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motions1ckness · 1 year

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“Fall in Nashville”

Summary: Julien invites you to a cabin for a second date with Phoebe and Lucy

Content: f!reader, fluff, forced proximity

(for the julien girlies/me)

pt 2 “Now I’m Covered in You” is out!!

Julien invited you to this cabin with her friends Lucy and Pheobe. You met her earlier that month and never thought you’d be spending weekends with her.

You arrived close to four, your stomach in knots the whole drive. In all honestly, you two hadn’t even kissed. This would be your second date, and you hoped the three of them didn’t plan on sacrificing you in the forest.

Earlier that week, you asked Julien about the dress code for the weekend. She laughed as she thought you were joking. You laughed along with her as you didn’t get your question answered. Guess go for a fall in Nashville.

Pulling into the driveway, you saw two other cars there as well. Julien came out waving at you as you parked, waving back as you hopped out.

“Hey,” she said with a smile forming on her face. She looks gorgeous. Her hair recently cut to shoulder length, her face dotted with pale freckles, and she wore black jeans, a white cuffed tee, and an amber-colored flannel, with a hair tie on her wrist. This woman. “I’m glad you made it.”

You felt your heart skip as she hugged you. You couldn’t believe how good it felt in her arms.

“Thanks for inviting me up here,” you replied, feeling a bit nervous, you broke the hug as she got your stuff from the back.

As you walked up to the house, you were completely mesmerized by her, glancing over more than you should. Fantasizing this becoming your future.

“So what do you think of the place so far? Pretty nice right?” She asked as she approached the door, stopping to keep the conversation for a moment.

“It’s really special Jay, I see the appeal,” you say, and it’s true. It all screamed Julien to you.

“I’m happy you’re here,” she said, putting her empty hand on your arm. A jolt of electricity ran through you as it only lasted a few moments before she opened the door.

Stepping inside, you were greeted by Lucy and Pheobe, who were laughing about something as you came in. Their welcoming nature made you feel like you had known them forever.

As the night went on, the four of you laughed and felt the hours slip away like minutes. It was nearly seven, and Lucy and Pheobe insisted on getting wine and snacks. They groaned realizing they’d have to go out to get some.

You were lying on the floor, legs relaxing against the couch and arms sitting on your stomach. Julien sat upright beside you, messing with your hair periodically.

Lucy stood at the door waiting as Pheobe grabbed her keys from the kitchen, “We’ll only be out for 7 minutes tops.” She tells us.

Right as Lucy was about to shut the door, “No fucking before that!” Pheobe calls out, followed by her and Lucy laughing.

And just like that, it was only you and Julien.

Your excitement peaked as Julien looked down at you with soft eyes. “I’m really glad I invited you,” she said, still messing with your hair.

You felt your face heat up from the feeling, “I’m really glad I came. They seem great by the way,” you beam up at her.

You start to hold her wrist, she flinches slightly as you rub your thumb against her skin. Julien's eyes dart to your hand and back to you. Her face matched the same red tint as yours.

The silence became palpable. A moment passed before she started to move down to you, which was poorly timed as you attempted to pull yourself up and accidentally bumped heads. “Fuck!” you wince, letting her go and holding your head.

Julien threw her head back, groaning from the pain.

You sat up and flung your hands onto Julien. “Shit Julien, are you okay?” You asked her. She kept her eyes shut, furrowing her brows. Did you fucking concuss Julien Baker?

Your hands found their way to the sides of her face, reiterating the same question, concern rushing through you.

“Yeah, I’m fine. Don’t worry about it,” Julien answered breathlessly, laughing it off, a small smile appearing as she moved her hands over yours. Her eyes opened, noticing your concerned expression.

For a moment, you two just looked at each other. The tension grew as she ran her thumb over your hand. She glanced down at your lips and then met your gaze again. Julien leaned forward and kissed you, tangling her hands through your hair.

After a while, you pulled away to look at her. It was like seeing her for the first time again. The knotting in your stomach faded and was replaced with contentment.

“I really like you, Jay,” you confess.

Julien beamed, “I really like you too,” she replied and kissed you again.

Julien eventually pulled away, smiling as she got up to put a record on. She returned and sat behind you, wrapping her arms around you. The two of you filled the silence with conversations about music and stories from adolescence.

Pheobe and Lucy came back with snacks in hand, seeing you two cuddling and talking. They didn’t seem surprised, exchanging a look as Pheobe set her keys on the counter.

“Did we walk in on something?” Lucy asked, giggling at the circumstance.

You laughed at her comment, sinking deeper into Julien's arms, feeling shy about the situation. Julien, on the other hand, seemed unfazed and laughed along.

Phoebe walked over to you tarot deck in hand, ‘Y/n do you want a reading?”

You nodded as you were curious. Julien stayed behind you as Pheobe and Lucy sat across from you two.

Phoebe was telling you about your future and what to expect, with cards like the Two of Cups and Ace of Wands laid out, Lucy egging on the reading as she went.

Lucy chimes in, “I knew it! You and JB!”

You felt your face heat up, Julien looks down at you, a comforting smile on her face.

“It’s not for sure, but there is a possible relationship, possible,” Phoebe added.

As Pheobe continued, you became more aware of Julien's presence, her breath against your neck, her arms tightening around you, the feeling dominating you as you attempted to listen to Pheobe.

You grin, but the excitement mixes with anxiety as you only recently met Julien. But the possibility of a relationship made your heart race.

Lucy left to bring the snacks and wine, and Phoebe started the put her cards away, “So how are you feeling about it? Helpful at all?” Phoebe asked, wanting to know if she had crossed any lines.

“No no, I liked it. Thanks,” you smiled, zoning out focusing on what the reading said.

Phoebe got up, Julien could hear them talking in the kitchen. She looked down at you and noticed you spacing out.

Julien left a kiss on your cheek, “It doesn’t mean anything. I still mean what I said,” she whispered to you, leaving another kiss, “Do you?”

You turn to face her, feeling the warmth from her breath on your skin, “Yeah, of course I do.” You respond, kissing Julien and moving your hand to her face. “Who else would bring me to this cabin?”

#part 2?#julien baker #julien baker x reader #julien baker fluff #boygenuis #lucy dacus #phobe bridgers #julien baker blurb #julien baker fanfic #wlw

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plzfeedmebread · 2 years

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Red Rivers Run Deep

word count: 1787

Pairing: Human! Colonel Miles Quaritch x Human! Female! Reader Tags/Warning: hurt, comfort, established relationship, slight angst, crying, period cramps Summary: Period pains aren't the only pain you're dealing with right now. You're grateful that your husband is there to comfort you.

Author's Note: So I wrote this, then didn't like what I wrote so I rewrote it TwT For the request from @idrinktheadarling Hope it's to your liking! Apologies as always for any grammatical mistakes.

You didn’t think something so insignificant could affect you to such a degree.

But it wasn’t insignificant, now was it?

The seemingly inoffensive pink line stares back at you.

Singular.

Negative.

You throw the pregnancy test in the trash, washing your hands with gusto as if to wash away the pain.

And it was not just the physical pain of your impending period that assaults you. Your heart is aching something fierce. You feel guilty. It was as if, what right did you have, to dream of such things? What deeds have you done, to earn such happiness?

If Eywa was real, then she did not bless you this day. If God was real, then you feel as though you are far beyond his reach.

You had been so sure, yet cautiously hoping. Your period was late, as was indicated on the app you used to track it. The pains you got were always severe, sometimes taking you out of commission completely.

You remember that you need to tell Grace you won’t be available for any field work for a few days, perhaps even a whole week. You call her through the commlink. True to her name, she was gracious in understanding of your situation. She can tell something is off; there is a troubled cadence to your voice underneath your hisses of pain. She doesn’t press you for answers. You ask her to send your husband your way should she see him.

Once you’re done with your call, you meander to the bed, carefully laying yourself on Miles’ side. His pillow smells so faintly of his cologne. And even though you clearly have matching bedding, his pillow somehow felt just that much softer.

Another slice of pain cuts through you, and you clench your teeth to bear through it. Fucking hell, you wish you could be in your Avatar right now. Never have you felt so envious of, what was essentially just another you; the Na’vi didn’t have periods like humans did.

You smile at the memory of when Grace had regaled you with the tale of mortified looks from the older Omatikayan children’s faces when she had explained the concept to them all years ago. You had laughed until your stomach ached when she tried imitating them.

“‘Sa’nok! Are you bleeding now?? Are you okay, does it hurt???’ Oh, poor Tsu’tey was beside himself!” Grace laughs with a hand to her heart. She’s still giggling when she tries making a disgruntled face, pretending to swat someone behind the head.

“‘Tsk! Skxáwng! It’s probably impolite to ask such things! Sorry Sa’nok, please pay him no mind.’ Sylwanin gave him an earful for that one. She was always so bright that one, wise beyond her years…” Her voice trails off then. You see the shift in her gaze, the sadness behind her faltering smile. Even years later, the pain of what those soldiers did still lingers...

Another stab of pain interrupts your trip down memory lane. You curse out loud, clutching your abdomen. You don’t feel like stumbling through the base to medical for some pain killers.

You close your eyes, trying your best to will yourself to sleep. If Eywa could not bless you with a child, then maybe she would at least let slumber take you.

---

When next you open your eyes, you look out the window to see night has already fallen. The pain has subsided to a dull ache. You notice then, that a hot water bottle has been nestled against you, with your hands carefully maneuvered to hold it in place.

What? Who? When?

The answer is immediately obvious. The sounds from the bathroom catch your ears; the shower is running, and you can hear the faint yet distinct sound of familiar humming. Miles must have come in some time whilst you slept on, placing the warm bottle where it now lay.

You let out a deep content sigh, readjusting yourself and the bottle to be more comfortable on your side, facing away from the bathroom door. You eye then catches the items placed on the bedside table. There is a thermos, and when you reach out to touch it, the bottle still feels hot. Beside it sits some pain killers in a small plastic cup.

You sit up, propping yourself against the pillows. And as you do, you see the bag sitting at your bedside. It’s filled with little boxes and packets of your favourite snacks; at least the ones available here on Pandora.

You lip quivers, and you feel as though you could cry. You love the small gestures just as much as the grand. You clear your throat, vigorously rubbing your cheeks to stop yourself from crying. You grab the thermos. You unscrew the lid and sniff the hot contents. The smell is delectable and enticing. Your pour yourself some in the lid and drink it down greedily.

You sit there, drinking from the thermos in quiet contemplation.

The dull ache in your lower abdomen pulls your mind back to that accursed test in bin. You wonder if Miles saw it, what would say? Would he share in your sadness? Would he be relieved? Would he berate you for wanting to even start a family?

But what was really waiting for you there? A dying world? Was there even anything worth going back for? You had no immediate family. The only family you truly had now, was here, on this planet light years away. And who knew how long you’d even be stationed here anyway; this was for all intents and purposes your new home. And despite its rough edges, you loved this place to bits.

Did you even want to start a family on Pandora? You know all too well the hostility of this place. It was probably a stupid idea, wanting to have kids here. It would be a far better idea to wait until you’re both shipped back home.

And you love your husband dearly. And you are certain, without a shadow of a doubt, he loves you back just as much. You feel apprehensive though; the two of you had spoken of kids before, but it was always around ‘when we get back home’. Pandora never did feel like home for him; probably never would.

Your lips press into a thin line as your mind spirals lower. Why this time, out of all the other times…Why was it this particular time, that you’re so disappointed?

You don’t even realize the noise from the bathroom has stopped. Nor do you even register when Miles emerges from the bathroom dressed for bed.

---

Miles stops himself in the doorway of the bathroom, leaning on the door frame. He takes the time to stare at you, study you. You’re sitting up in bed, drinking from the thermos he brought. Your eyes are unfocused, staring blanking ahead. He wonders what’s on your mind, but he has a pretty good idea of what it could be. He had seen the test in the bin. Luckily, he didn’t need to pick it up; it had been facing upward, the pink line in plain sight.

He watches the micro expressions that dance across your face as your mind wonders. There is a tightness in his chest, and he quietly grimaces. He knows he needs to talk to you; you are clearly upset and the air needs to be cleared. When he sees the threat of tears in your eyes, the quiver of your lip, he swiftly pushes himself off the wall.

---

The sound of his approach has you snap your head up to him. It takes you a moment to register, but you offer him a gentle smile. It does not reach your eyes.

“Hi honey,” you greet him, holding up the thermos. “Thanks for this, I really need it. All of it, actually…” You return the thermos to the bedside.

“It’s no trouble sweetheart, anything for my best girl.” He lays down beside you, pulling you into his arms does. You nestle yourself into his side, head resting on his shoulder, hand resting on his chest, the hot water bottle sandwiched between you two.

“[Y/N]…Are you okay?”

It’s such a simple question. Requires a simple answer.

Instead you cry. He turns himself to face you, arms wrapping around you. He pulls you to him, your hands fist into his shirt tightly.

His hand leaves warm patterns in your back, his mouth whispers comforts into the softness of your hair.

When you manage to calm yourself, reduced to only sniffing, you finally speak.

“I’m…sorry…” you manage to choke out. He tuts you, and you feel him shake his head.

“You don’t ever have to apologise darling; least of all to me. You wanna cry, you go ahead and cry.” He wipes your face with tissues you didn’t even see him grab.

You open your mouth to speak, but instead you groan in pain as you’re hit with another wave of pain.

“Did you take the painkillers?”

“No…forgot…”

Miles reaches behind you, grabbing the little cup. He hands it to you, and you wordlessly take it. You wash down the pills with a swig from the thermos.

Miles instructs you to lie on your back. He moves his hand under the pillow, laying on his side, pressed into you. He moves the water bottle away, replacing it with his hand instead.

Slowly he rubs your lower abdomen in gentle circles. The light pressure almost feels like a massage. You let out a content sigh as the pain subsides back into the dull ache. You feel his breath tickle the hair on your head.

“Do you wanna talk about it?” He asks vaguely.

“Not…right now. Maybe tomorrow? When I’m not in so much pain please…” You answer, and he’s not entirely convinced you’re only talking about cramps.

“Of course sweetheart,” he plants a kiss to your temple. “I love you.”

“I love you too, thank you…” You close your eyes, leaning your head into him.

“If it means anything…I just want you to know, I think you’d be a great mom…And I’d love nothing more to start a family with you…Even if it has to be on Pandora.”

You turn your head to look at him then. His gaze speaks a thousand words. All of them feel like declarations of love. You lean up and he instinctively leans down to meet you half way.

Your lips press upon one another in a soft languid kiss; soft and tender with metered passion.

And just as his hand lessens the pain in your lower abdomen, so too do his words lessen the pain in your heart.

You feel assured, that everything will be okay.

#colonel miles quaritch x reader #miles quaritch x reader #quaritch x reader #miles quaritch #colonel miles quaritch #colonel quaritch x reader #human miles quaritch #human reader #wife reader #husband #avatar fanfiction #avatar 2009 #human miles quaritch x human reader #reader insert #afab reader #my work #my writing #Spotify

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nerdieforpedro · 3 months

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El vino me lo quitó (I lost him to wine)

Part Two (morado/purple) of Coasting through the Rainbow

My entire masterlist and blog are for readers 18+ MDNI. I do not consent to my work being used in AI, recommended on TikTok, borrowed or plagiarized.

Summary: The move back to the US presents Javier with new opportunities and challenges. He felt like he may have found someone to hold onto but is he really holding on to them?

Warnings: Angst, domestic Javier, allusions to smut, alcohol use, no bad jokes this time, and PTSD reference

Word Count: 1936

Notes: We’re moving forward in Javi’s story. It’s very angsty and the angst is strong in this fic but we are working toward a good ending for Javi, I promise!

Main Masterlist/ Javier Peña Masterlist/ AO3 Link

The hustle and bustle of Washington DC are confounding to Javier. Everyone is always moving quickly but seem to be doing nothing at the same time. He appreciates that there’s always something and someone to do, but there little nature. Not like Columbia where a drive could take you along rivers, forests and fields and not like Texas where he’d see animals, different fields and farms.

The overseas transfer went smoothly, due to his decorated history in the agency, the DEA want his knowledge which Peña is glad to be paid for. They included an apartment that had a parking garage. Good because Javier enjoyed driving, letting his mind wander listening to music, though with traffic as it was, it was difficult to get carried away in song while people were honking with all these one way streets.

Continuing to indulge in both women and men, Javier was able to work out some of the growing pains of his new life. None of his partners match Angelo’s looks exactly nor do they have his gentle touch. The loneliness ate at him daily however, there was a period of nearly a year that gave him a small part of familiar warmth from Columbia.

His name was James. He’s not gentle, nor does he allow Javi to hide as he hasn’t been able to being a gay black man. James is six foot three inches, broad with a three cloud tattoos on his upper right arm and a dark trail of hair leading to something Javier enjoyed. His hair is shaved on the sides and he keeps it long in the middle - a faux hawk. It looked goofy as far as Javier was concerned but give how limber his towering lover was able to make him in and out of bed, he never uttered a word about it. Often, when they began, little more than the slaps of skin were heard. Tender words were gone, neither of them had much use for them in the bedroom. Outside of it was a different matter all together.

To start, Javier met James for brunches and a few breakfasts. It was a stark difference in how his outings with Angelo went. Peña told himself he wouldn’t make that mistake again. No one wants to be hidden or a secret, he had realized that too late and been too scared to cross into the daytime. The relationship was one of two driven men.

Javier formed different relationship with agents in his new role and was helping to close cases, getting dangerous drugs off the streets.

James was a sommelier, working in a local winery and building his contacts along with gradually securing funding for establishing his own business.

In this respect, they complemented each other and spurred each other forward. They never lived together despite going from each other’s places freely at all times of day when there was time. Javier enjoyed James and cared about him, but it wasn’t quite the same as Angelo. Two ships floating in the same direction is how Javi would describe it. He did meet some of James’ friends and Javi had him out to dinners with the DEA crew he’d been advising. It was awkward at first as Javi hadn’t mentioned to any of them that he dated men in addition to women. Not that it was any of their business.

Again things were going smoothly and he though that despite not having same sense of security as he did before. Peña figured that having an undercurrent of trepidation would help him keep the relationship going.

Javier Peña finds himself wrong a second time.

James has been working many late nights similar to how Javi used to do in his younger days. He’s brought home some wine to go with dinner that Javier made - simple arroz con pollo (rice with chicken) but he added some asparagus cooked with chicken bullion and seasoned the pollo with tomatoes, lime juice and jalapeño stuffed green peppers. Normally he wouldn’t have added so many veggies, but Javi found that one of his favorite polo shirts - the pink one was a bit tight around the middle.

Javier only started cooking for one person and he wasn’t the one in the kitchen with him now. He always lingers in the back of my mind. I’m worried it’s always going to be like this. Will I ever move on? Forward?

When he and James sat down to eat, things were fine. They discussed their days like usual, ate a well-cooked meal. Afterword, when they were cleaning the kitchen up, James casually introduced the idea of California. “Going to visit you mean? We could, but we’ve never taken more than a weekend trip together Jay.” Drying his hands on the dish towel, Javi set down the plate worried that he may drop it. That’s a big step, but it has been nearly a year. Time just keeps moving doesn’t it?

“No, well yes we can visit the first time we go but eventually we would move there. I’ve been able to get all my funding, investors and contacts to open my own winery and grow the grapes I know will make an excellent wine.” James’ large palms press into Javi’s cheeks and his thumbs trace his upper lip and mustache. “Come with me Javi. I want you by my side. I’m going to start a wine empire!” The excitement is his dark orbs is accompanied by James’s cheeks puffing out from his wide smile. The bright kitchen light makes the stubble trying to grow back in on his face prominent with rich sepia skin.

“My job is here though James. I haven’t been here long enough for another transfer. Plus with all that the team has going on, it doesn’t feel right to leave them hanging.” Peña places his hands over James’. While correct in what he just said, Javi knows that he’s never told his boyfriend about what he saw in Columbia or California. Not the details that sometimes have him up at night. Make him still drink. Make him still smoke. Have him react to anything that sounds similar to a gunshot or eye any substance that looks like a white powder suspiciously. Javier is removed from most of that here. Just the mention of California has him in a cold sweat, his back starting to feel wet and tense.

James releases Javi and looks at the man he loves, the man he wants to walk long rows of greenery with and finally make a wine he’ll drink more than one glass of. The color has drained from Javi’s face, pallor has taken over. He’s surprised that Peña isn’t trembling, he just might start. “Sweetheart, does going to Cali bother you that much? Javi baby what happened? I’ll be right there with you. This is my dream. I’ve worked toward it for years.”

“Chasing a dream like that is a young man’s game. I’m damn near forty years old. I can consult for a while yet, but I don’t know about being out in a winery out in the hot sun. I can’t give you an answer right now James.” Javier turns away and places his palms face down on the counter, hanging his head. His age isn’t really that much of a factor, but he truly doesn’t want to go. And retirement has been on his mind since his work at the consulate, not that he knew what he would do whenever he did retire, but he didn’t want to be hurting for money like some law enforcement retirees are a few years into not working.

Crossing his arms, James knows Javier focuses more on facts when he wants to mask the real reason he doesn’t want to discuss something. Why didn’t he feel comfortable telling him? He knows that some things went down both in Columbia and Cali, things that made Javier famous in some circles, but only broad strokes. There were times he watched as Javi slept and murmured to himself, tossing in the bed. Peña would never speak about it, only that there were some ghosts that would always haunt him, choices that could have been different and kept more people alive. He holds himself responsible for that. James wanted to know why Javi felt like the world was on his shoulders, he couldn’t control everything. Javi knew that, but he knew it was it youth and the idiotic belief that his small team and the Columbia government at the time would be able to take care of everything eventually. He had been mistaken on every front, costing the lives of so many - some he knew personally, others he did not. “Is this it Javier? We’re not even going to discuss it more and you’re never going to tell me what in California keeps you up at night? It’s been nearly a year for us! I haven’t earned enough trust for you to be vulnerable with me?!” Placing his hand over Javier’s with the other on Peña’s back, James rubbed it in silence. Javi wasn’t answering nor was he looking at him. A hole might form in the counter between Javier’s hands.

Without turning his head, Javier spoke, “We’ve never been about emotions James. You know that as well as I do. Don’t try and act like we ever have been. I’m not going and that’s final. I am proud of you though.” Finally, Javier turns his body to face James head on. A small smirk graces his face. Something else has ended again but it doesn’t cause another chasm, only a fracture - that will heal.

Kissing Peña’s forehead, James has his fingers in the black silky hair he enjoyed stroking after sex and occasionally when Javi would be working at his desk before coming to the table for dinner. It’s the last time he’ll have it in his hand. Embracing Javier and cradling his head near his heart, James knows his periodically cantankerous partner is right, he has not expressed his feelings about what he and Javi have. It’s too late to make him understand what life he wanted to build with the DEA consultant. His heart is beating swiftly, holding on to Javier. He might disappear right before his eyes, fade away. A winery won’t share meals with him or cuddle at night nor will it listen to his ideas - some outlandish and other actual options making them both laugh.

Once they let go of each other James walked out of Peña’s apartment and out of his life.

If there was one thing Javier envied about James it was his ability to press forward with his goal no matter what was around him. It was a quality that Javier used to have and admired in himself and now in someone else. In the past it would be work that would drive Peña but now he wants to put that energy toward a relationship.

Javier can’t seem to find a right path forward in his relationships. After James departs, it’s a few weeks later that he receives a bottle of red wine - a prototype of his brand.

Red wines are supposed to be sweet to Peña’s limited knowledge, but even after finishing the entire bottle in once sitting, there was nothing saccharine about what he just drank. “The shit’s just bitter. Maybe it’s just how I am. Can I even taste anything other than bitter and sour?” The question made Javier wonder if he should even try again. Maybe being by himself would be good for him. Maybe he could figure out what he wanted. Eventually.

Different brands of wine 🍷: @djarinmuse @megamindsecretlair @tinytinymenace @schnarfer @rulexofxnines

@djarins-cyare @secretelephanttattoo @soft-persephone @mysterious-moonstruck-musings @604to647

@morallyinept @for-a-longlongtime @soft-girl-musings @saturn-rings-writes @professionalpromqueen

@angelofsmalldeath-codeine @connectioneverywhere @fhatbhabiee @yorksgirl @guelyury

@readingiskeepingmegoing @survivingandenduring @rosecentaur1916 @westside-rot @romanarose

@lady-bess @sin-djarin @legendary-pink-dot @80ssong @kilamonster

@boliv-jenta

Part One - Rojo. Part Three

#pedro pascal characters #fanfiction #pedro pascal #pedro pascal fanfiction #javier pena fanfiction #javier peña #javier pena narcos #javier peña x ofc #pride month #lbgtq #coasting through the rainbow #a nerdie series #a nerdie fic

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anotherwvba · 1 day

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Finding Your Place, pt. 2

The intense lights of the WVBA Studios cast a bright halo around Sahara Sands. She stood confidently in the center of the room, fists clenched inside her bright yellow gloves. It was photo day, the day when all the promo pictures and videos for the upcoming card were shot. Some of the boxers loved it, a chance to be in front of the cameras and show-off. Others found it tedious, a necessary evil between them and the ring. Sahara was definitely the former.

She was decked out in her new blue and yellow ring gear, colors she picked for her new ring name. Razor Sharp. It was a tribute to her father’s beginnings in the sport, long before he was called Mr. Sandman. He was Tyrone “The Razor” Sands, a boxer so good that the establishment could deny him… until they did.

Things in the sport were different now. Now, the league that her father was a founding member of wasn’t a renegade outfit, it’s the major leagues. No doubt, the WVBA was still boxing’s isle of misfit toys in many ways, but now there were plenty of boxers around the world that saw the WVBA as their life’s goal, not their last resort.

Again, Sahara… Razor was the former. She worked her whole life to this point, first as an amateur, then turning pro. She fought in bingo halls and bars, wherever she could get a match. She wanted to earn her way into the WVBA, not get in on her father’s name. Twelve wins and eight knockouts later and here she was, taking promo pics for her WVBA debut.

Razor owned the room. She was in her stance with a look on her face that promised pain as the photographer flitted around her. The sounds of shutter snaps were interspersed with mutters of “nice” and “perfect” in a light British accent.

Colbi Shutters, a more appropriate name for a photographer you’d never find, moved to change the lens on her camera for the next series of shots. “Alright, Razor, for this next batch, let’s get confidence. Like you just know you’re winning.”

“Girl,” Razor popped her hip, resting one glove on it as she held the other loosely by her chin, “what do you mean like I know?”

“That’s what I’m talking about, sunshine,” Colbi smiled, snapping her new lens in place. “Did you catch Luna’s stream this morning? She was talking some mad shite.”

Razor laughed as she shifted to another pose, “Little girl thinks she’s got hands ‘cause she’s got three wins against YouTuber’s and Instagram models. She’ll learn.”

Colbi smiled as moved through various angles, “Show me. Give some fierce action shots, but like, pause at the end of each punch.”

“Fierce is what I do,” Razor shifted into her boxing stance, bouncing and glaring down the lens. “Luna’s gonna see. She thinks she can outlast me. Me? I mean, for real. Razor Sharp’s not just a name, it’s a warning. She act like she don’t know, but she will.”

The intensity gave Colbi a moment of pause. “Um, love? This is starting to sound a mite personal.”

Razor’s face softened into a sly smile, “You wanted fierce, remember? But, naw, it ain’t personal. Look, I ain’t gonna hate on a girl for her hustle, and Luna’s got plenty of hustle. There’s a reason she’s got the following she’s got. Hard. Work. Period. But, this is my world and I got a job to do.”

Shifting seamlessly back into fight mode, Razor threw an uppercut just shy of Colbi’s camera lens, stopping so the photographer could get a shot as if on the receiving end, “And that job’s to put these gloves on that girl and that girl on her ass. Her Luna-tics are gonna see their girl starched and ain’t nothin’ she can do.”

“Nice! Oh, let’s get a few like you’ve just knocked her down.” Colbi laid down on the floor, framing her shot.

Razor set her stance, pointing her right fist straight toward the camera lens with a menacing smirk, “Out. You mean to say ‘knocked her out.’ When a Sands lays you down, you go to sleep.”

“You are right and truly up for this, aren’t you?” Colbi smiled, shutter clicking away. “Uh, gimme another pose.”

“This good?” Razor shifted to look like she was walking away and giving her foe an intimidating glance. Colbi nodded as Razor struck the pose. “And yeah, girl. I’m so ready. I mean, I’ve had thirteen pro fights, but this just hits different. You know? People gonna look at me and have their doubts. They gonna think I’m a nepo hire. ‘Her daddy’s a legend, that’s how she got in.’ I’mma shut that down before it starts. Just sucks for Luna. Girl ain’t my opponent. She’s my proof.”

Just as Colbi and Razor found their rhythm, the door to the studio burst open, sounding like a gunshot. The light, playful energy of the shoot vanished. Replacing it was a voice that sent ice water through Razor’s veins.

“Yo! Let’s get this over with.” The Sandman, Andre Sands, walked in oblivious to everyone and everything. He was in his signature black ring gear, gloves in hand. “I gotta get back in the gym. Ain’t like Don Flamenco’s got a chance, but I wanna embarrass that fool. Bull needs to know who’s comin’ for him.”

Sandman, booming voice and all, slid his gloves on as he scanned the room. He first saw Colbi picking herself up from the floor, then he saw Razor… and passed her, taking in the rest of the room. The dismissive smirk on his face made Razor’s fists instinctively clench tight in her gloves.

“Andre,” Razor’s voice lost all humor as she fixed a hard glare on her brother.

His name, his real name, brought Sandman’s eyes shooting back to Razor. The look on his face was familiar to the younger sister. Contempt. Lifting an eyebrow and tilting his head, Sandman’s smirk returned, “Sahara, didn’t see ya’ there. And, you know better. It’s Sandman.”

“Sandman is our father, not you,” Sahara held his gaze, no reservation, no fear. “You? You’re just Andre and you’re early. This is my studio time.”

“Get out.” Andre’s jaw flexed. His eyes darkened. He never looked away from Razor for an instant. “I didn’t stutter. Leave. Now!”

Colbi, shaking slightly, looked to Razor, unsure of what was even going on, much less what to do.

“You good, girl.” Razor, like her brother, never shifted her eyes away. But, her voice was calm and reassuring as she addressed Colbi. “This won’t take long. We can wrap up in a minute.”

As Colbi quickly gathered her things and scurried out while the Sands siblings continued their staredown. The door closing behind the photographer did nothing to ease the tension in the room.

“Aight, big bro,” Razor stepped closer to her brother, voice low, tapping her gloves together with clear intent. “You ran Colbi outta here. You want somethin’?”

“Little girl,” Sandman looked down at his sister with hard eyes and a menacing sneer. “You don’t want the smoke. Step off.”

“Make me.” Razor popped her gloves together again, loud and deliberate.

Sandman chuckled softly and shook his head.

“Andre,” Razor’s voice was clear. Her patience was running thin. “You know when your shoot starts and you know who’s ahead of you in the studio. So… What. Do. You. Want.”

“I told you what I want, Sahara,” Sandman, too, dropped all pretense. “Did you think I was talking to the photog? Get out. Get out of the WVBA. Go back to your bar cards and your state fairs and wherever else they willing to let you fight. Just stay out of my ring.”

Now, It was Razor’s turn to chuckle, “I get it, bro. You scared. You scared that people gonna see me and see our legacy. Our family. What we mean to this sport. What our dad…”

“Our dad ain’t shit!” Andre’s voice no doubt boomed beyond the studio walls. “Tyrone Sands is a washed up, punch drunk, bitter old man that ain’t got the grace to walk away and I don’t need nobody reminding the world of who he was, especially his prized little princess.”

“And there it is,” Razor sounded so disappointed. “You hate dad, don’t you? The man that raised us, made sure we wanted for nothing. He could’ve kept fighting when the WVBA closed up the first time. He was in his prime. But, he walked away, for family. For us. For you.”

Sandman’s jaw clenched as his gaze dropped to the floor, “You wouldn’t understand.”

“Then what I said before stands,” Razor’s voice picked up a warmth with her brother’s reaction. She reached out with her glove and raised her brother’s chin, meeting his eyes again. “Make me. Please.”

For a moment, a long moment, they stood there. Their eyes locked. There were no ring names, no personas. For a moment, they were just Andre and Sahara, the oldest and youngest children of five children. The moment passed.

“I ain’t got time for this,” Sandman turned to go to the door.

As his back turned, Razor’s resolve hardened, “You can tell me or I can tell you. How you want it?”

Sandman stopped, but didn’t turn around. “You gonna tell me what?”

“Dad failed you on your pro test.” Razor’s voice was flat, matter of fact.

In one quick, angry move, Sandman wheeled on his sister, closed distance, right hand cocked, aimed at her jaw. “Who the hell told you that?! Answer me, girl, or so help me…”

“Or what?!” Her guard shot up, body coiled, muscles tensed, ready for anything. “What Andre? We gonna go?”

Razor stood her ground and her brother suddenly realized who he had raised his fist to. He lowered his hand. His face softened, slightly, but the anger was just below the surface. “I ain’t never told that to anybody.”

“Dad told me.” Razor lowered her guard as her brother’s fist lowered. “He was one of the judges for you to get into the WVBA when it reopened. He didn’t think you were ready.”

“He was scared I’d overtake his legacy,” Sandman spat.

“He was scared you’d get hurt, dumbass,” Razor spat back.

Sandman’s expression was a cocktail of confusion, anger, and disbelief.

“Look,” Razor started moving around the room. She was getting restless and needed to move, but her eyes never left for brother. “You walked into that pro test 22 and 0 with 18 knockouts. Everyone thought you were in.”

“All except a bitter old man.” Sandman folded his arms across his chest.

“All except a concerned father,” Razor stopped and mirrored her brother’s resting posture. “No one there had fought in the WVBA except dad. He knew. He knew you could rule this league, just not then. That’s all. He fought 450 pound ex-sumo, brawling Texan bull riders, and drunk Russian bar bouncers. And it damn sure ain’t gotten any easier.”

“Says the girl that’s fighting a Twitch streamer.” Sandman’s snark was unmistakable.

Razor chuckled, “A Twitch streamer that would run my ass ragged if she had any more experience. See, that’s the difference. I see game and recognize it. You see game and rag on it. You’re damn good, big bro, but you think you way better than you are.”

“Ain’t nobody better than me, baby sis,” Sandman smirked. “And it ain’t that I see game and don’t recognize it. It’s that I see chumps that call themselves champs and I’m gonna put ‘em all to sleep. Then, the only Sandman anybody’s gonna remember is me. Not the jealous has-been that tried to hold his own blood back.”

“And that’s the difference between you and dad,” Razor’s gaze turned to stone. “Flamenco can beat you. Bald Bull gave dad trouble in his prime. And yeah, Bull’s older, but he’s a better boxer than when he fought dad. Dad respected every opponent. You don’t.”

“Respect don’t win fights,” Sandman raised his gloves up. “These do.”

“These don’t lose fights,” Razor raised her own gloves. “Disrespect does.”

“Man,” Sandman shook his head, frustration mounting. He started pulling his gloves off and again turned to leave, “I ain’t got time for this. I got work to do.”

As Sandman turned to leave, Razor smiled. She won this round, but she couldn’t resist one more jab. “You know, bro, funny thing about you taking dad’s name. The people, the fans, his fellow fighters, they gave dad the name Sandman. He didn’t have to give it to himself.”

Sandman’s posture stiffened for a moment, but without a backward glance or another word, he left.

Colbi Shutters is an OC belonging to @cyrah-is-cool101 and is used with permission.

#punch out #super punch out #punch out wii #punch-out!!#super punch-out!!#punch-out!! wii #punch out oc #punch out fanfic #wvba #razor sharp #the sandman andre sands #colbi shutters

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ashhlysarts-blog · 1 year

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Blog #05

Monday, 10 April 2023 | Tableau Vivant & Mise-en-scène

When I first heard about Tableau Vivant – living painting –, I thought it was about the saying “life imitating art”, and I wasn’t exactly wrong about that assumption, yet not completely right either. Tableau Vivant is the performance made by a group or a person representing a scene with proper props and costumes. Representation in this case means to act in the scene replicated, and to stand in for the chosen figures in the scene. But we cannot speak about Tableau Vivant without touching on what mise-en-scène is. It is ultimately a theatrical setting and the arrangement of the background, the required props, etc. to make a film’s scene work as intended.

Understanding these definitions were needed for me this week, as our project required the understanding of them, and knowing how to use them to my advantage. We were tasked to first find a variety of paintings to choose one from, and Paul Cézanne’s “The Card Players” came on top. At first, I was quite enthusiastic about the project – as I’m told I am in the beginning of the projects – but keeping that enthusiasm throughout the project proved to be incredibly hard.

During the first two days of the project, we did a lot of walking around looking for the appropriate props to set the scene such as; the curtain in the background, the pipes, the picture frame, and the costumes… After that excruciating period of trying to gather everything needed, we also talked to a few friends to help us out as the figures in the painting. After everything was set, we tried to match the actual lighting with the painting’s light tones – although we couldn’t really match in the end – but it was quite hard to have a result close to the tones of the painting. To be honest, the whole process day was really overwhelming for me, and it quickly became a nightmare in seconds even though we had the help of kind individuals. Hearing my name coming from all directions and trying to attend to people’s needs, and on top of that, the arguments with our friends took a toll on me, and I did lash out without meaning to. Still, the exhaustion I felt through the last day felt worth it as we submitted our second draft, which, fortunately took a lot less time from our day, and we were able to quickly wrap up.

All in all, the whole week felt a little hectic and more than a lot stressful in my opinion. Trying to handle the work with only two people and a group that doesn’t like to cooperate was a lesson learnt from my side. If we do this one more time, I’ll definitely get the help of different people, and won’t waste a lot of time trying to get all the details right – as it was impossible –. Still, even with the painful project, I did manage to have fun as we tried putting things together and create something we can be truly proud of.

Image 1: The Card Players

Image 2-4: Behind the scenes

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sxxphyyzz · 2 years

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barely phy

As you probably didn’t know, I'm going through mid-life crisis, at 28-29; I assumed I had finished that phase - yet here we go again. When I was a little kid, I used to imagine about a life where I would accomplish all the goals that I barely knew being a pre-teenager. In fact, I didn't accomplish anything in accordance to my messy imagination but it took me a hell of a ride for me to bluntly realize, none of us is doing right either.

Speaking of getting married, first warning is that I'm not even bothered of getting married whatsoever. I just wanna tell you about how I barely get there, even it comes to dating and all things related, I could finally and proudly say I'm giving up. I do have friends that still so determined to find their true love at the age of 30 and over and I must say it's pretty damn a hell of a journey when one time, a friend of mine brought her Tinder match to hang out during our stand-up paddle session, later there must have been at least 4 people advised her to date his friend instead. Dating is not hard, but to complicate it is my profession and passion. I used to talk about how I would love to marry my best best best male friend if we're 30 and not getting married. The result is? He's married already and me basically traumatizing myself into thinking how could I kiss him and abc and xyz, I just can't. But I did think it'd have been so sweet to marry your best friend, but the older I get, it is no longer about the friend whom you've spent so much convenient time with, or how you two talk about the most vulgar and silliest topics together. I finally understand it means, what the heck do I know anyways, I'm not a dating coach.

Then 5 years ago, I rushed into an entanglement with a smart handsome honey glowy muscular tanned skin Korean guy, though we ended up in bad terms and I know I'd curse him for the rest of my life, at least he made me feel that dating is not hard. We talked for a week and he asked me out, but I was playing around so it took him 1 month to successfully pursue me, only to end up in a vicious circle of one day he chased me, I gave up on him. The other day, I hit him up to receive an icy toned reply from him that we weren't compatible. Over the course of the last 3 years or so, I finally gave up, not because I stopped sparing feeling for him but he cheated on his then girlfriend with me. It got me so much confusion and pains to think about that period of time when I almost turned psychotic, probably still now if anyone ever mentions about tanned muscular guys, guys born in January who would resemble his blunt and super superior tones talking to me. I'm still crazy for him, literally. So any tarot readers ever again predicted that "a handsome younger tanned muscular guy will find you", I will gather all of my bravery and nerves just to tackle and choke them on the ground.

Tarot has been my therapy for a few years, however as I've grown older, I hate to foresee the future because my anxiety will ruin everything beautiful, extraordinary and exceptional in my life. There were a period of time I decided to stop depending on tarot decks and started navigating my life intuitively instead. The results were not bad, but that's when I looked back into consideration that because I was extremely busy with overloaded work, along the line I was also loaded with juicy paychecks, suddenly all of my problems were yesterday. But there were days I drowned myself in irrational sadness, something as I felt alone and got no one to share the life I was living back then, 5 days a week I would work and spend the weekend enjoying all the extravagances bought fairly by well earned money. At that time, a thought struck me hard in the core of my head: money really can't buy happiness, regardless how much I earned, but again it was yesterday while today we are facing pandemic, aren't we? For those who are living in hell epidemic, money can't buy lives and all things related, but money could give you the power of fleeing the countries or sparing yourself in comfortable houses loaded with all the facilities while people are being unemployed at large rates. In the end, my problem of having a patchy view on money is not really a problem anyways, in the pandemic. Indeed, my point of view during pandemic has been changed significantly, such as anything can be replaced and anyone can be removed followed by the fact that I had cut off a few friends in the midst of pandemic.

Given the pandemic, I sound like an asshole who loves to complicate everything out of convenience, per se, "convenient" pandemic, as an excuse to get rid of a few friends in my life, at the same time pandemic did give me an insight in forever questionable paradox inside me: have I had enough? Should I leave and move on? The conclusion was: I have suffered enough, I have suffered the pandemic and I don't have to suffer assholes like you, you, you and you. I just walked away, no goodbyes, no excuses, no explanations, no whiny shits, no rants, although I loved to. Ironically, do you know what I was called out instead? I have always been seen as a bad guy for years, for ditching those who were bad to me. Regarding to love topic, maybe I'm just losing while my favorite artist Taylor Swift is winning.

Taylor Swift is one of my favorite artists, alongside The Weeknd whose music style is dark and mysterious, Taylor's music on the other hand is much more bubbly and gummy rainbow. I relate to her lyrics and stories behind each song, I adore how each phase of my life has been magically illustrated through her songs, how did I fall in love at 17, how torn I was to get back on and off with a guy who shattered my heart in the course of 4 years, even scarily, how one song could tell the story of these occasions when he got back to find me in the name of his selfish nature. I was torn. At the time, I thought we were in love. Any girl who is in that situation will understand what I'm talking about. A guy searches for you after years without contacts, isn't it just romantic? I did think it was romantic, because I'm hopeless romantic at heart. Precisely saying, I pretty much spent a handful time of my early life searching for a person who loves and accepts me, however I wasn't mature back then therefore I falsely assumed that to have that someone means everything, while I forgot the hugest challenge of my own life: do I even love myself? If I had loved myself enough, I would haven't even decided to meet him again only to realize, I was just a little game in his pass time. Even coming to face a greater realization, oh wow, I don't deserve this, I don't deserve a douchebag who crawls to me while he is bored and leaves when he feels like he needs to leave. This red flag is one thing I should have foreseen long time before the feud as he moved to America without saying a word but lied that he had already told me so, he just left. I don't deserve to be cheated on, I don't deserve to be abandoned without a proper goodbye, or a bland kiss on our final night. I never deserve any of that. I knew.

Although for now we are solidly over, for now I promise that I will never forgive him, I'm glad that things partially rest inside me, after having learnt the hard lesson of loving myself in order to lose someone, regardless how painful it got, regardless how magical it was, regardless the fact that he was my first kiss and all. I finally love myself to lose certain people in order to move on.

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if-you-fan-a-fire · 2 years

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“Boy, 16, With Fag Papers Put in Strait-Jacket And Kept in ‘Solitary’,” Toronto Star. October 31, 1932. Page 1 & 2. ---- Negro Dies in Cell at Portsmouth, Shot by Official, Is Another Allegation ---- ‘WEEK-ENDS HELL’ --- Solitude Worst Feature of Penitentiary Life, Says Ex-Inmate of Kingston ---- By R. E. KNOWLES My meeting with this ex-convict, whose name, address, present occupation I know but withhold, was of casual incident – but sufficiently inmpressive to impel me to invite him to my office for further interview, an invitation gravely and modestly accepted.

Like myself, my new-found acquaintance is a graduate of Kingston. My term was four years; his but three. Mine Queen’s; his Portsmouth.

‘Tell me about it?’ I said when Mr. Tapley (which is the name I shall use but which bears no resemablance to his own) was settled down opposite my desk. He is about 40, tall, well-dressed, educated, self-controlled and interested in life and all who live it. I may add that I knew, and still know the main facts of his career, the same fully verified in advance.

‘Where shall I begin, sir?’ was the reply. ‘Wherever you like,’ I said. ‘Probably it will answer our purpose if you begin with your sentence – does it pain you to speak of these matters?’ I inquired.

Tapley reached over to my desk for a match, lit his pipe anew, cleared his throat and began. ‘No, sir, I cannot say it does. In fact, I want to tell what I’ve got to say. Perhaps it will do some good. I did wrong, I know, I made the mistake – no, not that exactly, either – I just made the first wrong step – and all the rest was trying to retrace; trying the wrong way, always hoping I’d have luck. It’s hard to start back up once you have stepped over the edge of a precipice, sir.’

‘What is your hardest fight now – now that you’re out?’ I asked. ‘To keep my self-respect, sir – to get it back, I mean. I don’t feel I have any right to lose it permanently. I paid the price, I took my medicine – I think the fellow who stole, and went to the penitentiary for it and stood the gaff for three years and comes out, is more entitled to keep his self-respect than a fellow who stole, and knows he stole, but never walked the plank for it.’

‘I think so too,’ was my response. And really, as I looked at the poor chap, such a tragedy – a strong and clever man who has a ball and chain about his feet for life, but who is resolved to drag it bravely – I was not conscious of any sensation of strangeness, any gulf between us, as I sat and talked with him. There is nothing more cruelly unjust than our ostracization of the man who has been in jail. All of us know men who merit jail, but have dodged it – yet few of us have ever learned to despise them as we do an ex-convict; our contempt is provoked, not by the guilt, but by the punishment.

Noblest Wife in World ‘What helps you most to get back your self-respect?’ I renewed. The ex-convict’s face flushed and his voice trembled. ‘My wife,’ he flung back passionately. ‘By God, I’ve got the noblest wife in the world – she stuck to me all through those three years – but I never saw her there,’ this last word trailing misery, ‘I wouldn’t let her come – but she kept writing me about what we’d do, and how happy we’d be, when I got out – used to find little bits of pressed flowers in her letters – my God, how I cried the first time they came. And she was at Kingston, at the old British-American hotel, waiting, when I got out – and, oh Lord, it’s been heaven since to be with her.’

‘Where were you working when you got into trouble?’ I asked, quite forgetting I had asked Tapley to tell his own story ‘In Toronto, At ---- and ----‘s,’ naming a well-known business house, at the corner of ----- and ---- streets. I was in the office, cashier.’

‘What amount were you responsible for?’ I ventured. ‘I stole $70,000,’ was the resolute reply; ‘little by little; then, trying to cover, over a period of ten years, in bigger sums. And they sent me to Kingston for three years.’

‘Who was the judge?’ I asked. ‘It wasn’t a judge – it was Magistrate Browne,’ replied the forth-right Tapley.

‘Get any remission for good conduct?’ ‘Sure. And I got every day that was coming to me. And I never missed a meal.’

‘What about the food?’ I asked. ‘Well, although before I went there, I was always a good liver, yet I must say that the food at the Kingston penitentiary was quite reasonably good. Of course, it wasn’t served as I had been used to getting food served.’

‘No finger bowls?’ I queried. ‘Not often. But the food was good enough – only there wasn’t enough of it. I think that’s underneath a lot of the present trouble at Kingston – it’s no good for a hard days’ work. At 7 a.m., you get mush, bread, tea – very good, but when you go to work in the blacksmith’s shop, or the quarry, you’re soon faint. I was put in the chief engineer’s office – there right through – and Mr. Nixon is pure gold, but before coming out, wanting to harden my muscles. I worked at wiring, and the food didn’t keep me up even for that work.’

‘Were you often cold, Mr. Tapley?’

‘Yes and that’s another trouble underlying cause for the present trouble. The penitentiary is full of windy spaces. At this time of year there’s no steam on all day. It only comes on 15 minutes before you slink to your cell. You go in at 4 o’clock in the winter and it doesn’t begin to get warm until 7. And there are not enough bed covers. And often the prisoners walk up and down in their cells, with the blankets around them, to try and get warm. Then they yell, a lot of them – then they get punished. The food, too, is cold, the bed is cold, the cell is cold.’

‘Pure Hell’ ‘What, all in all, would you say, Mr. Tapley, is the worst thing the inmates have to bear?’ ‘The solitude,’ was the bitter reply; ‘the week-ends are pure hell. From four or five Saturday afternoon till seven Monday morning you’re all alone, except for church. There’s really no reason why the inmates shouldn’t get some air and exercise on Sundays. It’s all a question of guards – it’s considering about 30 guards as against 900 prisoners. Ah, that part was the valley pf death,’ a look of actual pain in the deep-seamed face.

What do you think about the public indignation, at present, the demand for investigation, etc.?’ I asked. ‘I think it’s called for – those grey, grim walls down there enclose a great, dark continent,’ was the reply.

‘What is the worst feature of it, Tapley?’ I pursued. ‘Brutal guards,’ was the laconic reply.

‘What makes them brutal?’ ‘Well, I suppose it’s fair enough to say that, to begin with, the type of man who wants that kind of job is not likely to be the refined sort. That’s one thing: I say this solemnly, that I heard more blasphemy and more obscenity from the keepers than from the inmates. Then, you know, give authority to men who haven’t had any before and the tendency always is for such men to use it brutally. They sting and insult and outrage the prisoners till they fairly writhe under it –till they can’t stand it any longer. Then the inmates talk back – then they’re called refractory and have to endure all kinds of brutality and get punished into the bargain.

‘Is that true of all the guards? ‘Oh, no – and a remarkable thing is that the old guards are far more merciful than the young fellows.’

Physical Cruelty ‘Is there much physical cruelty, Mr. Tapley?’ ‘Oh, yes, oh, yes, a lot. I’ve seen men come back from their ‘paddling’ and from the lash – I mind Mike O’Hara’s case particularly – with their backs all livid and their buttocks all raw. They’d be whimpering, some of them crying openly = and the toughest sight I ever saw in my life was some of the old hardened birds there trying to comfort some fellow who came back all raw behind – couldn’t sit down for days. God, it was awful,’ concluded the unhappy man, his own lips twitching, his eyes burning at the memory.

‘Does this go for the young fellows just the same as the confirmed jail-birds?’ I asked.

‘No difference. I remember – it was a fierce case – a young fellow there, only 16 years old. He was found with cigarette papers – and he wouldn’t tell where he got them. So he was faced with loss of ‘remission’ and with a strapping. So first they gave him solitary confindement for three days. Still he wouldn’t tell. Then a week. Then the second week they told him he was hoing to be paddled.’

Boy in Strait-Jacket ‘Did he give in then?’ ‘No, he told them he wouldn’t be paddled. So they went at him. In the middle of it he broke away, bolted to the window, rammed his head through the glass and began see-saw-ing, trying to cut his throat. They grabbed him back and took him to the hospital. By and by he was fixed up. Then they put him in a strait-jacket and solitary confinement for two weeks, with a guard outside his door, afraid he’d suicide.’

‘Did he give that up?’ I asked. ‘Wait till I tell you. This happened: Mr. Nixon, the chief engineer – the man who was so kind to me – he managed to get a chat with this boy, and he said: ‘Would you like to come and work for me?’ He said he could, Mr. Nixon said: ‘Will you really try to make good?’ He said yes. And he went in to work in that office, fixing up the room some way, decorating or something. And he was working away up on the girders, 40 feet above the floor, all free – and the warden and the doctor came past and saw him, and they began to talk of how he’d suicide – but Mr. Nixon knew better, he had tried kindness, and there never was any more trouble with that lad till he left the prison and made good. That shows the difference.’

‘What do you think the public ought to do now?’ I inquired at this point. ‘Demand an outside investigation,’ was the immediate answer. ‘I think it’s fierce – I read it in the paper – that the minister of justice says there will not be any public investigation. It’s the way he said it – it reminds me of old Commodore Vanderbilt, when he said, ‘the public be damned!’ It’s just about the same thing. And another thing I read – that Senator Meighen said the public surely aren’t going to take the side of the prisoners against the authorities of the penitentiary or something to that effect. That isn’t logical.’

‘Not Taking Sides’ ‘Why not?’ I asked. ‘Simply for this – an investigation doesn’t mean taking sides at all. It means finding out what the sides really are – then the sides can be taken after you find out. It’s strange that such a close-reasoning mind as Mr. Meighen’s would imply that, because people want to probe behind the scenes, to see if prisoners are getting a square deal, they should be branded as taking sides against law and order. He might as well say, when a judge appoints a lawyer to defend a prisoner, that the judge is taking up for criminality as against the law of the land.’

‘Is there, in your opinion, much of violence going on behind those walls, of which the public never hears at all?’ I asked. ‘One of the officials killed a man once,’ was the grim reply.

‘Tell me about it,’ I demanded. ‘It was a negro. One of the officials shot him dead in his cell.’

‘Tell me the official’s name,’ I returned. The ex-convict game me a name. It is familiar.

‘Tell me the circumstances,’ I renewed. ‘The man whom this official shot dead was a negro. He got possession of a huge pair of shears. He had them in his cell. The man who killed him – I suppose afraid to go into the cell – demanded that the negro should come out. The negro would not. Then the official demanded the negro should hand out the shears through the bars. Again the negro refused. Then the official shot the negro dead.’

‘What did the keepers think of this?’ I asked, hardly knowing what further question to ask. For the moment was tense. ‘The only thing I think worth repeating though I heard lots – was one keeper saying: ‘I could have overpowered that negro in two minutes with a hose.’ And, of course, so he could.’

‘And there was no trial?’ I asked. ‘I never heard of one.’

‘If there should be a trial now – or, for that matter, in case of this outside and public investigation we have been speaking of, where would the witnesses come from?’ I pursued. ‘Fellows like me,’ was the reply.

Fear Axe To Grind ‘What do you mean?’ I flung back. ‘I mean this – that I’m not a convict now. It’s all very well to say that prisoners have an axe to grind, when they give testimony. But; my God! Have not the guards and keepers axes to grind too? They want to keep their jobs, to get promotions. Now, fellows like me, in a way, they’re not involved. They’ve taken their medicine. They don’t need to perjure themselves. And, if this show-down comes, I think the big hope would be the testimony of ex-convicts like myself.’

‘Would you be willing to be a witness?’ I asked the calm, resolute man before me. For answer, he took a piece of paper from my desk: ‘If it would help to make that place a little less hell than it was to me,’ he said as he wrote, and handed back to me, his full name and present address. ‘I’ll give my evidence. Yes, I am willing to be a witness.’

#toronto #kingston penitentiary #prison conditions #prison riot #causes of prison riots #prison discipline #corporal punishment #solitary confinement #prison violence #prison brutality #words from the inside #prisoner autobiography #life inside #1932 kp riot #great depression in canada #crime and punishment in canada #history of crime and punishment in canada

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tchallasbabymama · 3 years

Text

Don't Forget About Us

Hello, my lovelies. Here’s my contribution to @nahimjustfeelingit-writes smut challenge (the prompt is in bold!) Let’s see what Erik’s up to now, shall we?

Don’t forget to check out my masterlist to read my other stories and oneshots. Your comments and reblogs mean the world to me, so make sure to let me know what you think! And let me know if you want to be tagged in any of my writing. Enjoy😘

Word count: 5,595

CW: smut...duh.

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“So, what do you do for a living?”

Kayla sighed internally at the question and took a sip of her Pinot Grigio. She hated first dates with a burning passion, but unfortunately, that was the only way to find a man around here. She went through the motions of politely answering his questions, barely asking any of her own. She didn’t care. Even just fifteen minutes in, Kayla could tell he didn’t excite her, and she lamented the waste of a good outfit as she listened to him drone on about his life. Every now and then, he’d stop and ask a question about her, but she could tell he was only asking so he could talk more about himself.

How many siblings do you have?

What’s your sign?

Why did your last relationship end?

Her mind traveled to her ex-boyfriend, Erik Stevens. They had spent six blissful years together, and Kayla thought he was the one. She wanted them to get married and start a family, and she thought he did, too, but every time she brought it up, he’d find some excuse to change the subject. At thirty years old, Kayla wasn’t getting any younger, so she grew tired of his avoidance and eventually cut him loose. She needed more out of life, but the guy currently sitting across from her certainly wasn’t it.

“We wanted different things,” she answered vaguely and took another sip. It would be a long night with what’s-his-name. David? Devon? Whatever. At least he had money and took her to a nice restaurant.

Darryl took the opportunity to bore her with the details of his job, which Kayla already knew. He was a colleague of her best friend, Carina’s husband. They worked at the same law firm, and Carina decided to hook them up after tiring of hearing Kayla complain about dating apps. As much as Kayla hated Tinder, she would’ve much rather been at home on her couch swiping left on the cesspool of single men Oakland had to offer. Every few dozen swipes or so, she’d find a cutie, but his bio would be abysmal, or his conversation skills would fall flat.

Despite the fact that their relationship just couldn’t make it, Kayla still thought of Erik as the gold standard. Just thinking about his dimples and his struggle beard made her smile dreamily. His big, strong arms would wrap around her and hold her tight at night, and she’d trace her fingers over the intentionally placed keloid scars that held his darkest secrets. She missed retwisting his locs and the way he always smelled like sandalwood and warm vanilla. Kayla didn’t want to admit it, but she still loved him. No man could compare to her Erik.

“Hello? Kayla?”

“Huh? Oh, sorry. Can you repeat that last part?”

“Uh, yeah, sure. What’s got you so distracted, babygirl?”

Kayla fought the bile rising in her throat. She wasn’t his babygirl. It didn’t even sound right coming from his mouth. Maybe it was the thinness of his lips. They weren’t “white man” thin, but they couldn’t hold a candle to the juicy pussy pleasers she had grown accustomed to.

“Nothing, just thought I saw somebody I know. You were saying?”

“Just that you look beautiful tonight,” Damon attempted to flirt with her.

Kayla wanted to roll her eyes but thanked him instead and smiled politely again. Of course she looked beautiful; she had pulled out all the stops for what she had hoped would be a good night out. Kayla had squeezed her thickness into a lavender satin dress. The way the dress’s skirt cinched on the side kept it snug around her plush waist, but the high slit that traveled up her thigh was the main attraction. The strappy silver heels on her feet showed off her matching pedicure that contrasted beautifully with her glistening brown skin, and her makeup was flawless. Her outerwear for the night, a cropped fur jacket that had found its way to the coat check when they arrived, was the icing on the cake. Her outfit deserved the appreciation, just not from Deshawn.

The waiter saved her from having to focus on her date when she brought out the food they had ordered. Since Kayla knew Derek had money, she had ordered the whole lobster, and she fought her mouth from drooling too much as the waiter set it down in front of her. It laid on a bed of forbidden rice, and the side of roasted brussels sprouts and cremini mushrooms looked heavenly. The ramekin of drawn butter off to the side tempted her as it sat next to the minuscule seafood fork. She may not enjoy her company for the evening, but Kayla damn sure was going to enjoy her meal.

“Looks good,” Dominic called from the other side of the table, breaking Kayla from her trance as he cut into his wagyu beef.

“Sure does.” Kayla wasted no time before digging into her meal. Not only was it the perfect excuse to avoid conversation, but it was perfect, period.

A slight chill permeated the air as the door swung open and the crisp January air entered the small restaurant. Kayla shivered as she complained internally about being forced to sit near the door, but that shiver intensified as she heard a voice. His voice.

“Reservation for Stevens, please.”

Kayla stilled.

“Of course. Right this way, sir,” the maitre d’ responded, and Kayla heard three sets of footsteps coming her way.

--------

“Babe, let’s go!”

“Yell at me one more time, woman,” Erik warned as he came around the corner into the living room, fastening his watch.

“I swear, you take more time getting ready than I do.”

“Whatever, Mo. You ready?”

“Nigga, I been ready!”

Erik rolled his eyes and grabbed his keys. It would be a rough night, and things were already starting off on a bad foot. He and Monique had been seeing each other for the better part of a year, and he’d finally reached his limit. She was overbearing, rude, and just after him for his money, but he hated being alone, so he put up with her bullshit. His cousin, T’Challa, had tried to hook him up with a few ladies back in Wakanda when he went to visit after his breakup, but nothing stuck. Almost immediately after coming back to the states, Erik met Monique at a charity event for the Outreach Center. She had the singing voice of an angel and had been booked as the entertainment for the evening. Erik was drawn to her like a sailor to a siren, and she immediately sank her teeth into him. Past her vocal talents, Monique wasn’t really anything special. Her personality left a lot to be desired, she wasn’t the sharpest crayon in the box, and she just wasn’t her.

The moment Kayla ended their relationship a year ago, Erik’s whole world shattered. He had lived a life full of pain and loss, but Kayla had been his lifeline. She pulled him out of the dark and made him revel in the sunshine. Hell, she was the sunshine, but now he had settled for a UV lamp at best. Kayla had wanted a life that Erik was too scared to give her, but that fear became his downfall. He still missed her most nights. He was lonely, and Monique was there to keep him company, but that wasn’t enough for him anymore. Erik craved a connection that Monique just couldn’t provide. So he decided he had to break it off and figured that doing so in a public place would probably be best. She had a tendency to throw things when she got angry.

The car ride to Chez Martine was tense. Monique had been angry all day because Erik had taken back his credit card even though she wanted to buy a new dress for their date. Her lousy mood almost made him dump her back at his condo, but Erik kept a cool head and stayed focused on the plan. He ignored the way Monique complained the entire time she got ready, reluctantly putting on a dress he had seen her wear before. It didn’t matter to him; he knew what the night held.

When they walked into the restaurant, Erik’s heart dropped into his stomach. He’d recognize that shoulder blade tattoo anywhere. She had cut off all her hair and lost a few pounds, but he knew for sure that he was looking at Kayla. His Kayla. He forced himself to look straight ahead as they passed her table and prayed that the maitre d’ didn’t sit them where she could see him. Unfortunately, he had no such luck because the only open table for two was directly within her line of sight. He prayed again that Monique would sit on the far side of the table, but Bast ignored his pleas once more. He had to sit facing her, and as soon as he got comfortable in his chair, her gaze slyly trailed over to him. They locked eyes across the room, and Erik’s heart stopped. She was just as beautiful as the last time he saw her all those months ago, but who the fuck was that sitting across from her?

“What are you looking at?” Monique’s abrasive voice cut through his eardrums.

“Nothing. Just thought I saw someone I know, that’s all.”

She cut her eyes at him and turned around to look as he buried his face in the menu.

“Quit being nosy,” he complained.

“I just wanna see who’s got your attention, that’s all.” Monique turned back around with a sour look on her face. “It’s probably that fat girl with her cleavage all out.”

“Mo, just look at the fucking menu and act like you got some sense.”

“Fine.”

Monique pouted until the waiter showed up, but she plastered a fake smile on her face as he took their order. As usual, she ordered the most expensive thing on the menu, and it bothered him to no end that she was hellbent on spending all of his money. Of course, he had plenty, but she felt entitled to it. Kayla never cared about him being rich. Hell, when they got together, she didn’t even know he was a prince, but he loved to spoil her nonetheless. He loved the look on her face when he’d buy her things or take her on the expensive trips that she more than deserved. Kayla appreciated everything he did for her with all her heart, but she’d say the same thing every time.

“Thank you, baby, but you’re all I need.”

Erik smiled fondly at the memory of when he bought her a diamond tennis bracelet from Wakanda for their second anniversary. She was so excited to have diamonds that weren’t marred by exploited labor that she damn near dropped the box when she saw what was inside. It had been a rough year for them, what with him disappearing for a couple of months to seize the Wakandan throne and all. She certainly had plenty of colorful words for him when he came back. He’ll never forget the look on her face when he showed up at her door. He had brought T’Challa for backup just in case, but she looked right past the king as tears welled up in her eyes at seeing her Erik, alive and well.

Erik’s eyes started to get misty as he thought about the way she kissed him with so much emotion...then slapped him across the face for leaving. His gaze wandered back over to Kayla and he noticed the light bounce off of something on her arm. She was wearing the bracelet.

As if she felt his glare, Kayla shifted uncomfortably in her seat, so he averted his eyes back to Monique, who had caught him staring again.

“Why don’t you go say hi?” she asked sarcastically, making him roll his eyes so hard they almost got stuck.

--------

Erik Stevens. Here, of all places. He just had to be here.

Kayla noticed that he didn’t seem to be enjoying his modelesque date’s company any more than she was enjoying Darwin’s, and the pang of jealousy she felt at seeing him with another woman went away. She knew she had no right to feel any kind of way about it, especially since she was the one that broke things off. That didn’t make it any easier, though.

Dylan was too wrapped up in his steak to notice her wandering eye, but it seemed that Erik’s food was as uninteresting as the woman across from him. Kayla watched as he half-heartedly pushed it around his plate, but he certainly kept his favorite whiskey coming. She wanted to chuckle but didn’t want Daniel to think he had anything to do with her levity. They were both drowning their dissatisfactions in their alcohols of choice, and Kayla got a phantom taste of Uncle Nearest 1856 on her lips as she watched him take a sip. When he set the glass down and licked his lips, Kayla felt flush. She missed those lips…

“So, how about dessert?” Damien asked as he leaned back in his chair and rubbed his stomach. “I hear their creme brulee is amazing.”

“Uh, sure, why not?”

“You know,” he began as he leaned in and reached for her hands. She allowed him to take them, but the softness of his hands disgusted her. No callouses, no roughness, not even a firm grip. “I’ve had a great night. I’d love to see you again.”

Kayla chuckled nervously, unsure of how to proceed.

“What are you doing next-”

“Are you fucking kidding me?!”

A shrill voice pierced the air as Erik’s date bolted up from her seat. Desmond, and the whole restaurant, turned around to see what was going on, and Kayla took the opportunity to remove her hands from his.

“Keep your voice down,” Erik sneered through his teeth. “We’re in public.”

“So?! You bring me out here just to dump me? To dump this?!” she gestured at her slim figure, and he rolled his eyes.

“You ain’t even all that,” he waved her off. He was tired of playing nice, and Kayla could see the exasperation written all over his face.

“Excuse me, miss-” the waiter attempted to calm her down, but the crazed woman cut him off.

“Stay out of this!”

“I’m so sorry,” Erik mouthed to the poor man who would absolutely be getting a monstrous tip later.

“Oh, you’re sorry for him, but not for me?”

“Mo, just sit down. We can finish our meal like adults-”

“Fuck you, Erik.” She threw her dirty martini at him, soaking the front of his all-black ensemble.

Kayla could damn near see the steam coming out of his ears as his apparent ex stormed out of the restaurant. Erik locked eyes with her across the room, and when he saw the concern written all over her face, his softened.

“Whew, poor fella,” Dexter commented as he turned back around. “Where was I? Oh-”

“Excuse me, where’s your restroom?” Kayla interrupted him as their waiter walked by.

“Right down there.” She pointed at a set of stairs off to the side, and Kayla thanked her as she slid out of her seat.

“I’ll be back, Darius.”

“It’s Denzel.” He deflated.

“Fuck,” she froze. She had been sure it was Darius. “Still, I’ll be back.”

“I’ll be here,” he responded, obviously upset by her slip-up.

Kayla hurried off down the stairs and leaned against the wall as she waited for either of the single-use restrooms to open up. She took a deep breath and opened her clutch, reaching in to pull out her phone with a shaky hand and typing in his number. It was one of the few she had memorized, just in case.

“You ok?”

Her thumb hovered over the send button, but she couldn’t press it. Her heart nearly thumped out of her chest at the thought of starting a conversation with him, but something within her said that she should. It would be weird not to say anything after all that, right?

“Hey-”

“Shit!” Kayla dropped her phone when his silky baritone graced her ears.

“My fault, ma.” Erik leaned over and picked the phone off the floor, checking it for cracks. He saw she had typed a message out to him and smirked before handing it back to her.

“T-thanks.”

“No problem. And, yeah, I’m ok.”

“Huh?”

Erik pointed at her phone screen.

“Oh! Right. Um, well, that’s good to hear.” Kayla attempted to push her hair behind her ear out of habit, forgetting she had just cut it all off a week ago.

“What about you?”

“What about me?”

“You ok? You don’t seem to into ole dude out there.”

Kayla sighed and rolled her eyes, “Oh, him.”

“Damn, it’s like that?” Erik laughed, and she slapped his arm. That slight contact was enough to spark a flame in them both, and Erik’s face turned serious. “For real, though, not going well?”

“Better than you, it seems,” she quipped as she eyed his wet shirt. That was a bad idea because his first three buttons were undone, and she caught a peek of the raised scars that she missed so much. And that broad chest, and the chain with his father’s ring that he always wore. He’d let her wear it from time to time, and she always felt like it was such an honor. He trusted her enough to let her wear it. He loved her enough to-

Kayla pried her eyes away and made yet another mistake: she looked up at him. Those eyes still looked like sweet, sweet molasses, and even though his locs were braided back, she could tell he was letting them grow out. She momentarily wondered who was retwisting them nowadays, but her train of thought was cut short by the scent of sandalwood and vanilla. Kayla’s mind went blank as she inhaled slowly.

“Heh, yeah. That was...that was pretty embarrassing. Not even gonna lie.” Erik looked away shyly, unable to hold her gaze.

“I guess you’ll need to find a new date spot, huh?”

“Nah, I think I’m good on dating for a while.”

“Same,” Kayla sighed. “Dating sucks.”

“Yeah…”

One of the bathroom doors unlocked, and a middle-aged white man stepped out and passed them on the way up the stairs.

“Well, I should-”

“Yeah, go ahead.”

Kayla walked towards the bathroom, but before she could reach the door, she felt a light tug on her wrist. His touch still gave her goosebumps, and he noticed her raised skin as she turned to face him.

“I just, uh...it was nice seeing you, Kay-kay.” Erik smiled at her, and she nearly melted. She missed when he called her that, too. “You look good.”

“Thanks, E.” She smiled back. “So do you.”

He let her go, and Kayla disappeared into the bathroom. When she closed the door behind her, she took a deep breath to center herself. After all these months, Erik still took her breath away. He clouded her senses and scrambled her mind. Even as she took care of business, her brain replayed their short interaction on a loop.

Kayla locked eyes with her reflection as she dried her hands. How could she go back up there to- what’s his name? Oh, yeah, Da- Denzel. That’s it, Denzel. How could she go back up there to his mediocre company when the man she still loved had made her feel so alive with just one touch. That was the magic of Erik, his magnetism. When they were together, she couldn’t help but be drawn to him, even when she wanted to slap him across his beautiful face. Those were some of the best times, though. If she was angry at him, he knew exactly what to do to calm her down. To put her in her place. To remind her-

Kayla’s daydreaming was cut short by a knock at the door.

“Occupied!”

It came again.

“I’ll be out in a minute!”

She reached for another paper towel to dab off the sweat that had started to pool on her skin at the thought of Erik’s dominance when the door opened.

“What the f- Erik?!”

He pushed inside the bathroom and locked the door behind him.

“You need to start locking doors, Kay.”

“I- what do you want?”

“I want to talk to you,” he spoke as he moved closer to her.

“Here?!”

“Yeah, here,” he chuckled.

Kayla rolled her eyes and tried to push past him.

“Now is not the time or place-”

“When is?” he blocked her exit, and she crossed her arms in defeat, looking up at him through her lashes as she leaned against the sink. “Look, I just need to say something real quick.”

“Fine,” Kayla sighed and gestured for him to continue. She knew there was no use fighting him. She wasn’t leaving that bathroom until he was good and ready.

“Kay,” his voice softened, and she looked away only to have her face pulled back in his direction. “Kay-kay, look at me.”

She made the mistake of doing just that, getting lost in his eyes again.

“I miss you,” Erik murmured.

“Erik-”

“Look, I know, ok? I know. And I’m sorry, Kay. I really am- no, look at me. I’m sorry I wasn’t enough for you...but I miss you, girl.”

Kayla’s eyes welled up with tears that she tried her hardest to blink away, but one had the nerve to fall. Erik wiped it away, and the next one, and the next one. A sob wracked Kayla’s body, and he wrapped his arms around her body.

“Don’t cry, babygirl. I know you worked hard on your makeup.”

Kayla laughed through her tears, but the emotions washed back over her, and she buried her face into his chest. It was already soaked with gin, so what harm would a few tears do?

He held her and rocked her softly from side to side as she cried, and after a couple of minutes, she found the will to look up at him again. His cheeks were wet, so she reached up and swiped her thumbs over them as she held his face in her small hands. He nuzzled into them and kissed her wrists.

“I miss you, too, E,” she croaked.

“I know, babygirl.”

He leaned in to kiss her forehead, and she closed her eyes as his soft lips caressed her skin. They stayed intertwined for who knows how long until Erik felt Kayla begin to pull back. He looked down at her, and the two of them locked eyes. Before they knew it, their lips had met in the middle in a passionate embrace. They got lost in each other for a moment until common sense returned to Kayla, and she pushed him off.

“We can’t-”

“Why not?”

“Because…”

“Because what, Kay?” Erik’s voice rumbled as he closed what little gap was between their bodies. He left soft kisses on her temples before working down to her cheeks, then her jawline, and eventually the column of her neck. She let out a soft whimper when his teeth grazed the crook of her neck but pushed him back again before he could continue any further.

“Erik, I...I still love you, and-”

He attacked her lips with his, hands feverishly gripping her waist as he pushed her further into the sink. She had nowhere to go, and she was ok with that.

“I...love you...too...babygirl,” he whispered between kisses.

Kayla’s mind went blank as he lifted her up on the counter and pressed himself between her legs. She could feel him, all of him, and damn did she miss that monster between his legs.

“Erik,” she moaned as he nipped at her earlobe. He still knew how to play her body like a violin.

“Mmm, say it again.”

“Erik!” she squeaked as she felt his strong hands grip her thighs.

“Just like that,” he groaned, and she flooded her already wet panties.

“Baby-”

He connected his forehead to hers and stared deep into her eyes. “You miss me?”

“Mhm,” Kayla nodded with her lip between her teeth.

“I miss you, too, baby. I think about you all the time. Every day,” he pecked her lips, “every night. I miss everything about you, Kay-kay. Your off-key singing, your horrible cooking-”

“Shut up,” Kayla giggled as his hands traveled up her dress.

“Your body…fuck I miss this body. I miss how you smell, how you taste...how that tight little pussy feels wrapped around my dick.”

Kayla widened her legs for him as his fingers found their way to the seat of her panties, stroking up and down her slit. Erik kissed his way back down her face and over to her ear, his warm breath sending chills down her spine.

“Do you think about me when you touch yourself? Because I do. You’re all I see when I stroke my dick...wishing it was your hand...your lips...this fucking pussy.”

Erik pushed her panties to the side, and his nimble fingers circled her clit. Kayla let out a small moan that was music to his ears, making fingers move faster and her breath grow shallower with each rotation.

“Answer me.”

“Mhm.”

“Come on, babygirl, you can do better than that. You think about me when you play in your pussy? This pussy right here?” he asked as he slapped her vulva, her wetness sticking to his hand.

“Y-yes, baby-”

“Uh-uh, you know who I am. Say it,” Erik commanded as he snuck three fingers inside her wetness, making her moan loudly in his ear. “Shhh, you gotta be quiet, babygirl. You don’t want people out there knowing how much of a slut you are, right?”

Kayla shook her head no.

“That’s what I thought. Now, I asked you a question, Kayla,” he reminded her. His gruff voice made her weak, and the fingers that were steadily speeding up inside her certainly didn’t help. “Answer me. Who am I, babygirl?”

Kayla tried to hold out as much as she could. She didn’t want to say it, too proud to give in, but the way he was currently stretching out her pussy and curling his fingers inside her made her cling to his shoulders. The bastard knew what he was doing, and she didn’t want to let him win. But then, he played dirty and bit down on her neck. She cried out, and when he pulled back to look at her, the ferocity in his eyes drove her up the wall.

“I said, who the fuck am I, Kayla?” Erik growled. His hand sped up, making her weak with every thrust. She couldn’t hold it anymore and came undone around him, her mouth betraying her as his name fell from her lips.

“Daddy!” she gasped as her pussy spasmed, and he chuckled darkly.

“Damn right I am,” he kissed her lips, “now gimme that pussy. Daddy missed his pussy.”

Kayla heard a rip and felt the cool air between her legs as he tore through her panties to get to her treasure trove. She reached down between them and grabbed his clothed erection in her hand, making him groan as he bit down on his luscious bottom lip. She undid his belt buckle and slowly unzipped his pants before reaching in and pulling out his throbbing dick.

The longing in her eyes told him everything he needed to know, so he pushed her legs back and tapped his head on her clit.

“You want daddy’s dick in you?”

“Mhm,” she whimpered.

“Good.”

He pushed in and groaned at the feeling of her pussy walls gripping him as he sheathed himself inside her.

“Fuck, you feel like home.”

Kayla moaned into his neck in response and wound her hips against him, meeting him thrust for thrust as he stroked into her slow and deep. She couldn’t form words. He felt so damn good inside her that Kayla’s brain had short-circuited. Erik’s dick hit spots that she could never find herself no matter how hard she tried. Even in her dreams, he drove her body wild. She had spent the last year trying to find somebody, anybody who could make her feel that way, but nobody could compare to Erik Stevens.

Erik and Kayla panted heavily into each others’ mouths as he made love to her body, and as soon as Kayla started to tense up, his thrusts grew harder.

“I-I-”

“I know, babygirl. Daddy feels it,” he groaned as he nipped at her bottom lip. “Cum on my dick like a good girl.”

His words sent Kayla into overdrive, and her body shook as she spilled over him. Her spasming walls hugged him tight, and she wrapped her legs around his waist, begging him with her eyes.

“You feel amazing,” she moaned.

“Mhm. I know them other niggas wasn’t hitting it like this. I just know it. Look at you, cumming all over daddy’s dick. Look at it!” He grabbed her chin and made her look down at her throbbing pussy as his dick slid in and out of her.

“We look so good, daddy!”

Erik slammed into her, and she bit into his shoulder to keep from screaming. He gave her his all over and over, rocking the countertop in the process.

“We’ll look even better if you let me cum in this pussy. Mix my cum with yours-”

“Yes!”

“Yes?” He chuckled. “You want it that bad, huh? Nasty ass, in here getting fucked while that bum ass nigga’s waiting for you upstairs.”

“Mmm, I want it.”

“Want what, babygirl?” Erik teased as he brought his thumb to her clit, strumming it slowly as he thrust into her.

“You. I want you to cum deep in me.”

“Shit,” Erik groaned. “You want it deep in there?”

“Mhm. Put it where it belongs, daddy.” Kayla licked up the side of his neck, making his knees buckle. “Cum in your pussy.”

Erik lost all sense of control and pounded into her tight pussy, somehow getting even deeper in preparation for his release. Kayla held on tight as she felt him begin to spasm inside her, and she released around him again as his deep moans tickled her ear. Erik thrust extra deep and held his dick in place as he emptied his balls into her warmth, whimpering lightly as she rubbed his back to soothe him and bring him back down.

“I missed you, babygirl.”

“I missed you, too, daddy.”

They stayed like that, wrapped up in each other until their breathing slowed. Erik was the first to move, slowly pulling himself out of Kayla as she whined at the loss of contact. He kissed all over her face before planting a slow, sweet kiss on her lips.

“I can’t let you go again, Kay-kay,” his voice cracked as tears threatened to fall from his eyes again.

Kayla pulled him back in and kissed him so deeply that she nearly lost herself in him again, but he pulled away and looked her in her eyes.

“I’m serious, girl. I’ll do anything. I’ll marry you, give you as many big-headed babies as you want. Just, please, Kay-” she cut him off with another kiss to shut him up.

“We should go back to my place and talk,” she whispered, and Erik’s face lit up. Something about the way she said it, the way she kissed him, the way her body still responded to his...it gave him hope. Kayla smiled at him and pecked his lips once more before hopping off of the sink. He had to catch her because her legs were wobbly, and she stumbled a little in her heels.

“You aight?” he laughed.

“No, nigga,” she slapped his chest, and the two of them got caught in a laughing fit. They had really just fucked in the bathroom at Chez Martine. Kayla was on cloud nine until a thought occurred to her, and her face fell flat. “Oh, shit.”

“What?” Erik’s face turned serious, and his eyes scanned over her body, looking for whatever the problem was.

Kayla started giggling again, and he looked confused.

“What is it?” he asked, barely able to keep a straight face. Her laugh was always so infectious…

“Demetrius.”

“Who?!”

“My date.”

“Girl, don’t worry about him. He probably thinks you dipped out anyway.”

Kayla shrugged and fixed her dress as Erik stuffed his shirt back in his pants. They checked their reflections in the mirror, and Kayla was pleasantly surprised that her makeup was still intact thanks to that setting spray she had splurged on the other day.

“Ready?” Erik asked as he admired her beauty. Kayla nodded, and he unlocked the door, opening it to find Duncan leaning against the wall with a sour look on his face. Kayla’s eyes blew wide as she tried to figure out what to say to her date for the evening.

“Heyyy, um…”

“Denzel,” he seethed.

“Yeah, sorry. So, um, we’re-”

“Sorry, bruh,” Erik clapped him on the shoulder, “but we heading out. Bathroom’s all yours, though.”

Erik pulled Kayla along, and she sent Deion an apologetic glance before following Erik up the stairs. It seemed the whole restaurant knew what had occurred, but neither one of them cared. They were just happy to be around each other again. It had been entirely too long.

Taglist: @ladymac82, @kitesatforestp, @harleycativy, @raysunshine78, @maddeningmayhem, @theblulife, @motheroffae, @love-mesome-me,@toni9, @bribrisback, @impremenior, @blacklytical, @uzumaki-rebellion, @honeyandpeaches, @cecereads209, @wakandama2,

#smutchallenge #cecewritessometimes #oneshot #erik killmonger x oc #black!oc #smut #Youtube

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crackheadgeminibby · 3 years

Note

Could you write something 'bout Chris congratulating yn in public and privately 'cause it's mother's day and she's dodger's mom? 🥺

mother's day

pairing: chris evans x female!black!reader

warnings: age gap, language, fluff

word count: 1.5k

a/n: i love this idea so much, thanks for giving me the opportunity to write it🤍

i do not consent to my work being copied in any way, shape or form or reposted on any other platform

picture credit: @chrisevans on instagram

You groan softly, before turning around and stopping your alarm.

It’s Sunday, which normally meant no alarm and sleeping in, but you had plans. Today is Mother’s Day. You normally spent it with your mother going out for brunch, shopping, going to the movies, etc. but in the last year, you had moved in with Chris and he lived really far away from your parents’ house. You had told your mom that you were going to call her, first thing this morning, to make up for not being able to be with her.

Since you were in Boston with Chris, you were going to be spending Mother’s Day at his mom’s house. This meant a big dinner, but it also meant you had to make some food to take it there.

Every single time you went to Lisa’s house, you always brought something whether it was a meal, dessert, wine or a gift. And every single time you brought something, she said you didn’t have to do that. You couldn’t help it though; it was just how you were raised. Your parents always told you to never show up empty-handed when someone invited you to their home and that’s exactly what you did.

Today, you were making apple pie for dessert which meant fresh apples and going to the grocery store right at the opening.

Rubbing your eyes, you push the covers off your body and walk to the ensuite bathroom. While brushing your teeth, you take your phone and open Instagram. The first post you see is one that Scott posted a couple of minutes ago. The first picture is a collage of a bunch of pictures of him and his mom. You smile softly at their smiles in the pictures. Sliding, you see other collages with pictures of Scott’s friends and their kids. You double-click on the post, leaving a like, and slide down to the second post. Of course, it’s Chris’ post to his mom. The first picture is an old picture of them holding each other and smiling. You slide and see that the second picture is from when he took her to the Winter Soldier premiere. You double-click again, liking the post. You’re about to put your phone down to take a shower but see a bunch of notifications appearing on your screen.

Confused, you refresh your Instagram feed and see a new post by Chris appearing at the top. You frown, seeing yourself from the back in the first picture. You slide down to the caption and gasp softly as you read it: “Also, happy Mother’s Day to this beautiful woman! We may not have any babies but you sure as hell are Dodger’s mom. Kinda hate that he likes you more than me now but it’s okay because I love you💙”

You smile as you go through the pictures he posted. The first one is a picture you didn’t even know he had taken from when Dodger, Chris and you had gone on a picnic a couple of days ago. The second is a pretty dark and blurry picture that he obviously hid to take. You recognize the angle being from the entrance of the living room. You were laying on the couch, engulfed in a fluffy blanket, with Dodger laying in front of you, his head resting on your stomach. You smile softly, remembering that day.

It was a couple of months ago and you were on your period. You normally didn’t have really big cramps but the stress you were feeling had intensified them and you were almost unable to move. When Chris had come back from work, seeing you laying on the couch in pain, he had gone right back out to get you a bunch of food to satisfy your cravings and half a dozen hot compresses because he wasn’t sure which one you would like.

Chuckling softly, you slide to the last picture, slightly cringing at your appearance. It was a screenshot from a FaceTime call, right after you had moved in with Chris. He had to leave for a few weeks to film and you were alone with Dodger, who always wanted to see Chris before you hung up. In the picture, you had clearly just woken up and were laughing, probably at something Chris said, with half of Dodger’s face mid-bark in the frame.

You like the post and scroll through a couple of comments, some nice, others not so much, before putting your phone down.

While in the shower, your mind goes back to a conversation you had with Chris recently. It was after your first big fight.

Everyone knew Chris wanted kids and you obviously did too. But he had brought it up accusingly when you were exhausted and anxious and you had blurted out that you didn’t want kids. It wasn’t really the truth because you did want kids. And you wanted them with Chris, but you weren’t ready. After you had said that, you had a screaming match with Chris that ended up with you sleeping in the guest room, not that much sleeping was done. Halfway through the night, Chris had knocked on the door, asking if you were awake, and you talked to each other, explaining both of your viewpoints: you felt like you weren’t ready to be a good mom to a child because you were still dealing with trauma from when you were younger, and Chris felt like his clock was running out. After talking to each other, you had settled on kids in the near future, but not right now.

Getting dressed after your shower, you think about the fact that you hadn’t heard a peep from Chris since you had woken up. Considering it was Sunday and Mother’s Day, you knew he couldn’t have scheduled a meeting today. He sometimes ran or worked out on Sundays, but you had been up for almost 2 hours now.

Walking to the kitchen, you open your Messages app, ready to send him a text asking where he is when you hear, “Dodge, stop, let it go.”

Frowning, you start deleting the message when you hear, “Happy Mother’s Day!”

You shriek, startled, before letting out, “Holy shit!”

You look up at the dining room that is completely decorated. There are colorful banners all around the walls and the table is filled with food from waffles and pancakes to fruits and drinks. Finally, Chris and Dodger are standing in the corner of the room in front of balloons that spell out “MMO❤️”. You frown, tilting your head. Chris’s smile falters as he turns around, groaning, “Dodger, I told you to stop moving the balloons.”

He turns around completely, arranging the balloons to say “MOM❤️” and turns back around, saying, “Ta-da!”

You laugh loudly before walking to Chris, hugging him.

“When did you have time to do all this?”

Chris smiles, holding your waist, before yawning and saying, “I got up at like 6 to make all the food and then I got the balloons when the mall opened at 8.”

You wrap your arms around Chris before kissing his cheek.

“Well, thank you, I love it. And I love you.”

You bite your bottom lip, flicking your eyes down to his lips, before leaning towards him. Chris smirks, letting his hand slide to your butt cheek, softly squeezing it before you hear a small whine. You stop moving, slowly looking down. Dodger looks up at you with his big brown eyes, rubbing his snout on your leg.

You smile softly, letting go of Chris before bending down and petting his head.

“You want some love too, huh, Dodge?”

You rub the back of Dodger’s ears, hearing a click sound. You turn around, seeing Chris with his phone in his hand. You smile, saying, “Did you just take a picture?”

Chris smiles softly, “No?”

You chuckle, sitting down and gesturing at Chris to join you. Chris takes one of your hands in his and pets Dodger with the other. You alternate looking at Chris and Dodger before sighing and cupping Chris’ face in your hands. You kiss him softly, leaning back and saying, “I love you, baby.”

Chris smiles softly, replying, “I love you too.”

You look down, sighing softly. Chris lifts your head up, giving you a knowing look, “What’s wrong, baby?”

You chuckle at how perfectly he knows you.

“I know I said I wasn’t ready, but I think maybe I am.”

Chris’ smile widens slowly before he says, “Are you saying what I think you’re saying?”

You nod your head excitedly and Chris lunges at you, tackling you to the ground, planting kisses all over your face. You laugh softly, hearing Dodger bark, before he excitedly starts jumping around Chris and you.

Chris leans back slightly before whispering, “You’re gonna be the best mom, I just know it.”

You smile softly, kissing his cheek and wrapping your arms around him.

#chris evans #chris evans x black!reader #chris evans x reader #chris evans imagine #chris evans fanfic #chris evans x black reader #chris evans x female reader #chris evans x woc #chris evans fanfictions #chris evans fanfics

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l-artemisia-del-secolo · 3 years

Text

That time of the month

Yelena Belova X reader, one shot, angst+fluff, mentions of Red Room methods of control, dealing with their consequences, overall a heavy topic

You had that feeling every month. Yelena was hiding something from you. Something very personal. Something after all this time you didn't deserve to hear. For a few days she was quiet, distant, cold. Your clingy girlfriend was turning into someone else. You didn't know that version of Yelena. That one wasn't yours. And she didn't allow you to change that.

Sometimes she was on the missions during those days. You hated yourself for thinking that was a relief. A relief from a woman you wanted to spend your life with.

You remembered vividly when this happened for the first time. Your first month together. Every time you touched her that day she flinched. Your Yelena didn't want you. And that was hurtful.

Other than these few days you had perfect relationship. You both wanted to have a home, a family, white fence. A cliche fucking fence. You wanted a life together. You two, your dogs, maybe a parrot. Who knew.

Maybe it was all your fault. You were not supportive enough, not open enough. Not dying for Yelena enough.

You met on a rainy day in a coffee shop with her colleagues, damn dark avengers, daring her to approach you. Any other person would get a cold smile and idontcarewhoyouarenoidontwanttohaveagoodtime. But you've noticed her before she even looked at you. With her weirdly low voice and a confusing laugh. And apparently with both a knife and a multitool sticking out of her vest.

On your first date Yelena brought you to a race track. 'cause you mentioned you've never ridden a bike. Sure, she had a BMW, modified by some genius. You were driving a Peugeot.

On a second date she brough you to the shooting range. Before that you shot from a slingshot once or twice in your childhood.

On a third date there was an attack on the facility. She had to go. After the attack she went to your apartment and stayed there. It's been 4 months.

You were so different, but managed to be a perfect match.

She even introduced you to her family. Weird and, well, Russian. Allowed you to walk her dog and even wear her vest.

She loved you. But your Yelena loved you. Not that distant one.

You had a guess. of course you did. But that was a vague answer. The one you didn't want to say out loud.

For 4 months not once did you notice Yelena having "that time of month". Not a single word or sign. She could have had them on her missions, while she was away. While she was saving a world. You tried to ask once, but she quickly brushed it off

Your Yelena would tell you if there was something. You were sure.

Until one day you felt a familiar pain. You could swear someone was squeezing everything inside. Luckily Yelena was near. Burning your neck with her breath. one of calmer nights or mornings rather. without nightmares or muffled screams.

You groaned. Your periods have always been so painful. First day almost unbearable.

"are you all right?" Of course Yelena woke up.

"no, I'm..." Another spasm.

And than Yelena got it. Your painkiller. It was on her side of the bed, 'cause of the recent injury.

She gave it to you. "Don't drink them, until I get you some water."

You could hear her walking barefoot to the kitchen, trying not to wake up Fanny.

Two minutes and she was with you. Stroking your hair, kissing your palms. She would always do that. Her ritual.

You took the tablet.

"I'm so sorry I woke you up." You could feel your body heating up.

"it's ok, babe. I know how it's for you. Do you want anything else?"

"No, it's fine. I guess I need to go to the gynecologist. Maybe she would recommend me something. Pain is getting worse every time"

"Sure. I'll go with you."

"maybe I should go to a different doctor. Which one do you go to?"

Yelena froze. She stopped caressing you. A familiar feeling. Those days. Cold days.

"Babe..." You kissed her cheek to get attention.

"Yeah. I was just... You know, I'll ask Kate if she could..."

"Sure. But I was asking you, babe. Where did you go the last time you did a check up? Or you have one at your facility?"

"Нет (no), нет (no), у нас нет (we don't have one)."

Something was very wrong. With you Yelena was using Russian very rarely. When she was mad or... lost. Like that one time she didn't understand your interaction with a friend and got jealous. Or when Fanny had a surgery after an accident with a bulldog.

"i... Well ... Просто (just) I don't do check ups"

"what?" You were not hearing it right. Yelena is in her top form. She has to be. Her organism has to be in perfect condition.

"мне не нужно (no need)."

"how is that possible?"

You didn't want to push her. Be nosy.

"hey, babygirl." You cautiously took her hand and stroked it. "Remember. It's your safe place."

"Yeah." She smiled weakly. "And you're my safe person."

You had this conversation before. Many times. Piece by piece she was telling you about her past. Blood on her ledgers. That's her term. At first you were terrified. But day by day, story by story you taught herself to understand her and never to judge.

"Do you want to call Fanny to lay with us?"

"No, I'll be fine."

You expected her to get up and add the distance between you two. But she did the opposite. She hugged you and started talking.

"I've told you about the Red Room. You know what I've been through. Physical, psychological torture. Humiliation and manipulation. We were mindless robots. And you know what a robot doesn't need?."

She let out a bitter laugh. "I never specifically told you what they did to us. What would be the point? Напугать тебя или надавить на жалость? (To scare you or to make you feel sorry?). Нас бы это убило (this would kill is). Well, attachments and feelings. You see where I'm going with this?"

Yelena looked you in the eyes. Hers filled with tears and sadness. She was afraid. She never told this story to anyone outside the Red Room. She lived with this. Not a burden. But rather a fact. Reality. Truth. Days of the months when she felt nothing.

You slowly nodded. Your Yelena was lost. And she was lost even when she was with you. And you didn't see that.

"They call it a церемония (ceremony). Hysterectomy. No emotions, no desires, no problems." Yelena sobbed. "I'm sorry, I didn't tell you before. You have a right to know."

You did have a right to know. Sure. But that wasn't the thing that mattered now. Somehow you already thought of that. Somewhere deep inside, barely a though but a sensation. But now, hearing it from her broke your heart, tore your nerves apart and took away your peace.

"It's.. it's not about me." You tried really hard to sound confident. "Babygirl, I... I won't say that I understand what you've been through or what you feel. But I swear I'll be there for you. It's our family, our pack, our fence. Remember, we're each others life."

How cheap it all sounded. You knew that. Yelena knew that. You took her face in your hands, touched her forehead with yours and whispered. "You're my Yelena. We're gonna go through this together. You're not alone."

"you sure you want me like this?"

"there's no like this. Just my Yelena"

#black widow 2021 #black widow fic #marvel self insert #yelena belova #yelena belova fanfiction #yelena belova imagine #yelena belova x reader #yelena belova x you #might be slitly ooc

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sunwoo-hoo · 3 years

Text

↣ the boyz reaction to girlfriend being on her period

↳ a/n: hello lovelies! here it is, my first reaction for the boyz! i honestly feel like this is a continuation to my ‘as your boyfriend’ series. so in each scenario the s/o is already in a relationship with each member. thank you for requesting this anon! i hope you enjoy it. also some of these are a mix of headcanons/scenarios. do not interact if you are under the age of 18.

↳ genre: fluff, light smut?? & humor

↳ requested? yes

↳ send me your requests here!

↳ word count: 1.5k

↳ the boyz x fem reader

「 Lee Sangyeon 」

you were stressed from work having to work overtime so you didn’t even notice you had your period until sangyeon pointed it out before you had to leave

“darling, i think you’ve started your period” he pointed taking a picture of your jeans to show you

you groaned having to deal with one more stressful thing this week

sangyeon rubbed your lower back trying to comfort you

“how about you call in sick?” he asked as you nodded

he’s very sweet giving you anything you need weather its water or adjusting your pillows because of lower back pain

giving you lots of temple kisses

「 Jacob Bae 」

he already knows when your period is going to start having downloaded your period tracking app on his phone

always making sure your fully stocked up on pads and tampons before the day it’s suppose to start

even getting you your favorite snacks that aren’t healthy for you

he just wants to ease the experience as much as possible

when it finally does start he’s rubbing your lower belly kissing your cheek giving you all the praise

“i know it sucks babe, but it’ll be over soon i promise” he murmured

「 Kim Younghoon 」

you period started unexpectedly when you two were watching a movie late at night

you had gotten up to get more popcorn when he noticed the stain on the couch

younghoon called out to you

“sweetheart, are you okay? you’re bleeding” he declared

you quickly went to the bathroom to check and lo and behold he was right

the worst part was that you were in the dorms and they didn’t have any pads or tampons in sight

younghoon noticed your discomfort and quickly went to the 24/7 convenience store getting everything you needed

when he finally came back you asked why it took him so long

he then opened the bag where you saw every brand and size imaginable

“i didn’t know which one you used... so i kind of just bought all of them” he said rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly

you giggled thanking him giving him a small peck on the lips

「 Lee Hyunjae 」

when your period started he was a bit annoyed

mostly because you two couldn’t have sex like you always do

but nevertheless he was caring and respectful

he pretty much gave you everything you needed whether it was medicine for your cramps or something sweet to eat like chocolate

one of your most painful symptoms was your sore breasts

he always offered to rub them but you couldn’t deny the smug look you saw on his face

“don’t worry baby i’ll make you feel better okay?” he said

he starts to rub them in hopes of helping you but eventually he can’t help but suck on your nipple rubbing your other breast with his right hand

your then moaning from pleasure and pain running your fingers through his hair

「 Lee Juyeon 」

juyeon always hated when your period started

one your symptoms was not wanting to be touched so it made him feel very distant from you

even though he wants to be close and cuddle with you he’ll try his hardest giving you space

but it breaks your heart to see him upset so you’ll tell him to cuddle with you regardless of your pain

he’ll lay by you but will try his best not to touch you so that he could respect your boundaries

you grab his hand giving the back of it small kisses thanking him

“i appreciate you being here with me” you whispered

“of course baby, you know i’m always here for you” he promised

「 Kevin Moon 」

you were always a tad bit more emotional when your period started

crying over every little thing

kevin was sympathetic offering anything to tell help you

giving you tissues when you needed it

he tried his best to lift your spirits up playing your favorite songs on his piano

“how can you cry to pharrell williams song happy?” he lightly teased trying to change the shift in mood

wiping your eyes you replied “i don’t know! this sucks! i just want this to be over with already” you snapped

all he could do was wait it out until it was over

during the week he’ll do anything to keep your emotions in check giving you cuddles and kisses

「 Choi Chanhee 」

he’s honestly a bit disgusted by it all but he knows it’s not your fault since it’s just a part of nature

you always tend to break out during your period making you feel really insecure

so you and chanhee end up doing face masks together to keep them at bay

he’s also treating you like a princess

getting everything you can possibly need to make your week smoother

like making sure the heating pad is on so that you can use it whenever you need it

“here love, sit down for a bit, i don’t want you moving a muscle” he insisted

「 Ji Changmin/Q 」

having two older sisters he saw the signs before you did telling you not to overwork yourself

when your period finally appeared you were in constant pain barely even moving

curled up on the bed tightly holding onto the sheets changmin was beside you rubbing your head giving it a kiss

“don’t worry sweetie i’ll get you anything you want okay?”

over the next week he was always keeping tabs on you making sure you had everything you needed

he always made sure to ask if you had extra pads/tampons before you went out to avoid accidents

you couldn’t have been more thankful for him

「 Juhaknyeon 」

you always knew when your period was about to start because you always had trouble sleeping a few days prior

one particular night you and juhaknyeon were sleeping together when you kept tossing and turning

you decided to get up to get a snack feeling a slight tingle in your lower abdomen

sitting on the kitchen island you nearly jumped when you felt juhaknyeon’s arms around you

“you okay baby? i was worried when you weren’t in bed” he said

you smiled softly “yeah.. it’s just i think i’m getting my period soon”

“aw, well you know i’ll be here for whatever you need” he reassured kissing your neck

moving your neck to the side so that he could have better access

is when you felt it, that familiar feeling of wetness in your panties

you then stopped him giving him an apologetic look before he joked

“damn, what a buzzkill”

「 Kim Sunwoo 」

fuck fuck fuck you thought as you looked at your period calendar

you were late

for the most part you were pretty careful when it came to sex with sunwoo but he just couldn’t help but cum in you sometimes

you always made sure to get the plan b pill the next day

but you were thinking a couple of weeks back

did you take it like you were suppose to?

you decided to tell sunwoo the minute he came home from practice

as he walked in through the front door he gave you the biggest of smiles finally seeing the person he loved most in the world

you gave him a worried look before you told him that you needed to talk

“sunwoo... my period, it’s late i-i don’t know why we’re usually safe..” you rambled practically on the verge of tears

his face turned serious grabbing your hands

“let’s go get a test okay? just to be sure” he whispered

once you got the pregnancy test you waited anxiously for the results sunwoo’s hand in yours

“baby i just want you to know that if it’s positive you know i’ll be there for you no matter what, i love you and a positive test won’t change that” he assured you pulling you close giving you a kiss on your forehead

when the test turned out to be negative you couldn’t help but notice sunwoo’s disappointment

a couple of days later your period finally came

「 Eric Sohn 」

usually your energy matched his but when he noticed you were feeling down and sleeping more than usual he was confused

it wasn’t until you told that him that you were on your period he finally realized

he’s definitely calling his mom asking how he could help you in any way he can since he’s not familiar with it

even getting advice from the older members

he’s then giving you everything you need

tea, water, heating pads and a fan since you were sweating

“do you have everything you need babe?” he asked as you nodded padding the bed so that he could lay next to you

he put his arm over you whispering

“goodnight [name], i love you i’ll be right here if you need anything okay?”

you hummed before drifting off to sleep in eric’s arms

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ray-ray-writings · 4 years

Text

Birthday Bullies-SBI AU Imagine

This is Brother!Technoblade, Brother!Wilbur, Brother!Tommyinnit, and Father!Philza x gn!reader in the SBI inc AU in which you are the youngest of the three. That being said, you and Tommy are in the same grade due to you skipping a grade because you’re so smart and that gets you into trouble because people don’t like people that are different ya know?

TW: Bullying, like physically, mentally, and emotionally. As well as cursing

Masterlist here

Y/N is being bullied at school. They’re able to keep the secret from her father and brothers for a while. But every cat gets out of the bag eventually.

Y/N’s POV

Being the youngest in your class is hard. It’s even harder when the age gap is bigger than the usual age gap. My father and my teacher’s realized that my “smarts” were way ahead of others in my grade and together we decided that I might be happier skipping two grades and going into high school at 13.

At first, I was ecstatic. I would get to take tougher classes but I would also get to be with my older brother Tommy as a freshman and our even older brothers who were seniors. But as time passed, more of the freshman class began to turn on me and began to hate me. Not only did I begin to feel excluded from my classmates, but my classmates began to pick on me.

It wasn’t too bad at first. Just whispers and snide comments to begin with. But some people got more bold and soon I could barely walk down the hallway without my shoulder being shoved and cruel words spat directly in my face. No matter how hard it got, I refused to tell my brothers. I didn’t want to be a bother to them. I was in high school now, I should be able to fight my own battles… Right? Besides, some of the kids had threatened to beat up Tommy if I even thought of telling my brother’s what was happening.

Luckily, I usually got home before everyone so I got to let out all of my feelings without having to worry about any of the boys seeing me break down. Techno has theater, Wilbur has music lessons, Tommy goes to Tubbo’s to hang out, and my father, Philza, works until 5. So I was home alone for 2 hours which gave me enough time to break down, cry it out, pull myself together, cover any bruises I may have gotten from the day, and pretend like nothing happened before anyone got home. It was a process I had down to a science. No one knew about my struggles, but that was all about to change.

It was my birthday. I woke up feeling pretty good. I could immediately smell the breakfast my father was making. I swung myself out of bed, grabbed the outfit I planned on wearing, and went to the bathroom. I quickly did what I needed to do in the bathroom before bouncing down the stairs.

As I suspected, my father was standing over the stove and all three of my brothers were sitting around the table chatting. At the sound of my footsteps, all heads snapped to me, grins placed on all their faces. “HAPPY BIRTHDAY!” All four cheered in unison. A matching grin painted my lips, “thank you!” I beamed. Philza quickly turned off the stove and rushed over to me and scooped me up in a big hug. “I can’t believe my baby is officially a teenager!” Dadza cooed in my ear. I giggled and hugged him back, “If it helps I can’t believe it either.” Philza gave my back a quick pat before releasing me and going back to the stove.

I sat down in my seat at the table next to Tommy and gave all my brothers smiles. “Here you go sweetheart” Dadza announced, placing a plate filled with my favorite breakfast foods down in front of me. “Thanks Dad!” I cheered, before picking up my fork and digging in. The boys took this as their cue to get up and get their own plates.

Soon everyone was sitting around the table, eating and enjoying each other’s company. “Unfortunately I wasn’t able to get the day off and the boys still have their after school activities that they can’t get out of and so you’re still going to be home for two hours by yourself before we can all get home to celebrate” Dadza explained in an apologetic tone. Although I was a little disappointed, I understood. “That’s okay. Like you said, we can just celebrate when everyone gets home. No worries,” I told him with a smile. Dadza returned my smile, “Thanks for being so understanding kiddo.” “No problem dad!”

We finished breakfast and then it was time to head to school. Wilbur drove us in the car that Dad had gotten him when he got his license. Techno also had a car and a license, but he hates driving and so he forces Wilbur to drive everyday. Once we got to the school, the four of us said our goodbyes to each other before heading our separate ways. I stopped by my locker and put my books away before heading to my first period.

Surprisingly, the day passed very easily. Sure there were still a few shoves and words thrown my way, but nothing too major which I was really happy about. It seemed like the universe was giving me a break because it’s my birthday today! I should have known it was too good to be true.

The last bell rang releasing us from the hell that we call school. I quickly made my way to my locker, grabbed everything I needed before walking toward the exit. I had almost made it out of the building when I heard the cruel voice of Chad, one of my main bullies, call my name from behind me. I silently prayed that if I just ignored him he would get bored and move on… It did not work.

“Hey!” The same aggressive voice called, this time a forceful hand finding my wrist and forcing me to turn around. “I’m talking to you bitch. When I’m speaking I expect you to listen” His hand tightened around my wrist causing me to whimper. I knew that the skin was going to bruise and it was going to hurt a lot. The sound of me in pain caused the smirk on Chad’s face “Aw. Does a little pressure hurt the baby?” Chad mocked, tightening his hand even more causing even more shooting pain to send through my wrist. “Please let me go” I begged, trying to tug my wrist from his iron grip, I made no progress. “No. I don’t think I will. You need to learn your lesson and learn to listen to your superiors when they’re speaking to you,” Chad spit, glaring at me with so much hatred in his eyes. I let out another small whimper, but didn’t say anything else.

Chad smirked at my demeanour, “Good… Now I’m feeling particularly generous today, so I’m going to let you go. But remember this the next time I call you, you better respond immediately.” Chad let go of my wrist and I was about to respond, but I suddenly felt a force on my shoulders, shoving me to the ground. My hands shot out behind me and I felt the skin on the palms of my hands break as they met the ground. Chad’s obnoxious laughter rang out loudly as he walked away, leaving me on the ground.

I had to take a few moments to compose myself. I couldn’t cry here. I couldn’t risk another person walking by and seeing me lying here crying. I had to be strong until I got home. I carefully pushed myself up, hissing at the feeling of the pressure on my scraped palms. Once I was up, I carefully inspected my palms and wrist. Small rivers of blood flowed from the open wounds. I slowly clenched my fists closed, trying to keep the blood in. My eyes caught the wrist that Chad had gripped, it was extremely red and small bouts of purple were already appearing in the shape of fingerprints. I took a deep breath before walking out of the school and toward home.

It’s days like today that I’m very grateful that I’m home for a few hours by myself. I didn’t have to explain anything to anyone and I could be my happy self by the time everyone gets home. It was hard to keep the tears at bay on my way home, but I managed.

A sigh of relief left my lips as my house appeared in my vision. I practically ran to the front door, carefully grabbing my key and unlocking the door, careful to not get any blood on the door or my key. I rushed into the house and slammed the door behind me. Once I was sure the door latched, I allowed myself to break down. The tears that I had forced to remain in my eyes finally flowed freely down my cheeks as sobs escaped my lips. I threw off my bookbag and allowed myself to sink into the door and slide down to the ground as the sobs wracked my body.

I was so absorbed in myself that I didn’t hear someone calling my name. I couldn’t hear them ask what was wrong. I didn’t even know they were there until arms wrapped themselves around my shoulders. I immediately jumped in surprise and my eyes snapped to whoever was grabbing me. Through my blurry vision, I could make out the outline of my father’s extremely concerned face staring at me. “What are you doing home?” I blubbered, immediately trying to dry my tears to try and hold on to some form of dignity. Dadza looked up causing me to follow his gaze. There I found all three of my brothers standing there as well, staring at me. Of course. Of course this just had to happen. “Do you remember this morning when I told you I couldn’t get the day off?” I let out a sniff and nodded at the question, of course because had he not, we wouldn’t be in this situation. “Well I lied to you to surprise you. I pulled the boys out of school early and they’ve been helping me set up your birthday surprise… But that doesn’t matter, what happened Y/N? What’s wrong?”

I couldn’t tell him. I can’t. They’ll hurt Tommy. I cleared my throat and shook my head, bringing a hand up to wipe my face. “Nothing… Nothing. I’m fine, forget about it.” I tried to brush the concern off. But Dadza’s gentle hand grabbed my hand and it was then I remembered the blood running from my hand and the finger shaped bruises forming. Dadza examined my hand, “Wilbur go get me the first aid kit please. Techno an ice pack. Tommy, please go finish setting up,” Dadza softly commands my three brothers before turning back to me with a raised eyebrow, “You’re fine?” he asked with a slightly mocking tone. I knew I had been caught.

The tears began welling in my eyes again. After a moment of silence I managed to give an answer, “No” I croaked out, “I’m not fine.” Tears began falling from my eyes once again. Dadza instantly pulled me into him once again and began rubbing my back again. “I’ve got you honey. I’ve got you.” He soothed as I sobbed in his shoulder. As I cried, I could feel someone take my hands and begin to take care of them. A small sting running through them before bandages carefully wrapped around them. A cool presence also settled on my throbbing wrist.

I don’t know how long I cried for. But I needed it. I broke down at least once every week, but crying to someone feels so much better. The tears finally stopped and the sobs turned into sniffs. “Feel better?” Dadza asked softly in my ear. I nodded, my face still in his shoulder. “You want to tell me about it now?” I pulled my face from his body and looked around the room. Techno and Wilbur still remained in the room, but Tommy was nowhere to be seen… Just how I want it.

And so I told him. I told him everything. I told him how hard high school had been for me and how everyone had been so mean to me. I told him what had happened today and what Chad had done. I explained why I was happy to be left home alone for a few hours everyday. How I broke down and patched myself up everyday. And at the end, I explained why I never told anyone. I told them how they had threatened Tommy and how the last thing I wanted was for anyone else to be hurt.

By the end of my ramblings, Techno and Wilbur were visibly fuming. Dadza was calm on the outside, but I could tell he was pissed too. It took a few moments before Philza spoke, “Tomorrow. I will be going down to the school and having a talk with the principal. There is no reason that this should ever happen to anyone, especially not you. When I met with them, they assured me that you would fit in fine and they would keep an eye on you… It’s obvious they didn’t keep that promise.” I couldn’t help the shiver that was sent down my spine at my father’s dark tone. I knew it wasn’t directed at me, but I had never heard this before and it kind of scared me.

“And we’ll be sure to take care of Chad tomorrow” Techno glowers, giving Wilbur a small nod. Philza’s head turned to his sons and he gave them a disapproving look. Wilbur holds his hands up in defense, “We promise we won’t do anything that gets us suspended or expelled… We just want to teach him a lesson.” Dadza hesitated but then gave them a small nod. A small cheer escaped Wilbur’s lips as he and Techno fistbumps. “And I’ll help too!” Wilbur and Techno whip around and part revealing Tommy standing there, his face red and his fist pounding in his hand. “Tommy, Wilbur, Techno… Please you really don’t have to-” “No we do have to. They messed with you, they mess with all of us…. Now let’s forget this for now and go celebrate your birthday”

And so you did. Dadza helped you stand up and walked you into a decorated kitchen. Party decorations of your favorite color and theme littered the walls and the table announcing “Happy Birthday” to you. Your favorite foods sat on the kitchen table with your favorite drink sitting in front of your favorite spot. Had you not just cried your eyes out, you would have cried happy tears. “Guys!” You squeal, rushing forward, looking at everything, “You didn’t have to do all this. Thank you!” The four of them chuckled at your reaction. You quickly sat in your own seat, waiting for everyone to sit down, before digging in. The rest of the night was spent just celebrating you. You got a lot of gifts from your family and ate a lot of ice cream and cake and just all around had a good time.

*Time skip to the next day*

The next morning was the first morning in a while that I didn’t absolutely dread going to school. I rode to school with dadza. Wilbur and the boys following behind us in his own car. When we got there, Dadza went straight to the office and the four of us siblings stuck together instead of immediately branching off from each other. I couldn’t help but smile to myself as I heard my father’s voice boom asking where the principal was.

The four of us continued down the hallway until we passed Chad. “Hey bitch!” Chad called from his spot leaning up against the lockers. I was a little surprised at his boldness, usually when I was with my brothers, nobody bothered me, but I guess he didn’t care today. I didn’t even get a chance to respond because in the blink of an eye, Techno had him pinned up against the lockers. “What did you just say to them?”

Instantly, Chad’s demeanour changed, “Hey man, get off of me!” He exclaimed, trying to get out from under Techno, but my pink haired brother’s grip was too strong. “No, no, no… You’re going to tell me what it is you just said to them” Techno repeated, his tone extremely dark. Wilbur slowly walked up behind him and smirked at the trapped bully, “Yeah. I mean you seemed so brave just moments ago. Almost as brave as you were yesterday, come on big man. Where’s that bravery now?” Chad’s gaze shifted from my brother’s to me, “You fucking snitch! I told you not to tell, now you’re going to pay!” Chad once again tried to get out of Techno’s grip, but he was immediately slammed back against the lockers. Techno let out a small tisk, “That was the wrong answer Chad. You should know by now I don’t like repeating myself.” Techno growled, lifting Chad from the locker and slamming him back against it.

Chad let out a small gasp of pain as the loud crash sounded, “You can’t do this! You two are both 18, I’ll sue. I’ll press charges.” Chad gasped, panic slowly filling his voice. That seemed to break through to Techno. Techno let out a huff of air through his nose. “If I ever catch you messing with Y/N again, I will end you” Techno grumbles out before letting go of Chad and taking a few steps back.

Chad takes a moment to collect himself before the stupid smirk returns to his face. “That’s right. You’re not so big and bad are you?” He taunted my oldest brother. I watch as Wilbur has to literally grab Techno and restrain him from completely pouncing on the bully. Chad only smirks at the chaos he’s created.

To my surprise, Tommy steps in front of him. “You better watch your mouth,” Tommy spoke to the bully. “Oh yeah? And what are you going to do about it?” Chad asked with a huge smirk on his face. Tommy didn’t answer, he just stood there staring at Chad. I could tell Chad was getting nervous under Tommy’s stare. Finally he’d had enough of the silence, “You’re such a freak just like your sibling,” Chad announced, reaching forward and shoving Tommy as hard as he could. Tommy stumbled back, but it seemed as though that was what he was waiting for. “Oh, you’re going to regret that” Tommy announces with a smirk, popping his knuckles. Chad let out a scoff as he rolled his eyes, “Sure kid. It’s not like you’re going-” Chad didn’t get to finish because Tommy’s fist connected with Chad’s face. Tommy had reared back and punched Chad in the face as hard as he could.

A gasp sounded throughout the hallway and it was then I noticed that there were a bunch of people that had gathered to watch what was happening. Chad went down like a sack of potatoes, just crumpling to the ground. For a moment, everyone was frozen. No one could believe what had just happened. Finally Tommy moved and looked around at the group that was staring at him. “That’s right!” Tommy announced loudly. His eyes met mine and he smiled before walking over and wrapping his arm around me “This is my sibling. If I ever catch you or hear of any of you bullying Y/N, it’ll be you next.” Wilbur and Techno were quick to join the two of us, “Yeah! What he said!” Wilbur cheered, backing up his younger brother.

The office door flung open and my father and the principal walked out. All eyes snapped to the two adults that had just entered the scene. Principal M glanced around the hall, his eyes landed on an unconscious Chad, “What happened?” He asked, moving over to the knocked out boy. “It was self defense your honor,” Tommy claimed boldly, “He pushed me and tried to punch me but I punched him before he could… It was self defense.” Mr. M looked around everyone, “Is this true?” Every single head bobbed in unison at the question. No one was going to snitch. I could tell that Mr. M was a little skeptical but when his eyes met my fathers, he quickly nodded. “Right well… I’ll get him down to the nurses office… Everyone get to class”

With that, everyone broke from their trance and raced off to their classroom. The four of us however made our way over to our father. “What really happened?” Dadza asked, an amused eyebrow raised as he looked the four of us up and down. Techno looked over his shoulder and shrugged, “We can explain later… It’s actually a funny story” Techno claimed with a small chuckle. Dadza couldn’t help but chuckle as well, “Well I can’t wait to hear it… I’ve got to go to work now but I’ll see you at home,” Dadza announced throwing his arms open. With no shame we all piled into his arms and had a big group hug. Dadza let us go and we began to head off to our classes.

“Oh wait! Dad!” I called, stopping my father from leaving, “What did you say to the principal?” I asked, really curious. A small smirk appeared on my father’s face, “I’ll tell you when you’re older… Just know that you’re never going to be bullied in this school again… And if you are, let’s just say there are some jobs at stake… I’ll see you later kiddo. Love you!” “Love you too!” And then he was gone. I walked to my first class, the teacher not even questioning why I was late.

After that day, I was never bothered by bullies again. Everyone either was very nice to me, or they avoided me completely. Tommy and I spent a lot more time together. The boys had grown even more protective of me ever since they found out. I didn’t mind though, they’re my boys and I love them. Sometimes you need someone to stand up for you, to protect you, and to take care of you. And I couldn’t have asked for better boys to be that for me.

There you go. I hope you enjoyed! If so be sure to leave a like or maybe even a reblog or reply telling me your favorite part/what you liked!

Find out what Philza said to the principal here lol

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douxie-casperan · 3 years

Text

Rise of the Titans and the assassination Hisirdoux Casperan’s character development

I’ve been ranting so much since Wednesday morning that I finally condensed by thoughts of WHY this one subject keeps setting me off namely the utterly diabolical way they handled Douxie and Archie’s relationship in Rise of the Titans and how it wasn’t just enough to hit him with the nerf bat.

Please note I’m at the point where I literally cannot tell the difference between Aaron headcanons, Teny headcanons and my own they are all mixed together in the blender that does funky things. I also apologise for typo/weird wording it’s half 1 in the morning and I’d rather sleep than edit.

If asked to sum up Hisirdoux Casperan there are certainly several things that come to mind:

Sees the value in people as a whole and will find do anything if there is a chance of help someone out

Prefers tactics that disable/banish rather than kill an enemy yet willing and able to pull the trigger if circumstances become forced

While not academically inclined he is very capable of thinking on his feet and outside the box calling back to his time on the streets where a split-second decision making is the difference between being caught and not

Terrible at planning he’ll be in there figuring it out as he goes along which is what makes the previous point so vital to literally how he goes through life

A natural charmer that would let him talk his way out of trouble 9/10 providing a perfect cover for his distrustful nature and reluctance to be touched by random people

Very down to earth, humble and never one to brag unless outright sassing someone

Will bang out some hot tunes at the drop of a hat, his love of music has never wavered once since he caught the bug despite instrument hopping ironically becoming a jack of all trades much like his magic style

The earliest memories he can recall are him as a young boy lost in the woods where he was for an unknown amount of time before his soon to be familiar finds him amongst the roots covered in dirt and drying tears, there is nothing before that. Unbeknownst to him is the colour of his magic matches the blue of a lost mother’s eyes and the song that haunts his nightmares as much as fire could well be hers though there is no way to be sure. From that moment on Archibald, shortened to Archie, would become his entire world and their friendship only becoming closer during the years they prowled Camelot together trying to keep themselves in one piece until the fateful day Douxie tricks the wrong person leading him straight into the path of the famous wizard Merlin Ambrosius.

It's no real secret that Merlin is a very closed off person who keeps his emotions as well guarded as his secrets, prefers the style of negative reinforcement over positive encouragement and is a very strict perfectionist in his. At this point in his life he can be very easily described as a disaster that is genuinely doing his best with every little mistake held of his head and his future self when brought back to that time period is belittled by Lancelot (Errand boy) and Arthur (Boy) too meaning it’s hardly a wonder his confidence was very fragile revelling in the times where he could do things without being told off for it. With Morgana largely ignoring him too (Though personally I like to think as he got older she’d occasionally take an interest until the blistering arguments with their master started to talk over daily life) a certain disguised dragon would have remained a lifeline and give that physical affection he craved much like being told he’d done well never seemed able to earn.

With Killahead he’d lose that home and family he made leaving just the two of them behind struggling to figure out their place in the world that had abandoned them.

There wouldn’t have been the words for it back then but the way he had been treated prior was outright abusive instilling very bad habits into Douxie yet by irony he was always willing to give people the benefit of the doubt and help those in trouble without thinking earning a reputation as the Shepard of Fire. He refused to become like him seeking to be better, perhaps not as a wizard (Even though he was learning new charms and spells along the way) but certainly as a person. Despite everything he suffers through or witnesses in the intervening years, the loss of friends and kindling of far newer ones he never loses his good heart

That said is it any wonder that after rightfully sassing Merlin for resurfacing, ignoring his existence despite being in the same town and only visiting him to run a finding errand that all the confidence he’d managed to build completely from scratch after Camelot wavered causing him to fall back solely into trying impressing his old Master who was acting like his humble apprentice must have coasted the past few centuries who himself fell back into old habits of belittling? It’s only when Merlin started to truly listen and acknowledge that this was not the same Moppet he once knew after Excalibur was fixed that their relationship finally started to become more like equals. After the defeat of Janus the changeling that broke into the castle he touched Douxie’s shoulder with a genuine smile and for a second he simply didn’t know what to do because the old man never did this before his brain kicked into gear and realised he’d finally earned that one thing he’d been so desperate for his entire life: That in Merlin’s eyes he could be more than a failure who only caused problems for the closest thing to a father figure he’d ever had, never solved them.

A staff will be earned, history would be set back on trap by banishing Morgana tag teaming with Archie because they know one another inside and out, as promised he’d get the kids back to the present but soon after things would go badly wrong. They’d lose Jim and because of his very nature he’d make a gamble to try and get him back because that life is worth trying for just for in a moment of surprising selflessness Merlin would be sacrificed to save him. The only constant in his life apart from Archie would apologise, openly express pride and how the greatest thing he’d ever done was saving this orphan, call him son for the first and final time before turning into ash in his arms. There would be no time to grieve for things will barrel into the crescendo of Douxie sacrificing his own life to buy everyone time to escape because if they did that everything he’d ever done would be worth it with one last whispered goodbye.

(Zoe sees him fall, so does Archie – His heart would break if he was conscious just like theirs does when his body crumples into the ground)

On the very fringes of the Light Realm he is gifted one more conversation with Merlin in a truly heart-breaking sequence (THANKS TENY) where they can just talk without any fear of consequence or politics and just be completely honest. Douxie is allowed to stand equal to Merlin, to have the hug he’d needed since he was a child and be allowed to simply let go of every pretense and cry his heart out because this can never happen again. He’s allowed to say goodbye to both his master and Morgana who had both shaped so very much of his life but like the painting he’d always remained firmly in the long shadows of until that moment.

When Hisirdoux Casperan finally leaves Wizards if we just accidently deliberately put the shawarma back in along with checking in with Zoe before departure, it is with having learned to live during his wandering years but this is the point of true freedom because he can finally escape into his own light with Archie by his side to keep Nari out of the hands of those that would see the world harmed. It won’t be easy but it feels possible somehow even with the knowledge everything is simply running on borrowed time.

Then Rise of the Titans happens.

At first everything is genuinely fine! No more running, they engineer a solution shut the Order’s magic down to make them a lot less dangerous and potentially at least incapacitate them until they can come up with a longer-term solution but all the best laid plans and all that. Douxie’s quick thinking stops the train from crushing any of the people below and it’s a very him style move to switch places with Nari to stall for time because for some reason the plot disabled Claire from portaling her or any of the threatened people/heroes to safety. He openly sasses the Order despite knowing the consequences will be bad for him because once again he’s managed to trick them, buy time that at the other end isn’t even slightly utilised until he’s forced back into his own body in excruciating pain. Archie immediately mobs him with comfort just as he has done every single time the wizard is distressed or collapsed with exhaustion without thinking because that is what their bond is like, incredibly close and far more than the Soul Bond mark that connects them together. They’re very alike in that regard, you have to earn the right to touch while equally knowing exactly what form the other needs the most in that precise moment in a way very few others could.

Bar the moment of figuring out that an illusion is in place to hide where the Order is opening the Genesis Seals and the brief insistence on reconnecting with Nari somehow Douxie manages to forget everything that makes him who he is after this point choosing to stand in the background being very no thoughts head empty or can only use the most basic spells of his youthful days not the seasoned master wizard he should be. Nomura is treated like an innocent slip rather than an outright death he did absolutely nothing to prevent (Not to mention the stupid daytime thing) nor seems to care particularly about afterwards yet with Nari’s he’s allowed to openly grieve in a gorgeously animated visual showing how he’d failed to keep her safe despite everything. He did nothing to help here either mind despite allowing himself to be tortured in the same piece of media to keep her safe, just watched another loss happen right in front of his eyes in his conga long line of them.

Then there’s Archie, oh god then there was Archie.

The dragon who even here he’d been shown to have an incredibly close bond with him decides you know what sod that tell him goodbye I’m going to make a joke about having a kingdom now dad and me are trapped in here forever. Douxie on his part looked sad for all of three seconds saying that he hoped he’s happy like it's a pet that wandered out into the world one day and never came back instead of a lifelong companion that has been there for as long as he can remember. He was now completely alone in the world since Zoe was also written out entirely and because every bit of his background had been forgotten about it somehow meant nothing. This wasn’t “I know you miss him, I know you need to grieve but you are running out of time” moment like things had been with Charlie, this was “cool shapeshifting dragon cat is now stuck in a plot hole that’s a shame” with zero pay off or any of the genuine reaction that should have been there or hell even trying to Ohana him back that very second because it never should have happened in the first place. Then even this wasn’t enough somehow, they managed to de-power Douxie even further into uselessness bar the (Admittedly nifty!) sticky feet stunt, the one who fought Skrael and Bellroc to a stalemate was shunted aside with barely a thought and his head would somehow get even emptier.

The one person who knew the danger of time magic the most stood by and said nothing.

The one person who would suffer the most by a reset because the lynchpin to his issues would be asleep if you got it wrong and should have drilled it into Jim’s head the best time to aim for stood by and said nothing.

The one person who had just suffered the loss of his familiar, best friend and only family along with the almost sister like Nari stood by and said nothing.

Then to add further insult to injury the caption when Douxie and Archie is shown says Some go their entire lives living an existence of quiet desperation because every drop of his character growth, his ability to finally start addressing his trauma instilled back in the 12th century, the staff he longed for was instead openly mocked by going “Aww he got his cat friend back how nice!” Everything he’d rightfully earned and had now would be unable to progress until certain criteria are met because it hinges entirely on the Trollhunter going to Merlin’s tomb and there’s only so much your support network of two (One if she’s written out) can do, the root of the majority of his issues all stem from one man.

And this folks is why I’ve been going on multiple rants about Douxie in particular, everyone was hit with the out of character bat to some degree in this film but when they came for him they didn’t just stop after they took his legs out because they wanted him to suffer from something he’s never had any control over to begin with all over again. Abuse survivors deserve better, these characters deserve better and we as viewers deserve far far better writing than we were forced to endure.

#Ooc - Behind the curtains #Rise of the Titans #Rise of the Titans spoilers #RotT Spoilers #RoT spoilers #Wizards #Tales of Arcadia #ToAWizards #Hisirdoux Casperan #Douxie Casperan

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