#yes i am a negra. and what about it

[chiquititaosita]

Sanji with a Latina brujita s/o

Here’s one with zoro, I really had fun doing this one. Since he’s my esposo. Let me just spoil y’all with this one

Cw:

I saved my man because I love to write about him. 😭😭

- sanji realizing you’re a bruja is the cutest shit ever he has those stars in his eyes.

-“you’re a witch you must’ve casted on a spell on me with your ethereal beauty because i can’t stop admiring you Y/n Swannn!!”

- When you told Sanji you thought he was gonna be like “kill all witches- you’re not even allowed to be here.” due to religious trauma.

- he was very accepting, since he himself growing up HATED his family. Poor bby.

- sanji seeing you doing mágica cocina (kitchen magick) basically cooking with intentions. he’s never gone back to mentioning that. the minute he started doing that. He just saw ✨abundance✨

-“are you burning sage my love?” You sniffed

-“ oh I’m sorry my darling! I just had the urge to-“ you just kissed him.

“you’re good. you’re just following your intuition. It’s one of the reasons I fell in love with you.” you whispered into his ears as you pulled the collar of his buttoned up short. kissing his cheek once more.

- there he goes having another nosebleed . AGAIN

-“see romero for prosperity, protection, and abundance” sprinkling the rosemary cologne, the herb into the mop mixture with Florida water.

“Rue for dispelling negative energies, and mágica negra.”

“Agua florida for cleansing and protection. Very powerful— SANJI DONT DRINK THAT! ITS COLOGNE!! PENDEJO!” His eyes widened and he spat out the cologne, coughing so much the ran to the railings on the sunny hacking, he threw up slightly.

-“Hey! Curly! at least you cleansed your lungs from having black lungs and no teeth KYAHAHHAA.” Zoro had no filter, and no right TO BE THAT PETTY!. Sanji just kicked him with his long leggies.

“Y/n Swannn!- have you seen my-“ you light his cigarette for him with your own lighter you use for your spirits.

“Darling, I have a question.”

“Hmm? What is it? amor?”

“How do you get rid of unwanted guests?”

“Turn the broom upside down.” you told him as you were giving the food offerings to your spirits.

“Do they eat that?” He puffs out the smoke

“Mhm. look I promise if it was luffy. It wouldn’t have stayed this fresh. there’s lots of crumbs see.” You point and he’s in amazement.

When he placed the broom upside down in the kitchen. he saw luffy run away! Sanji ran back to you and shower you with his love.

- he always watched you afar doing your rituals, he didn’t want to bother you nor want you to lose your focus.

-“ here’s some fruit. I don’t know if your ancestors will like it.” when he left it on there. He just placed it there as a way to introduce himself.

- he wanted their approval. he got it within two days. He talked about how you helped everyone. Just praising you.

-Saying “thank you for blessing me with this woman of my life. you do not understand how down bad I am for y/n San.” he kneels. As he felt a touch.

“No mijo. thank you. for being there for her. thanking for taking the time to meet us.” He saw an elderly woman who was your mentor. He was shook.

After a day passed by with the fruit. It looked like it was chewed up. And disappeared.

“What the!? Y/n CHANNN!!! What does it mean!?”

“They’re pleased. That’s why. Did you give them food?” You we’re in Awee as you heard him nod.

“You’re so sweet!!!”

- “Y/n!!! Merolinneee!! I have a gift for you!” he smiles and gives you roses. For you and your spirits. he knows that you’ll use them. Which makes his flutter knowing that they’ll be used for a purpose.

- You always make him wear an evil eye bracelet on his right hand..

- “Y/n chwan! YOU have a gift for me?!!” He’s in shock and he’s in love. His eyes will pop out of his sockets shape into hearts.

- “Yes let me put it on you.” you’d kiss his wrist making a cross on his wrist with a oil blend you made. then tied the bracelet on his right wrist.

“If it breaks,like it just unravels, an eye goes missing, or it just comes off. let me know. Take it off immediately.” He nods like an eager puppy.

when the bracket broke he didn’t know why he felt so bad poor baby.

“No no honey it’s okay, it just means it was done protecting you. You have people who are jealous of you that’s why.” You hugged him and explained the concept of mala de ojo (evil eye).

- He was in such great shock to find out how he felt better when he wore the bracelet he felt less stressed. He could sleep peacefully.

-when he’s not feeling well (which is rare) you know someone is up to something. “We’re going to the kitchen.”

- you do a limpia on him. He’s just relaxed to your touch. you understand he’s going to think it’s weird but he doesn’t. He finds it fascinating. when you rub the egg on his body.

- when you crack it into the clear class of water . You noticed what he had. You knew it was evil eye. “Mhm. Always. they’re from your previous job.” you rolled your eyes and disposed of the egg.

-“so now what?”

-“that’s it. How do you feel.”

“So much better thank you mom amour!!!”” He kisses you passionately

“What does it mean seeing a blue butterfly ?”

“ a new cauldron for my witch of my life!!”

-“ did you like the crystals I found!?-“

-“ you smell so good.”

-“ what’s my card of the day?”

-“ is the moon full tonight merolineee!! I want to make a meal for releasing past grudges.”

“Some mugwort for you and your divination.”

-“marigolds for day of the dead.”

-“ does your saint want a cigarette?”

“Have the spirits had their refreshments!?”

“Please keep my all blue safe. healthy and well.”

- If you’re a devotee to La señora Guadalupe he’s going to give her roses, cookies and water. And some wine. he’ll offer her something light and clean. He’ll go all out for her (I feel like he’s more familiar with her, than other ones)

- he switches out La Virgens space in your altar. Because you know how you can’t organize it.

-sanjis really organized surprisingly.

-he’ll buy you a necklace and bracelet of her. (Already cleansed and charged)

- she answered his prayers multiple times actually. “You’re going to be okay. mijo. Just breathe.”

- If you’re a devotee to La Santisma Muerte (like me lmao) he’ll light a cigarette and puff the smoke on her statues, place a box of them on her altar. Alcohol is a MUST. apples.

-she knows sanjis true intentions sometimes she talks to him in his dreams. (He’s a Pisces and Pisces have very vivid dreams)

- sanji will buy you a necklace for Santisma and take it to get blessed by the nearest shaman or devotee wherever island is possible.

- one time santisma told sanji “stretch your legs pendejo! you’re gonna get Charlie horse if you don’t do that shit!” She’ll wack him with her scythe.

-WATER SHE REALLY LIKES WATER. He always

sex magick now that’s another story.

- He’s in for it surprisingly

-the aftercare is legendary. because you know it works. he’ll be more obedient to you and nice to you.

- overall Sanji with a brujita s/o is like a dream come true to him. You got him wrapped around your finger

#one piece imagines #sanji x latina reader #bruja reader #brujita #sanji x y/n #sanji vinsmoke #sanji imagine #sanji fluff #sanji x fem reader #sanji x reader smut #vinsmoke sanji x reader #black leg sanji #one piece imagine #shanks x reader #pirate hunter zoro #zoro x reader #sanji/reader #sanji x you

[classicalshorts]

Paint it NERO!

No, nothing to do with the emperor who fiddled while Rome burnt. This is the final entry in the Cool Colours series on words that English derived from Latin and Greek colour words. So, tonight, you guessed it, we are going to PAINT IT BLACK! (yes, I am a Stones fan!).

Okay, we start with Latin. I am going to take a slightly different approach tonight and look at how the Latin for black (niger, nigra, nirgum) evolved into different modern European languages. These are all called the 'Romance' languages, but nothing to with love. It is because they derive from the language of the Romans. The most similar to the Latin original are the Poruguese, Spanish, and Romanian:

Spanish: negro, negra Portuguese: negro, negra Romanian: negru

The main change is that the 'i' in the Latin has changed to an 'e'. Note how Spanish and Portuguese have retained the masculine and feminine endings -o, and -a. The neuter (the '-um' in Latin) has disappeared.

Now, French and Italian represent interesting and slightly different example of linguistic evolution.

French: noir, noire Italian: nero, nera

Once again, we see the masculine and feminine endings remain, but slightly different. The 'g' of the Latin has disappeared. This is not unheard of ease of pronunciation or pleasure of sound may explain this; the harder sound is dropped over time to leave the more pleasant, gentler nero, for example. In French, nigro (Latin ablative) became noir, a word still visibly connected to it Latin roots, just altered.

However, there may be something a little more complicated, but very, very interesting. Now, Latin is not the only ancient Italian language. Some of its own words come from these, or have combined as language evolves. And there are even examples where these non-Latin Italian languages have bequeathed us fascinating derivatives in their own right.

One of these languages was Umbrian, spoken by the central Italian peoples and closely connected to Oscan (more about these in a later post). In Umbrian, the word for black or dark seems to have been niru, very similar to modern French and Italian. This leaves us with questions. Was the Umbrian word the principal parent word of the French and Latin for black? Or did it combine with Latin as it evolved? Latin and Umbrian were likely connected either by Umbrian bequesting to Latin or via a connection to a mutual parent.

Isn't language amazing? Such a rich legacy from a famous ancient language, and one that has almost been forgotten.

So, now to Greek. Are you feeling a little down or sad? If so, you may be said to be feeling melancholy, in other words (and rather less poetically), you have a touch of black bile. The word comes from Greek as follows:

μελας, μελαινα, μελαν - black, dark

χολή - bile

So how do we get from black bile to a feeling of sadness? This goes back to ancient Greek medical theory. The theory of the four humours, an early holistic approach to understanding the funcitoning of the body and disease, often attributed to medical writer and thinker Hippocrates (yep, author of the oath which doctors still pledge allegiance to). The 'humours' corresponded to the four fluids of the body, of which black bile was one, accounting for certain diseases, but also feeling low. What a rich cultural history finding its origins in the early days of science?

And so, this article brings my series on Cool Colours, modern words from ancient Latin and Greek (primarily) for colour. I hope you have enjoyed it.

If you would like more content like this (language related) or would like more stuff generally about the ancient world and how it relates to our own, please DM me.

See you in my next series, whatever that may be!

#derivatives #latin language #ancient greek #romance languages #portuguese #spanish #romanian #italian #french #umbrian #Hippocrates #melancholy #humours #classics #ancient world

[spanishskulduggery]

Hola! Acabo de comprar el libro "Orgullo Prieto" por Tenoch Huerta, el quien interpreta a Namor en la nueva pelicula de Black Panther. Aun no lo he empezado, pero tengo una pregunta: se que "prieto" significa alguien con piel oscuro, pero deberia decirlo como alguien blanco? No se si es una palabra que solo las personas en el grupo en cuestion deberian decir -- es un poco de contexto social que yo falto, como alguien aprendiendo espanol y que tambien no es latino. Quiero ser respetuoso. Gracias!

Tengo mucho que decir sobre los aspectos culturales y todo eso, pues tendré que recurrir al inglés porque es demasiado y hablaré demasiado.

I have to preface this by saying I'm not Mexican, I don't speak for Mexicans or any nationality or ethnicity. I can only share what I know.

I would say it would be best to hear from someone who is a native speaker how they feel about it and where they are, I imagine you're going to see different feelings from different areas in Latin America, and probably within Mexico itself.

Followers/Native speakers, what do you think?

In my limited experience, it's yes and no. Yes it can be used pejoratively, but no it isn't always.

It's definitely not the kind of word you'd want to mess up using though

But in the case of Mexico, I wouldn't use that word as I'm very white and also not Mexican so I would be worried I'd come out sounding like an imperialist; but that's me. It's not that the word is always offensive (I believe), but there are people who use it as an insult. When people are using it as an insult in Mexico, it tends to carry a very negative stereotype. When Tenoch Huerta was talking about his experiences, there were people who called him a prieto in a way that implied that he was uppity and didn't know his place

I believe in some areas of Mexico it's less pejorative than others, but it's one of those things that it depends on the region and above all it depends on the intention

If you're trying to err on the side of caution, the correct word that is almost always perfectly fine to say is moreno/a which refers to people with dark skin, dark eyes, or dark hair. It is also the basic word for "brunette", so you may have to specify piel morena "dark skin". But in general, moreno/a is the most universally accepted word that will not get you into trouble

Please also know that moreno/a can refer to any ethnicity, the word negro/a for la gente negra "black people" usually gets used with people of African ancestry. The word prieto/a on the other hand - in Mexico at least - to me makes me think of people of indigenous ancestry with very dark skin, so it's like a different identity. I believe (but am not certain) that in other countries especially in the Caribbean it can be used for people of African descent too, so it's also a regional difference. And I believe even in the US, in a place like Louisiana, prieto/a can often refer to dark-skinned Creole people or black people in general

If you're looking at etymology, prieto/a refers to "black" the color, but as a descriptor of people it's regional who you're talking about

Now onto the things that I know which is more cultural and might give you more info in general...

It can be used offensively, but there are times when it does not mean that - and it can depend on the country, because the word can be used by other countries and can have less of a pejorative meaning

The general word prieto/a means "swarthy", and in some cases it refers to those of indigenous descent or mixed race that have skin that's very dark, and in some contexts they're said to "almost be black", which is from the times of colonialism where indigenous people, African people, and European people were in the same countries/regions/societies. But there was a clear distinction and "castes" based on someone's lineage and racial background

You have to remember that the word mestizo/a meaning "mixed-race" also does mean "mongrel" or "mutt"; and though it traditionally now refers to people of mixed indigenous roots [commonly it's a mix of indigenous and European; it's commonly said that Hernán Cortés the famous conquistador and his mistress La Malinche had a child who is known in history as the first mestizo; his name is usually understood to be Martín Cortés el Mestizo].

The word itself means "mixed together", but for people who value "purity" of blood, mestizo/a is an insult, and it's very antiquated like the castes

Also, when I say "castes" I mean there were specific words for specific mixes of bloodlines [if you're reading older things you'll see indio/a, prieto/a, mulato/a, mestizo/a, zambo/a or sambo/a... not many have totally carried over into modern Spanish except in certain contexts or etymologies, aside from maybe mestizo/a and mulato/a which I think most people recognize]

And within castes, there was colorism and so in many countries, not just Mexico, you'll find there are words for lighter-skinned people and words for darker-skinned people, and sometimes they're used as basic nouns and sometimes they're used as insults. The words for darker-skinned people as insults comes out as saying they're animalistic, savage, stupid, or sometimes uppity. The words for lighter-skinned people as insults come out as something like saying they think they're too good for everyone, they're pretentious, they're not really connected to the culture, and things like that.

Colorism in Latin America is far more present than "racism" as we would see it in the US, where even in the same families or communities, your skin tone might change how others treat you. Colorism in Latin America is very much also linked to classism, with lighter skinned people being treated better and having a better chance to marry upwards, which makes sense when you consider the history of imperialism and slavery in many countries in the Americas not just Latin America

There's even a fairly common expression in Spanish that I did not know was racist when I learned it but it was aunque la mona se vista de seda, mona se queda which means "call it what it is" but it literally means "even though the female monkey wears silk, she's still a monkey"... which I think speaks for itself

...

All of that aside, prieto/a in some Latin American countries means "really really dark", it's considered even darker than regular moreno/a "tan/dark-skin", and the other word that gets used is sometimes trigueño/a which you'd say as like "olive-skinned" or "dark"

Generally it just comes out as "swarthy"

In Spain, the word prieto/a can be "black" as in the color, but it could also be "tight" or "tightly-fitted" since the word comes from apretar "to squeeze" [your general word for "tight" is ajustado/a just FYI]

It doesn't quite have the same cultural connotations in Spain as far as I know, but in countries with colonial history it could, given that darker-skinned people in different countries were and still sometimes are treated a certain way or given certain jobs/roles in society, a word like prieto/a could be used as a way to "remind someone of their place"

(Also note that Prieto can be a surname, so it's not inherently racist but if you said it in the wrong place in the wrong way you might offend some people)

...

As you can probably tell this is one of those big issues with not a lot of good answers, and your experiences will vary.

#tw: racism #tw: colorism #asks #long post #followers? #my understanding is that using prieto/a is sometimes like reclaiming the word for themselves

[luvsigil]

Lesbian Separatism, Cottage Core, and the Female Gaze.

My friend @sayumiz and I got into a very interest conversation last night, and with us both being Black nonbinary bisexuals we exchanged how we felt about certain online discourse relating to sexuality, gender, and race. First, I wanna start by saying the female gaze is bullshit that centers white cis femininity. Most of the videos I’ve seen talking about the female gaze show women who are white or lighter skin poc, put an emphasis on purity and shows an aesthetic that has been carefully crafted to uplift white beauty. “The female gaze is what women find attractive/beautiful.” but you see, all women aren’t the same. Historically speaking- darkskin, trans, and fat women haven’t been seen as beautiful by people in general. I go further to say that white women have never found black women to be the epitome of beauty. Nor has society as a whole. In fact, white women have used their beauty and femininity against black women to have power over them and oppress them.

Last year, we were all terrorized by cottage core an aesthetic about floral dresses, living in the plains, cows and of course being as far away from les negras as possible. See, I’m very passionate about aesthetics but the way white lesbians talk about gives my black ass the creeps. This is another aesthetic that centers white cis women. I’ve seen videos and tweets about how people want to runaway with their gfs and escape all the hardships of the world, but then you keep scrolling on their page and it’s just antiblackness, transphobia, and radfem ideology. I’m not saying the aesthetic in itself is bad, I’ve met cottage core girlies who are really nice and just like organic living, but it all just boils down to “I wanna ignore all the mishaps in the world and wear shitty floral dresses from shein.”

In a way, this all ties in lesbian separatism and I wanna show a few tweets that really sum it up.

The question is: What do you want to separate yourself from? Cause when we really boil it down to the surface, you want to separate yourself from transwomen, bisexuals and black/poc. The way I’ve seen (mostly white) lesbians talk about how ~evil~ bisexuals are and how transwomen are trying to invade their “spaces”, and the way y’all invalidate the experiences off queer poc, it’s became very obvious as to why you want to separate yourselves.

To sum this all up: Y’all ain’t slick. You sit online victimizing yourself because your sexuality is the only thing you can hold on to. You complain about fetishisation, being called slurs, etc. But then turn around and invalidate what other people go through. And yes I’m playing the oppression olympics because as black nonbinary bisexual, I am more oppressed than you- a white cis lesbian who has the privilege to runaway, ignore societies problems and plant strawberries.

#my thoughts #tw #lgbt discourse #discourse #racism #transphobes #tw radfems #lesbian separatism #text post #intersectional feminism #cottage core #lgbtq #female gaze #white people need to be stopped #white supremism #white feminism

[elsanna-shenanigans]

June Contest Submission #19: Nube Negra

Words: ca. 3,700 Setting: post-F2 Lemon: no CW: self-harm, angst

“It looks ready to storm outside.”

“Huh, you think?”

“Yeah, look.”

“Mmm. Does that mean you’ll stay longer?”

“Stay longer?”

“Yes, stay longer.”

It was always frustratingly fleeting, the times that Elsa would come to the castle. She would come for just a single night, maybe once a week if that, and often would not even stay until morning. The rain had provided the perfect excuse, it would have been simple for her to stay. Elsa wanted to stay, right?

Anna slumped in her throne, one hand tightly gripping the arm. The other raked its way up her face and through her hair, smoothing it for the hundredth time. Why? What had she done to deserve this ire? It had all been going so well before, so what changed?

She needed to reflect on what happened last night. How could it have gone so wrong? It was just a simple request. Now Elsa was upset, and she had to piece together why. But maybe she should have expected that from her, because her efforts always made Elsa upset, didn’t they. No, that was cruel.

‘Think, Anna!’

There was only a limited amount of time before court began, so she would have to do this quickly. Now then, where did this all begin?

__________________

The day was beautiful, and the heat gentle. The humidity did its best to smother everyone, but the heat was far too tame to cause breathy discomfort. Gale had brought a message confirming the allotted time, and Anna had the time set aside by her advisors. Running a country took a lot of effort, but she could always make room for Elsa.

Anna had noticed the grey clouds gathering in the distance and hoped to the gods above that Elsa would make it before they realized their threat. It probably didn’t matter, since it wasn’t like she felt the cold or that type of discomfort. They would have fun, indoors or out. That’s what mattered. If she was lucky, it was possible that they would be able to cuddle up again while the rain pattered down.

It was strange though, Elsa’s letter. Something about the word choice felt stilted, or maybe reluctant was the better word. There seemed to be many a reference to being very busy and still hoping to make it, despite all the issues. Was she trying to say that she wasn’t coming at all? If so, why not state it outright? But that was something they could bring up later, since Elsa didn’t have to come if she really didn’t want to. Anna wasn’t that clingy.

__________________

‘The letter.’

Oh man, she should have read that more carefully and taken it to heart. Stupid, stupid, stupid, how could she have been so blind? Elsa hadn’t wanted to spend time with her and tried to let her down easily. And who could blame her? Anna could be clingy and overbearing on the best of days. Was that an attempt to spare her the upset?

Elsa had always been the reclusive type, even before the accident. Heck, even afterwards it was difficult to spend time with her. Anna had tried to respect those boundaries, but even she knew she had broken them occasionally. That was wrong, wasn’t it. Terribly, utterly wrong. Boundaries were there for a reason.

Her head ached and a sick feeling rose in her chest, along with a lump and a pit in her stomach. God, god, oh god she was horrible. Her nails dug into her forehead and raked her scalp hard as tears threatened to well. No! The person in the wrong should not be upset for their misconduct, it was their own misbehavior.

It was for the best that Elsa spent her time away from someone so awful, who treated her in such a sick way. Making her so deeply uncomfortable and yet still drew her in like a tired moth. And yet, and yet loving Kristoff, good Kristoff…

He gave it all up, hadn’t he? But he was the son of love experts, he would know, they would know. He had offered to help them hide, had known since long before. And yet he stood with them. Why? Why would he give hope to someone like her?

__________________

They had spoken in private before. Matters of the heart, discussions of romance. It was a topic of common interest between them, and Anna was a quick learner. Kristoff was as enthusiastic as she, but over time something in their dynamic changed. Maybe it was the spark in his eye, or maybe it was her dulled excitement. Whatever it was, something was off.

It all came to a head when he stopped her in the hall one day, and they retreated to a private study where they would not be disturbed. Kristoff himself looked impassive, though she could tell his composure was just a bit off.

Kristoff breathed in, and spoke:

“Anna, I know.”

A spark of confusion and worry leapt into her chest as she responded.

“Know what?” Her voice was pitched up, almost breathless.

“Look, I know how you feel about Elsa.”

“Y-you what? I- You do?! I- I mean I don’t feel anything about her, except well sisterly love but you know that’s normal! Right? Right.”

“Hey, hey, it’s okay.” Kristoff gave a wan chuckle, “I’m not mad.” Anna blinked. “You’re not?”

“Anna, I was raised by love experts. Trust me when I say I know what I’m talking about. And you sister? You’re in love.”

“But… but I’m not. Well, I am but it’s with you.”

Kristoff shook his head and smiled.

“You really are oblivious huh.”

“I am not!”

“Okay, let me put it this way. What would you do for her?”

“Anything! You know that!”

“Would you die for her?”

“You know I would and did with that whole frozen heart thing! I’d be dead if it weren’t true love!’

“Feistypants, that’s not how people usually act. And the true love? It doesn’t apply to everyone.” “That was sisterly love and you know it.”

“Anna,” he said, “listen to me. I know what I’m talking about. It’s okay to admit it.”

She looked at him, mouth quivering, then said, “But what about you?”

“What about me?” “Wouldn’t that hurt you?”

Kristoff shook his head. “I’ve gotten over it, really. I just want you to be happy, okay? That’s what would make me happy.”

Anna shook her head and hugged him. “God, Kristoff, I don’t think I could repay you.”

“How ‘bout a sack of the best carrots you can find for Sven?”

“Kristoff!”

“Okay, okay, geeze.” He raised his hands in mock defeat. “But really, I’m here for you.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, really.”

__________________

She knew well that probably hurt him a lot, especially when he proposed to keep their facade going. After all, it was improper for a young man like him to spend time with the princess unless they were to marry or something similar. But it was even more improper for a Queen to love her sister. Certainly, there was precedent but not between sisters.

And yet for a time, all was good. They spent time together, they snuggled and kissed in private. It was easy. They were in love, and that came with some arguments, but nothing was wrong. But then the apathy began to settle in, and Elsa began to almost resent being there.

The change was so subtle, maybe she had no chance at noticing. But maybe there was just that base incompatibility of certain parts of them that they had ignored in their honeymoon phase. At what point had she become upset at the lack of contact between them despite the plethora of time they had? When did Elsa become tired of her presence, annoyed to have company?

She should have capitalized her time when they both lived together. She should have done something, anything other than what they had done. She should have reached out first and communicated. That’s what she had always been told, that communication was key to a relationship. And she failed, hadn’t she? She failed, and she was seeing the consequences of that.

Should have, could have, would have. It was useless now, because the present moment became the past and she did not. In the moment, it did hurt when they weren’t together or if she felt that Elsa would leave her again. And she did, didn’t she? But maybe that was inevitable. Maybe that was healthiest for them both if she was too overbearing and hurt by their childhood to heal while Elsa was still there. Worst of all was the fact that she might have to be okay with that and heal from her own mistakes.

Anna’s hands shook as she tried to steel her nerves and not curl up, crying. She wanted nothing more than to scream and cry and beg in upset. Instead, she raked her nails over her scalp again, relishing in the little grounding the pain provided. This was far too much for one little girl like her to handle.

‘No!’ she screamed mentally. She was a queen, an adult woman, and it was time for her to act like one. This entire mess was her fault, and she had to take responsibility. She could not- would not collapse emotionally in front of her people. Even when her sister had seemingly died, she took the next right step. Even in her deep uncertainty, she willed herself composure until it was over.

There was no use in pitying herself or behaving like she wasn’t the one who instigated this. What she had to do was do better in the future. And thus, she had to relive what went wrong so that she might now do right. It was only what Elsa deserved. And maybe Elsa didn’t deserve to have someone like her, but she would do her best to be the best partner she could be.

And yet, she still couldn’t help but be upset at the rejection.

__________________

She waited in the entrance hall, as was customary. There was nothing quite like watching the grand double doors open to let in Elsa’s figure. The juxtaposition between the massive oak doors and the tiny silhouette of her sister was mesmerizing. It always called to mind a painting where the splash of color drew the eye and allowed the art to unfold from there.

And then they didn’t. She waited, and waited, but there was no Elsa. The grey clouds had coalesced by now and had begun darkening. What caused her to be so late? There had to be a reason for it. Maybe she had gotten caught in some early downpour in the forest?

There had to be a reason. Elsa was not the type to be tardy, so it had to be something else. Still, it irked her some. Couldn’t she have sent a forward letter with Gale informing her that she might be late? Or maybe she was too busy to do that. Maybe she was in danger and it was awful to suspect her.

Anna read and reread the letter, hoping to glean some new meaning out of it. Unfortunately, the letter stayed inert and did not succumb to her wishes. All she could tell was that Elsa was supposed to come at the correct time but was busy. Busy with what? It never clarified, and it was probably rude to ask. Still, it couldn’t hurt to emphasize the importance, right?

But then Elsa became later and later and Anna continued her vigil in the entrance hall. It was foolish really, she ought to be working on things now so that they might have more time later to make up for the time lost. But she still desperately wanted to be there when Elsa arrived so she waited.

Finally, the time came. Anna was twisting her hands and watching the door with aching eyes, hardly daring to blink. 

‘There. Movement. Please, let it be her.’

And it was. Elsa’s face seemed almost haggard in the firelight, though her expression was neutral. She was perfectly dry, and seemed to be alright. That piqued Anna’s curiosity more, but she shoved it down. Anna then smiled and crinkled her eyes, caught between conflicting emotions and genuine gladness. Only the gladness was allowed to shine through.

“Hey you, you’re finally here.”

“Hey, I’m here.”

Such a simple statement. And yet it sucked the wind out of Anna.  The lack of enthusiasm hurt, but she was determined to spend this time well. They greeted each other with a simple peck on the lips.

__________________

What a fool she had been to not say anything then. Should she have called her sister out to prevent what was to happen next? No, that probably would have escalated the conflict sooner than it had. The conflict was inevitable by then. Maybe if they… no. No ‘maybe’s or ‘what if’s. She had to figure out what to do next.

The letter was her hint. Elsa did not want to stay for long, likely because she tired easily of human contact. That had been established. But why did she say nothing in that case? Why did she always shield herself behind excuses of being busy and implications but never statements of how she felt? That wasn’t fair. She’d done her best to interpret them.

No, that wasn’t fair at all. Heat rose unbidden to Anna’s face and her teeth bared themselves in fury as her brow furrowed deeply. How dare she, how dare she! This was not Anna in its entirety! She made mistakes, yes, but so had Elsa! At least she was willing to think back and change her poor behavior!

She wanted to scream again, to shout, to beat her fists against something in fury. Stomping, pacing, clenching her hands until they hurt. It almost felt cathartic to imagine it, but she maintained composure. An adult did not throw fearsome tantrums.

But now her upset morphed into rage and the thoughts spilled into her mind. It wasn’t right that she always blamed herself. It wasn’t right that Elsa never communicated and always locked herself away. It wasn’t fair, it wasn’t right, and she ought to be allowed negative emotion, oughtn’t she?

‘You know that’s unhealthy. But it’s fair, it had to be fair.’

But it wasn’t, she had the right to be angry, right? Elsa may have thought she was doing the best she could, but she hadn’t. Couldn’t she see how much that hurt the people around her? How much it hurt her? She reached out again and again to her sister, trying to help, trying to care, and how many times had it been rejected?

Who else then, could she have blamed? Certainly not her parents. They weren’t the ones who were seemingly mysteriously shunned. They weren’t the ones who were faced with the prospect of being trapped in a gilded cage after being given a taste of freedom.

Spreading blame was wrong, she knew this. It was worthless in such a hapless event like their childhood. But she couldn’t help but have her heart rate rise at the mere thought of Elsa’s actions recently. She ought to know better! 

It simply wasn’t fair. It was not fair. She did her best. Elsa withdrew. She tried to find out what was wrong. Elsa withdrew. Was there nothing she could do that didn’t involve driving her away? And in that instant, less than a fraction of a fraction of a second, she hated Elsa for everything that happened.

The moment ended and she was struck with a bitter sting of remorse that left her insides twisted and hollow. Hatred wouldn’t fix their relationship. Anger wouldn’t either. Neither would self-pity nor self-hatred. The only thing that could fix this was reflection and work. So reflect she would.

__________________

Everything had been going so well. Despite her initial misgivings, Elsa seemed to mellow out and allow herself to be swept up in the games. Anna forgot her concerns and they played, all of them, as a group. When was the last time they had been able to do this? Spend time all together, embrace, and lose herself in Elsa’s arms? When did it become so that their relationship oft lacked such basic touch?

What had gone so wrong?

It mattered not. She enjoyed every stroke from Elsa, every cuddle. She stroked Elsa’s jaw, Elsa played her fingers on the nape of Anna’s neck. The sensation was electrical. They continued such touches throughout the lovely evening and until it was time for Elsa to go.

 Already, Anna ached for the phantom comforts from Elsa, but she walked her to the main hall. There, they spotted black clouds lying in ambush above, and waiting for them to leave. 

They spoke the fateful words, Elsa being the one to ring the fatal doom-toll.

“It looks ready to storm outside.”

“Huh, you think?”

“Yeah, look.”

“Mmm. Does that mean you’ll stay longer?”

“Stay longer?”

“Yes, stay longer.”

__________________

Anna couldn’t help but wince at those words. They circled themselves, round and round in her head. Rumination they called it, but she knew that they would not leave her until her dying day. Powerful was the pain of hypotheticals.

She should have known something was wrong when Elsa became increasingly less receptive to contact. Maybe she should have known something was worse when she openly snuggled. But that didn’t make sense. Elsa had never been reluctant to express love, even if it was difficult at times.

Contact, she suspected, may have been linked with the frequency of seeing her. Elsa’s visits stopped up as if they had become increasingly difficult. It wasn’t like being around her was the issue, even though it clearly was. It seemed that Elsa was reluctant to come, but glad to stay for a time. 

‘But not for longer,’ her brain reminded her.

No, not for longer. That much was clear now. It was upsetting, but she also understood that it must have been one of Elsa’s boundaries that she had broken. Of course it was. She should have known from before. It almost felt like a minefield, blinded as she was from communication. 

She breathed out as she understood. They needed to talk. What mattered is that they talked.

__________________

When Elsa said no, Anna couldn’t help but ask and wheedle for her to stay. Both out of a desire to see her for longer and because it concerned her to see Elsa in what was likely to be a massive storm. It wasn’t like the forest had a roof, and Ahtohallan caused her more worry than not.

Elsa grew increasingly frustrated to the point where they broke into a shouting match. Anna didn’t know whose voice raised first, or why they began shouting anymore. She had run the memory so ragged and remembered it so much that it was hardly more than a blur.

Still, she could remember the intense emotional pain that came with it, raw and jagged. The upset was so severe that she felt sick mid-argument, wishing for anything else, anyone else to be there. The build-up had boiled over and all came crashing down.

At the same time, the clouds decided to drop their heavy yokes and loose the rains upon them. The crash of thunder and flashes of lightning punctuated their furor. They threw insults and upset word, uncaring of the consequences. In that moment, the only objective was to hurt as much as possible.

Nobody intervened, as they let the fight play out. In the end, Elsa stormed out into the heavy rains as Anna called her name with increasing hysteria. She crumpled to the ground in defeat as her senses and rationality returned to her.

__________________

It hurt to remember, she didn’t want to. Anna longed to take the memory and shove it away so that she might be spared the pain and embarrassment of her own childish actions. But that too would be childish, so she instead reflected on it.

Her behavior was wrong. She behaved poorly and broke boundaries in the relationship. Realistically, Elsa should have left her for such things and didn’t. That much was true. Anna had to learn from her mistakes and remake herself into a better person. Someone who could love Elsa without hurting her.

But Elsa wasn’t an angel either. She had failed to communicate. Her silence was inasmuch a sin of inaction as Anna’s was of action. She could not know she had done wrong until she was told by Elsa. Dropping only hints and then blowing up at a person when they misinterpreted them was also wrong.

Anna sighed. She may have been able to recognize that it was not solely her, but she had no control over Elsa either. What she did have control over was herself, and she intended to do the next right thing. What more could she do?

Love took work, and True Love doubly so. She had made a mistake, but she would not cower from her burden. No, she would not do that, not to Elsa. She would fix this, somehow. She would find a way to communicate with her, to reach the same level, and intended to work with her to improve what they somehow broke.

Anna’s heart clenched as she realized that it all balanced on one thing. That Elsa would be willing to extend her hand and meet her halfway. She would do all she could, but there was a very strong possibility that it wouldn’t happen.

It would hurt terribly. She knew that they could have ruined everything forever, and she would have to live with that. Could she live with that? Yes, she had to. For her people, and most of all for herself. Even the largest jagged wounds could heal. But she hoped against hope that Elsa felt the same way.

It seemed an uncertain given with their true love. Of course they would heal, that is why their love was true. But the damage they had unwittingly done due to their inherent differences was large. Could they? It had to be.

But she didn’t have time to think about it any longer. It was time for court to be held, and she would address her problems later. Now the time came for Queen Anna to rule wisely and compassionately. That was a queen’s duty to her people.

As the doors opened to the first petitioner, Anna saw their silhouette.

“…You?”

#elsanna #submission #June 2021 contest #prompt: storm #cw: angst #cw: self harm

[bunnie-the-lighthouse]

𝑀𝒾 𝐹𝓁𝑜𝓇, 𝑀𝒾 𝒜𝓂𝑜𝓇

Pairing: ATEEZ Jung Woo-Young & Reader

Warnings: Cursing & It’s Horrendously Long

Inspiration: My Friend & I Being Crackheads

Type: Fluff

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

“Ay man, how’s it going?” Woo-Young exclaimed while wrapping his arm around his friend’s shoulder -- San. “Oh, the ol’mighty Jung Woo-Young, the Dancing Champion,” he laughed as the younger smirked. “Are you ready for the Hípica*?” Woo-Young questioned while leaning onto his left hip.

“Ideay, el mae está bien preparado*,” San chuckled while looking at Woo-Young’s attire. The young one had a cotona*, ripped blue jeans with a leather belt, cowboy boots, and finally, a white panamanian hat* -- to stand out from the crowd. “Of course! You gotta be prepared for those events.. Plus, you gotta attract the ladies, man!” he laughed as San grinned and shook his head.

“Do you think there’ll be pretty ladies?” Woo-Young questioned as San shrugged, “Every Hípica is basically the same each year,” he trailed off while brushing his horse’s coat. “Well, up to a point that’s true, but I’m sure that this year’s Hípica will be great,” the younger comforted.

By ten in the morning, Woo-Young and San were at the Hípica, getting prepared for the races and championships. The Dancing Champion petted his horse, an onyx black stallion who adopted the name of ‘Sombra*’.

“Woo-Young-Ah! ¡Los otros ya están aquí*!” San called as the Champion turned around and saw the other ATEEZ members, Seong-Hwa already on his snow white stallion ‘Maltese’, Yeo-Sang on his pinto black and white stallion ‘Gallopinto*’, and finally -- San on his dark brown mare, ‘Gitana*’.

Sombra, Maltese, Gallopinto, and Gitana were the four horses that would compete in the Hípica as the other members were there for support or to help out in their family businesses. For some context, Hípicas are basically small equestrian festivals where people around the country would meet up in one city and showcase their horses’ skills.

The first few races went by, and with Maltese’s agility skills, ATEEZ were able to win against the others. Gallopinto was a master at jumping over fences while Gitana was fast and resistant, being able to dash long distances without getting exhausted.

Now, while the three other members were resting, it was now Dancing Champion Woo-Young’s turn. He clicked his tongue, guiding Sombra as the speakers started playing some tunes, making Sombra immediately react and start dancing (aka trotting in synchronization and order).

The crowd cheered loudly as only Sombra’s moves were truly aweing -- overshadowing the other horses that were partaking in the same competition. And, as the song was ending, Woo-Young got off his horse and danced with the music, moving his hips and gracefully yet sharply executing other moves.

As children ran by to go and play, the ATEEZ boys were eating under the outdoor tent, taking a break while drinking some Cacao* and Chicha*. "Ahh.. Now we have the rest of the day to have fun," Woo-Young sighed out in relief as the heat was starting to get a bit intrusive. After all, it was around one or two in the afternoon. "Indeed, but I think I may be helping my family during the evening since, you know, more people come in order to eat," Hong-Joong chuckled.

The boys then continued on speaking while Woo-Young was distracted by something. You. You were wearing a red güipil* that revealed your shoulders, ripped jeans, and also cowboy shoes. Your hair was styled into a waterfall braid together with some sacuanjoche flowers* that were embedded into the braid.

One of the flowers then fell down, and unknowingly, you walked away into a crowd. Woo-Young placed down his cups and ran towards the dirt street, reaching down to pick up the lone flower. He then looked at the crowd to see if he could find you again..

“Mae, you’ve been holding onto that flower for ages now,” Yeo-Sang stated as Woo-Young twirled the flower, “Of course, because I am searching for the owner of it,” he replied while looking lovestruck.

It was now around five in the evening, the sun setting, coloring the sky with hues of orange, purples, pinks, reds, and blues. Woo-Young then saw you again, helping your family sell the Fritangas* that you guys would make.

The speakers then started playing a cumbión*, making people leave their seats and get into the center of the streets to start dancing. This made Woo-Young have an idea. A perfect one. He took this as an opportunity to stride his way towards the small restaurant.

“Buenas*,” he called as you looked at him with doe eyes, “Buenas, como le puedo servir*?” you asked as he then pulled out the flower. “Is this yours?” he asked as your eyes widened. “Ah!.. Thank you so much for finding it,” you smiled, reaching out to hold it.

He then did a soft, graceful turn, beginning his dance slowly, catching you off guard. “Come! It’s time to celebrate! Don’t you want your flower back?” he asked while his hand was out for you to hold. You chuckled at his smoothness, walking towards him and holding onto his hand, following him into the dancing mob.

You guys danced to the music, feeling it. And as he twirled you, he placed the flower back, snuggling it with the other sacuanjoches. As you then turned back to face him, he smiled lovingly, “Eres como una flor bella, mi amor,*” he whispered, flustering you.

“Gracias*.. I still haven’t caught your name,” you said as he chuckles, “The name’s Jung Woo-Young,” he responded as the song was coming to an end. “(Y/N). I think you should know who my brother is,” you stated as he then held onto your waist and pulled you close, as an ending pose.

You and Woo-Young were close to each other, your lips almost touching as you both could agree that you both fell in love with each other. At least, have a crush. “¡Ayyyy! ¿Qué estás fucking haciendo?*” Hong-Joong yelled as he held onto your shoulders and pulled you away from Woo-Young.

“This is my brother,” you ended as Woo-Young did a small pout. “Hyung!~” he then whined as Hong-Joong looked at him disgusted. “No! I’m not letting you date my sister,” he said as Woo-Young then smirked and winked at you.

“Ma! We have to be care-- Hey!” Hong-Joong exclaimed as Woo-Young snatched you from Hong-Joong, holding your hand tightly as you laughed and followed him. He then whistled as Sombra trotted towards you guys.

He helped you up and later followed, clicking his tongue, making the horse catch the sign and start galloping. “Jung Woo-Young!--” Hong-Joong yelled loudly as Woo-Young took you away from the Hípica.

“Sorry for my actions, mi flor.. But I now find myself incapable of living without you. You make me want to pinch myself in order to make sure that I am not dreaming.. So, mi flor. Where do you wanna head to?”..

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Hey fellas, it’s time for me to give y’all a Spanish Vocabulary Glossary thing because yes, I speak fluent Spanish. 

Hípica: Equestrianism. Basically Horse Competitions And Stuff Like That. 

“Ideay, el mae esta bien preparado”:

This needs some information. “Ideay” is colloquial, it can mean: “Seriously?”, “What next?”, “Oh well,” and many others.

In this context, the translation would be: “Seriously?! This dude is well prepared”. (Mae = Dude/Bro <- Between Friends Or Relatives [If Those Relatives Accept It])

Cotona: It’s Literal Translation Is Cotton Shirt. However, It Is A Sort Of National/Typical Dressing In Some Latin American Countries. (Examples: Facebook.com)

Panamanian Hat: (According To Wikipedia, Because I Am Not Panamanian But I Had A Friend Who Lived There,) A Panama hat, also known as an Ecuadorian hat or a toquilla straw hat, is a traditional brimmed straw hat of Ecuadorian origin. (Examples & History: Ultrafino.com)

Sombra: Shadow

“¡Los otros ya están aqui!”: “The others are here!” 

Gallopinto: A Typical Food In Some Latin American Countries. As For Some Latin American Countries, It Is Basically Red Beans And White Rice Cooked Together. The Literal Translation Is Spotted Rooster. (Example & History: Wikipedia.com)

Gítana: Literal Translation Is Gypsy (To Me, The Spanish Meaning Is Better lol). 

Cacao: Delicious Drink. It Is Basically Made With White Rice, Milk, Cacao Seeds. You Can Add Spices Or Sugar To Your Taste. It’s Absolutely Amazing. (Example & History: Nicaraguanrecipes.com)

Chicha: Another Delicious Drink. It Is Basically Dried Maize/Corn Kernels. Sounds Weird, But It Is Good! (Example (You’ll Have To Scroll Down): Eater.com)

Güipil: It’s A Typical/Traditional Tunic/Garment That Is Used By Women In Latin America For Dancing Traditional Dances. It Is Also Made Of Cotton. (Example: Petersalgado.blogspot.com)

Sacuanjoche Flowers: It’s The National Flower For Nicaragua! A Beautiful One. (Examples & History: Granpacifica.com)

Fritangas: It’s A Type Of Typical Food In Nicaragua, It Contains Barbecued Beef, Pork, Tajadas (Friend Plantains), Yucca Roots, And Others. (Examples & History: Theculturetrip.com)

Cumbión: A Fuckin’ Good Shit Ass Song Bro. It Can Be A Latin American Or Caribbean Song That Fucking Slaps -- Makes You Wanna Move And Dance. 

The Song I Placed Is Titled “No Le Pegues A La Negra” Which Translates To “Don’t Hit/Beat The Black Girl”. The Song Is Basically Trying To Talk About How Natives And Africans (Specifically In The Caribbean) Felt About Colonization In The 1600s. <- I’m A Sort Of History Geek)

“Buenas”:

This One Needs Some Explanation. Some United State Students May Confuse This As “Goods” Or Like “Those Are Good (When The Context Is For Example: “Esas Son Buenas”). However, “Buenas” Can Also Work As A Greeting! “Buenas” Can Be Like “Hello” Or “Hi”. It Is Generally Used When Entering Shops Or Friends/Relatives’ Houses. 

“Buenas, como le puedo servir?”: “Hello, how can I serve you?”

“Eres como una flor bella, mi amor,”: “You are like a beautiful flower, my love,” 

“Gracias”: “Thanks” / “Thank you” (Hehehe.. Thanxx)

“¡Ayyyy! ¿Qué estás fucking haciendo?”: “Hey! What in the fuck are you doing?” 

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

And that’s it! Now you understand the story better lol. (Or maybe you already did)

As obvious as it is, yes, I know how to speak Spanish and I was born in a Latin American Country -- Granted, I exposed it and it’s Nicaragua. 

Anyway, I think I won’t ramble much since this is long...

But! Thanks so much for reading and the support! Have a great day/night!

#kpop #kpop imagines #kpopimagines #kpopscenarios #kpop scenarios #ateez #ateez fluff #ateezfluff #ateez imagines #ateezimagines #ateez scenarios #ateezscenarios #ateez reactions #ateezreactions #jung wooyoung #wooyoung #ateez wooyoung #woo young x reader #ateez x reader #choi san #san #park seonghwa #seonghwa #kim hongjoong #hongjoong #kang yeosang #yeosang

[criminally--reid]

library lovers

I h8 the title- n e ways... here's the fix that's been promised to be posted at least twice a week for the past month 😌✋🏽also if u want untagged yk who u are smsbsj lmk,, i just thought id use the anon tag so u could see it snsbsj n e ways let's get on wiv d shit show

warnings: awkward chaotic gay, general smutty stuff y'know, mutual masturbation, i’ve never written mxm fic before so yonkers :| 

word count: 2.6k

Pairing: bi!spencer x (dom-ish)male!reader 

//a.n.\\ somehow the reader ends up in charge and i kinda like it tbh. i'm shit at storylines,  but honestly,, highschool homophobe masturbating with spencer reid? Call that character development 

`°•○●○•°`

You hadn't seen Spencer in years. Remembering the terms the two of you ended on, you weren't surprised either. All throughout highschool, you were the movie-esque tormentors of the frail, nerdy kid. The bully that wasn't actually supposed to exist. The absolute nightmare that had kids like Spencer trembling, dreading to relive the same terror another day. 

Shock couldn't even begin to cover what you felt the day you watched him walk into the library you now owned. You had been working on forgetting him since graduation. Just when you thought the remnants of Spencer had dripped entirely from your memory, everything came flooding in the matter of milliseconds the moment he walked through your door. All the times you watched him eat alone, pick his things up alone after someone had thrown them out of his hands; all the times you could've stepped up and just chose not to. You promised yourself you'd be different. Now was your chance. 

You subtly watch Spencer as he looks through the many isles of books. Beginning at young adult, trailing quickly to non-fiction, and eventually ending up in the classic section. He doesn't spend much time amongst the books - 5 minutes at the most since he walked in - before bringing a stack of 6 books up to the counter; you anxiously waiting to scan him in. 

"Did- did you find all your books alright?" You manage to ask. Spencer merely nods his head, crossing his arms and bringing one of his hands up to his mouth, chewing on his fingernails. His brows furrow and you're worried he's about to say something. 

"I'm a little surprised to see you working here actually." This throws you off. You did not plan for this- this confrontation. 

"I take it you remember me?" 

"I'm not really one to forget things, you know." Fair enough. 

"Well, yes. I actually run the place now. My grandfather had passed it on to me." 

"Oh he's…? I'm so sorry for your loss." 

Spencer's look of sincerity throws you off. After all the years of you being his worst fear, he still had room in his heart to be genuinely kind towards you. 

"It's fine, really. It was so long ago now. And besides- now I have this grand, ancient bookstore." You end with a chuckle and finish scanning the barcodes in each of his books. 

"Thank you- uh actually, could you help me find something else?"

"Of course! What're you looking for?" 

"Everyone keeps recommending me Donna Tart, where could I find some of her work?" 

"Follow me," you gesture and move from behind the counter. 

You walk him over to the very back of the store where all the dark academia-esq books are. While sifting through the books, he asks you a question that catches you completely off guard; his voice nothing above a whisper. 

"And I take it that you don't still hate me-" 

You immediately know what he's talking about. How silly of you to think the past wouldn’t be brought up.  

You clear your throat before speaking up. "I- n-no of course not. I- I uh- I know this is extremely cliche, and I'm not trying to excuse away any of the horrible things I did to you but- I was hiding." 

"From what?" Spencer chimes in quietly. 

"I just didn't know how to feel about myself. Gay this and gay that- it was all so negative. I didn't want to be known for something that was apparently so wrong. I definitely couldn't let the football playing circle jerkers I called my friends know about how I felt towards other guys. An-and I saw how they treated people like you and I didn't want that, so I joined them." 

"So you're gay?" Spencer asks, and you nod slowly. "And you and your 'circle jerking buddies' tortured me because you all thought I was gay?" 

"Well- I- we uh- that's what they said. I knew it wasn't good, but I didn't do anything because of what I was. I know the word 'sorry' will never make up for anything I've ever done or said to you, but I am so so sorry, Spencer." 

"You guys just knew I was gay? -Gaydar that strong, huh?" Spencer ends in a chuckle, easing up your tension, allowing you to slip out a soft laugh, too. 

"Obviously, it wasn't too good. I somehow managed to skate by for four years." 

"That you did." For the first time in years, when you look at Spencer, he doesn't look upset. A content, lazy smile accompanies his happy eyes as he. "Well- actually, I'm not entirely gay so I guess their gaydar needed some tweeking, hm?" 

"Oh, you're-" you attempt, but get cut-off. 

"Bi? Yeah. I realized I was bi when I realized I had a crush on you and your tenth grade girlfriend. What about you?" 

Still skimming the pages of a Donna Tart book, never looking up from it. So nonchalant. Him being so upfront with you was honestly exciting. You never imagined that you'd be remotely friendly with Spencer Reid, let alone him revealing he had a crush on you. "Ah, about junior year, I figured out I kinda had a thing for you." 

"Say, uh," Spencer started, tucking his hair behind his ear and slipping the book back onto the shelf. "I liked you; you liked me. Why don't we hang out sometime or something-" 

You could tell Spencer was trying hard to mask his enthusiasm. You were too. 

"Erm- yeah totally! I get off in about an hour actually; I could call you, and we could grab coffee or something." 

"Sounds great," Spencer says hurriedly as he fishes around in his pocket, drawing out a small slip of paper and drawing the pen from his shirt pocket. He hands you the freshly used paper with his number inscribed on it in smudged black ink. 

The next hour, excitement coursed through you. You're bustling around, fidgeting, unshelving and re-shelving books, sweeping, mopping - anything to keep your mind off of the end of your shift. The busiest yet slowest hour of your life. Your shift ends and your excitement reaches its peak. Your finger hovers over the call button at the bottom of your screen, hesitating. For a split second you get the courage to press call, but then you immediately regret it - that is until his hurried, excited voice slips through the speaker. 

"Hey, y/n! It's Spencer! Uh- you know.. that.. of course. Anyways, uh there's this coffee shop about a block away from my place. I wondered if maybe you'd wanna go and have an early dinner or something." 

You can't help but chuckle at his excitement; trying to calm down your own. "That sounds great, Spencer. What's the place?" 

"Café Negra-" 

"What?!" you cut him off "I go there all the time! How have I never seen you?" 

"What? That's insane. How have we not crossed each other there?" 

"No clue.. Anyways I'll meet you there- uh about 20?" 

"Perfect." Spencer hangs up without any formal goodbyes, but you couldn't care less - you couldn't wait to meet him at the coffee shop. 

The date - which neither of you bothered to assign that title to the event, but you both knew it was, in fact, a date - went impressively well. It's like you two had never been enemies in the first place. Those four years in high school wiped clean of any hard feelings as the two of you drank coffee way too strong for 6p.m., ate double chocolate muffins, and laughed away. 

When it comes time to leave, Spencer stands up first, throwing away his cup and muffin wrapper; you follow quickly and do the same. 

A mutual agreement was somehow made to take it back to Spencer's place. Maybe it was the lack of goodbyes that he seemed prone to. Whatever it was, the evening didn't feel finished. 

Once inside his cozy apartment, he welcomes you to his couch before maneuvering to the tv stand, kneeling down and pulling out three movies. He gestures for you to choose one, and you choose Titanic. Not the greatest choice of the three, but you had a feeling you wouldn't be focused on the movie too much anyways. 

He puts the disc into the player before joining you on the couch. About twenty minutes into the movie, he moves closer to you, resting his shoulder slowly, cautiously as if asking permission. You ease his nerves by welcoming his head on your shoulder and leaning against him in return. The next half an hour is full of stolen glances, light touches, and snuggling. All innocent until Spencer slides his hand up your thigh. You try not to mind it much. Maybe he's just absentminded in all the contact. He doesn't know what he's doing. You try to focus on the movie and not on his hand getting ever so dangerously close until you just can't anymore. Looking down at him, he's already making eye contact with you, driving you wild. Instinctually you connect your lips with his. 

Spencer shuffles over and straddles your lap, never disconnecting your lips. Your hands roam around his shoulders and back before dipping underneath the hem of his shirt and pulling it off. He makes quick work of returning the favor. After a few more chaste kisses, he stands up, pulling you up with him, and pushes his pants to the floor with you following suit. Spencer places his fingers under your chin, bringing your face up to his in an attempt to place another open-mouthed kiss on your bite-swollen lips. However, you muster up a burst of courage and manage to flip the script. Placing your fingers on Spencer’s chest and holding him at arm's length, you keep eye contact while you take a seat on one end of the couch. You motion for him to take his seat at the other end. 

Spencer, still unsure of the current situation, watches you move. He watches as you run your fingertips up and down your thighs. As you wet the palm of your hand with your tongue before running it up and down your shaft. Lightly tracing your fingertips over your reddened head, hissing at the contact. 

“Your turn,” you say barely above a whisper. 

Spencer’s eyes go wide, but he still obliges, wetting his hand and repeating your actions on himself. Hissing and cursing at the contact with his eager cock. He soon gets lost in his own world of pleasure. Moving faster and moaning barely-there profanities. Watching the show, you bring your hand back to yourself. Your eyes shut as you listen to Spencer; his pretty gasps like music to your ears. 

“Y-y/n? I’m- I’m close.” 

“Awh, so soon? You sure you can’t hold on for me just a little longer?” 

Spencer lets out a strangled moan and forces himself to slow his pace. Watching him struggle to contain himself turns you on even more. His desperate whines and pleas for release getting you closer to the edge. “Look at me, bubbas,” you coax. 

Spencer looks up at you, pushing a tuft of hair from his eyes. His other hand still desperately attached to the base of his cock, awaiting further instruction. 

“Listen.. We’re gonna cum together okay?” Spencer only manages a nod in response so you continue. “I want you to move faster again; get closer. But I want you to let me know when you’re about to cum, okay?” 

You’re met with a furious nod for an answer as he works at his waist, bringing himself closer to his climax; you simultaneously doing the same.

“F-fuck fuckfuckfuck! -M gonna cum. Shit! I’m cumming!” Spencer's cries of pleasure send you over the edge and you both spill over together. Your head dips back over the armrest of the couch as you try to catch your breath. You bring your head back up and look at Spencer, only to see him leaning sideways against the back of the couch, still out of breath and coates in a layer of sweat. 

“Why don’t we go get cleaned up, hm?” 

Spencer nods his head in agreement before getting up off the couch and leading you to the bathroom. You definitely aren’t going home tonight.  

#criminal minds #spencer reid #gay #mlm #x reader #self insert fanfic #matthew gray gubler #mgg #cm #smut #fluff #spencer reid x reader #🕯anon

[uzumaki-rebellion]

Black Boys Bloom Thorns First: Vol. 2 Chap. 28

Summary: N’Jobu and Califia take Erik back to Sau Paulo, Brazil after major changes in Oakland...

"This world is still afloat No, not in Noah's boat We've only lost the vision Of the stars we're meant to be

Another broken heart Another lesson learnt Another harvest eaten Another night is gone A new day's begun Even your dreams they can be real"

Zero 7—"This World"

Califia watched her son write furiously in his journal.

Erik spent time sitting at their kitchen table most evenings writing and sketching just like his father. He was excited and antsy and she hadn't seen her son this happy in weeks. Sitting across from N'Jobu, Erik seemed to be in a world of his own.

When N'Jobu sat Erik down to give him just a tiny bit of their future plans, their son beamed with satisfaction. They both had no idea that the boy was unhappy with Oakland and his life there. Every day Black life wore Erik down, and instead of dealing with a child sad about leaving behind friends and family, Erik was eager to go far away. N'Jobu didn't tell Erik the possible troubles that awaited them. That would come in time. He was only told that they would be moving out of the country in a year and that he should not talk about it with anyone, not even close family.

Califia wanted to reveal their plans to her father and grandmother when they were closer to leaving. Nana Jean's health was a consideration for travel, and Califia had to prepare herself for the reality that she would possibly have to leave her and Dante behind if Nana was not up to the drastic change.

Erik was watching her.

Califia caught Erik's eye at the table as his busy hand paused in mid-scribble.

"Erik?" she asked.

N'Jobu stopped writing and stared at their son too.

"I want to go march for Auntie Lia," Erik said.

N'Jobu's eyes regarded Califia's.

The anniversary march.

Activists in Sao Paulo planned a huge memorial march for Negra Lia with the blessing of her family. Soliel and Aunjanue were part of the organizing happening there, and Califia wanted to attend that march too but there was the possibility of them moving at a moment's notice if this man N'Jobu trusted acted sooner. What was his name? Klaue?

N'Jobu put down his pen and looked at Erik.

"Are you sure you can handle going back there?" he asked.

Erik nodded.

"I want to be there. Marisol is going to march. I want those killers to know we aren't afraid of them."

N'Jobu glanced back at Califia.

"And you?" he asked.

"I feel ready to go back. That's our family. It will give us some closure," she said.

"I might not be able to go with you if things happen…I would like to be there too, but if I get word-"

"It's okay-"

"I can't say that I like the idea of you both being there again. I understand why you want to go, but…"

He stared down at his journal.

"If I am able to go, I will do so," he finally said.

Califia sauntered over to the table and sat on N'Jobu's lap. She kissed his forehead, and he raised his head up and pressed his lips onto hers.

"Aw, man…," Erik whined.

"What?" N'Jobu said.

"Should I leave?" Erik asked.

"Boy, what?" Califia said.

"You two start kissing and then…eww," Erik teased while making a face at them.

N'Jobu grinned.

"One day, Son, you will be grateful to be able to do this with a woman," he said.

"Y'all do it too much though."

"Mark my words," N'Jobu said.

His lips gave tiny smooches all over her cheeks and nose. Erik rolled his eyes and continued writing.

The house phone rang and N'Jobu continued kissing on Califia.

"I guess I'll get it," Erik said sliding off of his chair and padding over to the kitchen wall phone. Califia slipped N'Jobu a little tongue while Erik was gone.

"You keep doing that and we'll have to go upstairs," N'Jobu whispered in her ear as his tongue traced the curves of her left ear.

"Promise?" she said.

"Mom!"

Erik's voice made Califia jump off of N'Jobu's lap.

"What is it?"

Erik held the wall phone to her.

"It's Grandpop, Nana's in the hospital," Erik said.

###

N'Jobu watched Califia pace the floor outside Nana's hospital room. Dante and Erik sat on chairs against the hallway wall.

"Babe, sit down," N'Jobu said patting the empty chair next to him.

Califia kept checking her cell phone.

"He should've been here by now with them," she said.

"Junie probably got caught in traffic…Califia, please, sit," he said.

Nana's doctor came out of the room.

"You all may go back in. She may be a little lethargic because of the painkillers."

Filing into the room, they surrounded Nana and her hand reached out for Erik.

"It's okay, Nana," Erik said.

His son stood close to her bed and held her hand tight. Dante stroked his mother's forehead.

"They're downstairs! I'm going down to help bring her things up," Califia said.

"I can do that," Dante said.

"It's okay, Daddy. Nana, I'm going to be right back."

Califia leaned over and kissed her grandmother's cheek. Nana touched her arm, and her feeble hands shook. Califia stroked the woman's fingers and left the room.

"N'Jobu…"

Nana's soft voice propelled him to push a chair to her side. Erik stayed standing next to him.

"I'm here Nana…right here," he said.

"Come closer."

Her eyes struggled to focus, and when she finally held his gaze, she gave him a weak smile.

"…tried to stay as long as I could…"

"Nana, just rest. Save your energy."

She blinked several times and her head lifted, her eyes looking above him.

"Nana," Erik whispered.

Her eyes returned to N'Jobu's.

"Take care of my babies—"

A heavy cough shook her thin frame and Dante leaned over from the other side of the bed with a handkerchief. He wiped a bit of spittle from her lips.

"Ma, just rest," Dante said.

Dante clutched her right hand as N'Jobu hung on to her left hand.

"You were always a good son, Dante. I'm so proud of you," she whispered.

Dante's head dropped low and he wiped his watery eyes.

"N'Jobu…"

"Ma'am," N'Jobu answered.

Her breathing grew ragged.

"Take care of them all…please…and, JaJa…"

Erik pressed his face close to hers and N'Jobu let him take Nana's hand. She whispered in Erik's ear and held his hand in a firm grip. Her brow was covered in a light sheen of perspiration and Erik gave her affirmations of "Yes", "Okay", and "Uh-huh."

Eric finally pressed his forehead into hers and she kissed his nose.

"It's okay, Nana. It's okay. I'll tell her…Nana?"

Nana Jean's eyes closed.

Her doctor came back into the room with a nurse by his side. Dante still held Nana's hand.

Califia arrived with Junie and their other cousins.

"Wait! Wait!" Califia shouted.

N'Jobu touched her back as Dante pushed his face into Nana's covers and wept. Erik still held his great-grandmother's hand.

"Nana…Nana…I love you…"

Califia's voice grew soft and they all heard the heart monitor go flat. Nana's doctor turned it off.

"I shouldn't have left…I thought…"

Califia's wet face crumpled and Erik reached for her hand.

"It's okay Mom, I held Nana's hand for you and she said that when I hold her hand on this side, our family who passed on holds it for her on the other side. So when she let go here, they hung on there. See? Don't cry, Mom. She just went over there…to wait for us one day. She told me to hold onto your hand and Baba's too."

"Califia, hey…come here."

N'Jobu held her as she wept in his arms. The crying spread throughout the room and when Erik patted her back, she was able to face her grandmother once more.

"She looks peaceful, doesn't she? "

"She does," N'Jobu replied stroking her back.

They all sat with Nana for over an hour until Dante insisted that they allow the doctor to care for her remains.

"I have calls to make…I need to let the church know…" Dante said.

"I can do all that, Daddy," Califia said.

Dante nodded and they all left the room.

"Give me a minute," Califia said.

She went back into the room with Erik and the Doctor let her hug her grandmother one last time. He watched her touch Nana's thin hair as Erik held Califia's waist.

When she returned to N'Jobu, her spirit had lifted.

"Babe?" he asked.

"I'm good. I just wish I was here when she slipped away. I just needed her to know how much I loved her. How much everything she did for me all my life was…she…she saved me so many times. I tried to thank her every time I visited her these last few days. It didn't feel like it was enough. I wanted her to know my heart was always with her."

"She knew that Mom," Erik said.

Califia nodded and wiped her face. Dante slipped his arm around hers and they left the hospital in a solemn mood.

Erik did his best to cheer Califia up, and it worked. He had her laughing by saying Nana was only upset that she couldn't wear her best wig for the cute doctor.

"Only Nana would worry about looking cute," Califia said.

By the time they made it back to Nana's house most of the family who lived in town had arrived at the home.

Califia and N'Jobu greeted everyone and the family listened to Erik repeat the last words of Nana Jean. There were plenty of Nana stories passed around, and much laughter sprinkled throughout the tears. Dante had a difficult time with the realization that Nana wasn't coming home from a hospital visit this time and Califia rose to the occasion with Junie helping relatives ease into her absence. Phone calls and soft knocks on the front door occurred as neighbors came to pay their respects and give condolences. The Pastor from Nana's church arrived with fellow church members and Junie ran out to buy chicken and sides from a local restaurant to feed the house that was now stuffed with mourners.

A few hours later, N'Jobu went looking for Erik among the hustle and bustle of relatives crowding the house. He found him outside on the steps.

"JaJa."

He sat down next to him and patted his shoulder.

"How are you doing, Son?"

"Fine. I thought I would feel sadder, but, I dunno. Nana made me feel good. Is that weird, Baba?'

"No. Not at all."

"I know Mom is upset that Nana left without her saying goodbye, but I think Nana did that on purpose. Maybe she tried to make it less sad for Mom?"

"Maybe."

Erik looked out onto the street.

"Is there really a heaven, Baba?"

"I believe there is an afterlife, yes. I was raised to believe in a beautiful place. The ancestral plane. You die and return to your ancestors…spend eternity with those who helped create you."

"Even God?"

"Even God. In my country, Bast is a great cosmic energy that is infused in all living beings. You will see Nana again."

"And Lia?"

"She is family. So yes. All of your loved ones who have transitioned will be reunited."

Erik's eyes were shiny, and finally, the tears came. N'Jobu pulled his son against him.

"You were so strong for your mother. Do you know that? You helped Nana cross over in peace."

"I wish she could've stayed with us longer."

"She was very ill, Erik. And in a lot of pain."

"I know. Can she see me right now?"

"I'm sure she can."

"That means no matter where we go, she can be there with us, right?"

"Yes. In spirit."

Erik's chest shuddered. More tears fell.

"Can we move sooner?"

N'Jobu sighed and watched his son's face.

"Soon enough."

"I want to go to Wakanda, Baba. I don't want to live here."

"There will be a lot for me to do before I can take you to Wakanda, Son."

"I know. But I'm ready. Anyplace away from here is good. Will you tell Grandpop now?"

"Your mother will decide that. Now that Nana has gone, I don't know how your grandfather will feel about leaving Oakland."

"I will miss Walter. And Nevaeh."

"They will miss you too. But hopefully, in the future, you can visit with them. There will be so many changes and sacrifices son. There is so much more for you to know in due time. Thank you for being patient with me."

Erik threw his arms around N'Jobu's neck and they sat quietly together. Holding his son, N'Jobu felt emboldened.

"Can we go home now? I think Mom is ready. She looked tired," Erik said.

"C'mon. Let's go check on her," N'Jobu said.

N'Jobu walked back into the house and Califia slipped her hand in his when he stepped into the living room.

"Daddy is resting. Junie and Michelle are staying here with him," she said.

"You want to stay longer?'

"No. We can go. I'll come back over tomorrow. Junie is handling everything. Daddy is letting him too."

"Tired?"

"Yeah."

They bid everyone farewell and returned to their townhouse. When Erik had showered and gone to bed, N'Jobu rested with Califia in their bedroom.

"You think you're ready for things like this, but when it finally happens…it feels so unexpected. I know she wasn't going to be here forever, but she was such a huge part of my life…a huge part of who I am. I miss her so much already."

"You and Erik were her heart and she's in a special place now. You heard what Erik said. Rest in that love."

"I will. I will."

He stroked her hair and held her hand against his chest.

"When should we prepare to leave for good?" she asked

"The next three months. We should begin sorting and packing. Not a lot, but things you want to take with us," he said.

She nodded.

"Do you want to sell the house?" he asked.

"No. I'd like to let Junie or Michelle stay here and take care of it. Keep it in the family. My father may want to sell Nana's house. Now that she's gone, it may be easier to convince him to come with us. We have options. No rush though."

"Erik is so ready," he said.

"I am too."

He stared at her. She ran her fingers across his naked chest and pressed her cheek against his.

"I feel this surge of movement in me. Like I can't sit still…this need to move far away is swirling in me. It's not even about going to Wakanda, but just getting away from everything, taking Erik someplace where he can be free. Be a child for as long as we can let him be one."

She lifted her head to look at him.

"You do whatever you have to do to make that happen for him."

"I will."

"Promise me."

"I promise."

She dozed in his arms and he spent the rest of the night listening to her deep breathing.

###

Sao Paulo felt different.

There was crackling energy in the air.

Califia felt it all around her.

As she walked the streets with her father and Erik, their energy was different too. Although Nana's death was months ago, their family had bounced back into joy again being around Soliel, Aunjanue, Marisol, and Besouro.

So much eating. So much drinking.

Capoeira.

She couldn't record enough video of her father and Soliel's father playing with Erik and Marisol. Her fingers were blistered from drumming and playing the berimbau as her son flipped and fought with the best mestres on the planet. Their world seemed even more complete when Bakari joined them with Shavonne.

For once, Califia's soul was at ease. N'Jobu was there with them. Even with Nana Jean gone now, life was perfect.

They rented a little house near Soliel and her family, and N'Jobu quit his job. He created fake reports to be sent to Wakanda, and they lived it up in Brazil. He allowed her to listen in on some of his secret talks with his War Dogs even though she didn't know the language. He hid nothing from her.

Their temporary home in Sao Paulo was small, but Califia and Soliel had planning meetings for the big march there. Activists were fired up, and not just for Negra Lia. Three more police brutality cases had occurred in the states and another in Sao Paulo where a young teen was killed in her own yard when the Sao Paulo policia federal bullied and threatened smaller groups of protestors trying to support the upcoming larger march. Chasing young people through the streets, the policia federal shot bullets that struck the girl in her own yard. The child wasn't even part of the protest, just playing in her own yard and minding her own business.

The city was ripe for change. Not just in Sao Paulo, but everywhere.

Califia and Erik watched groups of Maori protestors doing sacred Haka for Black people killed in the United States. Indigenous people from Australia pointed out their own history of white and state violence against their own aboriginal people. It was a global pandemic of police violence against black and other non-white people everywhere.

Erik tried mimicking the Haka that he saw, and went online to learn more about it. It was the ferocity in the Maori people's eyes that enamored Erik. Especially when the Maori women did the Haka. The exaggerated rolling of eyeballs, the strong slaps to the chest and legs, the tongues thrust out and the loud shouts invigorated them both. The brandishing of the short patu clubs made Erik's eyes shiny with admiration.

"It looks like they are calling all the Gods in the world to come down!" he said in an excited voice as he shared video clips with her.

The fight was happening everywhere, and Sao Paulo was on the verge of exploding with the calls for justice floating around them. The kinetic energy to force change rippled through Califia's family.

She felt it from N'Jobu most of all.

When Erik was fast asleep, N'Jobu would be between her legs, his grunts and groans behind gritted teeth and fisted hands made her orgasms so intense she couldn't even see straight. They fucked like they were in college again, so much so that poor Erik made it a point to go for long walks away from the house in the morning because they were so loud.

Tangled up in sweaty sheets every morning, Califia would hold onto N'Jobu as his sated body pressed all his weight on top of her. He didn't even speak English to her when they made love now. The language of his homeland dripped from his lips and into her ears, and when he pulsed inside of her, all thick and juicy, the contractions of her body overwhelmed her.

They were blessed.

She was turned on by the aggression in his voice when he spoke to his followers. Rubbing his shoulders when he barked orders over his secured comm tab gave her a small glimpse of what he must be like when he was in Wakanda. The way the other Wakandan voices capitulated to him made her panties wet. She couldn't help it. Nothing on God's green earth was sexier to her than a man with total confidence and bass in his voice. He had even started wearing his gold panther teeth openly around them. The moment he shook off pretending to be a barber, she saw him step back into who he really was. It took her back to the time when she saw him in D.C., the time when she and Bakari saw him in his full glory.

Sometimes, when Erik was away with Marisol, Califia would lay in bed and listen to N'Jobu conduct his secret meetings online. If he sat in a particular chair in their small living room, she could leave the bedroom door open and watch his profile. His face was…fuck…his face was everything. His voice was everything. The clicks and growls from his language had her fingers busy flicking her clit and manipulating her soaked folds. She would pat her vulva and watch him, feeling the slick of her fingers get wetter the more he spoke. Covering her mouth with her hand, she would hide her intense release so as not to disturb him. This, in turn, would make her want to serve him.

She was compelled to be subservient to him.

Pussy dripping, she'd often walk into the room while he spoke and bring him things. Water. Snacks. She'd sit near his legs on the floor and rub his feet for him, or stand behind him and massage his scalp. She once was bold enough to wear nothing but his t-shirt while kneeling before him and taking his dick in her mouth. He muted the communications that day and allowed her to suck all up and down his erection while reports were given to him. When the call ended, he stayed in that dominant role. Barking orders at her to suck harder, take his length deeper. With those gold teeth in his mouth and that regal bearing of his just sitting in an ordinary chair, Califia saw him as more than a Prince. He was her King. She was more than ready to bow down to him.

He forced her to climb onto his dick and he sat back and made her work him over. He didn't move a muscle and she rocked and swiveled her hips, her smooth vulva so sticky with fluid from her own body. His dark eyes raked up and down her body and she whimpered as her pussy gushed all over his dick. His face looked hard, mean in his sexy way and she knew for a fact that he expected her to obey his commands to fuck him good. The brat in her came out, and when she switched up her wiggling and it displeased him, he reached up and yanked on her hair.

She bounced on him and he loosened his grip on her braids, but then she slowed down and he grabbed her throat. His heated gaze told her he was upset with her behavior on his dick and once he began talking to her with clenched teeth in Wakandan, she held still and listened. He still didn't move under her, and the raised anger in his voice spurred her to higher levels of bratty behavior: she broke eye contact with him.

A big no-no.

N'Jobu pulled her off of his girth and pushed her down onto his lap. His palm spanked the brat out of her until she was crying tears of torturous pleasure.

"Fuck me right!" He demanded.

She lifted up from lying across his lap, her ass cheeks hot with exquisite pain. He leaned back in the chair again and didn't assist her crawling back on top of him.

She bounced on him the way a King deserved to be served, his pants punctuating his own pleasure. The tipping point came for him when he watched her pussy clench around him and he gripped her waist tight and finally thrust up into her. She hung onto him as he cursed at her in Wakandan until he seized up and spurted hard and deep.

He made her lick all her juices from his dick before demanding that she sit on his lap while he took more calls. He fingered her pussy the entire time and dared her to make one sound as he did. She kept quiet and he punished her folds with frisky fingers for hours, only releasing her when they heard Erik returning from Soliel's.

He was everything and more to her, and he fell right into his royal status with her supporting that authoritarian energy.

Bakari joined her at the planning meetings for Lia's protest march. They were three days from the actual march and had already hit a snag. The police wanted to know the march routes ahead of time, and the core leaders were reluctant to give them.

"We could give them fake routes," Califia suggested, "or just a half-assed map."

"There's no way to control how many people show up. Or who will follow a sanctioned route," Soliel said.

Erik sat next to her as the fifteen adults in the room murmured among themselves on what to do. They needed a permit to fill the streets but many didn't want the authorities to know all their moves. At that moment, their permit was being held up.

Besouro stood next to Soliel, his face carrying a scowl.

"We march against our enemy and we have to give them a map of our plans?" he snapped.

Many agreed with him.

Califia stared at Soliel. Since Lia's death, she had taken on the role of community leader filling the huge vacuum Lia left behind. She could see the stress and worry on her sister's face. Aunjanue walked into the house with two more women from the community.

"There are policia federals outside," she said.

Califia and Bakari went to her windows and looked out. An unmarked car was parked down the street. Two white men dressed in jeans and soccer shirts walked across the street giving occasional glances to the house. A light-skinned woman stood next to another car talking on a cell phone, but she was no one Califia had ever seen before. N'Jobu swept the house for bugs every time they left their temporary home, so she wasn't worried about them hearing what was said inside.

She checked her own cell and let N'Jobu know the house had eyes on it. He had gone to get food for the meeting with her father and was due to return soon.

Bakari turned to look at the group.

"The eyes of the world will be on these marches. We know that there will be many around the world marching in solidarity. I say give them the routes so we can get the permit. The routes won't matter. If they plan on targeting any of you, it will be in front of the world," Bakari said.

Soliel glanced over at Erik.

"I don't think children should be there," Soliel said.

"What?"

Erik's voice piped up fast. He had been silent for most of the meeting, taking in all the ideas and suggestions.

"I want to march," he said looking up at Califia.

"I agree with Soliel. We use our children to do our battles with us and they end up getting hurt or traumatized. We should tell everyone to keep them at home. Just adults," Aunjanue said.

"Mom…that's not fair," Erik whined.

"JaJa, nephew, you are brave and strong and we all know you loved your Auntie. But these police are beasts here. They murdered a girl already—"

"Aunjanue…"

Califia gave a stern look to her friend.

"Cali, our children deserve to be children. Not warriors," she said.

"I agree," Bakari said.

"Man…"

Erik pouted and he sat back further in his seat crossing his arms.

"I'm not letting Marisol go," Soliel said, "It's too dangerous."

"Mom—"

"Erik, let the grown-ups talk. You are here to just listen right now," Califia said.

"We just want to protect you, Erik," Bakari said.

"You can't protect us all the time. That girl who died was at home. She wasn't in the streets. They will get us no matter where we are. I know you guys don't want me to see violence or get hurt, but I've already seen the worst of it. I was there when Auntie died. I was there when they bombed the street. They kill us here, and they kill us back where I live. I'm not scared to die. I want them to see that. I'm a kid, but I'm already a warrior. Mom, you raised me to be a fighter. Why would you make me sit in the house?"

"Because you are my son, and I want you to live to become an adult. I know you want to show your love for Lia, but this could get ugly—"

"It ain't fair…it ain't fair!"

Erik jumped out of his seat.

"JaJa."

N'Jobu's voice froze Erik in mid-stride.

Bakari walked over and took bags of food from N'Jobu as Dante walked through the meeting group carrying more bags to the kitchen. Califia reached out for Erik and pulled him back toward her and hugged him around his waist.

N'Jobu took in the room, and then his eyes fell back onto his son.

"There is a time for children to be children and a time for children to become adults. My, son, this is the time for you to be our child—"

"Baba—"

N'Jobu held up his hand.

"You will not go to the march, JaJa. Not this time," he said.

Califia felt Erik's body shake with anger and disappointment. She stood up and held his hand.

"C'mon…come with me," she said pulling him toward his room. N'Jobu followed her and closed the bedroom door. Erik turned and faced them both with his fists clenched.

"You said I could march before we came here," Erik said.

"That was before all the other killings," N'Jobu said.

"They kill us all the time. It doesn't matter—"

"You matter to us," Califia reasoned.

"And Lia mattered to me. All of us. I want to go. If you are both there, it'll be okay."

Erik's face wavered between wanting to cry and being full of hot anger.

"Baby, Lia would want you to be safe. Not going to the march doesn't mean you won't show the world that you care about justice…it's just that our children suffer so much trying to prove their humanity too, and you don't need that pressure. The adults need to do the hard work so you don't have to. I think you're worried that you'll disappoint Lia's memory, but you won't. Things have shifted in a serious way and these cops down here JaJa, they can be worse than the ones at home—"

"All cops are bad, Mom. No matter where they are. You say that all the time. They are all the same."

"I know I say that, and it's true, but the level of hate for us because she has been elevated in the world along with so many others…it's going to be tougher to keep you safe."

"Then you shouldn't go either."

Califia looked over at N'Jobu.

"We will go and you will stay. You can be mad. Upset. You can even feel angry with us for a long time afterward, but we make decisions for you because we know what is best. We love you. We protect you. We shape the world for you, my Son. Allow us to do this. In the future, you can march with us, but right now…for this particular event—"

N'Jobu's kimoyo beads lit up.

Erik stepped closer to them as they all watched the subtle glow of lavender on N'Jobu's wrist. N'Jobu held a finger to his lips and tapped a bead.

They heard the stern voice of a woman speaking rapid-fire Wakandan.

N'Jobu spoke to her and it sounded like he was giving orders. The call was short and when N'Jobu touched his beads again, his face looked determined.

"Klaue will be in Wakanda. Next week."

His eyes held Califia's and she felt a rush of adrenaline. They would leave for Malta soon.

"We're leaving?" Erik asked.

N'Jobu touched Erik's shoulder.

"Soon enough. JaJa—"

"Okay…okay, Baba. I won't go to the march."

Califia gave a sigh of relief. She couldn't focus on the work of organizing if she had to battle her son too.

"Thank you," Califia said to her son.

N'Jobu hugged Erik and pulled Califia in close too.

"Hey, we're ready to eat if you guys want to join us."

Bakari's voice rang out behind the bedroom door.

"Here we come," Califia said.

They walked out as a solid unit and enjoyed plates of steak and rice with the other organizers.

Soliel designed a mock-up of the protest route on her laptop and N'Jobu kept his eyes on Califia the rest of the night. They allowed Erik to stay among the adults and she was glad that he accepted not participating. She kept peeking out of the window with Aunjanue.

The undercover police were still lingering.

Soliel gathered the activists back into the living room and had three of them stand before the group wearing black coverings over their mouths and white paper pinned to their chests with black target rings painted on it.

"Lia always said we will always be a target if we don't speak out. This is what some of us will be wearing to the march. What do you all think?" Soliel said.

The others nodded their approval and someone suggested holding their hands bound in front of them to show that they were still treated like slaves.

It was going to be a long night.

She kissed Erik on his forehead and held him closer to her body.

Chapter 29 HERE.

###

Tag List:

@fd-writes​​ 

@soufcakmistress​ 

 @cherrystainedlipsbaby 

@tclaybon  

@thadelightfulone​

@allhailqueennel​ 

@bartierbakarimobisson 

@cpwtwot​ 

@shookmcgookqueen​ 

@yoyolovesbucky​

@raysunshine78​ 

@the-illllest 

@terrablaze514​  

@l-auteuse​ 

@amirra88​ 

@jimizwidow​ 

@janelledarling​

@chaneajoyyy​ 

 @sweetestdream92 

@purple-apricots​ 

@hennessystevens-udaku​

@scrumptiouslytenaciouscrusade​ 

@bugngiz​ 

@stariamrry​  

@honeytoffee​ 

@meilintheempressofdreams​

@tyees​ 

@eye-raq​ 

@writerbee-ffs​ 

@chocolatedream30​ 

@childishgambinaa​ 

@mygirlrenee​ 

@thewaysheis—awkward

#Black Boys Bloom Thorns First Vol. 2 #Prince N'Jobu #N'Jobu #Killmonger #Klaue #Black Panther fanfiction #N'Jobu Fanfiction #n'jobu fanfic

[justthehiddleswrites]

Silken Sails Masterlist  | OFC x Multiple Marvel Characters | Pirate AU | Chapter 1 | A Life More Ordinary

Summary:  Charlotte Liddell dreams of a life of adventure on the high seas.  She sets sail for the Caribbean which ends up entangling her with the hunt for the lost Spanish ship Viuda Negra and untold Spanish treasures.  Along the way, she crosses paths with British Navy Officer Steve Rogers and famed French pirate Loki Laufeyson.  Will she keep her wits about her?

Warnings: violence, death of characters, sexual harassment, smut (sex), mentions of pregnancy, pirate typical violence

-

“Child, come away from the window!” Charlotte's mother’s voice rang off the walls of the small kitchen.

Rebecca Liddell was a woman made of hard work and no time for frivolity. There was a tavern and inn to run. She needed her sixteen-year-old daughter manning the fire, not staring at the window breathing in the sea air and daydreaming.

Charlotte stepped away from the window and back to the reality of her life. Her father owned the Captain’s Quarter, which meant he was often away, leaving his wife Rebecca in charge.

“Sorry, Mother.” she turned her attention to the large pot over the fire.

Her younger brother, William, stoked the flames of the hearth’s fire as she stirred the stew which would serve as the inn’s fare for the evening.

“Honestly, child…” she tutted as she set about with the business of getting ready for the dinner rush. “… I don’t understand where your head is sometimes.”

“Why can’t I go with Papa? To buy from the merchants? I’m good with numbers.” she whined.

“Charlotte Liddell!” her mother slammed the bowl against the table. “That is no way for a proper lady to speak. If anyone were to accompany your father, it would be William.”

William groaned, and Charlotte hung her head. Every week she questioned why she had to stay behind. And every week her Mother muttered about how Charlotte was such an impertinent child. Her mother worried Charlotte would never find a suitable husband, what with all the blathering on about adventures of the high sea.

Charlotte shuffled out to the public dining area to find it already bustling. For the rest of the evening, she had no moment’s rest. It was well into the evening when her mother and William fell asleep. She grabbed her cloak and slipped out the window, leaving it open for her return.

She walked with purpose to the docks at the edge of the town. Her soft shoes padded against the well-worn roads until she could hear the lapping of water against wood in the distance.

Her pace quickened until the cool sea air hit her cheeks. She inhaled the salt, and her heart raced. This is where I belong, she reflected as she closed her eyes and sat down on the wooden planks of the docks.

Charlotte rocked back and forth to rhythmic thuds of the ships moored. It soothed her better than any lullaby.

“Who goes there?” a deep voice echoed through the night air as Charlotte noticed heavy boots approaching her at a heavy clip.

She rose and smoothed out her skirt as she hustled to meet the man. It was Mr. Allen, the man in charge of the docks.

“You again,” he sneered. “How many times have you been told not to loiter about here?”

“I… I…” Charlotte searched for a plausible lie when a strong hand fell upon her shoulder.

“She came to deliver me a message.” the male voice answered. Charlotte turned to see her rescuer.

The man wore his dark blonde hair short and his clothes were simple but well made.

“And you would be?” Mr. Allen narrowed his eyes at the two of them.

“Clint Barton. From the Hawk.” Mr. Barton squared his shoulders to Mr. Allen.

The dockmaster took a step back. “My apologies, Mr. Barton.”

“It’s all right, Mr…” Mr. Barton raised an eyebrow.

“… Allen.” He puffed his chest. “I’ve been the dockmaster round these parts for 15 years. And I have been catching this one…” Mr. Allen jabbed a figure at Charlotte, who ducked behind Clint. “… sneaking around for almost as long.”

Clint chuckled. “You are a true watchman, Mr. Allen. Now if you don’t mind, I shall escort the girl home before she is missed.”

Mr. Allen nodded as he stepped aside to allow them passage into town. He glared as Charlotte walked by, her eyes never leaving the ground.

They made their way through town until they came to the darkened front of the inn and tavern.

“Thank you, sir. I owe you a debt for your kindness.” She didn’t dare look up.

“Nonsense, dear. Just save me an extra helping of the delicious stew tomorrow and consider the debt repaid.”

She nodded her head and snuck around the back to the window. Her nerves so frayed, she forgot to close it upon her return.

-

Rebecca woke up to a chill in the air and a sore throat.

“Who left this window open?!” she exclaimed as she latched it tight.

Charlotte wandered in to find her mother scowling. “I must have forgotten last night.”

She swatted at Charlotte. “You careless child! Are you trying to have all of us catch the death?!”

Charlotte covered her head from the blows of the rag in her mother’s hand. “I’m sorry, Mother!”

William came in coughing. Her mother glared, and she hurried out of sight to get ready for the day’s work.

As the day wore on, Rebecca and William grew more and more sick. William’s cough deepened, and soon his mother sent him to bed. Which meant the preparations took twice as long.

“Charlotte, child,” her mother beckoned her from the stove. A thin layer of sweat covered her mother’s pallor complexion. “I am not going to make it through tonight.”

Charlotte paled. She realized what that meant. And it was her fault.

“Yes, Mama. I can handle it tonight.”

Rebecca pressed a hot kiss to her daughter’s forehead. “Thank you dear.”

Charlotte nodded and smoothed out her skirts as she walked to begin the long night.

-

The night moved as a blur of serving, cleaning, and collecting payment. Charlotte didn’t get to rest until right before closing. The door opened, and a young man walked in.

“What can I get for you?” she asked.

She considered that the frail boy could use a fattening up. But it wasn’t her place to comment.

“A good meal, if you please.” he asked with a smile.

“Yes, mister.” Charlotte shuffled to the kitchen and heaved a large serving of the night’s stew, scrounging up some dark bread for him. She placed the food in front of him.

He tucked in, moaning at the taste. “Thanks, miss. This might be the last good meal I have for a while.”

Charlotte tilted her head in confusion.

“Midshipman Steven Rogers, reporting for duty tomorrow with the Royal Navy.”

Charlotte smiled. “I wish you well. Hopefully the meal will remind you what your service protects.”

Steve smiled, and Charlotte left him to eat. She cleaned up for the evening as the patrons filtered out. Steve waved as he left with a full belly, and Charlotte returned the wave. She gathered the dirty dishes for washing, forgetting to latch the door.

She heard the door open and turned. “Sorry, we are—”

“But you promised to save me some stew this evening.”

Charlotte smiled at the voice of Clint. “Of course, Mr. Barton.” She wiped her hands and entered the kitchen. She spooned the last of the stew and cut a thick slab of bread.

“Thank you.” Clint smiled. “Could you pour me an ale?”

Charlotte nodded and shuffled off to pour one. “Here you go, Mr. Barton.”

“Please call me Clint, Ms…”

“Charlotte Liddell.” she cast her eyes downward.

“Charlotte.” His lips curved into a smile. “The mistress of the docks.” Charlotte blushed. “Why was a young lady like yourself wandering the docks at night?”

“I enjoy listening to the sound of the oceans. The ships knocking against the docks.”

“You dream of adventure.” Clint commented into his ale. “Or would prefer the life of marriage and having children?”

Charlotte wrinkled her nose. “It would be improper to discuss.”

Clint took a large swig of ale, finishing it. “Pardon me for overstepping. It is unusual to find a young lady looking for more than a husband. You remind me of my wife.”

“Is she back at your home?”

Clint’s face fell, and she realized her mistake.

“There was a hurricane this past year in Port Royal. Took out half my crop. My wife and son didn’t make it.” He sniffled.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t know.” She turned to walk away, but Clint gestured for her to stop and sit.

“You wouldn’t. I don’t speak of them much. I had hoped to find a new wife on my travels here, but we sail in tomorrow evening and I believe my luck has run short.”

Charlotte swallowed hard. This may be her ticket out, she thought. “I wish you well on your journey.”

Clint rose and wiped his hands on his pants. “To you as well. If you think about it, the Hawk sails at dusk tomorrow. Perhaps I will see you again before we sail.” He gave a small wink as the door clicked behind him.

Charlotte latched the door and leaned against it, her head thudding on the wood. She finished the evening chores distracted. She wasn’t certain what Clint was proposing. A marriage? Adventure? The prospect of something else was enticing. Charlotte drifted off to sleep that night dreaming of the Caribbean.

-

“Where is your head, girl!” Rebecca yelled as Charlotte bobbled a large bowl, it shattering on the floor.

“Sorry, Mama.” Charlotte apologized as she gathered the large pieces of the now broken bowl.

“I don’t know how you expect to find a husband being so clumsy.” Rebecca tsked.

“What if I don’t wish to marry?” Charlotte commented in a quiet voice.

Her mother slammed the spoon down on the table. “Not marry!? Have you gone mad, Charlotte Liddell? How do you expect to make your way in this world without a husband?”

“Well, I thought—”

“Exactly the problem. Thinking too much. Listening to the stories of the sailors coming into the tavern.”

“But Mama—”

“Not buts, child. That was my best bowl. Go to see Mrs. Miller has one we can use. Perhaps the walk will clear your head.”

Rebecca shuttled Charlotte out the door. Ms. Miller lived across the town, and she soon passed the docks. Charlotte wandered down to where the Hawk was moored.

“Can I help you, miss?” a gruff voice called from the deck.

“I wanted to inquire as to how much passage would cost to Port Royal?”

“And who might be asking?”

“I’m asking for myself.” Charlotte stood a little straighter.

“I’m not having any single woman traveling on my boat.” the man exclaimed. “It is bad luck.”

“I would ask you to take care how you speak to my bride.” a familiar voice rang out.

Charlotte smiled as she saw Clint coming up the dock.

“Apologies Mr. Barton. I didn’t know.” the man on deck groveled.

Clint’s arm slid around Charlotte’s waist protectively.

“Thank you, sir. Now can you answer the ladies’ question?”

The man muttered a number. Charlotte turned to leave. “I owe you once again, Mr.—Clint.”

“I am at your service, Charlotte. I hoped I would see you again.”

“Now if you excuse me. I have matters to attend to.” She hurried away before Clint could ask another question.

She hurried to Ms. Miller’s and got the bowl. Charlotte ran home, careful to not break this bowl. Her mother snatched it from her hands.

“Why did you take so long?”

“I wasn’t feeling well.” she lied.

Rebecca placed the back of her hand on Charlotte’s forehead.

“You are a touch warm. Finish up the cooking and cleaning and then have a lie down.”

Charlotte nodded and set to work. She moved slowly, not wanting to finish until the evening rush started. Charlotte headed to her bed before long. Instead curling up on the bed, she grabbed a small bag and packed up a few changes of clothes along with a small pouch filled with coins to pay for her passage. The sun threatened to set at any moment and she had no time to waste.

As she pushed the window open, she heard a noise behind her.

“Mama wants to know—” William asked, stopping as he saw her bag. “Where are you going?”

“Away.” She pulled him into a quick hug. “I must hurry. Tell Mama I am still not well.”

“But—” She hugged him again.

“I will miss you, brother.” She pushed her bag out the window and soon followed, walking away from the only life she knew.

Charlotte walked at a casual pace at first, not wanting to arouse suspicion from the passing people on the streets. But as the docks came into view, she took off at a run, fearful she was too late.

The Hawk came into view, silhouetted by the setting sun. The men on deck readied the ship for departure. She clambered up the ramp, and her feet hit the deck with a soft thump.

“I thought you had decided for a life more ordinary.” Clint commented as he took her bag. “I’m glad you didn’t.” He smiled.

Charlotte’s stomach flipped. Her mind raced. Jump off the ship? Or stay and change her life forever? The decision was made for her as the ship unmoored and drifted away from the dock. She remained glued to the railing until Bristol was just a dot on the horizon.

“Welcome to my ship, the Hawk.” Clint commented as he came behind her.

Charlotte’s mouth dropped open. “I thought it was the captain’s ship?”

Clint chuckled. “The captain runs to ship when it is at sea but I own the ship, just as I own my plantation and everything else.” His hand gripped her shoulder possessively.

“I was not aware.”

“Let’s discuss that and a great many other things.” Clint led her away from the railing and the view of everything she knew and towards her future, whatever that may be.

#loki #steve rogers #clint barton #loki fanfiction #loki fanfic #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers fanfic #clint barton fanfic #clint barton fanfiction #loki x ofc #steve rogers x ofc #clint barton x ofc #pirate AU

[verai-marcel]

Blanket

(I wrote this in January 2015.)

------------------------

Veronica ran through the forest, low branches scraping her face and arms as she did. A gunshot rang near her head, spraying tree bits around her. She ducked and kept running.

She was the sole witness of a robbery gone wrong, and everyone else involved was dead. Except for her and the robber-turned-murderer. Another gunshot splattered the snow too close to her foot. She stumbled, and it was enough. Another shot tore through her jeans, through flesh. Compared to the other injuries she had received during this attempted escape, it was bad. At least it wasn't deep in her thigh, she thought as she started going into shock. If the bullet had gone into her leg proper, she could have a shattered bone, or a broken artery.

She kept running, but it hurt, and her adrenaline was running low. Too tired & panicked to pay attention to the ground in front of her, she tripped over a tree branch and fell flat on her face into the snow. Turning over, she saw the gunman walk up to her, the barrel of the gun aimed straight at her head.

"Sorry to do this to you, sweetheart. But I can't have any witnesses." "If you were really sorry, you wouldn't do it." "True."

Veronica closed her eyes, waiting for the final click. Then she heard growling, a startled cry, and finally, a gunshot. She opened her eyes, realized she hadn't been shot, and took in the sight before her.

Two large timber wolves, one grey and one dark brown, stood above her attacker, who looked very dead. His throat had been ripped out, his arms down on the ground, the gun flung off into the forest. When the wolves started for her, blood on their muzzles, dripping from their fur, she scuttled backwards. At least, she tried to. She could barely move, her leg was in pain, and she had lost a lot of blood from the other wounds. Her eyes began to slide shut, as all the energy that had been pushing her forward gave out. The last thing she saw was the pair of wolves moving slowly towards her, their paws padding softly in the snow.

*** Very slowly, Veronica began to realize that she was alive. She opened her eyes to see a log cabin ceiling. She also noticed two warm bodies next to her.

Two?

She tried to move to see, but her whole body tensed with pain and she gasped.

"Don't move too quickly," a deep, gentle voice to her left said. "You've got several deep grazes on your body."

"We had a hell of a time bandaging you up," another deep voice, not as deep as the left voice, but edged with some irritation, spoke on her right.

She tried to sit up to see her rescuers, but two hands on her shoulders kept her down. The two men sat up for her to see.

The man on the left had a 5 o'clock shadow, blue eyes, and tan skin. His dark brown hair came out in waves just past his ears. He smiled beatifically at her. He was well built, muscular, like a wrestler.

The man on the right had dirty blond hair cut short and spiky, with hazel eyes and a lighter skin tone, but was the kind of guy who clearly enjoyed the outdoors. He was lean muscled, but he had a kind of defiant air about him, as if to challenge anyone who dared mock him about his size. He just looked at Veronica with calculating, but not cold eyes.

Both were shirtless. At least they have pants, she thought. She finally spoke.

"When can I go home?"

The dark haired man leaned over her and caressed her cheek. "Soon, once you're healed. We don't have a car, so you'd have to walk back, and the closest bus stop is quite a ways away where we are."

"Where am I? Who are you?"

"One question at a time," the blond man said, but chuckled as he said it to take the edge off his words. "You're in the middle of Sierra Negra forest. And I'm Zev. He's Dolph."

"Oh. Hi. Thank you for saving me. What happened? Last thing I saw were two wolves coming for me. Did you chase them off?"

The two men looked at each other for a second, then Zev shrugged. "In a manner of speaking."

"What he means," Dolph said, giving Zev a pointed glare, "is that we found you passed out, and we took you back to our cabin for treatment." He caressed her cheek again, and Veronica found herself leaning into his warm touch.

Zev inched closer, his fingers tracing patterns on her arm. "We couldn't let such a pretty young thing die like that. It would have been too cruel to the world to lose you." As he spoke, Veronica could feel Zev leaning over her, his breath at her ear when he said the last word. She shuddered, feeling aroused, despite her situation and the fact that these were two strange men. Very, very good looking men who had saved her life.

Veronica tried to move again, but once more she was met with resounding resistance from her body and the two men trying to keep her still.

"Please don't move, we will take care of you until you heal," Dolph said, almost begging. "Your thigh, your left side, and your right shoulder are stitched up, and your muscles are sore all over from the adrenaline."

Veronica almost nodded absently, until she registered the words fully. "How do you know my muscles are sore?"

"We felt them, baby," Zev said, with a heated stare.

Veronica felt her face burn. "What? You felt me up while I was passed out?!"

"No, no, Zev is just being a jerk," Dolph quickly said. "I'm a practicing physician. I felt the muscles around your spine and shoulder blades, that's all."

"And I had to lift your legs and arms while we dressed your wounds. But I could feel your tenseness," Zev added, with a more concerned tone.

Veronica just nodded. Her gut said they were telling the truth, and looking at her leg and down at the rest of her, she could tell she was being treated with care.

"Of course, we could heal you much more quickly," Zev said.

"Zev, stop it," Dolph snapped.

"Come on. We have the ability."

"She won't believe us. They never do."

"Don't talk about me like I'm not here," Veronica interjected. "What won't I believe?"

"Remember those wolves?" Zev asked.

"Yeah."

"They were us."

Veronica stared at him. Then she took a deep breath. She had always been willing to believe anything, with proper proof. So she calmly asked, "Prove it."

Zev hopped off the bed, and dropped his pants. Veronica gasped, but didn't look away, because in a split second, Zev was the grey wolf that she had seen earlier. It was like she had blinked, like the whole world had shifted, and then suddenly she felt as if he had always been a wolf, sitting next to her the entire time.

Then the world shifted again, and Zev was standing before her, a serious look in his eyes. He glanced at Dolph, who was holding his breath, looking cautiously from Zev to Veronica. Zev pulled his pants back on, but kept his eyes on her, a heat to them that she couldn't ignore.

Taking another deep breath, Veronica quickly accepted what she had seen. There was no trick, no time to pull an illusion on her. This was real. And she was okay with that. It was either that, or panic, and she didn't think panicking would help her right now. She could panic later, in private. But right now, she had to hold in the silently screaming feeling.

"Alright. So you guys are werewolves. So if there's a faster way to heal me, let's do this so I can go home."

Zev grinned lecherously at her. "Are you sure? Once you say yes, there's no going back."

Veronica gulped. She looked to Dolph, hoping for the reasonable response. But he looked at her with heat in his eyes, as his whole persona changed from caretaker to a man looking at a woman and wanting her as his own.

"Wait," she gasped, as the two men were suddenly on both sides of her again, their bodies rubbing up against her, making her body scream for more. She expected her injuries to retaliate, but instead, she felt them warm up and feel less painful.

They both started kissing her skin everywhere, their breath making her super sensitive to their fingers right afterwards.

"I..." she started to say, but lost her train of thought as they caressed her everywhere, driving her to moan and lean into their touch, losing her mind to the pleasure. She lost track of time, only knowing the warm touch of their hands and lips on every inch of her. The pleasure she felt over and over again was nothing like her previous relationships, and she never wanted it to stop. She vaguely registered herself feeling sleepy after a particularly intense peak, then passed out.

***

Everything was a haze as she woke up once more. Veronica got up, noticing that her arms and legs were no longer sore. Removing the blanket from the rest of her body, she examined herself for wounds or scars, and found none. It was as if she hadn't been through any of that terror from yesterday. She gingerly left the bed, noting that both men had disappeared. She found her clothes draped on a chair, and from the looks of them, they were washed and mended. After taking a very relaxing shower, she pulled her clothes on and explored the cabin. There was a small bedroom with a very large bed, a kitchen with a small table and 4 chairs, a bathroom, and a very tiny entryway.

Finding the front door, she stepped outside of the little cabin. In the distance, Dolph and Zev were walking back, in their wolf forms, carrying a dead rabbit each. When they saw her, they started to jog up to her.

Veronica knelt down and held her arms out to them, and they both dropped their prey, going up to nuzzle & rub their heads against her. Then they turned back to humans, and naked before her, picked her up and sandwiched her in a big hug.

"Thank you," she said in between their hard, warm bodies. "I'd be dead if not for you two."

They answered by nuzzling her in their human forms.

"Thank you for accepting us," Zev said quietly.

Dolph just nodded his agreement.

They slowly let go of her, picked up the rabbits, and entered the house.

"We're going to cook a rabbit stew for you before you..." Zev said, unable to finish the sentence.

"Come in from the cold," Dolph quickly interjected before the air around them became too heavy. "You're still weak from the healing."

Veronica nodded and walked in behind them. As she closed the door, she wondered. Would it be so bad to stay, just for a bit longer?

As the two wolves cooked for her, she sat at the small square dining table, staring out at the forest. Could she just stay here? She didn't have much going on in her life. She worked as a freelance artist, and babysat for extra cash to help pay her school loan. She could technically work from anywhere, as long as she had a computer and internet. Looking around, she saw very little technology. The most high tech item in the kitchen was a wood burning oven. Could she live like this? Why was she even thinking of it?

"Hey," Zev said in her ear, his breath tickling her skin. "Whatcha thinking?"

Veronica smiled and shook her head. "Nothing, I guess."

His hazel eyes stared into hers, and she blinked and looked away from the intensity of his gaze. He guided her face back to his with a gentle hold on her chin, and kissed her softly, his lips lingering on hers.

"I want you to stay with us," he said suddenly.

"I... I can't. I have bills to pay, work to do," Veronica replied.

Dolph came up to the table, holding two bowls of stew. He nudged Zev away and put the bowl in front of them. "Eat up first. We can discuss this later." He turned to get his bowl from the kitchen counter and joined them as they started to eat.

"What work do you do?" Dolph asked finally after a few minutes of silence.

"I'm an artist," Veronica answered. "I have some contracts I have to fulfill, and I still have to pay off my school loan, so I babysit for extra money."

"If you lived with us, you wouldn't have to worry about that anymore," Zev said. "You could do whatever you wanted and not be beholden to anyone."

Veronica sighed. "That'd be nice, but..."

"But?"

"I don't know. I just met you two. I've never done anything like this before. I've only ever been with other shut-ins, and that didn't work out so well."

"We can take it one step at a time," Dolph said. "First, we can take you home. You're welcome to come back whenever you'd like."

"And when you do decide to stay with us, we'll work out the life stuff then," Zev said confidently. "Together."

She did want to stay. Something inside of her pulled her to this place, to these men. The same something that had pulled her to run here after the robbery. But first, she had to take care of her other life.

She made a decision right then and there. She wanted to come back. Her intuition, the same feeling she drew her artistic direction from, was screaming for her to be here.

"Give me some time."

Both men nodded and smiled at her, but they both looked a little sadly at her at the same time.

***

They were good to their word. They took her to the nearest bus stop, hugged her goodbye, and stayed until she was on the bus and out of sight. Veronica was now in front of her apartment door, unlocking it, and entering her small studio, with all of her worldly possessions, which wasn't very much. She had sold so many things to make cash for her student loan. She was so close to paying it off. So close. Just three more contracts. She could do it.

***

For 6 months, she worked her butt off, doing random freelance jobs, finishing her contracts, and slowly cutting off her ties by selling almost everything she owned and paying off all of her accounts. By the end of the sixth month, she only had her clothes, her laptop tablet, a pot, a set of utensils, some art supplies, and a sketchbook.

She wondered if Zev and Dolph would still be there. She wondered if they had moved on. And she wondered if she had hallucinated the whole thing.

But she had already done all of this. With her last check being slipped into the mailbox, she grabbed her bags, and took a bus to the edge of the Sierra Negra forest.

*** "She's coming."

"You've been saying that for three days."

"Can't you feel it? She's on her way, I'm sure."

"You said that yesterday too. Wasted the whole day waiting at the bus stop."

"It'll be today, for sure."

"Zev..."

"Dolph, I'm sure this time. That feeling in my gut is stronger this time. I'll admit I was jumping the gun these past few days, but that's because—"

"I miss her too. I'll come with you this time, just because we had a good hunt last night."

Veronica hopped off the bus with her two bags, filled with what was left of her belongings. She looked around, and was surprised to see two figures coming up the hill towards her.

Then she saw them running towards her, and before she knew it, she was embraced by two men she barely knew, and yet knew so well in her heart. A warm fuzzy feeling, much like being wrapped in a strong, warm, soft quilt, enveloped her very being.

"Zev, Dolph," she whispered. They nuzzled her once more before letting her down from their arms. They each took one of her bags, she took a hand from them each, and together they walked to the cabin in the middle of the forest.

And this time, Veronica truly believed in happily ever after.

#writing #original writing #werewolves

[gangrenados]

Questions 1 to 10 😊

Thanks for the asks, chamaaa 💖💖

1. favourite place in your country?

Barlovento, reminds me of my childhood and the excitement of going to the beach, in addition to the fact that that city is very close to the home towns of my parents and I associate them with when I was a little girl and went out with my cousins to swim in the river, play in the streets or wander through the processions. And now that I can go with them to the carnival in my father's hometown

I love going to Caracas, it is a big and more modern city than the one I live in. There are hundreds of interesting things out there such as the theater, museums, parks, amusement parks, shopping centers and even people, but I must admit that I am afraid of getting lost as it is very big and it is easy to end up in a dangerous area

2. do you prefer spending your holidays in your country or travel abroad?

I have never left my country, so I do not have enough information to answer that. Although I have always dreamed of traveling to another country ps

3. does your country have access to sea?

Yes it does! our sea is the caribbean sea and I love go to the beach, like really bad

4. favourite dish specific for your country?

I’m gonna give a little explanation on this one, okay?

Tequeños

They are a kind of crunchy puff pastry filled with white cheese, but they can also be filled with chocolate or with cheese and jam. They are too rich however they do it.

Cachapas

They are a kind of cakes made with sweet corn. The texture is achieved thanks to the fact that all the ingredients are beaten together in a bowl and are usually filled with cheese, fried pork or roast meat. I personally prefer them with nothing but cheese

Cafunga

This dish made from ripe banana, grated coconut, wheat flour, salt and banana leaves

Carato / Chicha

Both are drinks, only the first is made with ground corn or rice or with pineapple or soursop pulp, and chicha is made with rice or pasta and cow's milk and you can add condensed milk and cinnamon.

Honorable mentions: Hallacas, patacón, pan de jamón y mondongo (extra points if you eat this next to a river)

5. favourite song in your native language?

how the fuck people can choose just one?

El chico del apartamento 512- Selena Quintanilla

No le pegue a la negra - Joe Arroyo

La loba - Las Chicas del Can

Bestia - Hello Seahorse

Me voy/ Limón y sal - Julieta Venegas

Olvidame y pega la vuelta - Pimpinela

Te veo - Lasso

Badgad/ Maldición/ Malamente/ A palé - Rosalía 

El baile de los pobres - Calle 13

Devuelveme a mi chica - Hombres G

Callaita - Bad Bunny

Al otro lado del mar - Proyecto Uno

Rabiosa - Shakira

6. most hated song in your native language?

Probably Danza by Nacho, I don’t have a problem with many songs tbh lol

7. three words from your native language that you like the most?

Pamplinas,  etéreo, superfluo, 

8. do you get confused with other nationalities? if so, which ones and by whom?

Most of the countries of the Middle East and South Asia, I do not know much about them since they are very far from where I live and they do not tend to teach us about them in school.

Despite all this, I find their culture very interesting and beautiful because of how diverse it is. I know more about India and Turkey since here in Venezuela they tend to show soap operas from those countries, in addition to the fact that my mother likes those countries a lot and she shares the information she finds about them.

Australia / UK

I have some problems understanding accents other than American, and yet sometimes I have no idea what the gringos say. Personally I find the British accent very thick, I remember that when I tried to see Angus, thongs and perfect snogging in their original language I did not understand anything lmao

Now, I think the Australian accent is cute, but it reminds me a lot of the way Chileans speak who have weird slang and also they speak really fucking fast  lol

France

Okay, this is because I'm trying to learn French and I'm sorry for the grammar and the accent. And I am afraid to speak French around someone who is their mother tongue, since a mistake in pronunciation in French can make it seem like you said something inappropriate :(

South Korea

I love K-dramas with all my heart, besides I had a K-pop phase in elementary school, but I must admit that some of their customs are shocking to me, they are like the opposite end of my country in certain things. .

United States

This is something complicated, here our vision of that country has been dehumanized and transformed in two ways: some think that it is a paradise where their life will be resolved, where everything is mickey mouse, cheerleaders, weapons and parties with red glasses, while that others see the United States as a giant leech ready that does not care about the lives of others or how much damage it does. So it is somewhat difficult to know how things really are.

I do not understand their culture in certain aspects, such as the tendency they have to classify everything or how their government is so nefarious with other countries, taking into account what it did with mine of course.

9. which of your neighbouring countries would you like to visit most/know best?

Brazil all the fucking way, they have a really interesting culture and I’d love to learn more about it

10. most enjoyable swear word in your native language?

I have to admit that I tend to be somewhat foul-mouthed, so the list is somewhat long

Niche, balurdo, marico/a, coño, verga, caligüeva, huevon/weon, puta madre, puto, mamagüevo, pendejo/a, becerro/a, ñuelamdre, coñazo, hijoeputa, arrecho/a, vaina, ladilla, jalabola, mamalo, sapo, pajuo, nojoda, etc

#ask game #about me

[bestsportmedia]

Antonela Roccuzzo’s Mom Patricia Blanco and sister Paula Roccuzzo talk about their family and clothing company in new interview with ¡Hola! Argentina.

Hola: How did Enfans, your clothing company for kids, start?

Paula: After the arrival of my nephew Thiago. When Anto began to learn about the world of motherhood with her first child, she started to have an interest in everything about kids, and among those things, clothes. Then she started it with our cousin Andrea, who is a designer of apparel and an innate creative. Anto had started Design in the Argentine Industrial Chamber of Apparel, but even though she did not finish it, she knew several things. I was the last to join the project, with the same motivation, when my first child, Felipe (3) was born. And with Mom’s help, it started taking shape.

Patricia: From day one they put a lot of enthusiasm and work. The roles were very well divided. While Andrea and Paula are in charge of the design and Anto of the trends, I am in the administration. For now, it is only for sale in Rosario and we ship throughout Argentina, but the idea is that it can reach the world.

Hola: How do so many women work together?

Paula: In addition to working together, we meet on Thursdays and Sundays, that doesn’t change for anything! [Laughs] We prioritize the family and the bond, so before any conflict, we resolve it without losing the values ​​we always handle.

Patricia: When I met José, the girls’ father, his family already had the Unique supermarket chain and the wholesale distributor, then I joined and there was never a single problem. We always stayed close and we knew that our priority is family. Although la Negra [Antonela] is far, there is constant communication and, luckily, we can travel very frequently.

Paula: When she [Antonela] comes, mom’s house becomes a club. There are family gatherings all the time. Mom is the great engine of all of us.

Hola: How are you as a grandmother, Patricia?

Patricia: I enjoy it to the fullest. Today, that is my priority. Now Pau and her husband Tato are moving near my house, and I’m happy because I’m going to have them as my neighbors. I already taught Felipe how to ride a bike around the neighborhood. On the Anto’s side, Mateo is the most naughty, but he is pure love, he is the most expressive. Thiago is polite, moderate, tidy, much quieter. . When I go to Barcelona I sleep with them, Ciro is very young for now, he is more attached to his mother.

Hola: How did you transition Antonela’s move to Spain at 21?

Patricia: At first she would come and go every three months, but I got used to it.. Just as I am now, I am not invasive and I respect the decisions that each one makes. Although it was hard, I supported her and encouraged her to continue with that routine. It was also hard for her, but it had to be done, and today is the proof. Carla also left when she was young, first to Bariloche and now to Buenos Aires. Luckily, I will always visit them and they like to come to Rosario to visit. December is the best month of the year because I have them close and we celebrate [holiday] at home. One year we have Christmas and the next New Year, we take turns with the other families. At least there are thirty of us. In addition, we celebrate “no birthdays”, a typical family celebration that we created to celebrate everyone’s birthdays.

Hola: Does your husband José also enjoy having a large family?

Patricia: He has no choice. [Laughs] My husband’s family is very good, and as soon as I joined his life, they welcomed me and we formed a great circle. On Sundays we get together, the Blancos and the Roccuzzo.

Hola: Are you also close with Messi family

Patricia : Yes, we see them, but not as often as we see each other between the Blancos and the Roccuzzo. Luckily, they are also close and have a very nice relationship within their family. We see them for family events and share the holidays. We understand each other very well. Moreover, Jorge Messi with José usually have their men’s getaways. They go to the court together, since they are both Newell’s Old Boys fans, and play tricks on tournaments.

Hola: How do you cope with media exhibition brought by the family that  Antonela formed?

Patricia: At first it was a little difficult for us. It is hard, but we got used to it. For my part, I understood the situation and stayed out of it. I never respond when we were assaulted, nor do I call to say thank you when they speak well of us. We prefer to stay out of the press. My other daughters are recognized by surnames, I go more unnoticed. We are not offended, we are proud of who we are and the family we have.

Paula: I’m proud of my sisters. What happens to me is that  if I go somewhere and if they hear my last name, they instantly ask me if I have anything to do with Antonela. I look more like dad, but they usually say we look alike. I never lived it as a burden. To me, she’s my sister, like always. Sometimes it’s hard when Leo comes to our homes  But luckily he is very prepared, all this time he endured it, and when they come to Argentina, they come to enjoy their time with the family. The plan is to be together and share the time.

Hola: What’s Leo Messi like in private ?

Patricia: Very good, like all my son-in-laws. When I travel to Barcelona, they welcome me at home, I see them and I feel very happy, because it makes me feel very good to see how they get along, how they are with their children. They live the roles of mom and dad very clear. I see them well and they welcome me in the best way, it is a pleasure to be with them.

Paula: Just like my sister, I’ve known him since he was a kid, he was always a close friend of my cousin and we shared many anecdotes and moments. We were accompanying him on the road to who he is today. He never changed.  

#lionel messi #antonella roccuzzo #thiago messi #mateo messi #Ciro Messi #paula roccuzzo #patricia blanco #I used google translate so there might be some errors #I would like to edit it but I gotta study for my midterm #k bye now

[laurarage]

Me Gritaron Negra, Victoria Santa Cruz

They Shouted At Me: "Black!" I was only seven years, only seven years Not even seven years I wasn't even five! Suddenly, some voices on the street They shouted at me: "Black!" Black! Black! Black! Black! Black! Black! Black! "Am I black?" - I said to myself (Yes!) What does it mean to be black? (Black!) I didn't know the sad truth that was behind it (Black!) And I felt black (Black!) Like they said (Black!) And I recoiled (Black!) Just as they wanted (Black!) And I hated my hair and my thick lips And I looked with sadness at my dark skin And I recoiled (Black!) And I recoiled...! Black! Black! Black! Black! Black! Black! Black! Black! Black! Black! Black! Black! Black! Black! Black! And the time went by, And always so bitter I continued to carry the heavy burden on my back And it was sooo heavy! I straightened my hair I put powder on my face And among my soul I always heard the same word...! Black! Black! Black! Black! Black! Black! Black! Until one day that I was recoiling, I kept recoiling and was just about to fall- Black! Black! Black! Black! Black! Black! Black! Black! Black! Black! Black! Black! Black! Black! Black! So what? So what?! (Black!) Yes- (Black!) I'm- (Black!) Black!- (Black!) I am black! (Black!) Yes- (Black!) I'm- (Black!) Black!- (Black!) I am black! From now on I don't want to straighten my hair (I don't want to!) And I'm going to laugh at those Who think, according to them, that To avoid us some bad moment They call black people "people of color" And what color?! (Black!) And how good it sounds! (Black!) And what a rhythm it has! Black, black, black, black! Black, black, black, black! Black, black, black, black, black, black! Finally! I fiinally understood! (Finally!) I don't recoil anymore (Finally!) I'm sure on my way (Finally!) I walk and hope (Finally!) And I bless the heaven because God wanted my skin color to be black, And I understood (Finally!) I have the key: Black, black, black, black! Black, black, black, black! Black, black, black, black, black, black, black! I'm black!

#victoria santa cruz #I´m black #peru #peruvian #Día de la Cultura Afroperuana

[esuemmanuel]

Perdona la tragedia en la que me he sumergido. Perdona, yo no sabía que en este mundo existía el más congelador abismo. Perdona mi torpeza, mi arranque de pobreza; el espíritu se me ha caído. Perdona, yo no sabía que aquí era malo ser un niño. Perdona la ingenuidad de mis poros y la tibieza de mis venas. Perdona las rabietas de mis manos sinceras. Perdona, sólo perdona, la ignorancia de entender que, en este mundo, no se debe amar al Ser. Perdona mi ansiedad por desear las sonrisas de quienes pasan por mi vera. Perdona las caricias de alegría sincera que les entregué. Perdona, sólo perdona. No tenía entendido que aquí no es bien visto volar, que aquí se prefiere enterrar al que nació para dar sin esperar. Perdona, sólo perdona mi terquedad… Y, es que, no pienso cambiar. Perdona que haya decidido continuar con mi andar. Y, tal vez, dure un tiempo en regresar, pero la certeza de que volveré es real. En mis manos pesa más el amor por la humanidad. Me has hecho entender con golpes de acero que, antes de amar a otros seres vivos, se debe amar al ser humano en su totalidad. Amar. Sí, amar a pesar de todo el dolor que puedan causar. Amar porque sí, por el hecho de ser feliz. Amar, pues, por y para eso nací. Recuerdo el deseo de mis padres antes de nacer a este mundo… Ellos sólo pensaron en amor y nací Yo. Me imaginaron tan bien en sus mentes soñadoras que me crearon, de tal manera que, al verme en sus brazos, agradecieron mi nacimiento. Mi madre no pensó mucho en qué nombre iba a llevar, y parecía que ya lo sabía, pues de sus labios sólo brotó como agua de manantial. Ahora me dice que ese nombre siempre le gustó… Y me llena de ternura verla emocionarse al hablar de Mí. Siempre me dice que sólo ella sabe por lo que pasó para poder traerme a este mundo… Y, a veces, lo acepto, yo quisiera irme de aquí. El planeta Tierra es hostil. Los seres que en él habitan lo son también. Es difícil comprender su hostilidad. Para mis ojos es doloroso ver a la humanidad desgajarse… Preferiría desaparecer antes de seguir viendo cómo se odian unos a otros. Y, sinceramente, sé que sólo a unos pocos nos importa el hecho de saber que, si la humanidad sigue destruyéndose, todos desapareceremos. No puedo creer que no sean capaces de verse a los ojos ni al corazón. Me cuesta trabajo entender por qué se odian tanto. Pareciera que están poseídos por una masa negra, muy oscura, que les prohíbe reconocerse… Algunos, simplemente, se han matado solos. Y bien podría callarme todo esto, pero no puedo y tampoco quiero. Para eso nos hemos concedido la habilidad de escribir. Bendita humanidad… Bendito ser humano… Aprende de una buena vez a amarte. Ojalá pudieras verte como te he visto Yo desde antes de que vinieras a este mundo… Somos luz, pero eso no lo crees ni lo concibes. También sé y tengo claro que entiendes el amor como la unión de los sexos y no como el Ser completamente lo que Eres en libertad. El amor se ha confundido, se ha mal interpretado, se ha supuesto de él una tontería. El amor no es enamorarse de una persona sino de la vida. El amor no es tomarse de las manos y decirse cosas al oído. El amor es caminar mirando al cielo y besar la frente de todo ser vivo. El amor es danzar, es respirar contento… Es latir con el viento y con la esperanza. Es hacer lo que te nazca y lo que vibre dentro de Ti. El amor eres Tú haciendo de tu vida una sinfonía. El amor está en tus manos, en tus ojos, en tu cuerpo, en tu alma, y es que Amor te llamas.

Esu Emmanuel© , Forgive the tragedy in which I have plunged... Sorry, I didn’t know that in this world there was the most freezing abyss. Forgive my awkwardness, my outburst of poverty; my spirit has fallen. Sorry, I didn't know that here it was bad to be a child. Forgive the naivety of my pores and the warmth of my veins. Forgive the tantrums of my sincere hands. Forgive, just forgive, the ignorance of understanding that, in this world, one should not love the Being. Forgive my anxiety to desire the smiles of those who pass by my side... Forgive the caresses of sincere joy that I gave you. Sorry, just forgive... I didn’t understand that here it isn’t well seen to fly, that here it is preferred to bury the one who was born to give without waiting. Excuse me, just forgive my stubbornness... And, I don't plan to change... Sorry I decided to continue with my walk. And, perhaps, it will take a while to return, but the certainty that I will return is real. In my hands the love for humanity weighs more. You have made me understand with blows of steel that, before loving other living beings, the human being must be loved in its entirety. To love. Yes, to love. Despite all the pain they can cause. To love, for that I was born. I remember the desire of my parents before being born to this world... They only thought of love, and I was born. They imagined me so well in their dreaming minds, that they created me in such a way that, seeing me in their arms, they thanked my birth. My mother didn’t think much about what name she was going to use, and it seemed she already knew it, because from her lips it only sprouted like spring water. Now she tells me that she always liked that name... And it fills me with tenderness to see her get excited when she talks about Me. She always tells me that only she knows what happened to bring me to this world... And sometimes I accept it, I would like to leave here. Planet Earth is hostile... The beings that inhabit it are too. It is difficult to understand his hostility. It is painful for my eyes to see humanity tear itself apart... I would rather disappear before continuing to see how they hate each other. And, honestly, I know that only a few care about knowing that, if humanity continues to destroy itself, we will all disappear. I cannot believe that they aren’t able to see each other in the eyes or the heart... It is hard for me to understand why they hate each other so much. It seems that they are possessed by a black mass, very dark, which prohibits them from recognizing themselves... Some have simply killed themselves. Well, I could shut up all this, but I can't and I don't want to. For that we have granted ourselves the ability to write. Blessed humanity... Blessed human being... Learn to love you once and for all. I wish you could see you as I have seen you since before you came to this world... We are light, but that you don’t believe or conceive. I also know and I am clear that you understand love as the union of the sexes and not as being completely what you are in freedom. Love has been confused, it has been misinterpreted, it has been assumed nonsense. Love isn’t falling in love with a person but with life. Love isn’t holding hands and saying things in your ear. Love is walking looking at the sky and kissing the forehead of every living being. Love is dancing, it is breathing happy... It is beating with the wind and with hope. It is doing what is born and vibrating within You. Love is You making your life a symphony. Love is in your hands, in your eyes, in your body, in your soul... and it is that Love is your name.

#el hombre de la soledad #escribiendo en soledad #escritores en tumblr #the man of solitude #writing in solitude #writers on tumblr #2014 #poetas en tumblr #poets on tumblr #poetscommunity #artists on tumblr #tumblr poet society #prosa larga #poesía en prosa #poesía en tumblr #prose writing #spilled prose #original prose #proyecto azul

[avaxhunt]

@firehunters @chefhughes

“Did you guys get the boxes?” Ava asked, standing in front of her laptop that rested on the kitchen counter. She’d been stirring a small pot when she call started, one foot easily nested on her thigh as her legs formed a 4. 

“Yeah, I got it this morning.” Callie was rummaging through the items in said box as she spoke, her laptop also on Colin’s kitchen island so Ava and Vivian could see her standing and half of the living room in the back. “This is incredible!” She exclaimed, pulling the items out and lining them on the island.

“This is so thoughtful, Ava, wow.” Viv was in disbelief as she went through the box as well, the girls could see Wes in the back as he worked on the couch, pieces of braille adapted paper spread all around him. “Look, essential oils, soaps, body scrubs, the masks... Are these cookies?”

With the amount of free time Ava had in her hands now, she had the chance to be on full Ava mode: taking care of all her loved ones on a next level. She had found a local shop that made self-care packages that was giving discounts and struggling with everything closing down, so she bought one for herself and one for her best friends. Jenna had gotten one was well and by the picture she sent Ava, her and Sean were having the nicest time with it. “Those are cookies,yes and I made sure none of the products have cinnamon because while it is delicious, it increases blood flow and it could be back for your pregnancy.” She explained it to Vivian as the woman nodded, attentively. “It’s mask time, come on, grab yours.” She watched both girls disappear for a moment and then come back with small bows in hand.

“How do we do this? I always buy my masks from a drugstore.” Callie admitted feeling rather guilty. She could put a little more effort into taking care of her skin more naturally, but she didn’t quite have the time to learn about it with how much she worked.

“Okay so two spoons of the clay powder, two spoons of water. If you see it’s too thick, add some more water. Mix it with the little brush that came with it.” Ava showed them her mix and the little brush as well.

“How long have you been standing in this position?” Vivian couldn’t help but wonder and stare. She couldn’t do that before, she didn’t even want to try now that her gravity center was changing. 

“A while.” The blonde answered nonchalantly. “Remember, don’t let it get completely dry or it will no longer do any good to your skin. If it starts drying up, grab the little sprayer and spray your face. Or thermal water if you have it.” That shit was much too expensive for her so Ava would go with the normal water straight from the sprayer they used to water the plants. “Time for the funny faces.” She finally moved from her position and approached the camera so she could look at herself as she applied the green clay mask. Soon she was joined by the other two women doing the exact same, each of them doing their own funny face as they thoroughly applied their masks. 

“Okay, done.” Vivian pulled back first. “I still have some on the bowl, do I throw it away?” She asked.

“Yeah, I have some too.” Callie showed her bowl. “I’m going to put it on Colin.” She gave them a wicked grin and disappeared. 

“Let’s see if Wes wants some.” Vivian chuckled. 

“Babe.” Ava called for Andrew, seeing only half of his book as he was laying on the couch with his back turned to her. He hummed in return and she smiled. “You want a face mask?” She asked and she noticed the book closing.

“That stuff that makes your face green?” Andrew grunted back and Ava’s grin only grew. 

“Yes.” She said.

“No.” Andrew said calmly.

“Babe...” Ava walked over to him slowly, a teasing pout on her lips as she popped in front of him and Andrew gave her a look from behind his sexy glasses. “I promise you will look absolutely radiant after and I will compensate you immensely. When we wash it off together. In the shower.” She smirked, biting down on her bottom lip. Andrew stared at her a little longer and gave her a small smile, taking his glasses off and shaking his head.

“You’re ridiculous.” He murmured as he sat down on the couch and pulled her to stand between his legs, his hands on her ass. Ava chuckled, gently pushing his hair back before she stared applying the mask on his face, carefully and slowly. 

“Don’t let it go dry, let me know when you feel it cracking.” Ava whispered, quickly stealing a peck from his lips. “I love you and we are going to have a lot of sex soon.” She smirked against his lips before trotting away.

In the meantime, Callie had jumped her way to the couch where Colin had been playing video games. She stopped next to him, giving him a devious look that said ‘please, pause the game’ and Colin didn’t hesitate. “Hi.” She teased.

“Hi.” Colin grinned at her, reaching out to give her thigh a gentle squeeze.

“Face mask.” She said simply and he chuckled, putting the controller aside so he could lean closer, no fight, no protests. 

“Hit me.” He provoked and Callie chuckled, leaning closer so she could cover his face in the clay. “I’ll call you up when it starts getting dry?” He asked and Calista gasped dramatically.

“Am I not introducing you to the arts of facial self care?” She provoked and Colin grinned at her. 

“You have a long way to go still, young one.” He teased and Callie shook her head, laughing when he gave her butt a squeeze before she ran back to the laptop.

Vivian carefully made her way to Wes and he was already perking up his head when she approached. “You already know what I’m going to ask.” She smirked and Wes smirked back, his face turning towards her. 

“I’ve decided I should try once to decide if I should say no the next time.” He said and she snorted, coming a little closer and letting Wes feel her legs to know where she was. 

“Kiss on the baby, kiss on the mom.” Vivian grinned and Wes let his hands slowly move up her sides until he found her bump and he leaned closer, giving the bump a gentle kiss. When he leaned back, Viv lowered down to kiss his lips, lingering for a moment. She leaned back and began applying the mask onto his face carefully. “It will be basically all over the non-hairy spots in your face, okay? I won’t let it touch your beard. Call me when it starts feeling too dry.” Viv finished and smiled at the sight. “Ti amo.” She whispered before pulling back and walking over to her laptop.

“Baes all properly covered in clay?” Ava asked once all three of them were there?

“Beautifully, yes.” Callie chuckled, looking back at Colin and aiming her phone at him to take a picture. 

“What’s next?” Vivian was loving that moment more than she expected. 

“Next you’ll oil up that bump a bit and we are having a dance party.” Ava grinned, already opening Spotify on her phone to find a song for them. Vivian nodded and grabbed the vial with the essential oils, pouring some on her palms and rubbing them together before she spread the oil on her bump. 

“This feels nice.” She sighed happily.

“Have you gotten than dark line already?” Callie asked curiously. “The one that shows up in pregnant women.” 

“The linea negra? Yes, look.” Vivian turned to face the camera, trying to look for the best light to show the fading dark line cutting her stomach vertically.

“Oh, the mini Wes is coming!” Callie cheered, arms up and everything.

“The mini Wes is coming.” Vivian laughed just as Ava hit play and the small speaker next to her laptop started blasting. Both girls starting dancing right away, faces covered in green clay. “Oh, it’s so weird dancing with the bump.” Vivian laughed, hands on her stomach, and Ava stopped for a moment to watch them. 

She looked at Andrew’s green face on the couch, his glasses back on his nose, the book open again and then back at the girls. In that moment she felt more blessed than she had in a long time. 

#all babies 002 #drabble

[shroudkeeper]

Happy Black History Month everyone!

This is the month where we celebrate our culture and history. And of course I wished to add something personal akin to this celebration, and it is something touchy for me since it is relatively a new thing I have opened up to only a very, very few about. I wanted to share it publicly!

Growing up I had a few issues with living as a dark skinned woman. I dealt with colorism a lot from the latin side of the community, where light skin is praised despite the fact that we come have a wide spectrum of skin colors. I was teased as a child, and one could imagine the impression such would leave on a person growing up around others who had straighter hair, skin far lighter than my own, yes we spoke the same language, but I was too African, too black skinned, to be considered latin.

I was teased about my curly wild hair, so I used a straightener to make it appear European, the standard for beauty.

My skin was too dark, so I tried to lighten it. I avoided getting into the sun a lot so I did not get darker in shade. God, I was even told my nose was too wide. I wanted to appeal to others as a latina and be seen less African, since apparently being black was not apparently equivalent to beauty.

Ever see Spanish novellas in the past? Hardly many beautiful black women are depicted there. So of course, in the eyes of others, I was not latina enough. I was a prieta, negra.

I thought there was some sort of shame in this growing up after being told you just did not fit the mold. How could you possibly explain to someone, not of color, how this feels like. As a kid? You just do not feel like you belong with those of your own culture.

But, within the black community, light skinned black girls were also the appeal. I was borderline there, was called ‘Red’ and thought I found my niche. I was asked if I was mixed, commented on how good my hair was, how lucky I was not to have kinks.  But looking back, the things I did to fit into these perceptions of what was acceptable within society as beauty, how I always teased of either speaking like a white girl, praised for having ‘light skin’ to just too black and not latin looking enough.

It took me a long, long time to shake off the colorism that I grew up with from both sides; there is perhaps one or two people on this site that have known me since I was 16+ years old, and have seen me define myself as not black. Growing up, as an adult now of 36 years old, I learned a lot of myself, of what I defy as.

Why can I not be both?

I am both black and latin. I am an afro-latina. I am proud of my dark skin, my full lips, the texture of my hair. I may not have classified myself properly in the past, but I know who I am now. I have Nigerian blood in me (thanks 23 and me), I have Cuban and Colombian blood. So this month I celebrate others like me too, others that have felt conflicted in the past, that have been told they were not the concept of beauty. Celebrate black history month, celebrate a part of our roots, our pasts. We are tied into the African community as well.

#ooc | out of the woods #irl rivienne #personal #colorism #not ffxiv #this is such an important subject for me #and hard to talk about sometimes