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leonkennedygvrl · 4 months

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“what’s your motive?”

cw; alternate universe, ceo leon, personal assistant reader, slowburn, enemies to lovers but like one sided, angry sex, p in v, cream pie, desk sex, leon is pissed, you’re rebellious asf, pussy spanking, bareback, orgasm denial, dirty thoughts, degradation, bratty reader cus we love that, the list goes on.

trigger warning; out of character leon for the bitches that get offended. (don’t even interact w me, i did specify au, thnx!)

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ ⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

leon was really wrong to hire you, based on the interview and your experience, he took the bait. you were so sweet, intelligent and perfectly fit for his company.

well, at least he thought so.

first day, you seemed to deliberately fuck up his coffee run - he asked for a light black, you came back with an americano. but he let it slide, because he’s a good boss.

second day, you were tidying up his office like he asked - until he noticed some important files crumpled like rubbish and chucked into the bin (and when he thought it couldn’t get worse) you had also put his presentation he’d worked on for weeks in the paper shredder.

third day, you had wrote some inappropriate things on the wall in the women’s bathroom - which had complaints flying in, and leon was getting progressively more sick with your antics.

everyday was another petty, childish ‘prank.’ and you hardly took the work seriously, that leon sat on his desk at early hours of the first day to the second week you’ve been here.

he was contemplating whether he should fire you or not, he knew you were capable of doing well - but for some reason you just weren’t trying.

and what annoyed him the most, was that the pranks had become more… provocative ever since the third day.

walking past leon, you couldn’t help but brush your bodies together. or you’d bend down in front of his desk, chew on his lucky pen whilst he watched, or your skirt would get shorter… and shorter, and shorter.

what was just a funny little joke to you, was him having to rush to the bathroom and wank one off - almost. every. fucking. day.

you walked in, shiny stilettos clacking on the ground and all - impatiently pressing the button to the elevator, your hands fell to your sides with an annoyed groan as it began moving.

you dug into your purse, picking out a stick of watermelon gum and chucking it into your mouth - then a small mirror as you glossed your lips, puckered them a few times and grinned.

another day of mischief, which was what you originally thought.

but the moment you exited the elevator, a colleague, or well - the only person who tolerates you (because she’s chill) aka, sheva alomar approached you.

“heya girl, i don’t know whatcha’ did this time, but boss is callin’ for you, and he didn’t seem all hunky-dory.” sheva said, eyeballing you in a way that practically said ‘you’re fucked.’

but you only shrugged it off. “maybe he woke up on the wrong side of the bed?”

“it’s serious, apparently.” she said almost immediately after, then sighed. “just, good luck.”

you watched as she walked away, and then you giggled to yourself; eyes finding the door to his office.

thinking that you might as well, since it was inevitable to avoid him considering you were his personal assistant - you made your way towards the door, hearing the silence flood the open area.

your hand reached the door knob, ready to push it down when the door suddenly opened - and you gasped softly, looking up to see the meanest stare coming from leon.

his eyes were narrowed, brows furrowed enough for his forehead to wrinkle whilst the strands of dirty blonde fell on his visage. not to mention, the frown (that was usually always there) on his face.

you swallowed hard, nervous butterflies fluttering in your stomach. he looked like he was fuming.

but at the same time, leon didn’t bother hiding the way his gaze fell to your unbuttoned shirt, the glimpse of cleavage leaving him indifferent in expression - but not in thoughts.

all he could think about was what you’d look like on your knees, glazed lips tightly embracing his cock whilst you gagged and choked.

that’ll shut you up, like a good girl.

or perhaps the face you’d make when he’d stretch out that tiny cunt, would you cream or would you squirt? or both?

“inside, now.” leon said, stepping to the side and leaving the door open for you.

reluctantly, you complied - the spacious office you knew so well, that you messed with numerous times, that you secretly adored.

because, thing was, you pulled these vacuous tricks to catch his attention and seemingly… it worked.

leon closed, and locked the door behind him, watching as you sat on the seat in front of his large, mahogany desk clattered with papers, a monitor and boring office things.

he rolled up his sleeves, clearing his throat with a deadpan expression as he slumped down onto his chair behind the desk - his forearms rested atop it, veins protruding from his elbows and down.

that immediately caught your attention, those hands - big and muscular, his fingers thick in such an attractive way and the callouses on his palms, from what? ? ?

weights? guns? knifes? holding thighs? necks? breasts. . . ?

“we need to talk about your behaviour.” leon said after a while, voice stern, raspy.

innocently tilting your head, you flashed him a sweet smile. “my behaviour? what about it? i hope i haven’t been upsetting you, sir.”

leon’s jaw visibly clenched, and you could see the pure hatred lust in his expression. “upsetting me? do you think this is some sort of fuc—“

he stopped himself, needing to be professional. he was glad the desk covered his lower-half, otherwise the raging erection he had right now would become rather apparent to you.

fucking, fuck, fuck you…

leon sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose - all the while, you continued to grin, humming quietly. “listen, i hired you because from what your experience tells me you can work well and make good for this company. but i didn’t hire you so that you could be immature, with all these pranks of yours.”

“what pranks?” you asked, feigning a frown. “i don’t know what you’re talking about, sir.”

sir.

is that what you’d call him when he was pounding your little lady pussy?

his nostril twitched, and he was just about at his limit. “stand up.”

like on instinct, your body followed his orders - anything for him.

“tell me, do you think you’re funny?” leon asks, walking around the side of the desk, towards you, slowly.

“i am humorous when i want to be, sir.” you smiled.

“and these past couple weeks, you’ve been humorous?”

he stepped closer, and closer, and closer, until he towered over you.

“the past couple weeks i’ve been working hard sir, in order to exceed your expectations.” you replied, shrugging your shoulders whilst your hands snaked behind your back, swinging your torso in cutesy. “are you alright sir? you seem… angry.”

and you knew he was, you also knew he was hungry. the bulge in his trousers didn’t seem to lie, and you took his momentary silence a chance to actually appreciate him.

leon wore a white collared shirt which emphasised the swell of his biceps, or the way his pecs poked through deliciously… the grey button up vest complimenting his small red tie, and the matching grey trousers.

he was delicious.

“am i angry?” leon scoffed, turning his head to the side as he hid an arrogant smirk - “i don’t know, you tell me.”

his hand reached out, gliding up your arm - sending shivers down your spine. his fingertips were just hardly grazing the skin, trimmed nails tickling. “i’m growing tired of this, you know?”

“tired of what?” you breathed, feeling goosebumps arise at his mere touch.

and suddenly, his hand was around your neck in a flash - pushing you back against his desk, and your hands immediately clasped the edge of it as a soft gasp escaped your lips.

he moved in close, breath mingling with yours. “don’t try to be all innocent on me, i’ve had fuckin’ enough. seeing you bend that fuckin’ ass down, or wear those slutty little skirts.”

you shuddered, his raspy tone making your clit throb in arousal and all of a sudden all the sensations became scarily more apparent.

his other hand, tauntingly found your thigh… grazing upwards, thumb rubbing circles. he moved his lips to your ear, huffing.

“y’know how fuckin’ hard it makes me?” leon growled, glancing down as he gripped the hem of your black tube skirt, pulling it up shamelessly. “all quiet now, huh? i’m going to ruin you, do you know what that means? or is your stupid little bitch brain too small to comprehend that?”

he spoke in a mocking voice that made you feel small, embarrassed, even. “sir…”

“nah, nah… stay quiet, it suits you better.” his fingers traced your panties, sheer peach pink lace with tulip embroidery. an eyebrow leaped up, feeling how fucking soaked you were. “oh? this is turning you on?”

that shitty, bitchy demeanour you kept seemed to have fucking disappeared - your head rolled back, a sultry whimper escaping your pretty little lips.

his eyes narrowed, and hastily— his hand spanked your pussy, hitting that sensitive clit through your thin, lacy material. “fuckin’ answer me.” he hissed into your ear.

“does this turn you on?” then his fingers held the hem of your panties, and moved them to the side. exposing your bratty cunt he wanted a taste of.

“sir!” you whined, lips pouting before he pinched your clit hard which made your eyebrows arch inwards and your thighs twitch.

“pussys cryin’ for me, hm?” leon cooed, pulling his head back to watch your expressions contort. “you just needed to be put in your damn place, and all of a sudden you’re not a brat.”

then his hand pulled away, gliding up and roughly grabbing your hair in a bunch — not quite caring whether it hurt you or not, the way you gasped was enough to satisfy him.

he turned you around, your hands taking hold on the edge of his bureau as you tried to push back against him but to no avail - his hand, pulsing with veins glided down your back and bent you straight over.

leaning down, he kissed the lobe of your ear, hot breath making you shudder. “you’re going to take what i give you,”

“like a good girl.”

with your skirt lifted to around your coccyx, leon’s gaze dropped to your ass - inches away from the tent in his pants, begging to be touched, to be played with. “gorgeous little ass f’ me, too bad the owner is a fucking brat, huh?”

you made a great effort to stay quiet, tears pooling your lash line with your elbows harshly pressed onto the wood, your thighs squeezed together why were you aroused?!

it had to be the way he spoke, perhaps? his deep, sagacious tone that had you always in a trance, or the way he aggressively manhandled you out of pure anger. it’s not like you didn’t want this, you did, horribly.

you just acted like you didn’t (maybe you were a bit of a tsundere)

nah, you just liked annoying him.

“s—sir, this is inappropriate.” you weakly mewled, trying to keep up that annoyingly innocent facade that fooled fucking no one (it did) “you can… sniffle get fired for this”

leon chews the inside of his cheek, draping his head down as he laughed condescendingly, and then abruptly grabbed the fat of your ass, making it simple in between his knuckles and your breath hitch.

“inappropriate? since when did you care about what’s inappropriate?” leon scoffs, kneading the doughy flesh, biting his lower lip at the sight. “you’re a slut, you want this.”

“no!” you bit back, turning your head over your shoulder to stare at him stubbornly with a pout as your leg hiked up and smacked the back of your mid-thigh.

leon’s hand abandoned one cheek, and shot out to grab your ankle, pulling it over the desk and effectively spreading you further.

“dirty girl, you’re wearing panties a size too fuckin’ small.” leon groaned, watching as the lace undergarment stretched upon your fat pussy, your fat dripping pussy.

you ‘mm’ed in embarrassment, wiggling your hips because you were trying not to give in. now your hole was throbbing and your body was burning, and you NEEDED him.

“sir… stop teasing me.” you begged, face falling flat onto the desk, fingers clenching tightly.

he was finally making you give in, putting you in your fucking place. he tilted his head, innocently.

“aww, i’m not teasing you, baby.” leon ‘sympathetically’ taunted, rubbing your ass, your thighs, everywhere.

“i’m just giving you what you deserve,” his finger hooks into your panties, pulls it up, “and this is it” and smacks it back down onto you like an elastic slingshot, making you moan.

“sir, please!”

he chuckles, darkly, eyeing your pussy for a hot minute before he grunts. “i guess i just can’t resist this”

leon rips your panties, the scratchy noise making you whimper - you really liked those ones! damn! then a finger traces your folds, thick and hot, smearing the slick to your clit and making it all slippery and hard to play with.

but oh so delicious as his digit plopped inside you, extracting a gasp, as he slid in knuckle deep, then back out and in.

he could feel how tight your spongey walls gripped him, the hot flesh making him anticipate impatiently. “god, i don’t think i’ll be able to take myself out of this pussy.”

leon hoped he thought that, instead of vocalising it - but oh well, truth is told.

“sir—“ you mewled, breath becoming heavy, he was hitting every spot just right, thrusting just right, pleasuring you just right.

“say leon,” he demanded, shoving a second finger in, and curling it to slam your g-spot repeatedly making you writhe and gasp. “say it, unless you want me to stop.”

“leon!” you almost screamed, rocking back against his fingers - you were so close, so so close.

“leon, leon, leon, i—“ and he interjected your orgasm with a pull out of his fingers and a slick grin on his handsome face.

“you didn’t think i was going to let you cum so easily, did you?” leon laughed, you were so pathetic it was actually entertaining for him. why didn’t he do this sooner?

you slump down in defeat, you deserved this after all - but that was about to be the best orgasm of your life so you were rather disappointed.

“answer me.” he growls.

you exhale, feeling your stomach buzz when his voice dropped an octave. “no—no, sir… leon, i didn’t think so… i don’t deserve to cum.”

leon was rather surprised - behind the mask he well, masked. you were submitting, you weren’t being a brat. you were actually kinda… cute.

“flip onto your back f’ me.” leon said, voice much softer than before.

you complied, skirt rolled up to your abdomen and pussy coated with wetness - he was afraid to look at that shining glory, otherwise he might just cum in his pants.

but it was also you he could appreciate. hair sticking to your forehead with sheer sweat, lips parted and glossed in saliva, face flushed and how your eyes gazed at him longingly, begging him to fuck you.

leon couldn’t take it anymore, he wanted needed you.

quickly, and clumsily unbuckling his belt leon palmed himself for a few moments, a throaty groan leaving him at finally feeling some sort of physical pleasure. “fuck… you ready for me, baby?”

your eyes brightened up the moment he said that, and you nodded eagerly, biting your lower lip as you watched him.

leon slipped his cock out, squinting as he rubbed the bulbous tip up… and down… your folds, uuuup… and… dooown…

and when he reached down again, he pushed into you, eyebrows creasing as your pussy immediately clenched down on him and you moaned delectably.

“oh, fuck.” leon grunted, his hands moving below your knees, holding your thighs apart as he bottomed out in you - his other head kissing your cervix, and your warmy wetness hugging his frenulum.

the erotic noises leaving you only spurred him on, having him begin to pound into you - his hair messy with sweat, beads of it dripping down his forehead whilst his fingers clenched around your legs, threatening to leave a mark.

“l—leon..” you whimpered, feeling his dick slowly throb as he pulled out halfway - your body tensed, and he slammed back in.

“yeah? shameless little bitch, you just needed this pretty thing to be fucked and abused, huh?” leon groaned, his eyes narrowing before he threw your calves over his shoulders and he fisted his desk, thrusting his chubby dick in and out of your sopping pussy, making you a feel a lashings amount of pleasure.

he had you folded in fucking half while he used you, while he put you where you belong. and you were a complete mess, clit swollen and just begging for some sort of attention, your nipples so erect leon couldn’t resist using one of his big hands to pinch them in between thick fingers.

the way he felt, stretching you out so nicely — reaching the deepest parts of you, each roll of his hips leaving you trembling and gasping whilst electric waves buzzed through your body.

and leon just adored the way your pussy held him, took him, the way your slick crawled down his thick balls, the spongey wall inside you restricting his dick from even leaving your cunt.

“l—leon, leon… s’ too much–“ you mewled, hips jerking as you pressed your hands against his abdomen, feeling him tense.

he bit his lip, watching your face closely, feeling your pert nipples. he feigns concern, tilting his head. “aw, need me to slow down? hmm?”

you nod expectantly, your lips continuously parting with great big huffs escaping. your thighs were twitching and trembling, and that made leon’s dick pulse inside of you. he was so turned on, having wanting this since you started those innocent seeming eyes staring at him whilst you said all the pretty ‘yes sirs’ convincing him just why he should hire you when it was clearly a mistake.

and he does slow down, but torturously. his head not quite reaching where you wanted anymore due to his shallow, gently condescending thrusts, and the shit-eating grin on his face made you want to scream of pure frustration.

now, you know how he felt!

“leon…” you said, hesitating. “please.”

leon raised an eyebrow strands of hair sticking to his forehead and his cheeks slightly flushed in exhaustion and arousal - lord, the face alone you were making was spurring him. he didn’t know how much longer he could last, but he really wanted to show you what respect fucking meant.

thumbing your clit with painfully pleasurable pressure, in turn made your chin tremble whilst you writhed bashfully, trying to push yourself down on his half-inserted cock.

leon pulled out at your pathetic attempts, face stern again as he grasped your wrists and pinned them to either side of your head - immediately slamming his chubby, slick-coated dick back into you, making you yelp.

“are you forgetting this is a punishment?” leon hissed, eyes narrowed, he replaced his hold with one hand so his other could tear off the buttons of his vest, pulling it off hastily making your eyes glimmer as you were met with the sight of his delicious pectorals bulging through his shirt, veins protruding from his neck.

hard, rough, aggressive. he was trying to break you, and you were positive he was succeeding. your eyes rolled to the back of your head, body limp and shuddering, but now you were being too loud.

he wasn’t going to let you diminish his reputation (more than you already had) so he shoved his thumb into your mouth, pressing down hard onto your tongue, incoherent babbles leaving you muffled.

this had to be the best sex of his life, using you as nothing but a doll your tight pussy wrapped around him so snugly, so comforting and special despite the uh… initial situation.

“fuck.” leon muttered under his breath, his eyebrows arching inwards as his jaw clenched - he was close too close.

leon leaned down his back hunching as his breath caressed your ear. “you’re not cumming til’ i fill you up, til’ i fuckin’ own this slutty pussy.”

pussy that was officially his

if you thought that things would be hunky-dory after this, you were dead wrong. call him a sadist. what-the-fuck-ever (like leon would say) you caused this, it was your fault.

and you loved every second.

leon’s breath began to shake as his orgasm ruptured close, heavy balls that slapped against your flushed glutes tightening as he bit his lower lip.

you were a mess, beads of perspiration now coated your tomato face, tongue threatening to loll out. the office heavy scented of sex, lust and passion. of sweat, of musk, of your signature fucking perfume that lured him in. he kissed along your jawline, perhaps you needed some affection to cool the storm, pecking the corners of your lips.

but you did something sly, ripping one hand out of his tight grasp (somehow) and grabbing the back of his head efficaciously tugging his hair as your wet lips met his.

leon was taken aback by the sudden action and while you expected him to be irritated, he wasn’t. continuing to thrust, he closed his eyes and touched tongues with you in a heated kiss - a guttural grunt merging into your mouth.

you weren’t going to hold on much longer, and leon could tell by the way you were squeezing him like a goddamn vice.

he pulled away, grinning ear-to-ear as he kissed and licked along your neck, his fingers pulled the hood of your clit open to thoroughly stimulate the hypersensitive bundle of nerves making you whine as he fucked into you harder, panting in pure unadulterated arousal.

“shit, shit..” leon whispered, cock kicking inside you as he released your bound wrists and instead grabbed your hips, the flesh dimpling in between his knuckles whilst he gritted his teeth.

you gazed at him, blown away, blissed out. “you—you close?”

“mhm.” he moaned, voice shaky. “gonna fuckin’ cream pie this sweet cunt, want to so bad.”

leon sucked on the sweet spot of your neck, making you quiver as you hit your lip to stifle a moan you knew would be way too loud. “can i?”

of course. it was leon, of course he could cum inside you. that’s what you wanted, you were finally getting what you fucking wanted.

you nodded frantically, eyebrows creasing as you desperately held back your orgasm, desperately trying to impress him but it was hard with his thumb on your raw, swollen clit and his fat cock splitting you open, hitting your g perfectly with each railing thrust.

“f—fuck..!” you whimpered, eyes clenching shut as your hands grasped the edge of the desk whilst leon sped up, he was so vocal at this rate - breathing heavily like an athlete after a runathon, groaning from the deepest strain of his throat.

leon cursed in his head, he couldn’t hold back anymore - he squeezed your hips, cock pulsing as spurts of thick, sticky sperm shot into your pussy whilst he buried his face into the crook of your neck, moaning.

he rubbed your clit even faster, continuing to jerk his sensitive dick in your walls. “cum, fuckin’ cum for me.”

the words pushed you over the edge your back arching and a downright pornographic mewl leaving you - your thighs trembling like an airplanes turbulence whilst leon huffed into your soft skin, the deathly grip your pussy held from your orgasm sending him through a kaleidoscope of prurience.

it was a specially concupiscence moment but neither really cared, leon leaned back to get a good look at you - his dick still kicking in your pussy, before he slowly hesitantly pulled out.

he watched as his cum leaked out of your gaping, hot hole. it made his stomach stir because what a fucking sight for sore eyes. and even if you had been a bitch, he cared about you.

“you okay?” leon sighed, releasing his hold on your hips and stroking the skin of your knee with his thumb.

“i’m more than okay.” you giggled breathlessly, wetting your lips as a small, very small smile spread on leon’s face.

“good.”

#leon kennedy #smut #resident evil #smutshot #fantasy #leon scott kennedy #leon kennedy x reader #afab #leon kennedy x femreader #ooc leon kennedy #boss leon #he’s rough as fuck #this is long as hell #enjoy #lol

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bitchysouljellyfish · 1 year

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“El día que me quieras”

Rodolfo Parra/Reader

Inspired by this and the incredible writings of @yeyinde because God their writings are to die for! Title is inspired by the song of the same name by Carlos Gardel! The indented writing is done by yeyinde!

Enjoy!

The ocean is a distant roar beyond the sprawling green cut into the fells. The scent of heliotrope and sun-ripened tomatoes is heavy in the balmy air that pulses around you like a heartbeat.

Your finger taps the porcelain mug on the patio table, eyes soaking in the crystalline shore in the distance, basking in the sun. The warmth. The door slides open. Music from inside drifts out. Los Cojolites. He has a fondness for son jarocho. You can smell the sweet mole he's cooking waft through.

He comes up behind you, hands on your shoulders, thumbs rubbing circles on your bare skin. You lean back, head pressed to his tummy as you squint up at him. He's bathed in ochre from the sun: a halo around him that bleeds into your retinas until all you see his the shape of him. Your pulse quickens.

He smiles down at you, lunar white. Love in shades of vermillion leak from the curve of his mouth.

"Want some company, cariño?"

As if you'd ever say no.

Alejandro introduced you to him.

You were the medic, part of the Task Force 141 that had came to Las Almas to assist with El Sin Nombre. You were dwarfed by the other two men who accompanied you, El Fantasma and Soap who had you tucked into the middle of them, protecting you from harm as you protected them from the Reaper.

"This is Seargeant Major Rudolfo Parra, my right hand man. Ghost, Soap, and Bog." He points to you last, and you give him a smile and a nod and he feels the sun on his face like never before. You were radiant, the stress and trauma gracing your eyes but it didn't stop the rays of hope that shined through them. He almost didn't notice the strange call sign.

"Tengo miedo de los fantasmas." He attempted to joke but got nothing but a flat stare in return. "And...Bog?"

You sighed in exasperation, Soap chuckling and slapping his knee in glee. "Feel free to call me Doc instead, Sergeant Major. Soap is terrible with call signs." And that is where it ended, the conversation going serious as he drove through the streets of his home with the gradual realization that eyes were on him, but they were not vicious.

The name Bog stuck much more easily than Doc, to your dismay he could tell, but he had to admit. It fit you. You bounced back from injuries and stressful situations like the soft ground you were named after, yet you could spew acid at those deserving.

"You be safe huh, Darlin'? Can't be too careful with our good ol'doc." Graves's southern drawl cuts through the comms.

You sighed, irritation and anger apparent in your voice. "It's Doctor or Captain, Commander Graves. I give you respect you give me respect."

"What about Bog?"

"Friends can call me Bog."

"We aint-"

"No."

Soap snickered through the ear piece, Ghost telling them to stay focused before the comms went silent again. You were waiting at headquarters with Rudy and the other members of his unit on standby in case there was any medical emergencies while the others went through the cartel compound.

"Doctor?" He asked, because you certainly didn't look old enough to have one.

You turned with wide eyes, doe like he recalled, before smiling and showing your ID card. "Got it while I was enlisted, then I went to Officer Candidate School and the rest is history."

"Your family must be proud, as should your team to have such capable hands with them." He turned his chair so he was resting his arms on the back, one eye and ear out on the cameras.

"Gaz thinks differently, says I'm a torturer with a needle but that's just because he's afraid of them." Then you put a finger to your lips and pursed them, winking at him so slyly that it made his heart leap into his throat. "But I'm not supposed to tell anyone that."

He laughed, resting his head on his hand and tried to keep the admiration out of his eyes. "You have my word, bonita, I won't tell a soul."

You and him spoke like that for ages, only breaking when the on ground team needed something. Your chairs were significantly closer together than when you had started.

He had become so smitten with you in the small time he had known you that when they were relieved of duty he didn't want to end the conversation. He walked you back to a room just for you, female soldiers weren't common in Mexican Special Forces, talking low and walking slow as to prolong his time with you. You had told him about your home in America, somewhere cold that got snow every once in a while and he had watched as you spoke animated about what you would do with your family.

"What about you Rudy? Any experience with snow?"

"Enough to know I am not built for it," he laughed, "No, my home is by the coast, with plenty of warmth for the rest of my days."

"Oh a beach man huh? Am I gonna get the chance to see you in a speedo?" You smirked at him, stopping at your door and peering up at him through your lashes.

"I am Mexican, Bonita, not European, but..." all of the confidence he had managed to keep throughout the night melted away suddenly. Shaking hands reached for your fingers, just enough for them to curl around your knuckles and you held them twice as tightly. "I could take you, some day, when this has calmed down. You would like it. I will make you so much food and drinks you would not know what to do with it all."

You stepped forward and kissed his cheek, feather light and petal soft but it was enough to knock him off his feet. "Its a date. Good night Rudy."

"Buenos noches, bonita."

He had watched you, passing glances through the time you spent with Los Vaqueros and became entranced. You were intelligent, witty, funny, beautiful, and strong, you had to be to carry wounded from the field but it did nothing to rough up the hands you had touched him so delicately with.

Yet those hands, oh those hands, were sculpted by angels he was sure.

You had patched him up after Hassan Zyani left him for dead and Alejandro, his brother in all but blood, saved him from the building, blood running down his head and barely able to walk he was so dazed. He remembered you laying him down, cold water on his face and you soft eyes and gentle hands on his skin and he thought it was heaven. You barked orders to get medical supplies, but made your voice soft and warm when you spoke to him. He noticed then that you always did that, when it was just the two of you or when the attention was away, you spoke to him as if he something soft and gentle to and by God he was.

He was clay in your hands, clay to be molded and shaped to fit into your shape so that your radiance could heat him and bring him back to life so that he may support you and hold you and keep you safe.

"I think a new call sign is in order, hermosa." He whispered, numb to the pain in his head as he raised a hand to hold your face.

"Shh, Rudy, hold still. I'm almost done." You caught his hand, squeezing it tightly as you wrapped the bandages around his head.

"I think Angel is much more fitting. Eres un ángel, esos suaves toques solo podrían pertenecer a una." You smiled and finished the bandages, looking down at him with fondness as you held his hand to your chest.

"I think you have a concussion."

"Perhaps," he shrugged and used his other hand to grasp your cheek. "Or perhaps I have died and the angels had no other choice but to use your face, although I hope that is not the case. I still have to take you to the coast." He struggled to keep his eyes open as the pain medication you gave him started to take effect.

Rodolfo felt something then, firmer but still soft as roses on his lips. "You better." He heard you say, another gentle touch on his forehead that he couldn't recognize before slipping unconscious.

The next time he would kiss you would be just before you left, Valeria in custody and the plane that would cart you away from him waiting behind you. You take his hand and press an envelope into it. "I'm a romantic." You explained, "Write to me?"

He cradled your face and pulled you close, kissing your lips with as much gusto and adoration he could fit into it before he could lose his nerve. The feeling of your arms wrapped around his neck would soon become a favorite of his.

"I will." One more kiss to your lips and you were away.

It would be another six months before he could hold you in his arms again, swinging you around once you came off the airport terminal and committing the sound of your laugh to memory. He wasted no time in taking you to his villa, one hand on your thigh as he drove and you resting against his arm.

And soon the ocean is a distant roar, muffled by the sounds of his Los Cojolites and the sizzling of breakfast he was cooking. The scent of heliotrope and sun-rippened tomatoes is heavy in the balmy air that pulses in time with his heart. His shirt open and revealing the marks you had given him the night before and that morning and he sees you, sitting on the veranda with a cup of coffee and tour own marks on display. Rodolfo smiles and walks out, settling behind you with a hand on your shoulder and another under your chin as he looks at you with nothing but love.

"Want some company, cariño?"

And he knows you could never say no.

#cod x you #rodolfo mw2 #rodolfo x reader #this is long as hell #not beta read #im obsessed with this man #fluff #so much fluff #love #waxing poetic #rodolfo parra x reader

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wingsoverlagos · 2 months

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Mark Lewisohn and the No Good, Very Big Scoop

A few weeks ago, I made a post showing that Kim Bennett, the crucial interviewee who provided the crux of Mark Lewisohn's "debunking" of a classic Beatles myth, was not, as Lewisohn has suggested, completely absent from Beatles history. Kim Bennett had been quoted in an issue of Beatles Book Monthly, in which Mark Lewisohn, aged 10 1/2, also made a brief appearance.

That was a teaser, and now that any interest it may have stirred has had time to die out, it's time for a proper introduction to what has become an unwieldy examination of Tune In's biggest scoop.

I came across Kim Bennett in that issue of Beatles Book Monthly while I was working on a "Lewisohn vs." post focusing on George Martin's memoir, All You Need Is Ears. Checking those citations went off the rails before the train had left the station. It led me to take a closer look at the way Lewisohn tells the story of how the Beatles signed their contract with Parlophone. This section of Tune In represents the biggest Beatles "myth" that Lewisohn busted, and it has been discussed in any number of reviews and interviews since the book's release. Yet the evidence given for Lewisohn's biggest scoop was thin, and relied disproportionately on the word of Kim Bennett, a man whose story only saw the light of day because of Mark Lewisohn--or so he would have us believe.

I did some digging. I found the aforementioned quote from Bennett. Then I found another one, in another issue of Beatles Book Monthly. Then I found him in the pages of a prominent book of Beatles history. Then another book, and another.

Kim Bennett's evolving story was the first red flag, but the more I dug, the more problems I found with Lewisohn's choice to present the Bennett version as definitive. The other supporting evidence Lewisohn brought to the table was, at best, thin. Evidence supporting the classic narrative went unaddressed. His heavy-handed authorial choices evinced a man trying to overturn a narrative to further his own reputation and book sales, not a historian using his best judgment to parse conflicting accounts and come to his best assessment of the truth.

My intention here isn't to attack Kim Bennett or to defend George Martin from an unflattering portrayal of his role in the Beatles' contract signing. Nor do I think Kim Bennett's account should be stricken from the record entirely. My focus is on Lewisohn's choice to present Kim Bennett's story as an undeniable Truth in the story of the Beatles. At best, his historical judgment utterly failed him, at worst--and far more likely, in my view--Lewisohn put forward a substandard work of history solely for the sake of grabbing headlines by disrupting a traditional narrative.

There's a lot to discuss with the Bennett/contract story, which I'll discuss in future posts. My ~tentative~ table of contents is:

0. Mark Lewisohn’s Star Witness 1. An Introduction and Primer >You Are Here< 2. The Evolving Story of Kim Bennett, Pt. 1: Before Lewisohn 3. The Classic™ Contract Story, and Why Lewisohn Distrusts It 4. The Evolving Story of Kim Bennett, Pt. 2: Tune In 5. Lewisohn’s Other Sources 6. Lewisohn’s Portrayal of Kim Bennett & George Martin

For now, I'll set Kim Bennett aside and briefly address another Busted Myth in Tune In: the story of young John Lennon, forced to choose between his mother and father.

Alf Lennon and Billy Hall: A Lewisohnian Microcosm

Along with the story of the Beatles’ Parlophone contract, Tune In’s new take on the traumatic custody dispute over John Lennon is one of the book’s most discussed “revelations.” This story plays out over a few pages (unlike the Kim Bennett/Contract narrative, which sprawls across several chapters), but it demonstrates many of the same heavy-handed writing choices Lewisohn makes to prop up a “definitive” version of events without adequate evidence or analysis. The tactics Lewisohn uses fall into three broad categories: (1) misrepresenting opposing evidence and (2) inflating the credibility of supporting evidence, and (3) creating a false dichotomy between two accounts.

I'm sure you're familiar with this classic tale. It’s been written in nearly every Beatles biography starting with Hunter Davies’ The Beatles (1968), as told to Davies by John’s father, Alf Lennon. The story goes like this:

Alf Lennon took five-year-old John to Blackpool, ostensibly as a holiday, though he planned to keep his son. They lived with a friend of Alf’s for two weeks. That friend planned to emigrate to New Zealand; Alf decided he should emigrate as well, with John in tow. These plans were foiled by the arrival of Julia, and a custody dispute ensued. At an impasse, Alf asked John who he wanted to stay with. John at first picked Alf, but when his mother started to leave, he ran after her.

The story has been embellished over the years, but those are the core facts as related by Alf. Mark Lewisohn doesn’t believe it happened this way. He tracked down the friend Alf and John stayed with in Blackpool, Billy Hall, and asked for his version of events. Hall’s testimony would form the basis for one of Lewisohn’s major MythBusting moments.

I’m not going to dissect these events in depth here. What I want to illustrate is the way Lewisohn sells the reader on his interviewee, Billy Hall, and Hall’s version of events. From Tune In Ch. 2:

Lewisohn starts by introducing Billy Hall as the "only living witness" and "the only person to relate the events impartially."

I’ll give him “only living”, but Lewisohn does nothing to demonstrate his impartiality. Generally, one would assume a guy relating the story of a disagreement his friend had with his ex would have some degree of bias. Lewisohn knows this, but to overturn this classic narrative, he needs the reader to trust Billy Hall. He can’t show Hall’s impartiality, so he must tell the reader.

“Witness” is also doing some heavy lifting here. More on that soon.

Before jumping into Hall's version of events, Lewisohn tells us how how “[e]very account” of the story has been told to date. With this phrasing, Lewisohn purposefully obfuscates opposing evidence; rather than acknowledge that Alf Lennon himself gave this story, he presents it in the vague terms of "[e]very account." Acknowledging that these accounts arise from a primary source would give them strength, so Lewisohn portrays it as another old chestnut in the pile of oft-repeated Beatles stories. It might seem like a simple turn of phrase here, but we’ll see this tactic pop up again soon.

Framing aside, the passage highlighted in blue is in keeping with Alf’s story as told to Davies. That changes once we get to the phrase in pink. According to Lewisohn, “[e]very account…turned on the vital fact” that John would first emigrate with Billy Hall’s parents. This is just a lie. I have read multiple accounts that do mention Hall’s parents involvement in the plan, but, crucially, they play no role in the story Alf Lennon told Hunter Davies. Davies writes, “The friend he was staying with in Blackpool was planning to emigrate to New Zealand. Fred decided to go with him. All the preparations were made, when one day Julia arrived at the door.” (Davies 1968, p.8)

Hall’s testimony doesn’t contradict the premise that Alf wanted to take John to New Zealand (“…Lennie said he might [emigrate to New Zealand] too…and at some point it was mentioned that it would be a great place to raise Johnny”), but says definitively that his parents had no intention to emigrate. To present this as a proper MythBusting, Lewisohn makes the detail Hall contradicts (his parents involvement) central to the story as a whole (“[e]very account….has turned on...”) He’s moved the goalposts by framing a detail he can debunk as crucial to the story, when that detail wasn’t present in the primary source to begin with.

Then, in yellow, Lewisohn lets us know that the classic version of events "is fantasy." Or rather, Lewisohn lets us know that Billy Hall says its fantasy. It's a heavy-handed introduction. Hall is never given any pushback, and we're left with the impression that Lewisohn wants the reader to believe Hall's conclusion.

Hall goes on to say that Alf couldn’t have emigrated anyway because Alf, “had to go back to sea. He had to go back. We were only on leave.” This is a blatant example of Lewisohn refusing to question or push back against an account he wants the reader to believe. Alf Lennon already had a history of going AWOL, so “It couldn’t have happened because Alf wouldn’t go AWOL” isn’t convincing evidence. Lewisohn doesn’t bring this up, though, and indeed provides no comment on this section of Hall’s testimony. He lets it stand unquestioned.

Here's how Lewisohn introduces us to the custody dispute between Alf and Julia:

Lewisohn describes the well-known version of events as “painted vividly in John Lennon docudramas.” Again, Lewisohn neglects to inform the reader that this story comes from from Alf Lennon - one of the three people in the room where it happened. The “docudramas” didn’t make up this chapter in John’s life—they based it on the words of his father, and accounts of people close to John (e.g. Cyn.) We would expect Alf to have some bias in the matter, but that’s no reason to complete discount his story.

Also note Lewisohn’s use of charged language to highlight how melodramatic the “docudrama” version of events is. Silly of you to believe such made-for-TV sensationalism, reader! Luckily, Lewisohn has found someone who “recalls what actually happened.”

How Lewisohn knows this is “what actually happened”, he doesn’t say. But trust him—this isn’t just another version of events, it’s the version of events. Billy Hall says:

(The “Terry-Thomas character” mentioned here is Bobby Dykins, Julia’s boyfriend)

Right off the top, Hall says that the conversation happened in a different room. THIS is Lewisohn’s decisive witness—a guy who didn’t see things go down. Have you ever lived with someone, readers? Ever had a college roommate who got into a fight with their significant other in the other room? Even if you did your best to eavesdrop, would you be able to confidently say what happened if you were asked to recount it sixty years later? Would you weigh your word more heavily than the people in the room itself?

Billy Hall is only a “witness” in the loosest sense. He can tell us what happened around the fateful meeting, but he has no information on the actual event.

Billy tells us that Alf told him “I’m letting Johnny go back with his mother—she’s going to look after him properly.” Okay. Maybe Alf was broken up about events but wanted to save face in front of his friend. Maybe Alf wasn’t broken up, having just spent two weeks parenting after spending much of John’s life as an absentee dad. There’s nothing here that precludes a tense exchange occurring in the room. The room where Billy Hall wasn’t.

Finally, and damningly, “I really can’t remember if Johnny was in there too.” So Hall admits that he has no memory of the crucial detail of whether or not John was in the room, yet Lewisohn wants us to believe his account is “what actually happened.”

I commend Lewisohn for seeking out people like Hall, people peripheral to the Beatles’ story that may nevertheless add depth to it, but I seriously question his choice to present Hall’s version of events as definitive. He presents Hall’s story without question or criticism, outright telling us that a story told sixty years later by a man who wasn’t in the room where it happened is impartial and definitive. Meanwhile, Alf Lennon’s account isn’t attributed to him—it’s veiled behind catch-alls like “[e]very account”, or conflated with “docudramas.” Lewisohn clearly isn’t treating these accounts with equal scrutiny; he’s purposefully uplifting a version of events that contradicts accepted “myth.”

One final point that drives this home is Lewisohn’s choice to portray Billy Hall and Alf Lennon’s accounts as mutually exclusive. Rather than looking for how these two stories might dovetail, he creates a false dichotomy between them. This begins by framing the role of Billy Hall’s parents as crucial to the existing narrative, but it’s most clear in the utter absence of effort by Lewisohn to reconcile these two accounts. Aside from the point regarding his parents, what does Billy Hall contradict here? His portrayal is different from many dramatizations, but there’s very little that goes against Alf’s account. There’s no reason to completely throw out one or the other; there is every possibility these are two angles on the same story, not two mutually exclusive events.

But “Alf and Julia Lennon’s argument over John’s custody was maybe more sedate than sometimes depicted” isn’t getting headlines. It doesn’t make for a good talking point, and it certainly isn’t increasing Lewisohn’s prestige as the man finding out the True Story of the Beatles. Put simply, Mark Lewison chose to portray Billy Hall’s story as busting a Beatles’ myth not because a careful examination of the evidence supported that conclusion, but because disrupting a narrative would increase his profile and the profile of Tune In.

This isn’t an isolated example. We’ll see many of these tactics again with the story of Kim Bennett.

Sources:

Davies H. 1968. 2009 Edition. The Beatles. New York (NY): W.W. Norton & Company. 408p.

Lewisohn M. 2013. The Beatles: All These Years Vol. 1: Tune In. New York (NY): Crown Archetype. [ebook]

#mark lewisohn #tune in #the beatles #john lennon #alfred lennon #billy hall #kim bennett #lewi-sins #this is long as hell #oop

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chrissy-n-eddie · 1 year

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for wip wednesday (thursday!) tagged by @agentmmayy 💛 I have nothing to offer except this fic that hasn't seen the light of day yet....

if Eddie and Chrissy met at the start of senior year instead of the end. i.e. the missing part 1 of the '86, baby series ;)

____

“Cutting it really fuckin’ close, Sinclair!”

“I’m on time!” Lucas argues, scrambling up and disappearing into the van with his fist out, watch first as proof.

Chrissy stays just out of view, unable to move her feet. Eddie Munson. Lucas’ ride is Eddie Munson. It doesn’t make sense. Rain is starting to thoroughly soak her hair, her dress.

“Watch the moneymaker, please,” she hears Eddie say. The van rumbles to life. “And don’t sit so close, man. Not all of us are as cuddly-wuddly as Harrington–”

“Eddie–”

“What, man? Close the door, Jesus Christ. Fuckin’ falls of Rauros out there–”

Eddie’s arm extends. His dark hair catches the hazy edge of the van light, his ringed fingers grasp the door handle.

Chrissy steps forward and smacks her hand against the window when Eddie tries to swing the door closed.

“Um,” Chrissy says. Eddie looks up at her, dark eyed.

He’s slung across Lucas’ lap where he’s lunged across to get his fingers in the door handle. Lucas sits, dripping wet with his hands in the air and his stomach sucked in like if he could become one with the seat back, he would.

“Chrissy Cunningham,” Eddie says. She didn’t know he knew her name – he says it like he can’t believe it himself.

“Sorry,” Chrissy says. Lucas is looking at her wide eyed. They both are, and it’s the only thing she can think. She wraps her arms around herself, standing against the door.

Eddie’s eyes dart over her, soaked through. He curls his fingers tighter in the door handle. His tongue darts out to wet his bottom lip.

“Look, uh. I’ve closed up shop for the night. Sorry,” he says. Drugs. He thinks she wants drugs. And he seems genuinly sorry about not giving them to her. “Do the locker thing on Monday. I’ll hook you up.”

“Eddie,” Lucas says, shoving at Eddie’s shoulder.

When Eddie tries to pull the door shut, she puts herself in the way.

“Sorry,” Chrissy says again. Her chest is fizzing, full of cold air and the rain is dripping through her bangs into her eyes. Eddie’s fingers slip out of the handle and it snaps back into place.

“Eddie,” Lucas says, a little shrill with frustration. “Jeez, man. I said you’d give her a ride. Be cool. Please.”

Eddie stares at her, from where he’s still sprawled over Lucas’ lap. His eyes are dark, the music is blasting, and the air smells like wet tarmac and cigarettes.

Chrissy shivers so hard her teeth chatter.

“You couldn’t have just said that, Sinclair?” Eddie says. He stays propped by an elbow on the worn-out fabric of the second passenger seat and reaches back to give Lucas a backhanded smack without looking.

“Ow–” Lucas’ face scrunches.

Sprawled on the seat, Eddie smiles up at her. Chrissy’s breath catches. From the cold of the rain, and– the shape of his mouth. She’s startled the smile. By how much it changes his face. Softens it. Makes his dark eyes look – gentle, maybe.

“Well, come on, come in–” Eddie moves in a burst of energy. Gesturing her in, shoving back past Lucas to sit up in the driver’s seat. He’s a flurry of leather and chains and wild hair.

Chrissy hadn’t thought past getting out of the rain. But Lucas is leaning to offer his hand. She moves without second guessing. Her foot is up on the running board of the van, and Lucas is pulling her inside.

____

gonna tag @makingatomlette @majicmarker and @notquitecogent 💛

#this is long as hell #theres like 5k of this thats been chilling in my drafs for 3 months now #hellcheer #eddissy

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ghoulchapel · 2 years

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prequelle x reputation parallels

why i think these two albums are, primarily the same thing

first of all, i think i should clarify this is pure stuff from my idiotic brain. i’m heavily influenced by taylor swift and i have a deep nonsensical adoration for the absoluteness of Ghost, so bear with me. this is the voice in my head telling me i should just let it be spoken into the void and echo the connections i've made between them

that said, let’s start, because this will be super long but i need you to stick with me, okay?

Reputation is taylor swift's sixth studio album. basically, miss swift spent three years without releasing a single thing, neither publicly showing up from february 2016 until august 2017 because of some stuff that happened since the Red era. so if you aren't familiar with what happened, here's a succinct explanation:

around 2013, there was a rumor about three of katy perry's dancers joining taylor's Red Tour but leaving before the tour concluded to join the Prismatic Tour (katy's);

in 2014, taylor released Bad Blood with all her famous friends - at the time called The Taylor Swift Squad - featured in the MV. people would swear the song was about katy but miss swift gave Rolling Stone Magazine an interview saying it was about someone else;

around june 2016 calvin harris (taylor's ex) tweeted about taylor wanting to "bury katy" after a few things going around about What We Came For drama. to sum this up, taylor co-wrote this song under a pseudonym, but he said in an interview during the promotion of the song he'd never collab with her;

if you know the tiniest about taylor, you know about the VMAs drama, and we know they were "okay" after it. but in 2016 there was that phone call, where taylor authorized to be mentioned in the song, but he never said she'd be called "that bitch". so taylor issued her statement on instagram about the mention of her name in a song where she's being degraded;

kim started to call her a snake on social media, there was the TaylorSwiftIsOverParty tag trending, her friends attacking her, and then... boom. taylor vanished and only came back when she released Look What You Made Me Do in 2017.

now, what does this have to do with Ghost and Prequelle? here's the fun part.

if you're a fan of Ghost for a while, you know about the lawsuit, and if you don't, that's okay. i won't go into much detail about it, but the former members of the band sued tobias, he won, and here's where Prequelle shines - and when i started to make my evil connections between Prequelle and Reputation back when it was released in the beautiful date of june 1st 2018 (most of them are purely for fun, some with a little bit more of my weird mind trying to find hair on eggshells. either way, enjoy the meal).

they both are a letter of what happened in their lives in the past. Faith is a big slap on the face, such as LWYMMD. i like to joke that Prequelle is Ghost's Reputation because it was written about something that messed with Tobias - and consequently, the band too.

we were finally - against Tobias' will - aware of Papa's true identity under the mask (even tho sometimes i think papa is a totally distinct person; truly horrifying to consider it's tobias under that rubber mask... wdym that's not Tyrone Emeritus aka Terzo?), he lost the trust in people he was around sharing literally everything - a bus, stage; a life if you think too hard... you share a lot when you're on the road.

people were protesting during shows (which's dumb tbh. why would you pay to watch the man you are protesting against? i don't get people), a lot of media digging the grave, and tobias was accused of stuff i won't mention because we don't know if it's true or not, and i prefer not to touch this subject. and his brother was brought up, which's fucking shitty and low if you ask my opinion. he was going thru personal and professional mayhem, and with the band growing each day, it was hard to keep it all under the covers - especially if the media was around, wanted to talk about and everyone always wanted to know who papa was. it was all a big circus on fire to watch.

similar to what happened to taylor, who had lies spread out, people being mean on social media about her, making her leave, and doubting her principles. friends turning their backs, and people she believed she could depend on walking past the line separating her and the enemy.

basically, it was their vengeance album. the one to let all the wrath and ominous emotions they were saving from the past year(s) be discharged. and let's be honest, they are both good albums.

but, they're not only about bad things, they have good stuff too, and i'll mention all the silly dumb associations i made between them that are not altogether reasonable, but fun.

both Rep and Prequelle were released in a one-year time gap;

both have songs about dancing on their title (Dancing With Our Hands Tied and Dance Macabre);

tobias would scream at the "i've got a list of names, and yours is in red underlined" part if he ever even listened to the pop radio station;

Witch Image "while you sleep in earthly delight, someone's flesh is rotting tonight" and I Did Something Bad "they're burning all the witches even if you aren't one" witch mention;

still in I Did Something Bad, we have the chorus "they say i did something bad, then why's feel so good?" and i simply connect with copia. exceptionally his current self, and the whole thing going on with him. but also, maybe, tobias and the band thing. saying he did something bad, even if he didn't - we don't know - but it was good and worthy in the end;

still in the Dance Macabre x Dancing With Our Hands Tied subject, we have the lyrics, "there's a sting in the way you kiss me" and "i had a bad feeling, but we were dancing, dancing with our hands tied" respectively, which talk about the sensation of something being wrong but not figuring out what it is;

This Is Why We Can't Have Nice Things "did you think i wouldn't hear all the things you said about me" as in an "all truth comes to light, no matter how hard you try to hide" way;

still in the TIWWCHNT, correlates with Faith "i am all eyes, i am all ears, i am the wall, and i'm watching you fall" and the "you stabbed me in the back while shaking my hand" - again from TIWWCHNT correlating to the old member's situation;

Call It What You Want is a big one for me because i like to think this would be a promising one when talking about what tobias did and what happened after and during the lawsuit. the fact he was out of sight to work on Prequelle, people calling him a liar; but feeling better now that it was over and he knows his truth. laughing with his lover, he knows he did one thing right (ref. to the CIWYW lyrics);

Rep is also an immense love letter from taylor, and i think some songs on Prequelle give me the remotest of a hopeless romantic on copia's part, but i won't get too much into it. just the fact there's a lot of a misplaced disconcerting feeling for the passion and caring of someone you hold close but you can't do much. a powerless sensation of attempting to help but knowing you can't change what is already done - only wait for the aftermath.

anyways, with all that i can assure you, i'm gone full delulu mode, but somehow this whole thing makes sense in my head. if you read until here, you're a true one.

i have several essays about ghost i could talk about all day but i try to prevent yall from seeing my insanity in action, but with the Midnights release i've decided to give it up for once.

thank you and see you a next time *bows and departs from the stage* *curtains fall*

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elvaria-project · 1 year

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Not Oversimplified Elvaria Lore- Part 3, Modern History(Warring Era- The Ember War)

Peace was never meant to be forever, and dissatisfaction kept the wounds of the minor wars from healing Flaerna still felt that they were given an unfair amount of land and renewed pushes into Walekrina and Floernian territory, but their efforts in Walekria were significantly held back by the mountain borders King Taknychko of Flaerna is assassinated, with his son Leonnox taking the throne and continuing the war effort Floernia was not so fortunate, and their border forest would be burned away as Flaerna advanced Flaerna's Scorching Council would plan a full scale invasion in secret over the span of a month, planning on enacting it within the first day of the coming month

Zodiana would choose to not get involved so long as their borders weren't intruded upon

A few days before the planned invasion date, King Anodir Zhonal of Zodiana was assassinated, and Zodiana, Floernia, and Walekria would pin the blame on Flaerna Flaerna, in anger, scrapped their invasion plan and declared war on the three kingdoms as they knew they could not prove their innocence to the other kingdoms Föllen Alatsa would not publicly declare their opinion and remain neutral to not be involved in a continent spanning war, and neither would Dalirna Walekria, Floernia, and Zodiana would join up into a military alliance and Walekria and Zodiana would send troops to occupy the Floernian borders to buy time for Floernia to build up troops More kings and queens are assassinated within the span of 5 months, with the list being- King Kolthremor Kelthrom of Åskorhal(leaving it under Queen Vethørigya) Thedeos Helithian of the Heartwood Province of Floernia Atathaeia Eurydine Diravacata of the Pinewood Province of Floernia Oranios Zilizane of the Oakwood Province of Floernia Lithinos Agistechea of the Grasslands Province of Floernia

Queen Verinae Galoris of Zodiana(leaving the throne to newly crowned Salgirtus Tulsier Zhonal)

Empress Zhi'mei Hai-yang of Walekria(leaving it under Emperor Yu'guan Qing-Shi) King Leonnox would attempt to reason with the other kingdoms that there was no feasible way for Flaerna to have assassinated so many leaders in under 5 months, but none of the kingdoms participating in the war believed him Walekrian and Zodianan occupation on the Floernia-Flaerna border ends after 6 months to focus on pushing into Flaernan territory, Floernia has enough troops to start a pushback against Flaerna and reclaim lost land Flaerna being surrounded on three sides with enemies and Föllen Alatsa maintaining neutrality, would seek Dalirna to aid them, guaranteeing protection of Dalirna's land should Zodiana launch an invasion on their shared border, and also assuring that all responsibility of Dalirnan losses would fall onto the hands of the Flaernans Dalirna would accept and believed in the innocence of Flaerna regarding the assassinations After the 2,000th year of war, Flaernans were weakened and a third of the army withdrew and defected, with some surrendering to the enemy kingdoms by offering information for their lives and lodging, and some fleeing to the surface of Föllen Alatsa to hide out The remaining forces would be pressured to continue fighting despite casualties reaching into the hundred thousands on all sides The new King Salgirtus of Zodiana feared that if the war did not end soon, the kingdoms would collapse, and so he travelled to Yūregina in secret, coming across a being(no not a demon I don't have those in Elvaria) along the Violet Rift Islands that offered him the power to end a war in exchange for his remaining lifespan and soul He would agree in desperation, gaining a strange mockery of a crown that sprouted from his head in a ring of bony tendrils and bony wings that could not fly but acted as blades These would mark his pact with the being, and he would return to Elorinar to continue the war, using illusion magic to hide the crown and wings While Floernia, Dalirna, and Flaerna failed to notice his absence, Walekria was more perceptive and viewed it as him doubting his own skill due to his youth, and would thus withdraw from the war, believing he was too young and inexperienced to lead the war and rule his kingdom He would lead the Zodianan and Floernian troops on frontlines and aim for the heart of Flaerna, assigning a separate front to force Dalirna to withdraw from the war from their own heavy casualties, would be successful He would make three more demands to end the war over the years but all three failed, leading to Salgirtus leaving behind forces at towns surrounding Embylviska and journeying alone to sacrifice himself to end the war He would call upon the power of the pact and unleashed a storm of caustic ash and bony blades that caused mass casualties among the Flaernans but avoided the other kingdoms, but the pitch black clouds tinged with red thunder spanned the whole of Elorinar This view would mark the end of this war that would come to be known as the Ember War, with Leonnox surrendering when he came to terms with the futility of the war This war would last for 2,500 years in total, leaving a great many dead or injured and many more living in the shadow of the legacy this war would leave behind -----------------------------------

So besides the war shit is the notes section which is here Yukiosa was discovered around the start of the war via Zodianan expeditions north, but they refused to join the war

Lustarise was discovered by a Föllen Alatsan right around the time Leonnox attempted to convince the other kingdom rulers that Flaerna didn't do the assassinations, but Lustarise didn't want to be known by the rest of the world and forced the Föllen Alatsan into a vow of silence When Floernia was building up troops, Nyaelis was established as a sub-kingdom by the Nynphor, where they offered troops in exchange for some sovereignty Speaking of Lustarise and Föllen Alatsa shit, Lustarise went through a whole ass war of their own during the Minor Wars era, called the War of Shattered Ruby where the Geintori half elves fought to gain some sort of sovereignty of their own. Even up to the Ember War, Lustarise and Geintora(new sub-kingdom) were dealing with how they'd officially divide the caves and allot resources for rebuilding and general living Föllen Alatsa had the Maeliron half elves create their own sub-kingdom called Maeliros Oh yeah and the Minor Wars also had some shit happening in the same time over in Yinorael, as a strange plague was inflicted upon the Yūregians that slowly twisted their forms over time to become monstrous, thus trade between them and the Hikarinians was halted with the Hikarinans fearing the spread of the strange disease to themselves Also with the end of the Ember War, missives from Åskorhal and Jivankova are sent to ask wtf happened, since the storm over Elorinar also covered the Gyvorkal Mountains and was visible from Kavathanar, so yeah they're "discovered" To previous lore post with the other links in it-

#lore #worldbuilding #fantasy #elves #infodump #this is long as hell #send help

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