gone out on the dance floor for a couple of songs and when he pulled away to steal a dance with Y/N she was gone.

He’d searched the party through when a couple of males burst through the door - yelling of a female going crazy and murdering local villagers.

Az immediately vacated the party to take down the assailant - sending another partygoer to alert Rhys and Cassian who were currently bedding a set of twins in one of the suites.

He was taken back when he landed at the site of the attack. The carnage was brutal with blood coating the snowy ground, littered in dead males and females. His heart nearly stopped when he realized, at the center of it all, there she was. Y/N holding her hunting knife over a severely injured female.

Stunned by the sight, Azriel prepared to send a wave of power out and knock the knife from her hand. Right as the power readied itself for Azriel to fire, she turned and looked at him. Her eyes met his and snap. His body jolted - a golden thread between him and the blood splattered beauty before him - the surge caused his arm to jerk and a much more powerful blast emitted from his siphons. He missed his target. For the first time in his life, he missed it. Instead of the knife, the deadly blast of power hit her.

His mate. His best friend. His equal. His eternity - ripped away in a second.

Everything after that was a blur. His only memories of those moments played on a constant reel in his head flashing images of the injured girl screaming “you killed her!!!!”, collapsing on top of Y/N’s lifeless body, screaming to the mother or any other deity that may listen - begging for her chest to rise and fall again, and then four strong hands pulling him off of her before everything went black and his brothers voice calmed his mind.

~~~~~~~~~~

Days later Azriel woke up from whatever sedation Rhys had put him in. When he woke, Cassian was by his side. It was all of a minute before the memory came flooding back.

Azriel thrashed only to find he’d been restrained.

“Brother..” Cassian said firmly.

“Brother!” he yelled

Azriel’s wrists and ankles were on fire as he thrashed. He had to get to her, had to.

Finally Azriel cried out “Y/N!!! Y/N!!!!”

“My mate! Where is she!? WHERE IS SHE!?” he screamed and cried, thrashing against the restraints with all of his might.

Everything went dark again.

“Az…..” Rhys spoke softly into his mind

Azriel didn’t have the strength to scream or yell in this space of sedation. He could only whisper “where is she?”

Silence filled the void of his mind before Rhys spoke. “She’s gone, Az.”

Devastation flooded through him, filling him completely, making that one sided bond reverberate every ounce of emotion back to him.

Rhys waited patiently, sending soothing waves of darkness into his mind. Knowing Azriel well enough to wait until he was ready to send a thought back.

“Why, Rhys? Why did she do it?”

Again, that damned silence as Rhys paused.

“If I show you now, I’ll have to keep you under for longer, Az. You’re a danger to yourself right now and this… it’s heavy, brother.”

“Do it” he gritted.

Azriel’s mind became entranced in a vision. Before him a massacre. He was seeing through the eyes of a frightened female, eyes bleary from sobbing.

A large group of males had corralled several females into a circle, some as young as five or six. The males all carried sharp objects ranging from sickles and scythes to swords and axes.

A male stepped forward - Y/N’s father - who spoke:

“Females of Illyria have not served us well in many years. They forget that their purpose is to care for us, maintain our homes, and cater to our physical needs. Instead, they insult us by wasting time and energy on training - as if our protection is not enough? Young females smuggle herbs into our camps that delay their bleed so they can fly where they please, whoring around with whomever they please. These behaviors reflect negatively on all of Illyria, leaving us to appear weak to enemies.”

And then the bloodshed began. The males ran at the females, corralling them in closer and closer. Butchering wings and brutalizing any female who dared fight back. The screaming, gods awful screaming, pierced the air.

Male screams suddenly burst out - a blast of power knocking ten of them on their asses.

And there she was, in her resplendent glory.

“Hello boys.” She smirked.

Y/N’s father stepped forward. “My traitorous daughter, and dressed like a slut too. Shall we show them what happens to women who don’t obey.”

“Oh yes, ladies, my father took my wings when I was four. He burnt the stumps too. See these scars?” She turned around briefly with a wave to her back. “Someone I love helped me realize how beautiful they are, a stark reminder of what I can overcome.”

She paused, looking to the females as she addressed her father:

“So yes, father, perhaps this is the fate of disobedient females - but allow me the honor of showing YOU the fate of males who think they can steal a females power.”

-They say looks can kill and I might try-

Her piercing eyes again met her father as she threw a hand out, sending another blast of power - a death blow - turning him to ash in the wind.

Before any of the males could react, she sent another larger blast, creating an opening near the most vulnerable of the females.

“RUN! Those of you who can fight - you may stay. Those of you who are unable - there is no shame in leaving now! Seek shelter!”

The females nodded toward a teenage girl, signaling her to gather the youngest females and ran off with them. Any males that tried stopping them were turned to ash.

“Ladies, show them who we are!” Y/N cried.

-The ladies simply had enough-

They were outnumbered, so terribly outnumbered. Some females had died before Y/N arrived - bleeding out from the butchering of their wings but the few remaining females fought bravely. Because of their lack of training, the males easily overtook many of them but Y/N led them bravely, valiantly, taking them out as best as she could.

As the female numbers lessened Y/N cried out for the females to evacuate, to seek healers. The remainder of the females fled aside from two females (one of which this visions point of view was from) who appeared to have more training than the others.

Y/N looked to them giving a knowing look seemingly saying “give them hell.” They adjusted their stances into that of the most fearsome warriors, and took on the remaining males as more and more fled in.

Y/N’s power was like nothing they’d ever seen. She took down male after male.

Before she could react, two males approached from behind taking out the other female and knocking out the vision of the female whose mind Rhys had gleaned into.

As the female blacked out, the vision faded away. Silence once again filled the air for several minutes before Azriel said:

“But.. she was holding a knife over the female. I don’t understand.”

Rhys answered in a heartbreakingly soft tone

“I can show you, brother. But this will be hard to see. Are you sure?”

Azriel replied firmly, “show me.”

Rhys hesitated before continuing. But then the vision resumed as the female regained consciousness:

Her eyes were so blurry. She was hurting terribly but managed a gasp. Around her, all of the males were dead and the bodies of their fallen sisters painted the snow red. Emotion flooded through her, she couldn’t move. As her vision cleared further, she saw her. The female who fought so bravely for them.

Y/N saw her and ran over. The blood caking her braid causing panic. The trauma of this night was too much - the blood so triggering. Y/N sensed the fear and whispered “I am here. You are safe now. Look at my eyes, not around you, not at the blood on me, just my eyes.” The female tried but couldn’t look away from the blood in her hair. “I’m going to bring my knife out and cut the braid. Do not be afraid.” Y/N once again unsheathed her knife, lifting it, when loud wings flapped in. The injured female couldn’t get words out, her only signal to Y/N, a wide eyed look of panic.

Y/N turned around - breathed out “Azri-“ just as that fatal blow of power hit her.

“STOP!” Azriel cried out in his mind. It was too much.

Azriel’s body began convulsing as a mixture of rage, heartbreak, and panic flew through him. “I KILLED HER. I KILLED HER. MY MATE. MY MATE. MY MATE.”

Rhys had no choice but to send out another wave of sedation to his brother.

~~~~~~~~~~

The next several weeks were spent in and out of sedation. Rhysand had found that Y/N’s father had been planning the attack for months, perhaps even longer. The camp was chosen for the first attack because of the party - a distraction to lessen the chances of interference from outsiders.

He planned to carry out more attacks throughout Illyria in coming months. Had it not been for Y/N, more would have happened. Her heroic actions prevented so many more losses than just the ones that were saved that night.

Azriel stayed bedridden for months - only leaving when Cassian and Rhys nagged him enough that it wasn’t worth the energy to refuse them. One day Rhys brought in a box, inside the box, Y/N’s knife and a journal. “She would have wanted you to have this.”

Azriel’s chest broke at the sight. Her mothers knife, the knife they’d spent hundreds of hours training with. He almost refused it but it felt like a piece of her. A reminder of her goodness, of the mate he lost.

That night he laid it under his pillow - an odd comfort as he read through the journal. The journal unveiling that she knew they were mates. His heart cracked further knowing that the reason she’d stepped out that night was likely to get some air after she saw him with Morrigan. “Stupid.” His inner thoughts cried out to him. How could he have been so blind?

He lay awake for half the night as he read through her journal - he sobbed for hours until his shadows finally lulled him to sleep.

~~~~~~~~~~

Truth-Teller

“Azriel” a soft voice whispered.

“Azriel” the lovely voice whispered again.

He was dreaming.

He tried to whisper her name but couldn’t speak.

“I don’t have much time, I need you to listen.”

He again attempted to speak but no sound came. He nodded his head.

A flash of light illuminated his mind and there she was. Somehow even more beautiful than she’d been - if that were possible. Her form illuminated with an incandescent glow, face full of light - a light that only came from insurmountable joy and happiness. And behind her, behind her were stunning golden feathered wings. An angel, his angel, stood before him… with six glowing siphons.

“Azriel, please do not cry for me. I am at peace. This was always my destiny. The lovely truth of my life was that all of the pain led me to you, I found a love, a friendship, that so few experience. Every step led me to where I am now and this afterlife is beautiful. The truth of life is that fate is inevitable.”

She waved a hand and out stepped more winged females. The females who died in the attack.

“What happened was not an accident, it was fate. You could not have changed the outcome. When you sent your power out toward me and the bond snapped, my power shot through the bond into you, reflecting back to me. You only sent out a small blast, the fatal blow came from my refracted power.”

Azriel’s eyes widened at the revelation. His heart still completely shattered but the guilt slightly lessened.

“When you sealed my fate it trapped a piece of my soul in the knife. I am forever bound to Truth-Teller. When you carry truth-teller you carry a piece of my power, of me, with you. Though, I will be with you regardless, as a part of me will always rest…” she held a delicate hand to her heart, “right here.”

His mind raced. Truth-Teller. What she’d named her knife after the truth of her mother was unveiled with it.

“I must go now, Azriel.” She waved an arm again to her fellow angels. “I am the keeper of the Mother’s gate and this is my legion. This was always my destiny - this and to love you. I will keep the bastards out and someday, someday far from now, I will hold the gate open for you.

Until then, may the truth set you free my love.”

A beautiful woman resembling Y/N stepped forward, pressing a kiss to her forehead. Her mother. The angels all nodded to Azriel in confirmation.

“My precious mate, I will love you for eternity.” Y/N whispered as she shot toward the sky - right into the most vibrant aurora he’d ever seen.

~~~~~~~~~~

Truth-Teller

500 Years Later

Azriel still thought of her every damn day, Truth-Teller never leaving his side. His North Star, the angel guiding him through life. He never told his brothers - didn’t know how to explain how that broken mating bond glowed inside him whenever his intuition failed. She’d guided him in her own way all of these years.

Leading up to the war with Hybern the tug became stronger and stronger. A warning of the strife to come.

For the first time since the night Rhys brought him her journal and Truth-Teller, she reappeared to him.

“Azriel.” Her melodic voice whispered, a sweet song serenading his soul.

“Azriel, I don’t have much time.” that honeyed voice whispered.

In the same fashion as last time, he couldn’t speak. Managing only to nod.

“I have carefully pulled the strings of fate as much as I am capable. A war is coming with a fate that I am unable to divulge. The Mother has allowed me to share just this:

“The fawn who sees carries the truth. When the time comes, you will know.”

Azriel furrowed his brows with confusion.

Y/N smiled softly, outshining any star in the sky, more captivating than the spirits of Starfall. “The truth will set you free. Do not fear loving again.”

He fought and fought, trying to speak, thrashing against the walls of his mind he was able to mutter three words to her.

“I love you.”

She placed a hand on her heart.

“I know, my love.”

Spreading those magnificent wings, she shot from his mind, the void filling with the echoes of her song.

“Until eternity reunites our souls.”

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arlana-likes-to-write · 6 months

Text

Second Chance - Chapter 8

Masterlist

Warnings: fainting, affects of chemotherapy treatment, lack of appetite, IV treatment

Note: a lot of this chapter is based on my own personal experience with the disease. As I've learned chemotherapy effects everyone very differently. Also sorry this chapter is so short.

Word Count: 1.9k

Relationships: Yelena x reader, Tony x reader (platonic), Avenger x reader (platonic)

There was something about jello that never sat right with you. You witnessed your friends take shot after shot of the mixture, and it made your insides turn. Even your mom would eat it when she wasn’t feeling well. Your nose would scrunch when you saw her over the stove, waiting for the water to boil. It always had to be homemade, never the store-bought stuff. The irony of it all as you sat on the common floor of the tower eating jello. Your mom would have gotten a kick out of it. It was store-bought; you barely had enough energy to drag yourself out of your room. The visit with America and Kate made you realize you missed people, which was strange.

After a double dosage, you would lock yourself in your room, surviving on snacks you could keep down. You would emerge from your room and order takeout when the symptoms passed. It was odd having a group of people to ensure you were okay. “Hey kid,” you gave a weak smile to Steve. “How’s the jello?” You shrugged.

“It’s gross, but at least I’m eating.” Sam stood next to you, arms leaning against the counter.

“We are going to watch a movie,” he said. “Do you want to join us?” You finished the last spoonful of jello, and Steve took the trash from you. You gave the man a grateful smile.

“Sure, it’s not like I can do much in this state,” you followed them to the couch and sat on the other side of Steve. He was warm; you were getting jealous of the Avenger’s ability to always be warm. “What are we watching?” You asked, resting your elbow on the armrest.

“I’m thinking Do The Right Thing by Spike Lee,” you knew the movie. You took a film studies class in college. Well, you passed it without watching any of the movies. You were a little stretched thin, and watching a 2-hour movie was not something you had time for. With your schedule open, movies became a source of comfort for you. You wished you set more time for them, more time for other things as well.

Sighing, you let your body relax on the couch and let your mind wander into the world Spike Lee created.

“I’m impressed she still hasn’t woken up yet,” Maria said, nursing a tall glass of water. She, Yelena, and Natasha returned from a run to find the common floor bustling with people, making lunch or grabbing a quick bite before heading off. Somehow, you remained unbothered by all the noise. You were fast asleep on the couch with a blanket tucked around you. Steve told them you made it halfway through the movie before you fell asleep.

“Do you think we should wake her up?” Natasha asked. “She needs to eat.” Yelena nodded. Tony told them about his conversation with your doctor. The blonde hated doctors too many times; she was forced down by doctors who said they would help. She had to trust your medical team knew what was best for you. So if they told you you needed to eat or an IV of fluids and steroids would help, Yelena believed that.

“I’ll do it,” Yelena said, walking over to the couch and ignoring the questioning look on her sister’s face. She was not ready for that conversation that she knew Natasha was dying to have. Yelena needed time to figure it all out. Kneeling at your level, she gently placed her hand on your shoulder. “Easton,” she said softly, barely recognizing the sound of her voice. “Come on, time to wake up.” This time, you opened your eyes, blinking them a few times.

“Belova,” you sighed. Yelena hated how you said her name; it made her heart skip. “Do what do I owe the pleasure.” The blonde rolled her eyes.

“You need food,” she said, standing up. “So up you get.” Yelena held out her hand. Sighing, you sat up and took the hand she offered. Fuck, why were you so cold? You pulled yourself up with Yelena’s help. Even when you were standing up, the blonde refused to let you go of your hand. Your hand was trembling, and you were swaying.

“What-” but you cut yourself off. You let out a shaky breath, and your eyebrows pinched together as if you were confused by something someone said, but no one spoke.

“Easton, what’s wrong?” You opened your mouth a few times before your eyes fluttered closed, and you fell forward. Yelena caught you in your arms, gently brought you to the ground, and looked at her sister. Natasha was already rushing over to her. “I don’t know what happened,” Yelena said, her voice laced with panic. “She just collapsed.”

“It’s okay,” Natasha calmly said, and she checked your pulse. “FRIDAY, alert Helen and tell Tony to get to med bay,” the redhead looked at her sister. “Can you help me get here?” The blonde nodded. Yeah, she could do that. She just needed her hands to stop shaking.

When you opened your eyes, you were in a room you didn’t recognize. Frowning, you turned your head to the side and saw Tony. The sound of you shuffling caused him to look away from the tablet he was looking over. “Hey, how are you feeling?” He asked. You sat up in the unfamiliar bed and saw an IV in your arm. You were connected to a clear bag that they gave you at the cancer center.

“Where am I?” You asked instead of answering your question.

“You’re in med bay,” he told you. “You fainted when you stood up.” Oh, you rubbed your forehead. “Dr. Carpenter said it’s probably due to your dehydration and lack of food intake. He suggested the TV; it’s fluids and a small amount of steroids,” he explained. You frowned slightly, hating the idea that Dr. Carpenter knew you weren’t doing well. You hated worrying him. He already felt so much guilt regarding your mom’s death, and he felt like he failed you and her. “So, how are you?” You hated that question. Every doctor and nurse asked you about it. You avoided text messages from your friends who asked you.

“I’m fine, Tony,” you said.

“No, you’re not,” he called you out. “And it’s fine that you aren’t,” he added quickly. “But I need you to tell me so I can help.” Help is something you never needed. You excelled in school, and even at a young age, you could take care of yourself. You helped others with school work, personal problems, or if they needed help moving. You were the helper, never the one that needed help. It was why it took forever for Dr. Carpenter to convince you to reach out to Tony.

“I don’t need your help.” You regretted the words as soon as they left your mouth. The man laughed bitterly.

“Then why come to the tower, turn my life upside down, and tell me you need mine or my kid’s bone marrow,” you were quiet. “It sure looks like you need my help.” You were silent, unable to find the words to improve this situation. “Lucas was right; your stubbornness is going to be the death of you. I will not stand by and watch it happen.” He left suddenly, and the room you were in was quiet. Sighing, you slapped your hand down on the bed. You were so stupid; sometimes, you spoke without thinking of the consequences.

Death. It wasn’t something you feared. It was a concept that your mom always introduced you to, especially with the nature of her job. So how the hell were you supposed to look at the man and tell him you weren’t afraid of dying?

Once the bag was empty and Helen knew you could stand alone, she released you from med bay. However, she gave you strict orders to come back if you began to feel worse. You agreed, only to please her. You knew you should find Tony and apologize for what you said. But you got your stubbornness from your mom. Instead, you went to our room, grabbed your sketchbook, and walked to the training area where FRIDAY informed you the rest of the team was.

Your presence went unnoticed by the team as they were engrossed in their training. You found a spot out of the way and began drawing the scene before you. Watching the Avengers train and be in their natural element was exciting. You enjoyed drawing them and coming up with stories to tell. You found the superhero group fascinating. They were brought together because they were deemed to be extraordinary. This group was tasked to save the world and protect people they did not know who needed help. It was noble work.

You sighed, twirling the pencil you were using in your hand. They were trying to help you. You are a complete stranger that came into their life and turned it on their head. You were curious if you were going to be around long enough to thank them.

Glancing up from your sketchbook, their training session ended, and the Avengers were split into smaller groups. You noticed Kate looking at you, and she gave you a small wave. She was standing with America, Peter, Kate, and the blonde Black Widow. You weren’t sure what they were talking about, but you saw Kate, America, and Peter start to walk over to you. The blonde hesitated as she looked at you but joined her sister and Bucky instead. You frowned slightly. “Hey,” Kate said, sitting next to you and you smiled. “You look a lot better than the last time we saw you.” You chuckled, closed the sketchbook, and placed it on your lap.

“Sorry about,” you hated worrying people.

“Just glad to see up and walking around.” America smiled. “What did they say that caused it?” You sighed, picking at the cover of the book.

“Doctor thinks it’s because I’m not eating or drinking enough. But I’m trying.” You felt the need to defend yourself. “It’s just-”

“Hard?” Peter guessed. You nodded. “Listen, I think you are doing great. Far better than I would be doing.” The couple nodded in agreement. You smiled.

“So, what are you guys training for? Do you have a mission coming up?” The trio looked at one another. “Can you not tell me?”

“Unsure, really,” America said. “A lot of the stuff we do is ‘need to know,’” she added the quotes around the words. “But you live in the tower but aren’t an Avenger.” You raised your hands.

“Then don’t tell me,” you chuckled. “All I care about is that you guys return safe,” Kate smirked. You weren’t sure why it felt like you walked into a trap.

“Especially a certain blonde.” Your face dropped, and you felt your stomach drop.

“I don’t know what you are talking about,” you mumbled. The trio laughed, which got the attention of the blonde. You refused to look at her as you felt your body head up from embarrassment.

“Miss. Easton,” the AI said. The sudden voice of the AI made their laughter die down. “Mr. Stark and Mrs. Potts wish to speak with you on their floor.” You groaned.

“Is everything okay?” Peter asked. You shrugged.

“Not sure,” you sighed and stood up. “But I may need backup.” Kate chuckled, shaking her head.

“Well, let FRIDAY know, and we’ll be there.” You nodded and walked out of the training area, sketchbook tucked underneath your arm. When your mom discovered you had a drawing talent, she worried that sometimes you would get lost in the worlds you created. But the worlds you made were more manageable than the one you lived in.

Taglist: @likemick, @averagetmblrusser, @wandaromamoff69, @simpforyelenabelova, @cd-4848,

#yelena belova x reader #yelena belova x you #yelena belova x y/n #tony stark x daughter!reader #tony stark x reader #tony stark x you #second chance #avengers x reader #marvel fic

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leggerefiore · 1 year

Text

cw: twin wardens au, pla ingo, poly (ingo/reader, emmet/reader), fluff mostly,

ughhh debating writing more here but idk where to go with it

---

It was astonishing how they never realised they were twins.

Certainly, their amnesia was at play for their lack of memories and understanding of their past lives, and you understood that completely. Naturally, they had ended up separated, too, when they had landed it the wilds of Hisui. Emmet taken in by the Diamond Clan and Ingo taken by the Pearl Clan. The care shown for both of them by essentially strangers was endearing, and definitely was how they ended up recovering from falling out of the sky as well as they did. This did, however, mean they were completely unaware of each other's existences before they took over their positions as Wardens in the highlands.

Emmet at first believed they should be rivals, knowing that while the tensions were low between the clans, there was a chance that this person could be a bad actor. Ingo simply wished to have a professional politeness with his neighbour. Needless to say, they were both absolutely shocked when they had finally encountered one another. It was like gazing into an oddly twisted mirror and seeing an alternate version of yourself rather than a simple reflection. Emmet became paranoid that Ingo had copied him, but the Pearl Clan Warden easily explained that he was stunned by their similarities, too.

They quickly found themselves spending most of their time together up in the highlands when they were away from their duties as Wardens. Even moving in together to help manage their food resources and guard themselves from the harsh wilds. Emmet's odd spider pokemon that had refused to leave his side since he was found had grown and evolved into another pokemon that proved itself useful for obtaining silk for fabrics of various use. Both seemingly found the electric type quite a familiar thing, but neither knew just what to call it.

Their respective clans had found their closeness a bit odd at first, yet easily accepted it as it proved beneficial to everyone.

You still were stunned after meeting them both that neither had come to the conclusion that they were brothers. Ingo had simply introduced Emmet as a fellow Warden, and Emmet solely referred to Ingo by his name, not a single 'brother' called out by him. It was odd, especially as you had known them before your time in Hisui. They were extremely close back in Unova, completely inseparable. It must have been obvious to them here, too, but for whatever reason it had simply never occurred to them.

The time for asking questions came as Ingo led you through a cave in the highlands. You hung close to his side as he claimed that it was difficult to navigate and becoming 'uncoupled' was not allowed. You giggled at his word choice. A cruel irony, as you technically had been separated from your relationship with him due to his memory issues. Still, just being around him helped relieve a lot of the stress you had been going through in Hisui. Both he and Emmet had certainly gone through similar situations to you. Though, their memory loss had likely made adjusting easier.

“So… How close are you with Emmet?” you asked, finally breaking the silence in a meaningful way, “You two seem like brothers.” The time to tell them about your situation simply had not come yet. The idea of suddenly bursting out that you knew everything about them just felt wrong. It would cause them much unneeded stress, and they seemed perfectly fine the way they are.

“Well, we have taken to sharing a residence for safety reasons,” he replied, “Emmet seems like a nice fellow. A bit too playful at times, but he takes his duties as a Warden quite serious. I respect him.” You nodded along. That almost sounded like how he would describe Emmet back home to strangers. Even calling him a fellow rather than his brother.

“Ah, well, you two looked like brothers to me,” you smiled at him, “You two are identical, you know.” He stopped for a moment and looked around the rocky walls of the darkened cave. It seemed that thought had occurred to him already, but he had chosen not to pursue that line of thinking for whatever reason. You wandered in front of him to look him in the eyes.

“... Is that so? Well, I suppose I do feel like I have known him for a while,” he stated and brought a hand to stroke his goatee, “I wonder which one of us was the older sibling in that case.” You wanted to laugh at his words. The thought of Ingo even viewing Emmet as the older one seemed like an impossible thought back in Unova. Of course, it was impossible to tell with them without prior knowledge.

“I'd say you,” you hummed, “You seem like an older brother.” Ingo once more nodded at your words and began walking once more. You followed alongside him, just as you had before, now wondering what was racing through his head. His guided trip ended, and you separated for now. It was strangely lonely leaving his side once more to face the wilds on your own.

After the Noble pokemon Electrode had been calmed, you crashed outside the arena with a feeling of electric surging still racing through your veins. Somehow, he had felt more threatening than the other three nobles had been. Even Arcanine did not hold a flame to the way Electrode seemingly went after you. You needed to rest for a moment, so you ignored the concerned questions of both Laventon, Adaman, and Emmet.

In your moment of just zoning out, you felt something being softly taken out of your bones. The electrifying feeling finally fading after so long. You turned your head to see an unexpected ally. “Galvantula,” you cooed of the pokemon, who stared at you with their big, adoring six eyes. You patted your lap, and the spider immediately crawled on and just purred. It seemed the other two men had since gone, too, leaving you alone with Emmet. The Warden sat down beside you with wide eyes as the spider nuzzled into your pets.

“... You know us, don't you?” Emmet asked with a tilt of his head, “He has been verrrry protective of me since I first woke up.” You smiled at the familiar feeling. If you closed your eyes, you could pretend to be back home on your couch, just spending time with Galvantula and the younger twin. “You also told Ingo we seemed like brothers,” he continued, “He said you told him he seemed like an older brother.” It appeared the twins had already gossiped amongst themselves. There was rarely anything kept from between them.

“You both look older, you know,” you leaned your head onto his shoulder, “Still identical, though. You two really are twins.” Emmet hummed at your words. A sigh came from you when he placed a hand on your head and softly massaged your scalp. “Yeah, I knew you two,” you answered him properly, “We… We were dating.” It felt bad going against your words, but you decided not to provide them any information that they did not ask for.

“Heehee, I told him that,” Emmet's voice was light and teasing, “Ingo did not believe me when I said you looked at him with pure love.” Your cheeks grew warm at your words. Irida had mentioned your gaze, too. Apparently, your expressions were obvious to everyone but Ingo. “So was it my brother and me you were dating?” he questioned again.

“Both,” you told him. His fingers froze.

“Wooow,” that information had actually caught him off guard, “Couldn't choose?” You wanted to lightly hit his shoulder.

“I'll pick Ingo, then,” you threatened him playfully. He feigned terror.

“Mmm, nope!” he cooed and nuzzled his cheek against your head, “Me.” You laughed.

You stared at the Warden blocking your exit from the cabin with heavy annoyance. Ingo did little to make his brother move, too, which worsened your mood.

While Ingo had seemed mostly indifferent to your exploration for the plates with Volo, Emmet had taken up an opposing position. He had been entirely against it. Something about the blond set off the younger twin to a point where he stood quite literally blocking your only way out to meet him. You had decided to stay with the twins after returning from your banishment from Jubilife simply because the tensions of living there had become too much to bear, but you were currently regretting that decision.

“Emmet,” you sternly spoke, “Volo and I are searching for something of great importance. If it works, I think we may have a way to go home.” Arceus... It was a word neither you nor the blond had said, but completely understood the legendary pokemon to be the final goal. Arceus had been who brought you here, so it was easy to assume that it would too be your way back home. This was your plan to return both you and the twins to modern Unova. Of course, this was currently at a pause.

“He is not trustworthy,” Emmet shook his head, “He's a liar.” Liar? Interesting choice of words, but you supposed he did always prefer honesty. Volo, however, had never really lied to you. He seemed like a kind and helpful person. Even being the only one to reach out to you during your banishment.

“Is this jealousy, Em? I understand if you're uncomfortable with me being alone with another man, but I have my reasons,” you tried to explain, but the younger twin only seemed more frustrated with everything. Ingo finally gazed up from the stew he was stirring at you both.

“Perhaps Emmet could go with you?” he offered, “I imagine it would make everything more bearable.” You sighed but agreed. Emmet being there would be helpful for any dangerous situations, and it would help mitigate his worries. The Diamond Clan Warden hummed for a moment before nodding.

Hopefully, Volo would not mind your new addition.

#ingo x reader #emmet x reader #ingo/reader #emmet/reader #pokemon x reader #ingo x reader x emmet

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tsuteychubbyhumanmate · 1 year

Text

Their concubine 3

Pairing: Namor/K’ul’ku’kan x reader x Shuri, Namor/K’ul’ku’kan x Shuri ft M'baku x reader

Warnings: Heartbreak, Augst, Harsh arguments, Hurt comfort, M'baku is the dude, Loneliness, Name-calling, Pregnancies, M'baku has feelings for MC, Fighting, Makeup sex, Apologies, Crying, Creampie, Praising kink, Passionate sex.

Summary: the enjoined kingdoms celebrated as their king and queen were expecting an heir to the throne. As the months go on, you became more and more invisible to everyone, even to the two people you thought loved you the most, after an argument with Namur and Shuri, You went to the only person by who you felt heard and seen; M'baku.

A/n: Finally done!!

You smiled as the two kingdoms celebrated with music, and dancing. Drinks, and foods of all kinds sat on a long table, and joyful faces filled the massive open room, congratulating the queen and king, it was this morning that you three found out that Shuri' was pregnant. You and she cried, you were gonna be mothers! Although you weren't carrying the little bean you already felt like it was yours as well. Namor didn't cry of course but you both could tell it meant everything to him, that's why he threw this celebration.

You took a sip of your choice of drink as you watched as Attima slapped Namor on the back, his shoulders moved up and down with laughter, Namor just shook his head at his General with a grin as Shuri talked to Riri with a bashful look, you can't tell what your cousin had said but hanging out with her when you had time, you knew she can say some pretty creative things.

You tried to make it over there but people seem to always push you back so you decided to watch on the sidelines, you're sure you can spend with them tonight since you kinda lived in Wakanda now and sleep in the same bed as your lovers, you, of course still have your house which you owned so you didn't have to pay rent "Y/n right?" You turned to M'baku "You know me already, M." you rolled your eyes playfully as he busted out laughing "Yes, yes loosen up Impungutye encinci (little foxy)" he pats your back with a smile "You look beautiful this afternoon." he complimented, you looked down at your Peacock-themed gown with a happy smile it was a gift that Namor had made for you, when it was just you two, with a note saying:

'Not even a Peacock's beauty can compare to yours, it can only enhance that beautifulness, I wish to see you in this someday.

Love A ajawo' '

"Thank you." you finished your drink and sat it on a nearby server's platter "Can I have a dance? We can't let that dress get dusty now, can we?" M'baku offers and you took it with a soft giggle, he walked you to the dance floor by Shuri and Namor as a slow song played for couples or in your situation friends, you both swayed to the rhythm with a peaceful atmosphere "May I cut in?" Shuri asked after tapping M'baku's shoulder "Of course. My queen." he bowed to her teasingly before stalking past Shuri and into the crowd. Shuri's hands meet your waist and hand as your other one rested on her shoulder "I'm so happy, I'm gonna be a mother (N/N)." She said in slight disbelief "I know so I am, we're in this together." you said, she smiles swaying you and looking into your eyes like it was just you guys in the room, in the world suddenly she looks behind you and a mischievous twinkle filed her dark brown eyes "Shuri?" you questioned nervously, that was never a good sign, she, of course, didn't answer but instead spurned you around and let you go mild-spun someone's arms, you could already tell who it was by the smell of saltwater, Namor "I was right, Peacocks can only make you even more gorgeous" he smirked, proud of himself as he danced with you, Shuri watching from the sidelines with her smile.

That night you celebrated with a night full of passion. Some nights you chuckled bitterly at the irony of your current situation when you think of that day 'We're in this together...what a joke.' you thought as you lay in a once again empty cold bed, it's been like that for a while, you turned around and looked at their side of the bed, you can still remember the last time that they bothered to pay attention to you, to touch you. It was 3 months ago and a week when Shuri was 5 months pregnant, you couldn't forget because well how does a woman forget the time she got pregnant? That's right you were 3 months pregnant with Namor's second child, and you finally fulfilled His wish of giving him a child that was born from you and sired by him but that seemed to be all just a pretty lie now. They barely give you the time of day anymore, even at night, Namor's arms wrapped around Shuri, his back facing you and inches away from you and all you could do was to turn around to lessen the pain.

You got up and out of your nightgown, put on a baggy shirt, did your morning ritual including morning sickness, and walked to the royal kitchen to have something that doesn't make you throw up before going on the search for Namor and Shuri. You asked around the palace, and most wouldn't say but one person pitied you and said last time they checked they were in the throne room "Thank you" you smiled politely and waved at them, and went just there. "Little fox!" M'baku greeted you on your way to said room "M'baku," you greeted "Have you seen Shuri and K’ul’ku’kan?" you asked looking at him hopefully "I just finished a meeting with the queen and king." "Really?! where did they go?" you might catch up with them this time! "I don't know little fox, they called off their royal duties," he informed you "Oh," you looked to the floor "Oh..." you spoke again with such disappointment that M'baku frowned, his heart aching, you were so beautiful and good of a person to be this sad "Let's go for a swim little fox." He blurted out without thinking, you look up at him surprised and confused "In one of my mountains, there's a beautiful waterfall. Why don't we get you out of the stuffy Palace?" he continued before you could speak up, you stay quiet, and thought about, you would be in the comfort of a friend and someone who wanted you around "Why not." you smiled at him "let's go," M'baku grab your hand and you both sneaked out of the castle and into his aircraft. The ride to the waterfall wasn't long so you made it there in no time, the sight was beautiful, the snow from the snowing Mountain, covered the rocks and the grass the water look hot if the steam coming up from it was anything go by, it was a like hot springs, excitedly you took off your baggy clothes, not caring you were just in your underwear it was more comfort than sexy so you felt okay around M'baku, you walked towards the falling water and got it, all feelings of tension tumble off your shoulders like waves as you sat down, the water reaches your chin.

"Better?" M'baku asked his usual armor and furs gone, he walked towards you in the water with only his underwear and sat down comfortably a distance from you. "lots." you giggled "Thank you." you smiled "It's nothing." he said and a comfortable silence befalls you before M'baku spoke "Do they know?" he asked looking at the running water "W-What?" you stuttered "Do they know that your 3 months pregnant?" he asked again looking to you this time "No.." you admitted finding the forest more interesting than this conversation "They're too busy to pay attention to me.." tears filed your eyes and the want to cry was overwhelmed just as a tear falls a large splash of water hits your face and laugher enters your ears "Hey!" you gasped and he laughed harder. "Why you!" you used all that you could in yourself and Splash him, M'baku laughing came to a short as part of the water forced itself down his throat proceeding to make him choke, and the face he made, the chest slapping him bending over, completely and absolutely made you lose your mind, laughter once again still to the forest and M'baku, despite his soul close to leaving the earth, a smile stretched onto his face at your beautiful laugh, he splashing you again, starting a water fight.

You smiled slightly at yourself as you dried your hair and body from getting out of the shower of your lonely but shared room, it was nice to have finally what felt like ever fun, someone who wanted you around, most people would've have told you to leave but the truth is that you're hopelessly devoted to Shuri and Namor, you didn't want to leave ever, but 'but no.' you thought brushing your hair and finished your daily night, you took on last glance at your covered belly and walked out the bathroom. you had been with M'Baku most of the day, he showed you around his tribe, and the mountains were more beautiful than you thought, you paused at seeing the empty bed usually, Namor and Shuri would be in bed, it was nightfall, and your brows frowned, you knew they could take care of themselves but still you worried so you quickly got dressed and search castle for your missing lovers, you chose to look in the lab first, then the throne room and the pool, you stopped at the library, the last place, you slowly open the door and peaked inside, tears came to your eyes as Namor's backside as he thrusted into Shuri, her desperate moans and his dirty talking enter your ears "Joder, uk'ik in polla bey in puta reina, le mía, le mía. Mix máak u yaantal teech bey Teene'! Mix máak je'el u páajtal u yaantal in yaakunaj sino teech! Joder, in yaakunech Shuri! (Fuck, taking my cock like my slutty queen, mine, mine. Nobody can have you like me! Nobody can have my love but you! Fuck I love you Shuri!)" Namor grunted before kissing his wife.

No, no he had to be just saying that, spur of the moment, or was it true? He didn't love you anymore, he wouldn't love the small bean, at this thought your hand move to rest against your stomach. No, no you had to talk to him, and Shuri no more ring around the rosie, silently you close the door and went to bed with a newfound determination.

When you woke up, they were gone but this time you knew where they are, the throne room.

You got changed into a baggy striped white and back shirt, a black flowy skirt with a blue jean jacket, and walked to the throne with your head high, there were guards in front of the door, but you moved past them busting into the room as they tried to stop you, the room was filled with each tribes leader and Namor and Shuri "I need to talk to you." you stared at Namor with determination and strength as the elders begin to complain "What is this child doing!" "This is a private meeting little girl." "You don't belong here!" "Guards get her!" they all stop as Namor raised his hand, looking to their king for his say in the matter "Leave us," he commanded not taking his eyes off of you, the elders and M'baku left reluctantly "You too In Reina." his harden eyes soften at heavily pregnant Shuri, you could see she wanted to protest but decided to just go, and she walked pasted you without a glance to you. Leaving an aching and stinging feeling in your chest.

"What do you want?" he asked coldly, getting up from his throne, his eyes hardening again"Why are you guys avoiding me?" you asked walking up to him "Do you still even love me anymore? Or is Shuri more worthy of your love?" you questioned again standing in front of him "She is my queen, my wife." He looked at you, and you could feel like everything was going down the drain "You didn't even answer the other question! Well?" you yelled "You're a nuisance." he spat, but his voice held no fire, it was like you could hear your heart break part as tears gloss over your eyes but, you refuse to cry in front of this man, you just stormed out of the room, down the hallway to a corner and let out a heart clenching sobs, hands hugging yourself as you slide down the wall, sobbing harder as a pair of strong arms surround you in their embrace "it will be okay little fox." M'baku whispered as you wailed in his arms "Come I'll take you to my home and you will heal there." he gently pulled you to stand and walk you to his aircraft, you were too weak, too tired of not being wanted so you let him take you away from what used to be your second home.

Living with M'baku was so fun, each day was a new adventure, and even though his tribe was vegetarian, he had his chefs cook you some meat dishes if you wanted some. It had to be half a week since you had left your lover and started to live with M'baku, it also had its ups and downs, nights where you couldn't sleep, and would cry into his arms, and ups, where you spent an afternoon teaching Baku how to cook, it ended up with flour all over the floor and you both. Today M'baku was gonna take you to a 'surprised' you couldn't wait!

Namor rolled his shoulders as he sat back against his office chair after finishing some documents, "Attuma." he called to his general "Je'el K’ul’ku’kan?" Attama raised to attention "How are Shuri and (Y/n)?" Namor asked standing up to visit his lovers "Le reina ma'alob, Namora le táan u kanantik yéetel le ko'olelo' (S leti' N) ku ts'o'ok u biin ichil chúumuk k'iino'ob in ajawo' (The queen is well, Namora is watching over her and lady (Y/N) has been gone for half a week my king)." If Attama was nervous for his ruler's reaction he hide it well "Wáaj ba'ax?(What?)" Namor spat "Le amante bin vista tumen ts'ook jóok'ol ti' brazos u líder le tribu M. baku, in Ajaw. Jach creer u leti' táan u p'áatal yéetel leti'. (The mistress was last seen leaving in tribe leader M'baku's arms, my king. It is to believe she's staying with him.)" Namor silently took in the information before storming out of his study and to the Jabari tribe, he had something to discuss with their leader.

M'baku saw the last person out of the throne, letting out a sigh of relief from such a boring meeting, to be finally taking you to the special diner he had planned, but his relaxation didn't last long as his body tensed, hearing commotion outside the room, the door slammed open as Namor walked in. "Where is she?" he asked glaring at M'baku "Why do you care now?" M'baku glared right back "She's my lover, mine so where she is." Namor asked again already losing his patience, his fists clenched and ready to swing "You don't deserve her fish man, I should be the one to shower love and affection especially if you can't even do that 'feathered serpent God'" M'baku's bitter laugh was cut short by a punch by his new king to the jaw, sending him to the stone floor a gasp caught Namor and M'baku's attention. Standing in the open door was the woman of the affection, a hand over her gaping mouth "(Y/N)..." Namor spoke softly as his eyes soften, a small smile on his lips and he completely turned around to you, "Jach ki'ichpam yéetel cautivadora bey Mantats', in ch'ujuk reina. (As gorgeous and captivating as always, my sweet queen.)" his smile turned to a frown as he noticed you weren't looking at him but at the man on the ground "M'baku! Oh my god, are you okay?" you ran to him, helping him up "I'm fine, little fox." M'baku wiped the blood from his lips with the back of his hand as he circle his arm around your waist "Get your hands off her." Namor growled stepping tenaciously toward you both, you pulled yourself away from M'baku's arm and rushed to Namor, laying your hands on his naked chest "K’ul’ku’kan, baby, please stop!" you begged, you tried to make eye contact with him but his gaze rested upon your best friend "if I ever see you touch her again, I'll kill you." he spat, taking a step closer, only stopping as you held his face in your hands, making him look at you "don't worry about him, please take me home my king." you cooed, trying to keep Namor's attention on you. He lifted you up bridal style and left M'baku there, to watch as you sadly wave goodbye to him.

Neither of you said anything to the other until you walked into your shared bedroom "(Y/N)..." Namor began, pausing but you knew, you knew he wanted to apologize but he was never used to saying sorry to anybody, not even to you. "Your eyes were so cold..like you didn't love me. Am I just a wet hole to stick yourself in?" you refused to look at him, you couldn't or you'd break, tears blurring your vision "Wáaj ba'ax? (what?)" he asked in pure disbelief, you spin around tears openly falling like rushing rivers "I am I just a toy to you?! Just a stupid moral woman that you could toy with and fuck while your goddess of a wife is busy ruling by your side." you sobbed, body trembling from the overwhelming sadness, Namor rushed to you, his large hands holding your cheeks, and his forehead on yours, breathing heavily like what you said knocked all the air from his body "Ma', ma', in yaakunech (No, no, I love you). I'll spend the rest of your life showing you that I do, let me prove it now, Cha' in meentik teech le yaakunaj in reina. (Let me make love to you my queen)." he looked into your eyes as he wipe away your tears, his pleading, so afraid to lose you "Ma'alob...(okay)" you replied in his mother tongue, wrapping your hands around his wrist, pulling them away from your face. His kisses were burning hot yet slow, gentle at the same time, his hands thrusting your body onto him, if he felt the baby bump he said nothing as his tongue wraps itself around yours, walking you onto the massive bed, the comfort of the memory foam caressed your back, clothes were quickly left on the floor and even being hurt by this fine, gorgeous old man, he could still get you wetter then any man. He ran his cockhead up and down your slit before slowly breaching your pussy, with a hard thrust his whole length takes it's place within you, his hands locked with yours "My queen, one of the most beautiful queens." he grunted, biting the lobe of your ear.

"Perdona ti' le ajawo' num, in yaakunech, haría Je'el ba'alake' ta wo'olal, jach perfecto, meentik in poolech ta wo'olal. (Forgive this foolish king, I love you, I'd do anything for you, So perfect, make me crazy for you.)" he praised, hammering and grinding into your pussy at a slow but bruising pace, his intense chocolate eyes gaze into your orbs, baited breaths entangled, and his pubic bone rubbed against the sensitive bud of nerves, ths light from the window shined on his brown skin "Harder, please." you begged bucking your hips, "as you wish my queen." he pecked your lips, that was the last gently thing he did, his held up your thighs as he fucked into you, mewls and cries were all you could let out as your king, hammered and pounding away from your poor body. You let out a gasp as he lifted your hips, gaining a new angle to hit that sport that made stars appear, faster and faster, harder and harder, orgasm after orgasm, so much you passed out what felt like a second, to be woken by Namor's pounding and groans, you came one last time with a cried as you felt your lover's hot, thick cum heat your sore pussy. You just laid in bed as Namor got up and got you clean"Are... Are you pregnant In yakunaj?" Namor asked, masking the pain he felt, he knew, he lived for five hundred years, and he could tell when a woman was pregnant, You nodded confirming his knowledge, two of his beloved queens are with children, and he made one feel unseen, unheard and unloved. He had failed as a lover and father to (y/n).

He promised he would make it up and he will.

Taglist: @galaxygirl453 , @plasticfantasticl0ver , @ogbells16, @blkmystery , @thiccktiredgirl , @gingermous ,@namorkawaiiwife ,@happyvibesonly1213 , @ladymadeleine ,@darkfairy102190 , @ezxlyn-vanasal , @tengens5thwife , @dayedreamm ,@blissdoutbyattuma , @namorslit , @deliciousfestsalad @notalwaysa, @omgsuperstarg @namorswifex , @vic-l0v3, @shuris1princess @tian-monique, @luz09 @rainqissedd

(@galaxygirl453 )

#namor fanfiction #namor smut #namor x reader #namor x y/n #mcu namor #namor x you #namor fic #namor x shuri #shuri x reader #wakanda forever

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shentheauthor · 1 year

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I know I already asked for a harbinger headcanon srry :< But I gotta know what would happened if you mixed Cookie Run and the Harbingers sksksksk. You don’t have to make it ofc! Whether it’s them playing the game or being a cookie or even not making the headcanon is totally up to you! I just gotta say I rlly like your work!

Hey dw about requesting multiple times, I’m happy to do these!

I kinda feel like cookie-ifying them, so here we go

Pierro:

Ok so we don’t know much about Khaenri’ahn food

But I think flowers suit him well

I’d make him a petunia cookie

Why? Well, petunias once symbolized anger and resentment

So like how he feels about Celestia and the archons

Nowadays some of the meaning has been lost, but I think that works with how Teyvat has moved on on the surface

However, there’s still a lasting effect from the tragedy

He also wouldn’t go by petunia cookie, since that’s not super intimidating

So I’m gonna give him “jester cookie”

He would definitely take some bitter amusement in the irony

Capitano:

Another flower guy

I’m giving him poppies, since those are traditionally used to remember fallen soldiers

He also wouldn’t go by his ingredient name, bc poppies aren’t very intimidating

So he would be something like “captain cookie” or “warrior cookie”

He has definitely lost soldiers on the battlefield, so I think poppies are fitting

Maybe he even lost some of himself on the battlefield too…

Since most of his appearance is hidden, you wouldn’t be able to tell poppies are his ingredient

But if I were to design his cookie clothes, I would place poppies on his uniform

Hm maybe I will design them all

Dottore:

Biryani cookie

Why? I feel like he would like the food, next question

God I want biryani

Anyway! I think the fact that you can add different ingredients to biryani fits him well

So like prime can be kolkata biryani, one of the clones can be sindhi biryani, etc etc

Idk it just suits him

He would go by smth like heretic cookie, doctor cookie, or even his actual name

It depends on the segment

The segments would also have ingredient substitutions to emphasize the “wrong” nature of them

Plus mechanical parts

Columbina:

So she’s a mystery for sure

But I would call her “seelie cookie”

Nobody knows her ingredients

But some believe she was baked from food directly made in the Teyvat equivalent of the fae wilds

I’m a big fan of fae/seelie columbina

Some wonder if she’s even a cookie at all

Personally, I think she would be a sugar cookie made from special or magical sugar, or even a very light cake, like chiffon

Regardless, she isn’t a normal cookie

I think she and angel cookie would get along lmao

Arlecchino:

Oof she’s another hard one, since we don’t know much about her

Gonna call her ice shard cookie

She’s a sharp and stern character, so she would be made of something harsh

Like the cold bite of winter

No she is not anything like the Tsaritsa

But she is still a force to be reckoned with

She would actually go by her ingredient name, bc fuck code names

If she must, she would be called “knave cookie”

She’s one of the few I actually have ideas for their skill so

She would use an icicle as a fencing sword

Similar to raspberry cookie, but I feel like arle would be an ambush and target the opponent with the least amount of HP

Maybe do some aoe frost damage

Pulcinella:

He’s a hard one, but kasha cookie

Kasha is a healthy, hearty grain dish, like oatmeal, but even more grain

If that makes sense

Partially bc it’s a health food for older people (sorry nella /lh)

But also partially because it’s sturdy and stable

Idk it just makes sense to me since he’s a government official that seems to do his job well

I just felt it calling to me

This is what happens when you do too much research for fanfics lmao, you remember foods you have never once seen in your home country

He would go by kasha cookie. No code name necessary, unless he truly must. As mayor, his name probably has to be public lmao

I love he

Scaramouche:

Puppet cookie

It’s basic, but like, he wouldn’t have been given another name before

He started out as puppet cookie, was called kabukimono cookie on tatarasuna, then became balladeer cookie

And now, he’s wanderer cookie

He wouldn’t be made with any normal ingredients, bc he’s entirely artificial

I feel like he would be made of wood and ingredient substitutions

Carved and molded into a perfect imitation of a cookie

Another one I actually have skill ideas for

As balladeer cookie, he would have lightning based attacks that just function as dps dmg

As wanderer cookie, he would have air based attacks that do less damage than balladeer, but also debuff enemies and buff allies

Sandrone:

French Sandy is my current religion so

Soufflé cookie

Her perfectionism just suits the food

She would go by “marionette cookie”

No ingredient substitutions here, but she would def still experiment on other cookies

Her attacks would involve puppet strings trapping opponents, dealing damage and debuffing them

Support cookie that can still pack a punch

Signora:

Bringing this back to flower town babyyyyy

Blood rose cookie

If you look up “blood rose flower,” you’ll see a beautiful dark red rose that gives gothic vibes

Honestly my reasoning lies in the name

Roses are romantic, but black roses represent revenge

So blood roses are somewhat a cross between the two

Do you see my vision

She would go by blood rose cookie before the Fatui, but after joining, she would be “fair lady cookie”

I have so many ideas for her design actually, I’m going insane

Pantalone:

Mora cookie /j

For real tho, he was born poor, so…

Millet cookie

Millet is a grain that’s great for protein and key fibers that you need

So an excellent food for someone who can’t access real well-rounded meals

The lower class of ancient China often used millet as a meal

Oh also I should mention that Liyue Pantalone is my other religion

Anyway tho, he would absolutely NOT go by millet cookie

He’d go by golden cookie, or regrator cookie

He would be embarrassed about his lowly origins, wanting to leave it behind

So millet cookie is OUT

Tartaglia:

Borscht cookie

Borscht is common, first of all

Second of all, it’s red, and ginger go brrr

Third of all, it can be served hot or cold, and I think that fits Childe’s personality well

Warm and welcoming around family

Cold and calculating around enemies

Imagine his blades being made out of soup lmao

He wouldn’t go by borscht cookie, since he doesn’t go by Ajax in canon

He would be called shashka cookie, after his weapons

Imagine being so badass you get to go by KNIFE /j

But Fr tho, the only ones who get to call him borscht cookie are his family

He would look so cute as a cookie, I love him

It honestly makes me really happy to get a request combining my two main fandoms. I want people to know that I will happily do headcanons for any of my fandoms, not just genshin. Hell I’ll do other characters besides harbingers too! Ik I made a bit of a name for myself with harbinger headcanons, but I would love to branch out!

#genshin impact #cookie run kingdom #cookie run #Shen’s headcanons #fatui harbingers #harbinger headcanons #Pierro #capitano #Dottore #columbina #Arlecchino #pulcinella #Scaramouche #Sandrone #Signora #Pantalone #Tartaglia

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invisibleraven · 1 year

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"Everything will be alright" for Willie/anyone?

“Name?”

“Willie.”

“Name.”

Willie considered repeating himself, but given the stern look on the no nonsense government official’s face, he figured now was not the time, and sighed. “William Covington.”

The woman scanned her sheet, then stopped. “Your assignment is Maintenance. Report to Danielle Harrison at their offices. Dismissed.”

Willie have a cheeky salute, and went off, not exactly in a rush. He knew it would be Maintenance this time. They had warned him another infraction would land him down there. Pity, he’s had fun in the Agriculture sector last time, but given the hijinks he and Reggie got into, he’s not surprised they were unwilling to take him back again.

His guardian Caleb had told him this would be his last chance. There were too many blemishes on his record, too many infractions. He wouldn't be able to save him on the next one, and he would face imprisonment, or worse, banishment.

Willie didn't understand how skateboarding or tagging a few buildings would warrant that, but there was a lot he didn't get about this society. It made him miss home, where he had been free to do as he pleased. But he had aged out of the group home, and Caleb had found him, so this is where he was now. A cog in the wheel, no matter how much he still felt like a square peg.

Maintenance was alright, Mrs. Harrison was pretty chill as long as the work got done. He was paired with two guys his own age; Luke who was chatty and open. Told Willie straight out that he was there for playing non council approved songs and performing without a permit-both bullshit charges according to him, but he didn't mind keeping the city clean, it gave him lots of downtime to write songs with.

Alex, the other guy working with them had a dry, cutting wit and a permanent scowl. He didn't say why he was there-he didn't say much of anything really unless it was sarcasm. Plus he barely looked at Willie, which made working together slightly awkward, but hey, it was two weeks, Willie had suffered longer terse silences.

But still, he had always been curious, so when he and Luke sat down to share the county provided meal, he asked what Alex's deal was while the blonde was getting his own food. Luke hummed and avoided Willie's eyes. "Not my story to tell. Let's just say his parents thought it would straighten him out."

Willie looked over at Alex, and finally met his eyes, a cornflower blue that stood out in their grey surroundings. Willie offered a smile, and Alex turned away, but the tips of his ears were pink, and suddenly, Willie had a mission; to make Alex smile.

He tried every day, with a stupid joke, or a small gesture. He got a few wry grins, and several blushes. Even a muttered thanks. But no real, genuine smiles.

Of course, then they got a new assignment; paint over some illegal art.

Willie's illegal art.

Willie could only grimace, he had spent a lot of time on this piece, and he was loathe to see it reduced to plain grey concrete once more. Luke was home sick that day too, so it was just him and Alex, staring up at the stylized art covering the side of the building.

"Aw, I love this one," Alex said as he prepared the supplies. "Sucks that we have to cover it."

"Tell me about it, though a part of me is digging the irony," Willie replied. Alex shot him a questioning glance, and Willie gestured to the wall. "This is why I ended up here. Glad to know that at least one person appreciated it, even if the council didn't."

"You painted this?" Alex asked, and Willie nodded. "This is why I'm here too."

"What?"

Alex gestured to the art, a depiction of two men engaged in an amorous embrace. "Because that's who I am. My parents... they don't exactly approve. So they sent me here, hoping that real, honest work would make me magically like girls. Said the lowly jobs were reserved for criminals and sinners."

"Your parents suck."

"Tell me about it," Alex replied. "As soon as I'm of age-I'm out of here. I'll go somewhere else. Somewhere I can be with whoever I want without the threat of being disowned, or arrested or banished."

"Why wait?"

"What?"

"Why wait?" Willie repeated. "Let's just go. Find someplace that doesn't judge us for who we love."

"B-but... we have lives here. We'll be hunted if we leave now!" Alex protested.

"We'll be judged and hunted afterwards too if we do it the 'right' way," Willie replied. "I've never been one for sticking to the rules."

Alex's breath started to catch, and Willie came over, laying a hand on his shoulder. "Hey, everything will be alright. You say the word and this conversation never happened. We go back to painting, and ignore what was said."

"I... I don't want to pretend anymore," Alex said in a small voice. "I'm so sick of pretending, of hiding. Or averting my eyes every time I think a guy is cute." He looked up and caught Willie's eye, offering a tiny, but genuine smile.

"Yeah? Me too," Willie confessed. He held out a hand, and Alex took it, the warmth spreading through them like wildfire. "So what do you wanna do?"

Alex looked at Willie, at the mural, at the buckets of grey paint mocking them. "Let's go," he said divisively. "Right now."

"Okay," Willie replied with a giggle. Pulling him away from the still standing artwork, away from the centre of the town. Past the farms where he left a message with Reggie for Caleb and Luke. Past the fields, to the hole in the fence that he had found that lead behind the city limits.

Their literal gateway to freedom.

"You ready?" Willie asked as Alex looked backwards, even though his home was a mere speck on the horizon.

"No, but I don't think I ever will be. So might as well go anyways." Alex squeezed his hand, offering Willie another smile and with that, the two of them went through the hole, and into the world, hand in hand.

#filled prompts #ficlet #willex #julie and the phantoms

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waitingforwinterwinds · 1 year

Text

ASOS; Steel and Snow: 06 SANSA I (pages 75-90)

Sansa is invited to lunch with Margaery, Olenna, and the cast of Tyrells cut from the show.

The reader is grumpy the entire time. :(

Joffrey had met his new bride-to-be at the King's Gate to welcome her to the city, and they rode side by side through cheering crowds, Joff glittering in gilded armor and the Tyrell girl splendid in green with a cloak of autumn flowers blowing from her shoulders. (...) The people called out her name as she passed, held up their children for her blessing, and scattered flowers under the hooves of her horse. Her mother and grandmother followed close behind, (...) The small folk cheered for them too.

And ain't this a stark difference between the procession after seeing Myrcella off.

I appreciate the mention that Joffrey's armor is gilded, just for the symbolism of it. To be gilded is to be covered in a thin layer of precious metal, to look more valuable than it is. Joffrey's the same way. A gilded prince, shiny and noble on the outside, but a dime-a-dozen rotting on the inside.

The same smallfolk who pulled me from my horse and would have killed me, if not for the Hound. Sansa had done nothing to make the commons hate her, no more than Margaery Tyrell had done to win their love.

Mmmm, but it's all about the narrative. Sansa was by Joffrey's side when the people were starving, it didn't matter that she was a hostage, that she was being beaten and abused, she was a noble and had their privilege to food. Margaery is with the people who are finally giving them food, doesn't matter that she was married to Renly, or that the alliance resulting from that was responsible for the food shortage to begin with. (ignoring in city food storage prep, which would have taken a hit anyway.) Personal circumstance of nobles doesn't matter to the smallfolk, only the current visible result. Same's true of most folks though.

No one can save me but my Florian. Ser Dontos had promised he would help her escape, but not until the night of Joffrey's wedding. The plans had been well laid, her dear devoted knight-turned-fool assured her; there was nothing to do until then but endure, and count the days.

That's... concerning.

I like that Sansa is being suspicious of Margaery's motives, but for her to turn around and think this... it's concerning. Perhaps mostly because we know Dontos is a creepy pervert who probably shouldn't be trusted (even if his escape plan is solid and successful), but also because Sansa's hinging everything on his plan. everything. she's no longer thinking about ways to escape, she's not looking for opportunities, she's not emotionally or mentally prepared for this plan to fall through, which it thankfully doesn't. She's not asking questions.

Dontos is no Florian, he's a predator, but Sansa can't see that because he's more overtly bumbling and clumsy about it than everyone else, he doesn't have the same dangerous sleekness that the others at court have, she's looking so hard for the hidden pit traps she's missed the obvious.

But this was the Red Keep, (...) and if there was one thing Sansa Stark had learned here, it was mistrust.

The irony is hurting me.

...Am I being a little overtly mean tonight? I think I might be. I've had a frustrating day.

For a moment she did not know what to say. "Ser Loras," she finally managed, "you... you look so lovely." ... Sansa was finding it hard to walk and talk and think all at the same time, with Ser Loras touching her arm. ... Desperately, she tried to think of something clever and charming to say to him, but her wits deserted her. She almost told him how beautiful he was, until she remembered she'd already done that.

Oh no. Brain melting crush, blue screen of brain fail. Have you tried turning it off and back on again? Oh I joke, because this would be so cute in a another setting, but this one? DANGEROUS. Sansa's wits have been keeping her safe where her value as a hostage hasn't but even those two combined couldn't protect her from everything all of the time. Please, GRRM, stahp! My girl is playing on Ultra Hard Mode, she doesn't need the Debuff. (Don't yell, everyone main is doing Hard Mode, but Sansa's doing a Politics Only run.)

Although it's a little funny, ngl, that while "oh, Ser Loras Most Handsome Pretty Man" narrative is a thing here, "You looke dapper today" is also kinda Sansa's default for getting to know you's with her guards.

He doesn't remember, Sansa realized, startled. He is only being kind to me, he doesn't remember me or the rose or any of it. She had been so certain that it meant something, that it meant everything. A red rose, not a white.

She did well picking that up, and the tension that followed, unfortunately, she just doesn't have the context to realize why Loras was pissed. (Margaery lost her direct route to the throne, but Loras lost his partner, and he can never tell people that. No one outside a few members of his family will ever know what he lost. Not just a king, or a brother(-in-law) but his lover.)

... I am about to say something... Very Mean.

I know that Olenna was something of a fan favourite from the show, because she was... "sassy" and "witty" and had a "take no bullshit/tell it like it is" attitude. But here's something I've noticed when it comes to men writing "sassy" women.

The sliding scale of Witty to Bitchy? well that all depends on how much a threat a woman is to men in power, or how fuckable she is to the same men. It is a very fine line between snarky girl-boss and naggy bitch, and far too many people confuse one for the other.

Olenna tends to feel to me, like an overbearing and overly dismissive woman, who is just mean, but rich and old enough to get away with it because she's just an old granny. Tyrion does the same thing, he's mean, but I let him get away with it because he tends to use the "privilege to get away with it" to slap Joffrey. Doesn't mean he's not mean.

Maybe I'd take Olenna better if her target(s) were people I can prepared to dislike, and not just random women I've only just been introduced to.

Or this could very specifically be about my own grandmother who was allowed to get away with talking really uncomfortable (and more than occasionally racist) shit because she was an old widow and who I am now estranged with because she told my parents she'd call the cops on me if she had to, to prove I committed crime I literally didn't do. Like Oh? I stole things I didn't even know existed? You have fingerprints to prove it? My fingerprints are on your stuff because I definitely stole these things I didn't know existed and not because I handled most of your stuff when I helped you move in!? You don't even know for sure they're my fingerprints Nan!

Anyway! Moving on! (I like Olenna more in theory than in person, I think.)

"Sansa," Lady Alerie broke in, "you must be very hungry. Shall we have a bite of boar together, and some lemon cakes?" "Lemon cakes are my favorite," Sansa admitted.

Lemon = 🍷🍷

"I'm not fond of leeks. Take this broth away, and bring me some cheese." "The cheese will be served after the cakes, my lady." "The cheese will be served when I want it served, and I want it served now." The old woman turned back to Sansa. "Are you frightened, child? No need for that, we're only women here. Tell me the truth, no harm will come to you."

I'm going to be honest, I don't know if it's my distaste for Olenna, but that felt like a power play. A very pointed power play. Olenna is sitting there, asking Sansa to commit treason essentially, and when Sansa takes too long to break and tries to hold to her protective lies, "I get what I want, when I want it."

I get that the "tell me the truth, no harm will come to you." is supposed to sound comforting, but is sounds like a threat at the same time, and I genuinely don't know if it is or if I'm just not in a fair headspace for this chapter's political maneuvering.

... I will admit having Butterbumps sing loudly to cover the noise was a good idea, but it also draws attention in the mind that what Sansa is about to say is technically treason. Makes it feel more deliberate in choice than the show, where it felt like Sansa breaking from loneliness and reaching out to friends by sharing the danger. (sorta kinda not really but it's hard to explain the difference in the vibes otherwise.)

"- Do you hawk, Sansa?" "A little," she admitted.

?! So talented. I don't think I knew that about Sansa. (that she hawks in any amount, not that she's talented, we already knew she was talented at things.)

"To see you safely wed, child," the old woman said (...) "to my grandson." Wed to Ser Loras, oh... Sansa's breath caught in her throat.

She didn't say Loras.

... I suppose I should appreciate the timing of the song lyrics, matching the vibes of Sansa's day. happy and defiant as Sansa thinks she's being given freedom and a happily ever after, and then as she has the rug pulled and the truth revealed closing around her like a trap we get lines like "I called for a knight, but you're a bear!" and "she kicked and wailed, the maid so fair, but he licked the honey from her hair."

Oh holy shit, this chapter was a song fic. XD

hang on... how old is Willas exactly? *flips to appendix* "WILLAS, their eldest son, heir to Highgarden." hmmm "MARGAERY, their daughter, a widow of fifteen years, -" hhhmmmm *pulls up the wiki* Willas Tyrell: Born 273-276 Margaery Tyrell: Born 283 So seven to ten years older makes him... 22-25 years old. They want her to marry a man who is, at best, currently twice Sansa's age. Sansa is currently twelve.

"I thought that dreadful song would never end," said the Queen of Thorns. "But look, here comes my cheese."

The cheese was a metaphor and a power play for Sansa's secrets. Olenna got what she demanded in the end after all.

I went so hard on Olenna I'm almost tempted to tag this post as Olenna Hate.

#a storm of swords #steel and snow #a song of ice and fire #sansa stark #a chapter a day reading #asos #asoiaf

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evilliousunderground · 11 months

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Why Arth was made a doll? (theory)

Almost seven years ago, mothy made one of his most controversial actions in relation to his story: making Arth Lucifen d'Autriche, the father of "Daughter of Evil"... mud golem, and already retroactively - before the song "That King was Born from Mud", there's no mention of this in the Daughter of Evil long novels. Fandom is probably still wondering why mothy did it, and asking related questions, such as whether Art is the biological father of the d'Autriches twins. Personally, I won't answer that question (or rather, I will, but later), but why Arth was made a doll... I may have an interesting theory for which I've done some sort of understudy.

But first, let's take a temporary break from Arth and dip into the deep antiquity - "Original Sin Story", namely one of its most famous songs, "Moonlit Bear", but in this case we need not the plot, but the title: because the "bear" turns out to be Meta Salmhofer, who shall we say not very much looks like a bear, and incidentally there is irony in this: after all, Meta's last name has the word "Salm", which in German translates to "Salmon", a favourite bears' food. Yes, Eve thought of Meta as a bear because of a childhood trauma, but don't you think that having the ONLY fact that makes sense to call this song that way somehow multiplies by zero?

- What's Meta got to do with it? The post is about Arth!.. - you tell me. And you may be right: Arth and Meta had... nothing in common. Until the original "Original Sin Story: Punishment" where Meta's ghost was punished for revealing memories with the presence of Seth by turning into clay.

Meta is known to be the mother of the Irregulars, Hänsel and Gretel. The father of the Irregulars, but already d'Autriches, is Arth. One became clay, the other was reborn from mud. Would you think that's it? Oddly enough, no. Arth's coolness and name are allusions to King Arthur, and one of the origins of the name is thought to be from the word... "bear" from one language or another. Now that's interesting, isn't it?

And if this theory is true, then it is understandable why the mud doll was able to conceive for his wife: he was made from the very same mud that was the mother of the Irregulars half a millennium ago. This is how the witch of Apocalypse and the king of Lucifenia are suddenly connected: they literally have the same body, made of the same material.

There is other question: What does the bear have to do with it? Well, I can't say anything about that. There's another "bear" character: Banika's servant Eater Sabella. How he's connected to Meta, and, if my theory was true, Arth is a sort of mystery...

#evillious #evillious chronicles #akuno-p #mothy

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graciliss · 1 year

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an answer to the OC questions asked by @jayzeroey 🫶🫶

9: favorite food? least favorite? are they a picky eater? do they have any dietary restrictions?

Seraphina is a real gourmand and thus the type of person to scoff down whatever food is nearby no matter how trashy it may look. this is somewhat reflective on the fact that she has a severe problem with overindulgence. since she grew up pretty much broke and living on scraps, she often seeks out foods that are exotic and oftentimes very, very expensive, even if just to try and be able to brag about having tried it. her desire to catch new thrills and to experience something novel makes her very open to trying new and weird things (often to a fault).

this doesn't mean she exclusively eats luxury or exotic things, though. in the end of the day she knows what she likes to a tee because of having tried the amount of things she has. Seraphina doesn't have a set favourite, but she notably enjoys foods that are very rich and/or very sweet. her sweet tooth cannot be understated.

there aren't many foods that she particularly hates since she'll eat just about anything. she does have a select few which she likes a bit less than others, though. while she loves buttercream she has a more notable distaste for fondant, and especially marzipan. it's mainly little things, really.

Seamus on the other hand is significantly less self-indulgent with his eating habits. in his eyes, eating is just another need and he listens to his body accordingly.

he doesn't vocalise it due to the way he processes things such as distress but he definitely has an aversion to a whole slew of textures in foods, which given the choice makes him a lot pickier. he strongly dislikes things such as dried fruits, luncheon meats, porridge, etc... he has a main aversion to foods that are either mushy or chewy. unfortunately he is somewhat deranged because he will actively force himself into eating foods he knows he is averse to regardless (and be in agony while doing so). he won't show that he hates it, but subtle things such as a close to electric tension in his hands give it away.

oftentimes he subconsciously turns to nostalgia (and consciously turns to familiarity). his favourite dinners usually are things that his eldest sister used to make, which are meals that primarily contained vegetables, meat scraps, and to literally nobody's surprise: potatoes. he doesn't like trying new foods very much and will avoid it given the chance.

34: how would your character describe themselves? it doesn't have to line up with how they really are.

Seraphina's meticulously and purposefully inflated ego permeates through everything. unsurprisingly, she hyperbolically praises herself when speaking of herself. oftentimes descriptions of herself will go along the lines of "the hottest woman alive" or "god on earth, duh".

she also has a keenness for comparing herself to angels, which is largely tongue in cheek. in part this is due to the name she currently goes by, and the fact that her albinism renders her skin and hair close to white. it heavily plays into the irony of her being an entity more comparable to demons, but also because she sees 'hell', the afterlife she resides in more as heaven if anything since despite her morally bankrupt character she now lives more freely - and dare I say happily - than she ever did when she was alive.

getting Seamus to as much as fully acknowledge himself - moreso his body as his own - is a struggle. describing his own personality also comes to him with great difficulty because of similar issues in perceiving himself. as a result, when it comes to describing himself more generally, Seamus is heavily reliant on what other people say and think about him.

without the consultation of others he uses broad, vague terms and most often isn't kind to himself. the most frequently reoccurring descriptors are things such as "a bad omen", "a presence" or "a stain". these things which he says about himself are not said as a means of self-loathing per say. he sees these descriptions more as something about himself which he has accepted as simple reality.

the way in which he dehumanises himself when describing himself is also apparent, and this inability to consider himself "human" like other people stems from a sense of deep isolation and an inability to relate to others properly.

THANK YOU FOR YOUR QUESTIONS JOEY 🫶

seraphina shaw and seamus wrynn both belong to me (@graciliss)

#asks #hellcrew #hellcrew oc #creepypasta #creepypasta oc #horror oc #oc info #oc asks #my ocs #seraphina shaw #seamus wrynn

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sime667 · 2 years

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Dealing with assholes on the internet - A brief guide

Every interaction you will ever have with another human being is a game.

You can either accept the game, refuse it, or change it.

As an example, let's imagine someone wants to interview you. You both sit down, the guy asks you questions, you answer. Boom, game accepted. You just played "interview".

Now let's imagine that you remain completely silent, or that you simply stand up from your chair and leave. Beep, game refused.

A final - and remarkably fun - option: Instead of sitting down, you can start hopping around the room and whinny like a horse. The game has just been changed to "someone call security".

So now let's imagine you're sitting in front of your computer, wasting time on the internet. (wild scenario, I know.) Let's say you just posted your review for a new brand of instant noodles. According to you, they're the shit. Quick, tasty, 100% unhealthy. Apparently, some health freak has stumbled into your comment and is calling you all kinds of names because you're promoting "unhealthy food that is going to kill you." He proceeds to throw a bunch of faulty arguments at you, puts words in your mouth and concludes by asking you to kindly fuck off.

There's the game he wants to play. He wants to play "toxic internet argument." And he's just laid down the rules: you're going to answer him point by point, and you're going to get upset.

Play his game, and you've just granted him the upper hand. He's now in a dominant position, leading the dance. He has successfully cajoled you in a game that is going to ruin your mood and waste your time.

A much better option would be to refuse the game: just close the fucking web page and put that mental energy of yours to a better use.

Still, let's not forget about the fun option. You can also change the game.

He wants you to submit and feel like shit? "Boohooo bad man on the internet called me an idiot :( mommyyyy"

He expects you to address all of his faulty arguments? "You're clearly a man of great erudition, I wouldn't dare debating someone as cultured as you are."

Or, if you want to go down a more wholesome path: "But hey man, jokes aside, I see that you seem to care a great deal about health topics and you must have your good reasons for that. Thanks for the input, I'll try to limit my noodle-splurging to once a week. Cheers!"

Brief overview of what happened there: - Sarcasm and irony demonstrate an ability to remain unaffected by insults, which implies that the person insulting you is of lower status and you have no need to worry about any reputational damage coming from them; also, by refusing to tackle their arguments, you imply that something in what they've just said is so ridiculous you don't even need to address it - or that you have some valid counterpoints, but you're unwilling to share them. - Refusing to submit to the rules of the game is bound to create frustration and throw your opponent off guard. Whatever you do, do not react by impulse. Do not comply. Take a deep breath, walk away from the computer screen, clear your head. Then come back and evaluate the best course of action. - Once the game has been sabotaged, you can then proceed to impose your own rules, and invite the other person to play your own game. Whether you wanna defuse the situation or just inflict as much psychological damage as possible, that's totally up to you. No morals here, only a bit of social dynamics.

You're welcome. <3

#haters #trolls #internet trolls #internet hate #how to deal with hate #how to deal with trolls #psychology #social dynamics #arguments #how to argue #whatisawoman

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madcatdaderpydrawer-blog · 2 years

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More incorrect quotes, this time with the dynamic duo of Chris and Carl. I know I don't talk about my ocs much, and I'd appreciate if you gave them a chance even if you usually only follow me for my fnaf sun and moon stuff. Essentially Chris is a quiet, serious bookworm and Carl is an extroverted goofball, and they have a really fun friendship. Note that I LOVE asks, so if you have any questions about certain things, even if it is just general questions because you don't know their names or whatever, it means so much to me really. :)

Chris: Carl... Why did you draw a pentagram on the floor? Carl: Your text told me to satanize the house before you returned. Chris: Chris: I wrote sanitize, Carl.

Carl: Happy October 32nd! Second Halloween! Chris: That doesn't exist. Carl: Not with that attitude.

Carl: Assert your dominance over your friends by kicking them in the face, and then giving them a little smooch on the forehead!

Chris: So, she kissed me. Carl: And you kissed her back? Chris: No, I kissed her mouth.

Carl: "What are you into?" is such a broad question, like do I reply with a TV series or choking?

Chris: Damn, the power went out. Carl: Don’t worry, I got this. Carl: *stomps foot* Chris: What-? Carl: *Sketchers light up*

Chris: *walking around disappointed after visiting an aquarium* Carl: Chris, what did you think a tiger shark was?

Chris: Hey, aren’t you Carl? Carl: You a cop? Chris: No. Carl: Then yes, I am.

(basically how they met /hj)

*out grocery shopping* Carl: *takes a free sample twice* Carl: Robbery and Fraud. I am a Rebel.

Carl: Next time I'm at the pet store, I'm gonna take a hamster and drop it in the scorpion cage. I wanna see what a hamster's face looks like when it goes, "oh, fuck."

Chris: Did you like the food I made? Carl: No, not really. Chris: But I put my heart and soul into it! Carl: No wonder it tastes so cold and dead.

( “be happy your kitchen is still intact”)

Chris: Can you recommend a book that'll make me cry? Carl: General Mathematics 8th Grade Edition.

Chris: You know what I’ve realized? Carl: Some thoughts are better left unsaid? Chris: Nice try, anyways-

Chris: If I stay in bed I'll be warm. If I get in the shower, I'll also be warm. But the distance between the bed and shower? No. That is not warm.

Carl: Why are you like this?? Chris: I used too much "No More Tears" shampoo as a kid and I haven't felt a single emotion since.

(This is concerningly accurate lmao.)

Carl: I’m scared that when you become rich and famous you’ll be embarrassed by me. Chris: Oh Carl, I’m already embarrassed by you.

(Chris, the master comforter)

Chris: My only talent is being stress. Carl: Don't you mean stressed? Chris: No.

(Being a workaholic does that to ya)

Carl: Chris, I beg of you. Please, PLEASE go to the doctor. Chris: Hey, I'm sorry. Is this OUR stab wound?

(I love how I got this one both for Sun/Moon AND my ocs, and in both instances they fit perfectly on the first go. Every duo has that one person that never looks out for their own well being ig)

Chris: *seductively takes off glasses* Chris: Wow... Carl: *blushes* Haha... what? Chris: You're really fucking blurry.

(I don’t ship these two- though Carl is gay- but I thought the glasses thing was funny and fit Chris well as he... well can’t see shit without glasses)

Carl: Would you like something to drink? *They open the fridge* We have water, milk, juice, spiders, Dr. Pepper- Chris: Spiders? Carl: Spiders it is then. Chris: No, that wasn’t- *But they were already pouring them a brimming glass of spiders…*

Carl: When I get murdered, can you make sure I become an unsolved case? Chris: wHat? Carl: I want to be on Buzzfeed Unsolved. Chris: Can we go back to the part when you said "when I get murdered"?

(THE IRONY IN THIS- I C A N ‘ T)

Carl: Watcha doin? Chris: Stealing my neighbour’s cat. Carl: Scandalous. Carl: Can I help?

*Carl sends more than 5 messages in a row* Chris: I ain’t reading all that. Chris: I’m happy for you tho. Chris: Or sorry that happened.

Chris: I will beat all of you in Rock, Paper, Scissors. You go first. Carl: Rock. Chris: Paper.

(This was promptly followed by a pause as Carl processes what just happened, while Chris grins like that one smug cat with knives pointed at them)

Chris: What's that? Carl: Chocolate. Chris: What's chocolate? Carl: Candy. Do they not have candy where you're from? Chris: Yeah. Grapes, nuts. Carl: No wonder you're so bitter.

Chris: So you're looking for information on this thing, huh? Well, I feel like it must be from far away. Carl: What makes you say that? Chris: If it's something even I don't know about, then I'm sure nobody else must have a clue. So it's gotta be from some faraway place. Impeccable reasoning, isn't it? Carl: Chris... You don't have a clue about this thing, do you? Chris: *screams in anger*

Carl: I'm going the fight the next person who insults Chris. Chris: I hate myself. Carl: Alright, square up.

(Carl may be a dork, and mildly an idiot, but he means well.)

Carl: I’m quick at math. Chris: Ok, what’s 38 times 76? Carl: 24. Chris: That wasn’t even close. Carl: But it was quick.

Carl: Every zoo is a petting zoo unless you’re a coward. Chris: I’m worried about you.

Chris: Hello, my name is Failure, and you're watching my life crumble into pieces. Chris: *waves their finger and sings like they're in a Disney Channel intro*

(He’s very hard on himself :w:)

Carl: It'll be fun. Carl: We'll make a day of it. Carl: Come on you punk bitch. Chris: I can't believe I have to say this. Chris: I don't have time to get tested for sti's with you tomorrow.

(Chris is asexual which makes this even funnier tbh)

Chris: Do you even know what an amulet is? Carl: Of course I do! I eat amulets sometimes. I like the ones with cheese and onions! Chris: Carl, those are omelettes. Carl: Oh. Then I’ve got nothing.

Carl: Try not to roll your eyes at me. Chris: I don't have pupils.

(Fun fact: Old Candy doesn’t have visible pupils, yet everyone knows when he is rolling his eyes.)

Chris: I’m going to hell. Carl: Probably. Chris: I'll pick you up? Carl: *nodding* Carpool.

Chris: When I was your age- Carl, mocking Chris: When I was your height. Chris: Chris: Listen here you little shit-

(Chris is 28, Carl is 25. But he is a bit shorter then him, and he hates it XD)

Chris: No more making fun of me when I misuse dated cultural references, alright? Are we cowabunga on this? Carl, sighing: Fine. We're cowabunga.

(Chris is using a very outdated socializing dictionary okay??)

Carl: I won a new phone in a race. Chris: Huh? What kind of race lets you win a phone, Carl? Carl: A race between the store owner, the cop, and me.

Chris: Carl likes to say ‘you can be part of the problem or part of the solution,’ but I happen to believe you can be both.

Chris: *holds a gun out to Carl* Carl: I-I don't believe in guns. Chris: Well, trust me, they're very real. Now take it.

Chris: I like wearing oversized sweaters. Not just because they're extremely comfy and cuddly, but because whenever the sleeves are really big, I get to flop them around and smack people.

(What can I say? Chris is a wee bit feral)

Chris: Sometimes I wonder if I’m hearing voices. Chris: Then I remember that’s the last bit of sanity I have trying to get me to fall asleep at a reasonable time.

(Who needs sleep schedules?)

Chris: I can't imagine what Carl is planning. But I can tell you two things. We won't like it and it won't be legal.

Chris: I’m sad. Carl: Don’t be sad, because sad backwards is das. Carl: And das not good.

#fnaf fangame #five nights at candys #fnac #fnac 1 #fnac old candy #fnac candy #incorrect quotes #ocs

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jazmintrinidadianlitblog · 8 months

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Five Books from Trinidad and Tobago

The Loss of El Dorado: A Colonial History

The story of Trinidad starts with a lie: people thought that El Dorado, the mythical kingdom of gold, was somewhere close to the South American mainland. V. S. Naipaul, who was born and raised in Trinidad, shows in this amazing and often gripping book how that delusion pulled a small island into the center of world events, making it the target of Spanish and English colonial plans and a haven for treasure hunters, slave traders, and rebels.

Even though there are murders, poisonings, thefts, and international plots, there are two main themes: the grinding down of the Aborigines during the long battles of the search for El Dorado, and the horror of slavery, which was caused by people. We learn as much as we can about day-to-day life in the slave colony from a collection of small, horrible details. There, despite having different names of nobility, there is only an opportunistic, almost lawless community that is always afraid of slave suicide or poison, African sorcery, and slave revolt. This complicated story is told by Naipaul with confidence, biting irony, and lively feeling. The result is writing about history at its best.

The Undiscovered Country - Essays

Andre Bagoo is a real essayist because he asks interesting questions, like "Was there another way for Trinidad to get its independence in 1962?" and is willing to see where his thoughts take him, which is often to places he didn't expect. He is very interested in the world around him, including literature, art, movies, food, politics, and even Snakes and Ladders. At the same time, he is eager to show the reader how his point of view has been formed. He writes as a gay man who grew up in a country that still has colonial rules against being gay. He also writes as a man with African and Indian roots who grew up in a country where ethnic differences have made it hard for the government to work. And what happened when she watched over and over again a broken video of The Sound of Music that cut off at a key point? There is a lot of proof that he knows how to write well-formed sentences and essays. He has an interesting personality and a sharp, inquisitive mind. Even though encyclopedic information isn't usually the point of an essay, most people who read this collection will feel like they know more and are more interested in the world around them.

"The Undiscovered Country" is a lot of things: a manifesto, a literary criticism, a personal account of a writer's life, a book of days, a stage where famous writers like Walcott, Thomas, Gunn, Espada, and others play roles, and more. One thing is for sure, though: Andre Bagoo has a fearless and brilliant mind. He can take us from a formal critical point of view to a new futurist "visual essay," to a verse essay, to a broad historical account that isn't afraid to go as far back in time as Columbus and as close to home as Brexit. He can do all of this with a brilliant attention to detail that is as shocking as it is brilliant. "Good job!"

Secrets We Kept: Three Women of Trinidad

There, Krystal A. Sital looked up to her grandpa, a rich Hindu landowner, who lived in a lush area with fire-petaled immortelle trees and huge coffee and cocoa plantations. The three hills along the southern coast protect the area from hurricanes. Years later, to get away from crime and the lack of economic growth on the island, Krystal's family moved to New Jersey, where Krystal's mother works as a babysitter. The warmth of Trinidad seems like a pretty but faraway memory. But when her grandpa has a fall at home and goes into a coma, the women he has terrorized for decades start to talk, revealing a brutal past.

Krystal learns the long-held secrets of her family's past from the way her mother and grandmother speak. She also learns what it took for her foremothers to live and find strength in themselves. The three women become closer as they share their stories. The music of their voices and their care for each other ease the pain of remembering.

Trinidad's past is full of violence, a strict caste system based on race and ethnicity, and an acceptance of domestic abuse. These are all harsh effects of plantation slavery. On the island's plantations, in its growing towns, and in the family's new home in America, Secrets We Kept tells a story of ambition and cruelty, endurance and love, and, most of all, the bonds between women and generations that help them make peace with the past.

The Middle Passage: The Caribbean Revisited

In 1960, the government of Naipaul's home country, Trinidad, asked him to go back and write about what he saw. In The Middle Passage, Naipaul sees a Trinidadian movie crowd react to Humphrey Bogart's appearance by shouting, "That is man!" He goes to a slum in Trinidad called the Gaza Strip because it is so dirty. He watches a racially charged election campaign in British Guiana, which is now called Guyana, and is amazed by the arrogance of the people of Martinique, who pretend that their roads are extensions of France's routes nationales. Throughout the book, he talks about the horrible things that happened in the region's colonial past and shows how they still affect the language, politics, and ideals of the area. The result is a book that has the vividness and sharpness of a story and shows Naipaul at the top of his game.

Letters from London: Seven Essays by C.L.R. James

In 1932, C.L.R. James left Trinidad for the first time and went to the UK to follow his dreams of becoming a writer. During his first weeks in London, he wrote a number of strong, opinionated essays for the Port of Spain Gazette. In these essays, he talked about what he thought of the city and its people and how he moved through the Bohemian circles of Bloomsbury. These essays, which James wrote during a very important time in his life, are being released here for the first time in seventy years.

~ All these summaries came from goodreads except the last one which came from google books

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