#fighting for my life to break those thangs down | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

malicious-fisheeves · 7 months ago

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wrote those ideas down

Very loose, mostly because Im just trying to excise this outta me so I can move on with my life. Feel free to take any of these btw I have no strong attachment

‘Land of Shadow’ more akin to weird purgatory? Ala Hunter’s nightmare where its a weird demi plane kinda thang that twists and warps strangely and has pieces of a physical location but is. Not entirely just that, ie calling into if Marika Literally warped this past land in some kind of way to be inaccessible and hostile and miquella is just kinda twisting it to be less so in a capacity

Da Goal: miquella still seeks godhood bc he’s an idiot. Trying to break the cycle by just recreating it. Dumb ass 😔

Miquella puts the shard bearers in purgatory/eeby derby super hell kind of confinement. Again, it can be vague, but essentially he has trapped their souls in a bottle and is threatening to shake them vigorously if they won’t give him what he wants

In exchange for each soul he acquires, maybe he gives up a piece of himself ala the DLC and we get to see a gradual change theresuch. Maybe he expresses doubts that over time fade and he’s like ‘it’s fiiiiine don’t worry about it I’m just doing what needs to be done :)” - the way we See this change is that we need to interact w miquella to get the scadutree fragment upgrades

Maybe snippets of Marika lore that can be calls both her and Miquella’s parallels

Back the shardbearers you essentially go around their subrealms trying to get them to give up their shit to Miquella. Either for not wishing to do it himself or because he physically can’t, but Miquella can’t just Take their souls from them. Miquella also wishes to convince them to give up ‘willingly’ so as to cement their followers new loyalty to Him instead.

Rennala fight 2.0: hell have her be the rellana fight??? May give us some more of her lore but continue to be vague, could also allude to the horror of The Egg that’s not just ‘boohoo radagon left her :(“. Spooky library 2.0, but Beeger and Magickier…

Follower: Ranni? Or moongrum, or a previously unmentioned carian knight perhaps. Or maybe she doesn’t get one, who knows

Can also get maybe snippets of pre-fuckening carian siblings, more insight onto their relationship albeit still very vague

End of fight: Rennala gives up the goat but again mourns the loss of her children, now again having to come face-to-face with how her love and guidance couldn’t stop her kids from getting themselves killed in the end. In the overworld, she leaves the Academy altogether and can’t be found. It’s unclear if she A. found the resolve to say fuck this i’m out, or B. had a death of dispair. She leaves the egg for you to respec tho

Rykard: Didn’t get to think of this one so much but I had an idea that you’d actually fight some sort of Amped Up Tanith eg you try to fight rykard but he just gets back up bc he’s like haha my hot wife will succeed me 😏 and then you kill her, extra, and he’s like. Fine. here’s your stupid thing. I hope you choke on it. It can perhaps speak to a better clarity of vision Rykard might’ve once had while not necessarily justifying his actions. I also just had the image of Rykard cradling Tanith in pitch darkness, slowly fading from view from the player and it being a moment where you are supposed to go. Hm. maybe what im doing isnt good?

Tanith is like it’s less that I don’t agree with Miquella and do want to see the Erdtree burned down but i am a ride or die bitch so you gotta Earn It, kid.

Radahn: Miquella puts Radahn in the Eternal Torment Pit, mostly out of a personal vendetta even though Miquella’s like No Its Fine I totally get that he nearly killed my sister it was a War You Know *smiling so hard his skin peels off* (again, speaking to Miq’s mortal flaws). Radahn’s done the rigamarole enough time that in between thunder dome hours he does some sort of peaceful activity and maybe even acts like a vendor for the player. He expresses regret, in some capacity, for his wanton past violence, but says he won’t give up his soul because he Does Not Trust Miquella to do whats right.

Jerren is his follower. Allusions to mlm relationships that are not incestuous coercion. Perhaps.

Mohg/Morgott: Again not entirely certain. I was sort of imagining a sort of nightmarish Subterranean Shunning Grounds But Worse (more frenzy stuff to be found here ala Midra’s manse?) evoking their memories of terror and abandonment. Perhaps by the time we get to them morgott and mohg have already killed each other. Or something, not sure. Someone else have a better idea

That one unused NPC that Loved Morgott Shanehaight and Annsbach (although i refuse to do the mohg-was-manipulated-angle I think we can still have annsbach be like. Well he used to be cooler i guess just having all that power and undying devotion made him like way worse. You know. Like a theme, or something)

Godrick: I actually want to treat him seriously but I can’t think of anything. Maybe he’s just like in the opening area and you can just ask him and he’ll be like. Yeah fine I guess.

Ranni: i think ranni actually did something really funny by upending Miquella’s plans without meaning to. You might fight her body’s pre-death memory of herself. Just me wishing to see Ranni with a huge fuck off weapon like her brothers. Maybe again spiritually guarding Rennala? Again could also be like a ‘sucks to suck miq i yeeted that shit forever ago’

Malenia: final shardbearer you get The Item from. I think Miquella has, in an attempt to be kind, tried to sugarcoat it for her. You find her in some pretty flowery field in the nice warm sunlight, and she’s just waiting for you. She knows why you’re here. She feels betrayed by Miquella. But acquiesces, because she doesn’t or can’t think of not doing so. So you kill her, again.

Finlay as a follower? I like the idea that the entire realm, the boundary between life and death, dreams and memory, are all blurred.

You are given the option to give some part of their leader back to their follower and make changes to the game world or the outcome of a questline. Giving Rya the item from Tanith/Rykard shows that she was wanted, and loved, and not any more an ugly thing than the world itself. Maybe doesn't change that much buy hey. Jerren gets some peace of mind or puts to rest some lingering doubts he had. Annsbach and/or Shanehaight’s endings could be opposites where Annsbach comes to his DLC thang (lord of men not gods etc) whereas Shanehaight’s faith is shaken by how His Guy was an omen.

You get Miquella’s his things and he’s like Thanks Bestie :) see you at the Erdtree. So you go and you fight Radagon and Elden beast and Miquella just stomps the shit out of them. Turns that space worm into creamed corn. And then miquella’s like alright I need a consort to ascend now.

Could be a moonpresence thang where if you didnt get his great rune you can’t say no. ends ominously on an “age of abundance” where your character is charmed.

If you do say no, he will try to kill you. Bossfight. Ends on an unfortunate note, back to base game endings.

#fishes rambles #ill stop thinking about this. eventually.

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yoongsisbae · 4 years ago

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Handshakes of a Lifetime - Chapter 7

BTS soulmate AU. OT7 x reader / Namjoon x reader focused in this chapter

Thank you to those who left comments and asks on my last chapter and on my new story (shameless plug)! I go through this thing where the closer I get to finishing a chapter the more I want to just go back and delete everything lmao and I will go and re-read your comments to take away my nervousness. So thank you lovelies, you the real ones! Yall are keeping this crazy train on its tracks. :’D

Warnings: death, war, fighting, blood, arranged marriage, cheating, sex with Namjoon, first times, spitting idk kind of kinky I try not to do the same old thang so it’s not boring for you, rough sex, Namjoon.Is.Big. size kink all over the place

Word Count: 6.1k

---

“Joon...” The eldest member calls out to him.

“I-I need some air.” Namjoon breaks away from the group.

“Wait!”

You follow after him, the other members are right behind you. He’s almost out the door, about to leave, and you feel frantic at the thought of him being alone and upset, upset at you.

Namjoon did not want to admit his feelings. He did not want to think of the envy he had felt simmering inside for days. He did not have this otherworldly connection with you like the others, but he still found his chest tightening at the possibilities. Deep down he held onto one last sliver of hope, the small guarantee the world would right itself again with you coming back into their lives. He held on to that hope right until the moment you held his hand and the revelations he expected to flow through him never happened. He felt like he had been given a test and failed, and he was too ashamed to face his failure.

You would do anything to go back in time and find the courage to reach out to Namjoon. You call his name but he ignores you.

Why does it have to be like this? Your life has never been this complicated, this difficult, you don't want to hurt them anymore. You promised yourself you would try, but it’s always one step forward, two steps back. It’s not fair! Before you can stop yourself you grab the leader’s wrist and pull him back to you.

Namjoon jolts in your grasp. You feel like you’ve been stunned by electricity, and that’s what it looks like to all the other members as you and Namjoon stand frozen in place. Your lungs won’t even open for air as all the muscles in your body stiffen. Your ears ring. His memories bombard you, rip through your consciousness and flood your senses until they become the only sights you see, the only thoughts you have, and then everything turns to black around you, the ringing growing louder.

---

There’s a ringing echoing through the halls. Guards are yelling. You rush through the corridors being pulled by your own guard, a man who’s been by your side for years, who’s dedicated his life to protecting you. Amongst the screams and roaring cries of battle you try to find comfort in the warmth of his hand as it envelops your own.

The palace is in chaos. Soldiers run through the halls brandishing weapons, ready for battle. Your guard’s large body blocks your own as you run behind him. There’s so much yelling you can barely make sense of it, but then you hear it, “There’s an attack!”

It feels wrong running away. He leads you into the heart of the palace, until you’re safely hidden in a room designed for protection. Your guard begins to bolt the intricate door locks, locking you inside with him. You place your hand on top of the latches.

“What are you doing?” Namjoon questions as he pulls you away from the door.

You squirm in his grasp, “How can I stay here, listening to the cries of my people?” You glare at him defiantly, “You’re one of the strongest soldiers in the palace, you should not be here! I want to fight with you!”

“No, you will not. You will stay here and keep our kingdom from falling.” His fingers brush against the gold cuffs in your hair and along your jaw. You sigh into his touch. This is unfair.

Namjoon stands guard at the door, his tall frame stays still and impassive. Without windows you can’t tell how much time has passed, but the noise has died down in the halls. You can’t take it anymore and move closer to him, seeking his warmth. Your hands find his sides and you bury your face into the muscles of his back.

“Princess…” he warns softly.

“We’re alone now, please…I’m scared.”

“Don’t worry, I will protect you with my life.”

That is what makes you worry the most. You let your lips drag against his exposed skin as you breathe in his scent. Your hands travel to his front and you begin to caress the hard muscles of his torso. He tenses in your hold, he can’t have any distractions, even if it’s you.

“Please princess, I must stand guard, the palace could be under siege,” Namjoon whispers, head held high.

“This might be the last time I get to be with you then,” you say as your fingers drift lower.

Namjoon growls, he turns around to face you and his hands find the back of your head. He pulls you swiftly, your body crashes against his large frame as his lips find yours. If he had one weakness in his life, it would be you. Namjoon finds it impossible to deny you, even now, while the palace crumbles at his feet.

Namjoon’s long fingers curl around the crook of your neck, tilting your head upward. He kisses you roughly despite his careful embrace. You let him lead you backwards until your back meets a pillar. His tongue glides over your mouth and you eagerly part your lips for him, desperate for his touch. You want him, all of him. If you could run away with him and be by his side forever, you would, if only he’d ask.

You’re both interrupted by a hard knock at the door. Namjoon wheels around, covering your body with his own, poised in a fighting stance.

“Commander!” The familiar voice of Namjoon’s soldier shouts out from behind the door.

“Your position, say it now!” Namjoon’s voice thunders, deep and menacing.

“The palace is secure! The enemy’s retreated, we were able to beat them...b-but something has happened…” The silence behind the door makes your heart drop. You clutch onto Namjoon for support as he walks slowly to the door.

“Speak,” Namjoon’s deep voice orders the voice behind the door.

“The Pharaoh is dead!”

---

You sit amongst men, your guard by your side. You listen to them argue military strategy. They argue about you like you do not sit there.

“...she is a mere child.’

“I am not a child!” You finally speak up.

“She’s a woman.”

You clench your teeth, you chance a look sideways to Namjoon. His eyes are dark with anger and his hands clench the handle of his spear. He looks murderous. You stand up. “Right now I am your King!” The hall stays silent.

The royal vizier speaks hesitantly, “Our kingdom is weakened, we do not have a proper Pharoah and if we do not act quickly our lands will fall to another Kingdom. We are trying everything we can to protect you and the bloodline.”

You exhale and sit back down sullen. You have to find some way to save your people. But what can you do?

---

You hear familiar steps pace in your bedroom. You stand on your balcony, looking down to the homes of your people.

“Are you still having nightmares?” His voice resounds behind you. You turn and offer your guard a weak smile. “Would you like to talk about it?” Namjoon asks.

“They are so strange, I cannot even describe them to you if I tried,” you sigh. You look at your guard, at his muscular frame and sharp jaw and sweet smile. There is a resemblance you notice that pulls at your memory.

“What do you think will happen to them?” You gesture to the homes below. You silently wish you were one of them and your own worries were someone else’s. “Do you think if we pray to the gods perhaps this Kingdom can be saved?”

Namjoon scoffs, “No gods will save us.”

“And no man will either,” you add, “...but a marriage will.” Your guard's face stays impassive, but you notice the small things; the clench in his jaw, the tick of his eyebrow, the breath he holds.

He knew this day would come eventually, he knew he had no claim to you.

“If we merge our Kingdom with another, we could save them and become stronger in the process,” you continue.

“If that is what you think is best…”

“I will do anything to save them,” you run your fingertips over his furrowed brow to smooth his pained expression away, “and you.”

He exhales, stepping closer to you. Namjoon leans his head against your shoulder and breaths in your scent in his desperation to forget his troubles. You run your hands up his arms and down his sides, watching the muscles flex under your touch.

Namjoon buries his head closer into the curve of your neck, you can feel his silent anguish and it makes you hurt. Life is unfair.

Namjoon loves you. He’d suffer a thousand lifetimes to give you happiness. He silently prays for your safety, willing to sacrifice his own happiness in return.

“Make love to me,” you whisper. In that moment you want to give Namjoon everything. If you are going to give your life away, you want him to mark his claim on you in a way that only you will know.

“Princess, I...” His eyes search yours.

“Please?”

Namjoon gives into his weakness once again.

He picks you up easily, carrying you back into your quarters and lying your body down against your bed. His strong hands run over the sheer fabric that covers your breasts, making you moan under his careful caresses. His hands travel under your dress, pushing the fabric over your hips as he kisses you slowly. You shudder as you’re exposed to him, his gaze so strong it burns your uncovered skin, makes you feel hot and needy for him.

Namjoon wants nothing more than to make you his, worship every curve of your body and touch every part of you until you’re lost in pleasure. But he keeps himself from fulfilling his dishonorable desires, worried how his treachery will further corrupt you.

You can see the hesitation in his eyes, and the growing bulge behind the cloth that covers his torso. Your fingers find the knot around his waist and unravel the fabric away. You take in his body in all his glory. Namjoon is big. His tan torso hovers over your body. You should feel intimidated, but all you feel is safe beneath his strong frame.

Your fingertips find his lips, dip inside his waiting mouth just slightly, and travel down his chest to circle the sensitive skin of his pecks. Namjoon moans from your touch. His own fingers find your mouth, his thumb caressing your bottom lip until he pushes it into your open mouth. You keep up your ministrations and travel lower until you grip his long hard length. His thumb opens your mouth wider, moving down your wet tongue. You roll your tongue around his digit, hoping to break his resolve.

Namjoon can barely keep himself together, shaking above you. “Princess, I fear I am in love with you. I’m afraid. I’m afraid because I want to do the most immoral things to you,” Namjoon groans. His confession makes you arch your back into him. His other hand caresses your face, wiping away the tear that escaped in your frustration, smudging your eyeliner in the process.

Your face, usually perfect and noble as your title, now messy and crying for him, full of lust and love, your mouth open and waiting under his thumb, proved to be his last undoing. He gathers fluid in his mouth, and lets it travel past his lips, dripping into your open mouth. You swallow his spit, moaning his name. He snaps, kissing you hungrily, his tongue exploring your mouth as you run your hand up and down his length, bringing him to your core.

He can feel the wetness between your legs, gripping your hips to meet his own. You moan as he slowly enters you, filling you in a way you’ve never experienced. Pain and pleasure intermingle as you stretch around his thickness. He slowly ruts into you.

“Stop holding back,” you gasp in between breaths.

“I don’t want to hurt you.”

“This is one instance where I don’t want your protection,” you say between kisses. You want him to stop treating you like glass.

“I can handle it, give it to me,” You pull his bottom lip between your teeth and bite down hard. The action makes him snap his hips into you and you cry out. He growls, rolling his hips into your heat, indulging himself. Namjoon pulls away from you and grabs your leg, pushing it to your shoulder. There is a dark intensity in his eyes as he watches your chest heave in want.

“You can’t make noise,” he says, bringing his other hand to your mouth, holding you down. You place your hands over his, holding his arm while he rolls into you hard and deep. He fucks you like that, as you whimper and moan against his palm. When you tighten around him, nearing your high he slams into you faster, replacing his hand with his lips, holding you to him, until you shake with your release, lost in blinding pleasure. His hold on you never falters, even in his own release.

Namjoon kisses the soft skin of your neck, still unwilling to let you go, wanting to hold onto this moment for as long as he can.

---

Namjoon paces his quarters. It’s your wedding night. He barely held himself together during the ceremony, he hated the unease in your eyes as you performed the marriage ritual. Even if no one else could see, he saw immediately the fear you felt now bound to a stranger. You were one of his many wives, you accepted your role, knowing it would be the only way to ensure peace for your people. And the thing he hated the most is how you ignored him completely. He understood why, if your sad pained eyes had met his he would have probably killed every man in the palace to get to you. It drove Namjoon near mad knowing he could not console you. So he stayed awake, pacing his room, torturing himself to thoughts of you under another man.

Strong hands pull you back. Hidden, you find yourself against your guard, his long limbs hug your body close to him. Namjoon knew the palace well, he knew all the places he could take you where no one could find, places unknown to even the Pharaoh. His hands grab at your body, groping your most sensitive parts.

“My Queen...” his voice growls low in your ear, fueling your hidden desires.

Your breath is hot and heavy. “If they catch us they will kill you,” you gasp.

“It would be worth it.” He turns you around and pushes you against the wall. There is a fire in his eyes that incinerates any resistance inside you and leaves you weak for him. You know it’s a dangerous game you play with him. You know if you were to be caught your life would end, because his life is your life, and Namjoon would surely be punished in the most atrocious of ways for disrespecting a god amongst men.

But you cannot stop. You try, but your need for each other only grows the more you try to stay away. “I love you,” Namjoon whispers the words to you.

“I love you,” you whisper your secret back and forth to each other, confessing your sins over and over again.

He lifts you up in his arms. You instinctively wrap your legs around him and he groans as your naked core meets his hardening length. Namjoon crushes you between his large body and the wall. His arms find the underside of your knees and lift you legs higher to spread you wider for him. Your hands unwrap the cloth around his waist quickly, needing him closer to you.

He lands a crushing kiss on your lips, swallowing your cries as he inches his length into you. He does it quickly, afraid of taking up too much time where your absence becomes noticeable. The stretch has you shuddering around him. He rolls his hips into yours hard and fast, over and over again, with such force you lose every thought in your mind; you only desire what Namjoon gives you, you can only think of the way his hips crash into yours.

The numbness in your joints and the hypersensitivity between your legs has you crying out in pleasure. Your arms try to find stability, but your grip is nonexistent in your lust filled delirium. You let Namjoon manhandle your body, let him strum the aching chords of your desire until you reach nirvana. He holds your shaking body in his arms as he deepens his thrusts and spills into you, making you his the only way he can.

---

In your love, you both grew reckless. Servants began to notice the longing looks, the forbidden touches. They would whisper when his fingers would sweep down the curve of your spine and along the apples of your cheek. Unknown to you, it became the palace’s greatest gossip now that your people have settled into the boredom of peace. You were naive to think the Pharaoh wouldn’t find out.

So now you stood here in your husband’s throne room, in front of your king, without your guard as he requested.

“Hello, my great wife.” He smiles at you kindly. He is not a bad man, but good men also have their limits. “I haven’t had the pleasure of your company in quite a while. I missed my wife.”

He beckons you closer and you oblige. He kisses you tenderly. The Pharaoh is handsome and loving, he lets you run your kingdom as you please when he’s away, and if you weren’t already madly in love with your guard you could see a good life with him. You know you were being unfair.

“I love you, my beautiful wife.” His eyes look down at you earnestly, “Do you love me?”

“Of course, my King.”

He pulls you into an embrace. “And are you devoted only to me?”

You stiffen against him, “Of course.”

The Pharaoh lifts your hands to his lips and kisses. He moves your intertwined hands in front of your face in silent request, so you repeat the action bringing your lips against his knuckles.

The king is kind, but betrayal is not something he can accept. He takes a deep breath and moves around the room. You watch him cautiously as he speaks quietly to a guard who leaves.

“I do love you,” he repeats, “I want you to be happy with me. Let me make you happy.”

His words feel like a test, and you don’t know what to say to him to please him. “I am very happy, my king.”

You see anger flash across his face before the Pharaoh grabs a vase resting near him and throws it against the palace wall, smashing the beautiful pottery to pieces. You hold your breath, frozen in place.

The guard comes back with another. In walks Namjoon between them, he towers over them and the Pharaoh. When you look at him he doesn't meet your eyes, staring only at the Pharaoh. But your husband doesn’t offer him a second glance, as if his presence was beneath him, keeping his sole attention on you. Your eyes dart between the men.

Your husband addresses you again, “I love you,” he says, his voice still hopeful as he waits expectantly, you know what he wants you to say. With his outburst, you know he knows, so now in front of Namjoon, the lie cannot leave your lips. In your silence the Pharaoh only grows more angry.

Your heart feels heavy, “I’m sorry...”

“Did you lie to me before, my wife? Do you love me? Say it.”

“I’m sorry,” you repeat quietly, hoping your husband who has been nothing but kind to you offers you one last token of mercy. “I’m sorry. How can I give you my heart when another holds it...”

The words hang heavy in the air between you and the men. Your husband sighs. “You will regret this,” he mutters. “Take him to the dungeons,” he addresses the guards, “He will remain there until judgement.”

You run to Namjoon, guards move to separate you. You hold onto Namjoon's frame, crying, but he remains impassive, not putting up a fight, pretending you don’t exist. It makes you cry even more, to think this might be the last time you see him and for him to act so coldly toward you.

You do not let him go until cold blades meet your skin, and still you fight, not caring when blood escapes. The Pharaoh’s booming voice tells the guards to leave him and you. He holds your shoulders as the guards and Namjoon leave. You watch silently, distraught, wishing you could call out to him, to meet his eyes only once.

The Pharaoh grabs your chin to face him, and when your eyes do not move from the retreating figure of your guard he shakes you. “For you I don’t kill him,” he whispers, eyes boring into yours, your tears falling on his fingers. “But if you act like this any further, I will have no choice. Do you understand?” You hold in your sobs.

“I understand, my king.”

---

Namjoon sits in his cell, he meets the eyes of the guard tasked to look after him, his friend. Namjoon nods at him when he sees the worry in his eyes, Namjoon knows he holds his trust and devotion. His thoughts drift to you again and guilt overwhelms him. He had failed in protecting you.

He had succumbed to his worst urges, let himself gorge on forbidden fruit and was removed from the paradise of your company because of it. He had dared allowed himself to think he had a place high above by your side, but he had stayed too close to the sun, and now burned and humbled, he sits alone thinking upon how he can fix his mistakes.

Namjoon sat in his cell for days, welcoming his punishment. He deserved this, he thought. He wallowed in his misery until he realized being cast away and alone meant you were alone too. He asked himself the same question for days, were you better off without him? Until one day he decided no.

---

You awake from your slumber as a hand covers your mouth. “Stay quiet.”

You nod your head, unable to see the dark figure above you but immediately recognizing his voice.

“I’m going to escape, leave this place, do you want to come with me?’ You nod your head against his palm.

You follow closely behind Namjoon, your heart jumping inside your chest, ecstatic to have him by you again, and terrified of getting caught. The halls are desolate and dark, the new moon providing no light for your escape.

You and Namjoon hear approaching footsteps and Namjoon grabs you and pulls you into a dark hiding spot. His large frame covers you entirely, so you can only hear the footsteps as they reach closer, suddenly stopping right in front of you.

You hold your breath waiting for the worst, but it never comes, Namjoon pulls you along as he follows the guard. He brings you to another guard and you follow him as well. You and Namjoon keep being passed along until you make it out of the palace. He embraces his last friend goodbye.

---

“We’ll stay here until nightfall. It is the last place the Pharaoh will look for us.”

“Is it not dangerous to-”

“It’s been all taken care of, my Queen.” You do not ask questions, you follow Namjoon deep into the pyramid away from the rising sun. He leads you, torch in hand. You wonder what pathway would take you to your father, his last resting place on earth until he is reborn again.

“I missed you.”

Namjoon turns around, “I missed you too, my love.”

“I-I thought you hated me for what I did,” you whisper.

His arms wrap around you and you let yourself sink into his comforting embrace. “I could never hate you. It was my own fault, my punishment as a weak man. I hoped if the Pharaoh thought I no longer cared for you, he would not punish you as well. He didn't hurt you, did he?”

You know anything other than a no would have Namjoon bursting into the palace once again, so you shake your head at his question.

You pull him closer to you, “I'm sorry, you’ve always protected me, and I couldn’t save you...I should have done more, I should have...”

“Well,” he looks to the altar you’ve found yourselves in the midst of, “Now that we are here, I don’t object to a prayer to the gods.” Namjoon offers you one of his rare dimpled smiles.

You’ve witnessed enough rituals to know the basics, but had no idea how to enact one on your own, so you hoped the gods would hear your heart instead. You offer your life to the man in front of you, as so does he, sealing your love with a kiss and two drops of blood. What could be more sacred than vowing your hearts to each other in the house of divine judgement, where the very bridge between worlds should reside?

Namjoon holds you in his arms as you sleep, guarding your sleeping form. He feels content knowing you're his as much as he’s yours. Soon, he will leave this place with you and start a new life together.

You whimper in your slumber. Namjoon runs his hand over your forehead, wiping away the accumulating perspiration. When you thrash in his arms he tries to sooth your cries, but you wake up with a start, heart beating fast and breathing heavy. You cling to him dazed from your dreams.

“Another nightmare?”

“No. I...don’t know what it was.” You push the thoughts back, images of him, odd environments you can’t place. Feeling safe in his arms again, sleep finds you quickly.

---

The desert is unforgiving, but you feel safe following Namjoon’s lead. He followed a route he knew no one else would take to look for you. A quicker route to the next city, and more dangerous, but nothing a skilled warrior like him couldn’t overcome. He knew how to survive off the land. Your muscles ached, your body hot and fatigued from too much sun, your lips dry from sparse water, but you stayed strong for him. Only a couple more days and nights to civilization.

Nights you enjoy. When he holds you close to him, you let the heat that radiates off his body keep you warm under the cool night’s moon. Together, alone in the vast sahara, you can scream to the heavens your love for each other. The stars dance in the night sky, you want to believe they dance for you and Namjoon, rejoicing in your happiness.

---

Something is wrong, Namjoon can feel it before he sees it. A wall of destruction headed towards you both. Namjoon could fight against countless enemies, but this, a vast sandstorm, deadlier than any military, his only choice was to...

“Run!” He grabs your wrist, pulling you along. The sand beneath your feet makes your strides heavy, but you do as Namjoon says. You run, and run, and run.

You run away from the roaring dark cloud of sand hurling towards you. It rolls along the desert floor, rumbling, pulling in more sand and becoming bigger and bigger. You run. You know this is a race you cannot win, but you run.

When your back meets the edge of the storm, your body is hurtled forward as the sandstorm whips around you and Namjoon, pulling you away from his grasp.

Namjoon screams your name. You search for each other as sand pelts you, clogging your lungs and blocking your vision. The storm's greyness turns to a frightening shade of red, and then to black as darkness envelops you, completely devoid of light, an endless screaming void. Your own screams merge within it, coughing out for help.

Something hard hits your body, pulling you down into the sand. Was it Namjoon you heard? You can’t make anything out, your body dragging along the sand, you lose all sense of direction as your orientation flips again and again.

Another hard collision into your body and you hear him, you reach out and nothing, just the painful scrape of sand and wind on your outstretched fingers.

You’re knocked down, this time Namjoon grabs you, you feel his hands frantically try to hold on, and you try to connect, but the rolling sand makes it impossible.

You manage to connect with his forearm and you anchor your nails into his skin, it allows him to pull you to him.

You scream for him, “My dreams! I don’t believe they were just dreams!”

“What?!” Namjoon can’t hear you.

“I saw a vision! I saw you in my dreams!”

Namjoon can only yell for you, holding onto your fingers as sand twists around him. Your bodies pulled back and forth in darkness.

“You called me-”

“I love you!”

“My name, you called me-”

Sand wraps around your bodies, filling your lungs and suffocating you. "You called me ____!"

The whirling pulls your bodies down, deeper into the sand.

---

You shudder at the memories. ‘Namjoon!’ you scream his name, but nothing comes out of your mouth. The man in front of you keeps walking. Namjoon stops abruptly, causing you to run into his back. He brings his fingers to his lips to keep you silent. You look down at your hands. The slippers on your feet. Your heartbeat quickens.

“You don’t have much time. head towards the Forest. You’ll find him there. Stay safe.” He brings you into a crushing hug.

“Thank you,” you bury your head in his chest and let his presence calm your jittery body.

“Don’t thank me, he’s my friend and so are you, you deserve happiness.” Namjoon kisses the top of your head, he tries not to think how this is the last time he’ll ever get to hug you.

“I’ll think of you always. Please find a way to leave this awful place too.”

“Don’t worry about me, go! And hurry!”

You take one last look at your dear friend, knowing this might be the last time you’ll ever see him. You give him one last hug, and run to the forest and towards Jungkook.

---

You hear your name on Namjoon’s lips. It sounds so far away. You try to open your eyes, but can only groan in pain. Your head feels like it’s splitting in half.

“She’s waking up!” You can hear Hoseok’s voice call out to his other members.

“Joon, Joonie, hey, open your eyes, please!” Taehyung's deep baritone voice is full of worry as he pleads to his leader.

You hear the rapper groan beside you.

“...Joon...” you whisper weakly. Why does your body feel so heavy? You move your hand in the direction you think he is, still unable to open your eyes.

You feel fingertips brush your hand.

Namjoon’s beautiful dimpled smile lights up the radio studio. The pianist is handsome. His looks are only to be rivaled by your best friend’s. They laugh and banter as they talk on air.

After his interview Namjoon makes his way over to you. You offer your praises, making him blush. “You did amazing, I’d love to hear you play again!”

Namjoon leans against your desk, you notice his biceps flex under his shirt. “...I’d love that too.” He looks even cuter up close. Your face feels hot under his gaze.

Namjoon noticed you as soon as he walked into the radio studio. Initially he thought you and the DJ might be a thing, but when he asked, the DJ adamantly denied the possibility. “I was invited to a grand opening this weekend. I was thinking, if you wanted to go with me, I’d very much like to take you out.”

You look over to Hoseok, who's engrossed in his music and too busy to notice you. “Yeah, sure, that sounds lovely.”

“Really?”

You laugh and nod your head. “Only if you promise to play me a song!”

“Of course!” He flashes another dimpled smile at you. You look over to your best friend again and bite your lip. Why do you feel so uneasy?

“Y/n! Y/N?!” Who is calling your name?

“What!” You whip your head around to see Namjoon jump at your sudden outburst.

“Whoa! Settle down there Tiger.” Namjoon laughs. "I just wanted to brief you on our upcoming mission."

You sigh. “Alright. Come here,” you grumble. You study over his notes.

"Who is this?" On the mission map there is a position marked sniper. Your heart drops.

"Hmm, I’m not sure," Namjoon flips through his material, "No information on him. I think it’s a mercenary the agency's hired?"

“Oh. Do they not trust us?” you huff.

"I doubt they trust each other," Namjoon laughs.

"Well, just don't let this mercenary take me out too..." you feel uneasy looking over the map once more.

"Never! I will protect you with my life," Namjoon says. His words pull you from your thoughts and make stomach tighten.

"Shut up...just do your job and I'll do mine."

“Don't give me that, you know I’m your favorite.” Namjoon winks at you.

You scoff. He is not your favorite. But you can't deny the agent is one of the smartest you’ve encountered, his quick thinking has saved you too many times to count. And he’s built like a tank.

“You’re the most competent. I’ll give you that." You offer him some of your lunch which he gladly inhales, choking slightly in the process. You stifle a laugh at his clumsiness.

“I was thinking," Namjoon speaks up as you eat, "We could team up. I could use someone like you, and I really do promise to have your back.” He stands close enough that you can smell the woodsy pine scent of his cologne.

“I’ll think about it.” You glance over at Namjoon. How that man hasn’t let the atrocities of your lives jade him yet, you will never understand. Before you let your heart open you find yourself erecting another wall. No, you think, you won’t suffer through that again.

The leader's grip on your hand tightens, pulling you away again. The desperate pleas around you turn into jovial cheers.

You cut fruit for Taehyung and his friends, smiling as their melodious voices reach your ears. You here footsteps behind you and turn around to Namjoon’s hesitant smile.

“Do you need some help?”

“No no! What kind of host would I be?”

“But I want to help.” Namjoon stands by your side, waiting expectantly for instructions. You laugh, handing him a pomegranate and a bowl of water.

You watch as he pulls the pomegranate seeds from their casings, your hands dip into the bowl with his own. “Here,” you give him a smile which he returns shyly. “Instead of picking out the seeds, try taking away the pulp instead.”

Namjoon nods, watching the bright red berries fall to the bottom of the bowl. You work in comfortable silence with the poet by your side. It’s peaceful, and yet, something feels out of place.

You hear the idols’ voices around you, desperately calling your name. Your body feels light. So light you can’t feel the ground beneath you anymore. Are you lying down or are you standing? You feel like you’re suffocating, you feel cold. You shudder and open your eyes. You see Namjoon. He’s floating away from you. Deeper into the cold depths of the sea. You struggle for air. It’s water that surrounds you.

You wake up with a start, Jin falls away from you in shock. Moments before he was performing CPR on you. You throw up...water. You cough out, gasping for breath. Your arm is pulled as Namjoon turns to his side, coughing and shaking. You gasp for air, as you lie back down, turning to the leader. You hold onto his hand tighter as he does the same, the stinging in your fingers helps ground you. You grip the carpet with your other hand, afraid to let go of the ground. The men surround you in stark silence. They thought you had both died.

---

Well look at that, you kind of did save a country in your past life :’). It’s getting complicated now. Namjoon’s character is out here surprising even me. This was not something that was planned when I wrote earlier chapters, he just kind of went, “Yeah, I’ve been here the whole time bih how did you not see this coming sooner?” Funny how the mind works..anyways what do you think is gonna happen next now that all the handshakes have been completed? idk I’m kind of team Namjoon after this one. Which handshake was your favorite? Please tell me, I’d love to know! <3

#bts fanfiction #bts fanfic #bts angst #bts fantasy au #bts soulmate au #bts historical au #bts smut #namjoon smut #rm smut #namjoon x reader #rm x reader #ot7 x reader #reader x ot7 #reader x namjoon #namjoon angst #namjoon fanfic #namjoon fanfiction #rm fanfic #rm fanfiction

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jaspereatsaasper · 2 years ago

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It was my last class of the semester, and the final exam was worth 30% of our grade.

After a late night study session I felt confident, but I had to decide between sleeping in or cooking breakfast. My eyelids chose sleep.

My stomach later regretted this decision, and after several uncomfortable stomach growls, I finally decided to make a quick stop by the campus bookstore and grab a snack before my test. Since the semester was ending and everyone was going home for the summer, a lot of items were on sale, including the snacks and candy that they kept up front. Being in the hungry state that I was in, it felt only logical to pick the largest, yet least expensive candy in order to get more bang for my buck.

And there they sat: two bags of Haribo Sugar-Free Gummi Bears, buy one get one free.

"What a deal!" I thought naïvely. I would eat one bag before my test, and one bag afterwards.

As I walked to class, I gleefully chewed on those abominable little bastards, unaware of the utter mayhem that they would soon unleash upon my poor, poor anus.

I sat down at my desk as the professor informed us that, due to issues with cheating in the past, restroom breaks would be prohibited until the completion of the exam.

"I'll give you 10 minutes to use the restroom now; this will be your last chance. Any takers?"

The demon bears hadn't released their unholy necromancy upon my stomach yet, so in my moment of ignorant foolishness, I remained seated, still munching on those miniature bear-shaped bombs.

After the students wise enough to take the professor's offer had returned, the professor handed out the test. I was six questions in when it happened.

It started subtly at first, almost like a slight tingly sensation in my lower abdomen. I thought nothing of it, assuming my intestines were just doing their thang. Little did I know that my intestines were trying desperately to warn me of the horror that was on the horizon.

By question 9 it happened again, but this time it was followed by a sharp pain, as if those infernal hellions had orchestrated an attack upon my colon. I fought to contain the groan that tried escaping my lips. It was at this point I began to panic; something was going horribly long, and I needed to get through this test before it got any worse.

By question 14 my worst fear was upon me; the Satan bears' burning, hot, liquidy dark magic crashed against my anal sphincter like a tidal wave. I was able to close the hatch just in time, but those relentless, toxic bears beat against it like Orcs breaking down the doors of Helm's Deep. I knew I wouldn't be able to so much as shift in my seat without risking a breach.

I kept fighting through my exam, clenching my cheeks with all my might. Beads of sweat began rolling down my neck. Suddenly, a loud, gurgling war cry came from my belly, and the entire class lifted their heads.

At this point, nothing mattered except expelling this ungodly presence from my bowels. With 15 questions left, I promptly wrote C for every answer and ran out of the classroom. My professor yelled something, but I was too preoccupied with the volcanic eruption that needed to take place before I could find sweet, sweet relief.

I burst into the restroom like the Kool-Aid man and, behold, the handicap stall was empty. Sun rays from the adjacent window shone upon it, as if it were a gift from God himself. It took me less than .5 seconds to undo my belt buckle, pull down my pants, and finally relax my weary buttocks upon the toilet seat.

It took absolutely no effort to expel this demon. Almost immediately, the floodgates of hell were opened and the damned, liquified souls of an entire bag's worth of gummi bears cried as they burned through my sphincter and into the watery abyss below. I had never felt such simultaneous relief and anguish in my life.

After 30 more minutes of this, I immediately went home, dug a hole in my backyard, and burned the remaining bag of gummi bears.

I leave with this; do not, I repeat do NOT eat these spawns of Satan. Not only did they cause me to fail my final test, but the anguish I experienced is something I wouldn't wish upon anyone, not even my worst enemy. The only place these god forsaken hell bears belong are buried deep below the Earth's surface.

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nyxerebus · 4 years ago

Text

His Sun - 3

TW : language, mentions of death

Chapter 3

“You worried?” You broke the silence between you two as you looked for a dear to bring back. “Worried for what? I ain’ never worried”

“About the group that went to the city, about your brother”.

“Merle can handle himself” You knew the reason he didn’t answer the first question was because he was, he tried to put on this though guy, ‘cares about no one but himself’ act, but you knew that he wasn’t than man. That he cared, and that resulted in him worrying.

“I hope we find something good!” You change the conversation to something lighter. He just huffed in agreement. And so it went on. You pointing out herbs and plants, cracking some jokes if you dared and he listening. Occasionally adding something to the convo, but not too much. You still had work to do if you wanted to break him out of his silent shell.

After a couple of hours looking around and gather a good portion of veggies and Daryl had gotten his hands on a couple of squirrels. “Look!” You pointed a head, a deer! Daryl prepared his crossbow and fired. It took him three arrows, but he got it. “Go back to the camp, I’ll meet ya there, just gotta move this thang”

“Yes Sir!” You playfully saluted him and turned around to walk back to camp. Missing his smirk.

When you arrived back at camp you saw two new cars: one red sportscar and a big white truck. They must be back! “(Y/N)!” You turned around and were and met Glenn’s warm smile. “Good to see your back! How are the others?” Glenn was about to answer but turned towards the woods at the sound of a scream, Carl. Lori and all the men ran towards the sound, but you couldn’t move. Fear struck you down at the thought of a walker breaching the camp. Carol must have noticed your trembling, because she walked over to you and rubbed your arm comforting. “Don’t worry, the men will handle it. I’m sure its nothing”.

“Thanks, I’ll just sort our findings” Carol helped you sort out everything, while you described what they were, what they did and where to find them.

“Merle? Merle? Where are you? I got some squirrels!” Daryl shouted for his brother when he entered the camp with the rest of the guys. And by the looks of everyone’s faces, something happened to Merle. “Where the hell is Merle?” After you realized what they are gonna say you walked away, not knowing how to handle the situation. Found a nice place in the woods and started to read. You were still very conflict shy, so being in the middle of something that was bound too end up in a fight wasn’t the first thing you wanted.

So there you sat. reading and enjoying the quite. It was a rare luxury these days. Until it was interrupted by footsteps closing inn. You held your breath, thinking it was a walker, but when you saw Dales face you let it out, even though it was hard to make out with the sun going down a couple of minutes before.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to scare ya’”

“No, worries. Is everything good over there?” Dale shook his head and sat down next to you. He then filled you inn. About what had happened in Atlanta, who Rick was, and how Daryl is doing. “He wants to go back after his brother” You just nodded understanding. You couldn’t blame him. Yes Merle was an ass, and you would never risk your life for him. but if that was your brother on the roof. You most definitely would do everything in your power to bring him back. “Is he going alone?”

“No, Rick, Glenn and T-Dog are coming with him. Rick says he dropped a bag of guns and ammo and wants to go back and get it”.

You both just sat in the silence for a while. Taking inn the new information. Until Dale broke the silence. “I heard from Glenn that you needed some new books. Well, unfortunately, he couldn’t bring any back. But I have some in my van that I thought you might like” he reached behind himself and pulled out two new books: I, Robot and A Prayer for Owen Meany. “These aren’t the best books I have, those are back at the house, but they are really good. I hope you like them” You could feel the tears starting to build up. Why were you crying? “Thank you” He just gave you a warm smile and stood up. “Let’s head back, the sun is going down” You grabbed the hand he held out and walked with him back.

The mood back at the camp was anything but easy. Daryl was no where to be seen, and Shane kept starring at Rick and Lori, who was cuddled up by the fire place. You knew about Lori and Shane, having caught them in the act ones. You felt bad for Shane, it was obvious he loved her and wanted to be Carls dad. You just hoped it wouldn’t be a big issue. You walked off to the woods trying to find Daryl, hoping to comfort him. It was strange, even though he was a bit of a dickhead towards everyone. He wasn’t that bad towards you and you often found yourself drawn to him, to be near him. He would rarely push you off, he would ignore you, but never walk away like he would with the others. You found him sitting against a tree far away from the group.

“Hey” You whispered. He didn’t look up, just whipped his cheeks, clearly tear stained. “The hell you doin’ out here! Its not safe” He brawled out. You just smiled at him and sat down next to him. “You’re here, that means its safe”. You knew not to get to close to him, that he still needed time to warm up. “Do you wanna talk about it, about him?”. He just shook his head, starring off again. Sighing, you decided too leave him alone. But when you started to get up, you felt his hand wrap around your wrist pulling you back down. “Stay” He muttered. You just nodded, didn’t want to push him any further. You settled down by his side. When you leaned your head against his shoulder, you expected him to tense up. But when he didn’t you settled down and made yourself comfortable.

It was nice, just the two of you. If you closed your eyes, you could imagine you too were sitting here in another life. No walkers, no missing brothers. Just you two enjoying a walk in the forest together. “Do you want me to come with you guys tomorrow? To help look for Merle?”

“Nah, it wont be safe for ya’” He still wouldn’t look at you. Just starring of into the great nothing. You just muttered an ‘ok’ and settled back down. Feeling sleep overcome you, you tried to fight it, wanting to be there for Daryl. But after prying open your eyes a couple of times you lost the fight and let the darkness consume you.

…………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………

The sounds of people talking around you woke you up. Your groggy head still trying to understand what was happening around you. But one first thing you noticed was the change in scenery from last night. More specific, you had woken up beside your tent with an poncho draped over you. Daryl’s poncho. Did he move you? Was he the one that draped the poncho over you? A million thoughts raced through your head, but before you could overthink yourself to death, Lori broke yu out.

“Hello? Earth to (Y/N)?”

“Yes! Sorry I sapced out a bit, what do you need?” You answered with a smile. “Can you watch Carl for me? I need to wash some clothes”

“Of corse!” And so went the day. You watching Carl, playing with him and bringing him with you to teach him about plants and herbs. Even though he didn’t pay attention at all. But even though you should be focused on Carl, you couldn’t keep your mind of Daryl. Was he doing okay? Why didn’t he wake you before he left? Why would your mind always lead you back to him?

All you could do know was wait and try not to worry yourself to death. The guys were fine and you were safe, right?

…………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………

Hope you like it! Chapter 4 will be out soon! Now that I have spring break I hope to be writing more 😊 Message me if you want to be on the taglist!

@fuseburner

#daryl #daryl dixon #daryl fanfiction #daryl x reader #daryl smut #The Walking Dead #norman reedus #reader #reader insert #(Y/N)

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haircoveredwriter · 3 years ago

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Some thoughts after watching 11x06 "On the Inside". I'll put it beneath a break because there's more than I thought to my mindless rambling.

Okay so they're going with a straight horror movie intro but skipping the usual 'we're having such a good time out here in the woods...wait, something it out here too'

Both LR and KC do a really good terrified for their lives

Also have to say Virgil really seems to have stepped up since we met him because dude can actually take out walkers now. Good job, sir. Never stop learning.

More of Leah walking around amoungst a group of people and having no real reason to be there or contribute anything to the scene. 🙄

Damn, Hondo! Stop pulling at Frost's nails! I can't rip half mine off at work without feeling like Hershel when Rick chopped his leg. Fingers and toes always make thigs worse.

Chokeholds are illegal, Daryl. Someone needs to have him watch his own earlier seasons.

The conversation beneath the conversation between Daryl and Frost is spot on and super interesting.

Daryl's like 'look...I'm going to have to chop your finger off but it's for a good reason. Gonna save your life and who knows, maybe one of these weirdos has a Govenor closet somewhere and they'll let you take it home with you.'

Plus him taking off the vest was WAY more entralling than it needed to be, but I'm a woman with eyes so don't judge me. 👀😍(Enthralling? yup, that's what we'll go with)

It's a definite sign Daryl's not all team Reapers because he's basically taking off/hiding who he really is to fit in with his crazy ex-girlfriend's new posse.

Though my science schooling is giving how little blood there is from the amputation the side eye. Guess Frost just willed his blood some place else.

Am I crazy or is the music playing while Daryl torutres Frost the same that was playing in 10x07 while Carol tortured the Whisperer? Coincedence??🤔

Evil Monopoly man seems like he enjoys playing games with his people.

If Connie looking in the mirror is not me everyday I wake-up😏

GUYS! There were medical scissors in the medicine cabinet. You know what this means??? Queen Beth is gonna rise from the dead and save Vonnie all while less half a brain. LOL.

whoever belongs to that eye in the hole needs to get checked for jaundice.

Ofc the pencil breaks when Connie TRULY needs it. Fate really has it in for her, screwing her over with one of her most trusted friends.

These Reapers have no idea do they about how to sneak up on a building without being seen. Maybe they need it to be night before their powers activate. Funny Leah is in charge when she's the least believable one there.

Daryl pretending to be a cat hiding behind a plant with that mailbox...no one can see you my friend. You're good.

Carver and Leah remind me of the evil version of Caryl and Daryl.

They obviously have something going on and/or had a thing in Daryl's abscence. All those "Always" remarks sound an awful lot like The Princess Bride's "As you wish".

Yup, Carver is uber jealous of Daryl. Leaver is setting sail ya'll.🚢

Carol strolling in to find Kelly stuck in the mud with her casual "need some help" is perfection. I actually lol'd.

AT is also SUCH and underrated and underutilized actress on this show, I need more Kelly on my screen because she needs to be protected like the sweet cinnamon role she is.

WTH is with this episode, they really out here trying to start a bunch of new ships or something? I'm down for Vonnie.

He's so into you, Connie. Who else is gonna keep talking to you knowing you can't hear them but needing to vocalize how much more important they see you to themselves.

Oh, come on...he's said her name in this ep more times than anyone has in the last season. He's trying to rival Daryl for saying Carol's name in s10.

So in case you're keeping track...we now have Vonnie and Leaver riding the crazy shipping seas.📃

Great... more posturing about who cares about Leah more.🤮 Carver you aren't getting it; Daryl's been phoning it in since Day 1, he's not a threat just wait it out and he'll audios up out of here to go find his fire queen back home.

Leah's even telling Daryl "stop pissing of my secret boyfriend okay?"

Note to everyone: a dancing phone line is the sign to run to the basement and not a sign of an overeager squirrel running across the line for his acorns.

So the jaundice family watched The Ring too many times and think this is how all the cool kids act in horror flicks. All they keep saying is 'hungry'; Connie, Virgil, someone get them a Mars bar and it'll be done.

A+ fight put up by Virgil. He's been taking some classes during the lockdowns to better himself.

The Reapers are HORRIBLE military folk. How do ya'll not see Maggie & co leaving when you have people on the perimeter for the sole purpose of finding runners?! Do not hire them. 1 star on Yelp.

Yup I'm all over Vonnie. That "together" stuff was by far the shippiest thing we've seen all season.

And their reunion hug through the walll .... guuurl.

walker guts trick again: the express version

why do I feel like they could do a mini spin off of just a little war going on between the walkers and those jaundice mo-fos? Then one of the walkers falls for a crawler girl but her family thinks he's from the wrong side of the yellow house and don't like how he thinks he's better because he's taller than all of them.

Kelly found Connie! So happy this storyline ended with the 2 people the arc was truly about; the 2 sisters finding each otherafter years of the show hating siblings.

Now can we finish with Carol's self-hatred stuff and let her heal? We know Daryl is gonna be finished with his "gotta save 'em all" issues soon so it would be fantastic if they could finally be on the same baggage free playing field. Just a thought Kang.

Overall I thought it was a good episode. Only a few things I would nitpick ie. limited Carol, cheesy music during some of the haunted house bits, and the reapers need to go back to basic training and learn some stuff and thangs.

Ofc the spoilers beforehand were blown way out of proportion though I'm not surprised. I didn't go in expecting to see what was foretold and thankfully the spirit Gods prevailed again in defeating the overreaction we go through EVERY episode.

#Caryl #twd #twd spoilers #s11x06 #episode thoughts #Vonnie is rising #Leaver is rising #I find it hilarious how every single obstacle individual supposedly in the way of Caryl is suddenly being removed #shoved into an entanglement with someone else #I see you Angela #well done

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millllenniawrites · 4 years ago

Text

enchanted (Poe Dameron x Reader)

part one of dear love of mine

summary: The last thing you wanted was to fall in love. That was your sisters’ job, to marry and have a small army of children for your mother to dote on. But when the man courting your eldest sister brings a mysterious guest to stay with your family for the summer, you may not have a say in the matter.

words: 1.5k

warnings: afab!reader; reader has a last name; regency au for the aesthetic but it’s historically inaccurate for the *vibes*; slow burn; sexual themes throughout; eventual smut; warnings will be added as the series progresses

a/n: the series i’ve been talking about for months is finally here!! Totally was supposed to post this yesterday but I forgot. I started outlining this after reading @writefightandflightclub ’s Regency Femdom Week 2020 fic Of Rears and Vices and watching Bridgerton was like taking steroids so here you go!! I haven’t done an actual series in a long time so i’m super stoked about this whole thang. this is a short chapter cause I want you guys to get to know the universe and the characters but the next few are gonna take some time because they are long bois

You sat at the window, looking down at the long drive that led up to your estate. Lord Barnes was supposed to arrive before lunch and, though your stomach rumbled, you didn’t take your eyes off the horizon.

“You’re almost more nervous than I am.” Ana called.

You blinked quickly to allow your eyes a moment to adjust from the bright light outside to the dim interior of her room. Your sister stood in the doorway, her hair glinting in the sunlight. Her blue dress complimented her features and, even without the sun, you were sure she would have been glowing.

“You remember that I’m the one he’s courting, right?” Her slippered feet whispered against the floor as she crossed the room, hopping up into the window seat across from you.

“Of course I remember.” You flailed your leg out, striking her in the shin with your foot. “It’s only the happiest day of my dear sister’s life.”

She tossed a scrap of paper into your lap. On it, scrawled in a neat print, was yet another declaration of love from the strapping Lord Barnes for your sister.

You read aloud, “My dearest, Ana, how I do miss your gaze. The stars here are truly incomparable, having seen your eyes— Is this what men think is charming?!”

She snatched the paper from your hands. “I think it’s charming!”

As you laughed, you snorted, sending her into a fit of giggles right alongside you.

“I really do think he’s going to propose this time, Ana. And you know I’m happy for you.”

The summer prior, Lord Barnes had been in town on business, settling assets after the tragic death of his father. To distract himself from his mourning, he had begun going door to door, learning the names of the people who lived in the county he had so suddenly inherited.

Ana had not stopped talking about him since and, if his letters were any indication, he was just as charmed as she was.

“Of course I know that.” She turned around, flopping herself back into your lap. “You also know that by my marrying Lord Barnes, I’m helping you secure a suitable match.”

“A suitable match!” You couldn’t help but laugh again. “For Siena, yes. For me?”

“You cannot keep your nose in those books forever! I cannot let you. Don’t you think you’ll get lonely in this big house all by yourself?”

“A marriage would simply hand over our family’s legacy to whatever man decided to sign the papers. I do not think that is what Father would have wanted.”

She rested her elbows on your legs and leaned her chin onto her palms. “I think Father would have wanted you to be happy.”

With a roll of your eyes, you shoved your poor sister out of your lap and onto the floor. She landed with a soft grunt and a flurry of skirts and immediately tried to clamber back into your arms.

Ana loved to remind you that you would be tasked with taking care of the family property once your mother passed. She had seen it as such a burden that, even as the eldest of three girls, your parents had decided she could pass on the responsibility. Siena, the youngest of the three Dean daughters, was just as enamoured with the idea of marriage as Ana was, so the future of the estate had passed to you without complaint. Their wish was to be romanced and married. Yours was stability. And with your father gone, your mother wasn’t about to keep any of you from your true wishes.

Siena was in her room, no doubt pruning and prepping for the arrival of Lord Barnes — it didn’t matter that she wasn’t the sister he was coming to visit, she had reminded you — and you did miss her presence as you and Ana shoved at each other and grappled for her letter. It was moments like this was you cherished, knowing that soon, handsome men would arrive and sweep your sisters away. Your house would be left empty of two of the most precious things you had ever beholden.

“Girls!” Your mother shouted, breaking you out of your thoughts.

You and Ana squished yourself together in the window seat. A dark carriage had begun it’s way up your drive.

“Girls!” She shouted again. “Come down here!”

You and Ana raced out of her bedroom and down the long staircase. Both out of breath by the time you reached the bottom, you clutched each other.

Your mother and Siena stood side by side, their arms crossed. They were mirrors of each other, their coiled hair pinned into place and eyebrows furrowed in distaste.

Siena turned her nose up at your giggling, but you could see a glint of playfulness in her eye. Though she tried to appear sophisticated, her twelve-year-old spirit wasn’t easily quelled, much to your mother’s dismay.

“Are you sure you’re ready to get married, sister?” Siena’s voice was soft, more like silk than sound.

“He hasn’t proposed yet. You needn’t be so serious.” She skated over to Siena and wrapped her arms around her sister’s middle, swinging her around.

“And when the Lord Barnes proposes, Ana will be quick to get ready. Just you watch.” Your mother winked at you before grabbing Ana’s arm, pulling her off Siena. “They are about to arrive. Go look presentable.” She shooed both your sisters towards the front doors before limping along behind them.

Mister Kirk, your family’s butler, stood off to one side. He was a thin man, the grey hair atop his head so thick that it looked as thought he might topple over at a moment’s notice.

You nodded your head to him. “Thank you for the work you’ve done setting up for our guest, Mr. Kirk.”

“It is my job, Miss Dean.” He said softly. Your sisters would have teased you about the fondness in Mister Kirk’s face had they been there, but the opening of the front doors had thoroughly distracted them. “And it is guests, Miss. More than just Lord Barnes is set to join us for the summer.”

You cocked your head but didn’t dare say more. It must have been a new development. Why else would your mother not share this with you?

You didn’t wait for Mister Kirk to elaborate, heading towards the open doors of your home.

The carriage pulled up right in front of the steps. A footman hopped down from the back of the carriage, setting a stool out before opening the door.

Lord Finneas Barnes stepped out of his carriage, grinning up at your family. “Hello Ladies Dean!” He called, waving grandly.

You all curtsied, a chorus of ‘Hello Lord Barnes’ causing his smile to widen further. “There’s no need for the formalities. Please. Call me Finn.”

Everything about him was refined, down to the buckles of his shoes. His dark hair had been done in waves, tight to his head, giving him the impression of wearing a crown. And he walked like it. His smile was sweet, but everything else about him oozed boldness and masculinity.

You could have sworn Ana nearly swooned beside you. A curious mischief glittered behind her eyes.

When you looked back to the carriage, another figure was stepping through the door.

The stranger tossed his head, his thick curls bouncing back away from his eyes to reveal his sharp features. He was dressed in blue, clearly a military uniform. Various pins on the front of his coat winked in the sunlight. His dark eyes quickly took in your family waiting on the steps and his dark eyes stalled when he reached you. Mouth quirking in a slight smile that had your heart racing, his gaze passed on.

The two men ascended the steps. Your mother curtsied again, the rest of you following behind her.

You could not take your eyes off the mysterious gentleman.

“This is General Dameron, I presume?” Your mother asked.

“The one and only,” Lord Barnes boasted, clapping the gentleman — General Dameron — on the back.

The General bowed. “Thank you for hosting us while the Barnes estate is renovated, Lady Dean. Your invitation for me to join Finn here was the best surprise I’ve had since the Coast.”

The Coast. You vaguely remembered hearing about the war from the girls in town last summer. They’d had brothers and fathers go to fight — and come back victorious, if your memory served you — but as your household was of only girls, you hadn’t been particularly invested in the news of battles that did not impact your family.

“It’s not a problem.” You heard your mother say.

Ana griped your arm, viciously whispering, “He’s quite handsome,” before dragging you back into the house.

You glanced back over your shoulder at the General and your mother politely discussing something — the topic of conversation could have been the weather for all you heard of it. It was as if your ears had been stuffed with cotton.

The General’s dark eyes met yours again and your breath caught. You tore your gaze away, snapping your head around to face forward.

It would be the last you’d see of him for the rest of the day.

#poe dameron #poe dameron x reader #poe dameron x you #poe dameron x y/n #regency au #star wars #oscar isaac fic #mywriting #dear love of mine

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clandestine-j · 3 years ago

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GOSSIP GIRL, EP. 5 REACTION & REVIEW

alright

this episode was pretty good, i'm here for this vibe if they continue with it. lots of shit happened, i have feelings about it so lets go!

(this episode also helped me discover i really am a horrible person lol)

ADULTS:

NICK X KATE: Nope! Full stop, don't want it. Bitch you nasty for being friendly with him while posting about his daughter. Nick x Davis is the true otp.

JORDAN & CO: JAIL. Plain and simple, ya'll enjoying this too much. Jail. Please. I beg. Ya'll are sick. A gun in a school and you're Bruce Wayne? Bitch.

KATE: As stated above and addition, I started to be cool with you. You still have to go jail but after serving time, I might be cool with you afterwards. Then you flip flop again went back to doing the worst. Limiting the comments doesn't help. Raggedy.

RAFA: PRISON. And let me tell you, my boy, Aki, he got Fox News in the back of his pocket so, step the fuck back. That's why Max figured yo ass out. GO TO PRISON. PRISON. And he tried to play him for a fool at the end. Prison isn't enough, vanish.

KIKI: SIS! You gotta get it together for your daughter. She can't be the more but, I feel you. Do better, be better. It's not as easy as just saying it but if you have family you can rely on, start to rely. You're daughter her habits from you.

OUR KIDS:

JULIEN: BIG SISTER ENGERY THIS EPISODE. I'M LOVING IT AND LOVING IT. I think she can stop trying a bit now and but I'm here for the connection, I'm here for it all. Quick thinker, knew the circle wasn't tight. She wasn't really there for Audrey but she has been, I think she just got caught up. Since Zoya moved there, they haven't had the chance to just be sisters, to just love each other without any drama. They have not only the past month to make up for but years and she wants to do right by Zoya. I'm glad she realized at the end that, she needed to be there for Audrey but I'm not upset because I get it. I also LOVE that she finally, stood up to Monet and say and get wit it or get it out. Boom. I've been waiting.

OBIE: I wanna ride hard for you because people keep talking about your hair line. I think you need to learn that relationships will have ups and downs and it won't be perfect all of the time. I feel like Obie is chasing perfection, no fights, no problems, just coasting and it won't happen, it'll never happen. Do better. That being said, I'm glad we got something from Obie. I'm glad we got to see him being the Prince of New York. It's hella shady that you didn't just come out with the truth and you wanted to do a song and dance but Obie is doing more and using that name so yes, give me character stuff.

MONET: BYE. No, but really. Amazing one liners as always. I liked the little fight with Julien, I felt a bit of distress, I'm into it. While I did expect her to cross Julien, I didn't expect her to cross Luna and all her hard work, that was dirty but you moving the story and shit so what can I say? I don't think Monet will go for the crown but I could see her finding someone to prop up. I want more of her parents, maybe she has a very bad relationship with her mom? Also, sis, Julien is right, you can't keep jumping clients when they want to change and do up their image. No sis, no. (And you almost tanked Julien's career soooooooooooo)

AUDREY: SIS U WERE SINKING. Okay, so Audrey isn't a character I feel that connected too. She's bitchy, a little less than Lunet but still. So, I have a hard time caring but objectively, you should break up with Aki. You know him by now and maybe it's comfort or you really want to have something. It's okay, break up with him because he's a friend and not the boyfriend you need. You want someone who will let you vent, not solve. Not see. Go live with Julien. The fight with your mom is understandable (And realize that forcing people on her won't work.) because you shouldn't have to be the back bone of the family. The dad line was a low blow, the airport thing was a low blow but you're a teenage girl and what can I say? Nothing, just don't become the woman you hate even though parents are the models. That being said, if I had seen her interacting with her dad more, the line wouldn't have been as low. But I can't tell that he loves her, we don't even get a phone conversation. Do better writers. And I think at the party, she got a chance to see how her mom felt. I don't know what happened to move but I think it has something to do with her meds. Audrey, be a boss. Break up, tell him that ya'll are better as friends because it won't go has bad as you think it will. Move in with Julien (I just want to see it happen.)

ZOYA: I don't even have much to say. My sis was popping off this episode. I got sass, I got questioning her relationship with Obie. Yes, talk about how you feel about him with the girls and go girl stuff. I really felt her when she said she wanted her own friend, writers please give her, her own friends. PLEASE. I'M BEGGING. Simon, you dirty dog. I'm glad Obie got it out but he could've said something to her. I'm sick. I'm more upset that he wasn't a new friend or a love interest. Just ugh. But I liked Zoya this episode, she could worry about normal teenage stuff for the most part without having to worry about being attacked by Monet and Luna.

LUNA: MY GOOD SIS. Just like I didn't expect Monet to turn on her, I didn't expect her to not stand by Monet. I know she was enjoying the Zoya vibe and thought it was cute, she was becoming a bit more friendly sure but I wow, yas. Go off girl. I want to see more of fashion stylist Luna, a Luna sponsored fashion show where Aki models and drama happens? I'd be here for it, I am here for it.

MAX: I was ready to box. Listen. I was ready to fight this point as much as I felt for him. So, the feeling for him. He honestly, believes that Rafa is good for him. And he was catching feelings? He thought Rafa needed him in his life because he had no family, he also has no family in a sense to him at least. So, he's really caught up in this man. And I feel so bad that he said he's sober when he's with him or something along those lines. That's heartbreaking. I'm glad that talk in the end pulled him out of it, I'm glad he realized that he had a hand to play in his friends not wanting to be around him or deal with him. I'm glad he followed them and was in on the hug. Wonderful. Now my dude, you do not deserve Aki, not as a romantic partner or a friend. My boy was seriously worried, and you blew down on him WHILE using a nickname for his nickname....sick. I was ready to throw hands, like. My spirit was not right. That was so low. I keep seeing people say that because Max wasn't in a relationship, Audrey shouldn't feel some type of way and Aki is just letting his hurt roll off because he's worried but while you didn't have a duty in the relationship, you had a duty as a friend, to both of them. You ghost for a week and say nothing, no talking about the blow up or the outing and you running with this little stanky thing, you try to ease back into the group, no. And you still don't deserve Aki's time. Like. My dude did not hit you up after the kiss, he was not checking for you on that dating app, he was interested in other mens, you sat between the couple. Okay. He had been checking on you from jump. Just no. I'm sick of the shit. Never step to my boy like that again.

AKI: MY boy. Lemme get this out the way. You need to listen, not solve or give perspective. Like, she doesn't need it. I get your friends in danger but express how serious you think this is to her. I get that a long-distance relationship might not bother you and you think things will work out because there are bigger problems but talk to her. Re-assure her. Or break up with her her. As I said before, ya'll will not hate each other if you break up. And learn to just, even, pretend or something but you struggle in this aspect. Do better. That being said, Aki, episode MVP. He said, something is off, take him down. My perfect himbo man, said not my watch. And listen, you can't be as pushy because people don't respond but I'm glad you were on it. You knew. You said, I'mma run up on this man and you did. Yes. That being said, stand up for yourself, this boy does not deserve your energy. I get it. You might have a crush, this is bestie but bestie has not been treating you right for a while. And this was a new love. You're too loving, let some of that going at Rafa energy pop out around the friend group. But you a king and you care so much, just re-focus for now. Find you a cute lil thang and make the boy jelly. I need this resolved before I can accept anything canon, fanfics is where I'll be. But overall, Aki was making moves, you gotta learn something from the right wing media mogul.

GROUP: I finally feel like I talk about them as a whole. I wish they would've shown the others being upset by Max's ghosting because ya'll acting lowkey outta pocket and I didn't see anyone but Audrey and Aki check for this boy. Like, do you really care? But he fit into the group hug at the end. I know Monet saw a rising star in Zoya at the bar place, you make this a powerful DUO. YOU KNOW YOU WERE FEELING HER. Luna and Monet roll their eyes Audrey but ya'll bet not play like the three of ya'll don't enjoy gossip, fashion, talking about people and lowkey making fun of Zoya's newbie-ness together. Honestly, I'm happy we got more group interactions and little moments, I can start to kind of see how they were friends for a while even if all of them aren't close.

Random Thoughts:

how was your son missing for two weeks on and off and there isn't more panic, you different but oh no heartbreak

aki is so loving towards everyone's parents, i love it

i also love that he assumed max was with aki

audrey as the child as it worse but her kiki's acting makes me feel for her more lol

the two girls were a bit of fun, i'd like to see monet take them down or build them up for fun

"i'm chuck bass" + the lil pull was great

i feel like max was already thinking about them becoming more when he mentioned audrey pushing him out but i'll take crumbs so he was probs just thinking about sex or the group as a whole

kate get out of nick's life, nick keep her out

zoya stop talking to that woman

jordan eww no, you can have kate

i'll ship obie and aki to get aki with someone that likes him and loves him, they talk, they have do something, i'll take it, whatever

i want throuple and i want akimax but not like this, i can't take the threesome scene unless max say's sorry and aki ducks him for half the episode if it's not that, i don't want it

maybe it's the start of a dream and it ends

(i do really want the ship but i don't trust the writers or the characters)

SIMON, I WAS ROOTING FOR YOU

who or what was max suppose to be?

why am i getting teachers and not family, i've seen jordan just one too many times

rafa prison

obie had shit to do this episode, use the money, i wanna see it

when will a student or random party gain control of gossip girl, give me that

rafa prison

i also think i’m a horrible person because i care more about stopping rafa than audrey’s home life so i was rooting for aki

overall, solid episode, maybe the footing has been found? i'm here for it and ep 6 looks like it's about to pop off

#c;gg #gossip girl reboot #gossip girl hbo #akeno menzies #max wolfe #zoya lott #monet de haan #audrey hope #luna la #obie bergmann iv #julien calloway

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ororowrites · 4 years ago

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Stripped - (Yahya x Black OC)

Sweet Thang Series - Chapter 2

Warnings: Language

Word count: 2,735

One-Shot: By the Open Fire

Chapters: 1

By the end of the first song, Candace was in her comfort zone. Yahya never let his eyes leave her and she no longer felt shy. The club had rules about no touching but Candace suddenly wanted this man’s hands all over her. Those long fingers and smooth brown skin were doing things to her. Maybe it was the liquor making her horny over a man she didn’t even know.

Little did Candace know, Yahya had thoughts racing in his mind too. He couldn’t stop thinking about her petite body under his or how her lips would feel on him. Candace was a beautiful woman and something about her intrigued Yahya. When she straddled his legs and began to grind on his lap, the urge to touch her grew. The scent of her perfume was as intoxicating as her hips, almost putting a spell on him.

It must have been the alcohol that gave Candace the courage to make her next move. She could feel his breath on her lips before they were interrupted by the dance timer. The euphoria they had experienced quickly disappeared as they fell back to Earth.

“Shit, sorry,” Candace apologized, swinging her legs to the floor. Yahya became any other customer and she held her hand out to collect her payment. “Thank you. You enjoy the rest of your night.”

Yahya opened his mouth but Candace was already heading out the door, stuffing the bills in her bra.

-------

Well into the next morning, Yahya was still thinking about the mystery girl from the club. He’d been to many strip clubs and never felt a connection with any of the ladies he encountered. Something about her grabbed him and sucked him in and had her on his mind hours later.

“You still stuck on that hoe from the club.” Damon lit his blunt and relaxed his head against the back of the sofa. “Nigga, we ain’t taking you to the club again.”

“Word on the street is that the shawties at Dynasty have golden pussy or some shit,” his brother added with a drug induced chuckle.

“Respect the ladies, man. Being a stripper doesn’t make them hoes. And Kevin that’s enough kush for you. Golden pussy? Really,” Yahya snatched the blunt from his friend and put it back in the ashtray.

“Aight, let me respect the skrippas. But still, you don’t know her. What if she’s crazy? You will be going back home tomorrow night and no tellin’ when you’re coming back to LA, so why does it matter,” Damon explained.

“Both of ya’ll are some fucking haters. Trash asses.” Yahya grabbed his phone and took his troubles to the balcony. Kevin and Damon were great friends but their childish, misogynistic antics got on his nerves when he was around them. At times, he felt like he was outgrowing them, even though he still considered them brothers he never had. While he was looking to settle down sooner rather than later, they were stuck in the same phase they were in throughout high school and college and it appeared to be a never ending cycle.

Was it ridiculous to think that the stripper he met at the club was the one? Yep. But, that didn’t keep Yahya from wishing he could see her again before he was back to the reality of being jobless.

-------

“Are you sure you saw him with her?” The very question had Candace’s heart pounding against her chest. Natalie, Maxwell’s ex-girlfriend, had entered the picture again after Candace thought her dropping out of school was the blessing they needed. Now with her back in California via North Carolina, she had access to Maxwell as did he to her.

“Sis, would I lie to you? I saw that bastard with her in the Commons. Took everything out of me not to run up on them and start whooping ass,” Trinity said, fuming on her sister’s behalf. Truth be told, she never liked Maxwell and knew the type of guy he was from the beginning. Maxwell was charming and had the ability to make any girl weak in the knees. Especially a woman like her sister that was in love with being in love.

Anger built from the pits of her stomach. Feelings of betrayal had never quite faded since they had made up and she ignored it in the name of love. “Did he see you?”

“Nope. But I’ll make myself seen when it comes to my sister. Candy, why are you still trying to make things work with this immature, cheating ass, motherfucker? I try to hold my tongue like you ask but I refuse to hold it again. You’re too good for him.” When it came to family. Trinity was the sister that would physically fight for her siblings. At times, Candace admired her sister’s tenacity and wished she wasn’t as timid when it came to relationships with people. That was one negative trait that kept Candace anchored to people that did not deserve her time.

“I honestly don’t know.” Tears began to form in Candace’s eyes as the shame set in for her. She knew Maxwell was no good for her but he always found a way back into her heart. “I’m...um...I’m going to talk to him.”

“Candace,” Trinity called out, noticing her sister’s emotions getting the best of her. “Please don’t cry over that man. Please.”

If only Candace knew her worth.

-------

Candace took the scenic route to Maxwell’s apartment, playing different scenarios in her head on the way. If she murdered him, where would she hide the body? Did she just hit him with questions or soften him up first?

None of those scenarios played out once Candace reached her destination and was met by Natalie in the hall outside Maxwell’s apartment. The three of them froze, each of them searching for words to break up the awkward moment.

“I should get going. I’ll call you when I get home,” Natalie mumbled, lowering her eyes and pushing past Candace.

“I knew that apology was a lie and you were full of shit,” Candace spoke through clenched teeth. She was taught to never put her hands on anyone and it took a strong prayer to keep her fists at her sides. “What the hell is Natalie doing here and don’t even think about lying.”

Maxwell didn’t even put up a fight. Besides, after the news he had learned, he didn’t have the energy to lie or smooth talk his way out of this one.

“What was she doing here, Maxwell?”

“Natalie’s pregnant,” he replied, leaning against the wall across from Candace. He watched as his girlfriend’s face fell blank. “I fucked up and I’m sorry for that. You don’t deserve the shit I put you through.”

Still lost for words, Candace slid down the wall until her rear hit the concrete floor. Pregnant. That had to be the final straw, right? The game they had been playing for the past three years had come to a tragic end that Candace feared.

“Baby, I’m so sorry. I know I stay apologizing but I mean it. I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

“Yeah, you did.”

Maxwell kept his distance. “Did what?”

“If you didn’t mean to hurt me, this would have stopped after the first incident. But I gave you chance after chance and you still didn’t fucking stop. I’m done, Max. I can’t put myself through this shit because it’s obvious you won’t stop. I’m foolish to even think you would,” Candace spoke in a hushed tone, never raising her voice or releasing the tears that threatened to fall.

“I’m-”

“I don’t wanna hear another one of your tired excuses. I sure the hell hope your dick is clean. I’ll come back for my shit another day.”

“Candy, come on-”

“Move! Don’t fucking touch me.” Blood rushed to Candace’s face as the embarrassment set in and she could no longer look Maxwell in the eye. This relationship had become a part of her identity and she allowed it to consume her so much that she forgot to love herself. “We’re done, Maxwell.”

Candace ignored the apologies and groveling. A weight lifted off her shoulders and she didn’t intend to put it back ever again.

------

Yahya had one more day to enjoy Los Angeles before he had to return to San Francisco to figure out his next move. He was desperate to burn off steam and decided to hit the park for a workout. The skies were clear, granting Yahya a good dose of vitamin D while he ran the steps. He pushed himself to do one more set before taking a lap around the trail for a cool down. Yahya was so focused, he didn’t notice Candace approaching him from the opposite sidewalk.

“Hey...wassup,” he said, removing his headphones when he finally saw the brown beauty in his path.

“Hey. Didn’t think I’d run into one of my customers...ever,” Candace chuckled nervously. The breakup had her emotions all over the place and gave her the bravado to approach a man from the club. Keeping those two lives separate was important to her except in that moment.

“Oh, yeah? Well, I don’t want to think of myself as your customer. That’s a little weird,” Yahya admitted, earning a nod from Candace in agreement. “But since we’re outside of your job, can I get your real name?”

“Candace.”

“Nice to meet you Miss Candace. I’m Yahya.”

A short, awkward moment of silence gave Candace time to get a better look at the man she had danced on in a dark strip club. Beautiful dark brown skin covered a body that looked like it was sculpted with the utmost care. If you looked up tall, dark and handsome in the dictionary, Yahya’s picture would be used as the definition. Once her eyes traveled back up to his face, his bright, white smile captured her and held on for dear life. The man was fine and seeing him in the light had Candace acting like a shy, school girl.

“You live around here,” Candace asked, breaking the silence.

“No, I’m visiting my boys from back home. I’m living in San Francisco right now. I go back tomorrow evening,” he explained, looking Candace over. She was petite compared to his 6′3 frame. “You?”

“I’m from Chicago but moved here to go to school. Trying to live the dream, ya know?”

“I hear that,” Yahya nodded. “Well Candace, I don’t think it’s a coincidence that we ran into each other. Would you like to get a recovery smoothie with me? My treat. Unless you’re still in the middle of your workout.”

“I can cut out early. I know a good smoothie spot not too far from here if you don’t mind walking.”

Yahya’s smile grew, “Sounds like a plan, let me put on a shirt.”

Or not, Candace thought to herself.

--------

After the ice was broken, Candace and Yahya began to enjoy each other’s company. The break-up earlier that day was still on Candace’s mind, but she felt at ease being around Yahya. Sure, they didn’t know one another on a deep level, yet she could sense Yahya’s compassion. When she spoke, his eyes stayed on her and he truly listened. One thing that irked her about Maxwell was his inability to listen below the surface level.

“That’s too bad. Many of these fellas out here don’t appreciate their lady until she’s gone.” Maxwell sounded like many men Yahya knew and the type of man his parents raised him not to be. He could see the hurt in Candace’s face when she described what had led up to the end of their relationship.

“Yeah, it’s just a shame I wasted my time and my heart on a guy that didn’t want to protect it.”

“His loss, your win.”

Dumping personal information on a stranger was not how Candace usually moved, nonetheless it felt good. “I’m sorry for treating you like a therapist.”

“Nah, you’re good. You had a rough day. I don’t mind listening.”

“Thanks, but I wanna hear more about you. What do you do in expensive ass San Francisco,” Candace quizzed, sipping her raspberry/banana smoothie.

Yahya hoped telling Candace about his unemployment wouldn’t ruin his chances. He still hadn’t shared the news with anyone else. “I was a City Planner for the Mayor’s office but I was laid off on Friday. I honestly don’t even know what the hell I’m going to do when I go back home.”

One of Candace’s strongest traits was her empathy. She had no issue stepping into a person’s shoes and feeling what they felt. Those that were worthy enough to spend time with her felt Candace’s warmth right away. Yahya could feel it, which is why he felt comfortable sharing the news with her.

“I’m sorry, Yahya. Shit sucks when you get well into your career and your job is in another person’s hands,” Candace sucked her teeth and shook her head. “Are you thinking about staying there and getting another job?”

“To be honest, I need a change of scenery. Maybe this was a blessing in disguise because I think I got comfortable in my lifestyle. I loved my job but things were stagnant,” he explained, tracing the lettering on his smoothie cup. “Right now, I’m thinking about taking a break and figuring out what I want to do from there. I’ll get unemployment, so I’ll manage until I find another career that makes me happy.”

“That’s brave of you. I’m too damn scary and would need to have a plan right away. Good luck with that. You seem to be a determined man so you’ll find your way. I’m hoping I can graduate and get into Yale then we will see if I make a career out of this acting thing. If not, I’ll go back to school for education and teach theatre.”

“Wow, Yale? I did some acting classes back in the day and they seemed pretty cool. I don’t know if I have the talent to get into a school like Yale though. I need to work on my Denzel cry first.” The two shared a laugh and finished up their smoothies.

Time passed as their conversation ranged from discussing their childhoods to recent life events. They were so deep into discussion, they didn’t notice that two hours had gone by since they first arrived at the smoothie shop. Candace was more easy going than Yahya thought. That shy exterior had fallen down, exposing the sweet and funny side of her. Like many women in the stripping industry, her persona in the club was a lot different from her true self. He wished he could get to know more of that side.

They walked back towards the park, where their cars were parked on a side street. Yahya walked Candace to her Jeep and waited for her to load the backseat with her duffle bag.

“Thanks for the smoothie and talk. I needed that more than I thought,” Candace closed the back door and stood in front of the driver’s side door. “Dr. Yahya is a great listener, even though we’re complete strangers.”

“It doesn’t have to be that way. I wasn’t kidding about taking some acting classes with you when I’m in town,” he replied, flashing his wide grin.

“I’ll hold you to that Mr. Abdul-Mateen. Like I said, acting is like recess so it’ll be fun. Who knows, maybe you’re a natural at the shit.”

“We’ll see, we’ll see. I won’t hold you up, you should probably get home before it gets too dark. Text me when you make it.”

“Alright. Thanks again, Yahya. For real,” Candace’s soft curls blew over her face as the wind picked up.

“You’re welcome. Thank you for listening to me ramble. Get home safely and don’t forget to let me know.” Yahya leaned in and placed a soft kiss on Candace’s cheek. The simple act almost made her melt into a puddle in the LA street. Opening her car door, Yahya waved her inside. “Bye, Candace.”

“See you later.”

Candace drove away feeling like a new chapter of her life was on the horizon and she was ready to face whatever it had in store.

Taglist: @blackburnbook @just-peachee @emjayewrites

Want a tag? Let me know.

#yahya abdul-mateen ii #yahya x black oc #yahya abdul-mateen ii fanfiction #black writers #ororo writes

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passionate-reply · 4 years ago

Video

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This week on Great Albums, I finally explain the deal with that record you’ve seen in the background of these videos, with those dudes working in the office. These dudes used to be in the Human League! Oh, and they really hate fascism. Full transcript of the video after the break.

Welcome to Passionate Reply, and welcome to Great Albums! Today, I’ll be looking at the debut album of Heaven 17: 1981’s Penthouse & Pavement. While you may not be familiar with Heaven 17, chances are pretty good that if you know your Western pop, you’ve heard of the Human League! Before forming Heaven 17, Ian Craig Marsh and Martyn Ware were members of the Human League--and they were also the band’s creative core. But they had a very different artistic vision, and one that doesn’t exactly prefigure the success of hits like “Don’t You Want Me.”

Music: “Being Boiled”

Between its plodding electronics and inscrutable lyricism, “Being Boiled” is pretty far from a pop hit. When Marsh and Ware left the Human League, they were keen to continue pursuing this sort of underground, experimental, quasi-industrial direction. Initially, the two of them formed the British Electronic Foundation, or “B.E.F.” It was chiefly a production company that worked with other artists, though they also released some instrumental music under this name. With the recruitment of vocalist Glenn Gregory, who Marsh and Ware had initially intended to front the Human League in the first place, they were set to get right back into the groove of what they had been up to before.

Music: “Fascist Groove Thang”

“Fascist Groove Thang” is the opening track of Penthouse & Pavement, and was one of its chief singles. While it’s much less ambiguous than “Being Boiled,” and much easier to dance to, it’s still got a lot of that subversive, underground charm--enough to get banned by the BBC, anyway. I know they always say that history rhymes, but it’s one of those songs from this era that really feels like it belongs more in our time than the one it came from. I like to think that its unforgettable chorus sounds more like a chant you might hear at a protest march, as opposed to something that belongs in a proper song. “Fascist Groove Thang” is actually based on an instrumental track by BEF, which was simply called “Groove Thang” before being reworked into this political anthem. Both versions are indeed pretty groovy, thanks in large part to the bass guitar work of session musician John Wilson. Compared to their work with the Human League, Penthouse & Pavement has an overall richer sonic palate, with more of those traditional instruments, as well as backing vocals. You’ll hear a lot of those on the album’s title track:

Music: “Penthouse & Pavement”

Penthouse & Pavement’s title track is the longest track on the album, clocking in at over six minutes. Between that, the lush instrumentation, and the honour of being the title track, it certainly feels like an anti-capitalist epic, dramatizing and dignifying the inner thoughts of a common wage-slave. The first side of the album, dubbed the “Pavement Side,” is where you’ll find both of these tracks, and it seems to deal chiefly with working-class struggles, as well as having a bigger emphasis on that bass-heavy groove, musically. Naturally, then, the flip is the “Penthouse Side,” it’s more melodic, and it seems to focus more on the lives of the rich and famous...though it isn’t quite that straightforward.

Music: “We’re Going To Live For a Very Long Time”

“We’re Going To Live For a Very Long Time” is perhaps the clearest expression of the idea of the upper classes living in their own protected bubble, shielded from plebeian woes. There’s a religious dimension to it, in that the narrator manages to live without worries because of their assuredness that Heaven awaits them when they die...but, as the title reminds us, they’re also confident that Earth will be good to them, as well. In case you were worried this message might not be ironic, the song actually stops abruptly in the middle of its final refrain, providing a sudden end for that narrator--as well as closing out the entire LP with a bang, since this is the final track! The idea of the wealthy actively taunting those beneath them is also central to the most rhythmic track of the Penthouse Side, “The Height of the Fighting.”

Music: “The Height of the Fighting”

In “The Height of the Fighting,” that march-like chanting takes center stage again, but it feels very different here. Rather than embodying a sort of grassroots resistance to the consolidation of power, “The Height of the Fighting” seems to be the voice of authority and power coming downwards, fitting the theme of the Penthouse Side. The song’s assertions, like “if you can’t take it, fake it” and “they sent you to it, do it” could be interpreted as pithy, meaningless sayings--perhaps throwaway lyrics, taking up space on a single aimed squarely at the dance floor. However, if you know the context of the Penthouse Side, it’s hard not to see them as representations of the worthless advice the rich often give the poor. Get a job. Get a side hustle. Work harder. Eat out less. And so on. Much like the implicit messages about class in popular culture, “The Height of the Fighting” might seem disposable, but the thrust of what it’s saying is actually deeply warped. Another complex, and perhaps conflicted, track on the Penthouse Side is “Let’s All Make a Bomb”:

Music: “Let’s All Make a Bomb”

Songs against nuclear war were commonplace in Cold War-era music, but “Let’s All Make a Bomb” isn’t quite a typical example. At first, its slow pace and despondent melody make us think we’re getting the usual fare. But the return of that swelling, chant-like refrain style, as well as a closer inspection of the lyrics, reveal otherwise. As the title might imply, “Let’s All Make a Bomb” asks us what kind of character is actually crazy enough to *want* nuclear war, and the character Heaven 17 have chosen is a hedonistic libertine, who sees the end of the world as one big party. The atomic bomb is not a thing to be feared, but “a brand new toy, to idolize.” As dark as that is, the fact that it’s also part of the Penthouse Side, and ostensibly a representation of what those who hold influence and power believe, adds a whole new level of horror to it.

While I love album art, and my interest in it is the main reason I started collecting vintage vinyl, I think [the cover of Penthouse & Pavement just might be my favourite of all time. Penthouse & Pavement’s cover portrays the three members of Heaven 17 as though they were businessmen, co-opting motives like glass-paneled skyscrapers and the deal-making handshake straight from the 1980s corporate visual lexicon. They've even got cities they're allegedly based out of, one of which is their native Sheffield, England. If you look closely, there are a few hints that they’re actually a music band and not a firm, such as the reel-to-reel tape player in the upper right-hand corner, and the fact that in the lower left-hand corner, Martyn Ware is writing music in front of a keyboard. At the bottom, we also find the logo of B.E.F., which brings this grand “joke” full circle. As the “British Electronic Foundation,” they had also billed themselves as a faceless organisation, adopting a name that sounds more at home on a utility bill than an album cover. Here, the trio have done it again, in a bit of ruthless satire towards the rising “yuppie” culture of the 80s. Incidentally, the cover art is a traditional painting, credited to one Ray Smith. It wasn't unusual to commission paintings for album art at the time, but it does tickle me knowing a human being physically painted Heaven 17 as office workers. If the original ever came up for auction, I'd probably shell out for it. It would look great in my office!

Anyway, it’s also worth mentioning how the title “Penthouse & Pavement” adds to that corporate theme. The X-and-Y format recalls the names of many real-life firms and companies, such as Ernst & Young. A “penthouse” is an apartment located very high up in a tall, urban building. Such apartments are usually expensive, and are hence occupied by well-off tenants. “Pavement,” in this context, probably refers to what Americans call the “sidewalk,” the paved pathways where the less fortunate among us might walk past those penthouses, without ever getting too close. Each side functions as an ideal symbol of the kind of people it represents, and the physical gap between them is a visceral representation of economic inequality. The title is also quite pleasingly alliterative!

While Penthouse & Pavement maintains a certain underground integrity, which is consistent with Marsh and Ware’s track record as part of the Human League, it’s still much more of a pop record than anything they had done before. Heaven 17 never went quite as pop as the Human League did without them, and they certainly never saw the same level of mainstream success, but they did pursue an increasingly pop direction with their next several releases. Their 1983 followup, The Luxury Gap, delivers less of that hard-hitting critique of capital, but did produce some of their best-known singles, namely, “Temptation” and “Let Me Go.”

Music: “Let Me Go”

My favourite track on Penthouse & Pavement is “Geisha Boys & Temple Girls.” I like this track’s overall mysterious, otherworldly vibe--it’s not terribly easy to pin down what it’s really about, or what sort of mood it’s meant to convey. The intro to this song sounds more like Karlheinz Stockhausen than something you would hear in pop, and I love how strident and abrasive it is. Given its place as the opening track of the Penthouse Side, and its opening line, “look ahead, on the screen,” I’m tempted to interpret it as a representation of a fictional romance in television or film. It’s dramatic, unpredictable, exotic, and also completely fake and divorced from how people behave in the real world. The idea that entertainments and diversions are part of what shelters the rich from the consequences of their actions is another one of those things that makes this album continue to feel relevant. That’s all I have for today--thanks for listening!

Music: “Geisha Boys & Temple Girls”

#music #album review #album reviews #great albums #heaven 17

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7r0773r · 3 years ago

Text

Heavy by Kiese Laymon

Inside Concord Missionary Baptist church, I loved the attention I got for being a fat black boy from the older black women: they were the only women on earth who called my fatness fineness. I felt flirted with, and like most fat black boys, when flirted with, I fell in love. I loved the organ’s bended notes, the aftertaste of the grape juice, the fans steadily moving through the humidity, the anticipation of somebody catching the Holy Ghost, the lawd-have-mercy claps after the little big-head boy who couldn’t read so well was forced to read a greeting to the congregation.

But as much as I loved parts of church, and as hard as I tried, I couldn’t love the holy word coming from the pulpit. The voices carrying the word were slick and sure of themselves in ways I didn’t believe. The word at Concord was always carried by the mouths of the reverend, deacons, or other visiting preachers who acted like they knew my grandmama and her friends better than they did.

Older black women in the church made up the majority of the audience. But their voices and words were only heard during songs, in ad-libbed responses to the preacher’s word and during church announcements. While Grandmama and everyone else amen’d and well’d their way through shiny hollow sermons, I just sat there, usually at the end of the pew, sucking my teeth, feeling superhot, super bored, and really resentful because Grandmama and her friends never told the sorry-ass preachers to shut up and sit down somewhere.

My problem with church was I knew what could have been. Every other Wednesday, the older women of the church had something called Home Mission: they would meet at alternate houses, and bring their best food, their Bibles, notebooks, and their testimonies. There was no instrumental music at Home Mission, but those women, Grandmama’s friends, used their lives, their mo(u)rning songs, and their Bibles as primary texts to boast, confess, and critique their way into tearful silence every single time.

I didn’t understand hell, partially because I didn’t believe any place could be hotter than Mississippi in August. But I understood feeling good. I did not feel good at Concord Missionary Baptist church. I felt good watching Grandmama and her friends love each other during Home Mission. (Be, pp. 54-55)

***

You were on your way back from Hawaii with Malachi Hunter while LaThon Simmons and I sat in the middle of a white eighth-grade classroom, in a white Catholic school, filled with white folk we didn't even know. These white folk watched us toss black vocabulary words, a dull butter knife, and pink grapefruit slices back and forth until it was time for us to go home.

We were new eighth graders at St. Richard Catholic School in Jackson, Mississippi, because Holy Family, the poor all-black Catholic school we attended most of our lives, closed unexpectedly due to lack of funding. All four of the black girls from Holy Family were placed in one homeroom at St. Richard. All three of us black boys from Holy Family were placed in another. Unlike at Holy Family, where we could wear what we wanted, at St. Richard, students had to wear khaki or blue pants or skirts and light blue, white, or pink shirts.

LaThon, who we both thought looked just like a slew-footed K-Ci from Jodeci, and I sat in the back of homeroom the first day of school doing what we always did: we intentionally used and misused last year's vocabulary words while LaThon cut up his pink grapefruit with his greasy, dull butter knife. "These white folk know here on discount," he told me, "but they don't even know."

"You right," I told him. "These white folk don't even know that you an ol’ grapefruit-by the-pound-eating ass nigga. Give me some grapefruit. Don’t be parsimonious with it, either."

"Nigga, you don’t eat grapefruits,” LaThon said. “Matter of fact, tell me one thing you eat that don't got butter in it. Ol’ churning-your-own-butter-ass dying laughing. "Plus, you act like I got grapefruits gal-low up in here. I got one grapefruit."

Seth Donald, a white boy with two first names, looked like a dustier Shaggy from Scooby-Doo, but with braces. Seth spent the first few minutes of the first day of school silent-farting and turning his eyelids inside out. He asked both of us what "gal-low" meant.

"It's like galore," I told him, and looked at LaThon. "Like grapefruits galore."

LaThon sucked his teeth and rolled his eyes. "Seth, whatever your last name is, first of all, your first name ends with two f's from now on, and your new name is Seff six-two because you five-four but you got the head of a nigga we know who six-two." LaThon tapped me on the forearm. "Don't he got a head like S. Slawter?" I nodded up and down as LaThon shifted and looked right in Seff 6'2's eyes. "Every thang about y’all is erroneous. Every. Thang. This that black abundance. Y'all don’t even know."

LaThon's favorite vocab word in seventh grade was "abundance," but I'd never heard him throw "black" and "that" in front of it until we got to St. Richard.

While LaThon was cutting his half into smaller slices, he looked at me and said Seth six-two and them didn't know about the slicing "shhhtyle" he used.

Right as I dapped LaThon up, Ms. Reeves, our white homeroom teacher, pointed at LaThon and me. Ms. Reeves looked like a much older version of Wendy from the Wendy restaurants. We looked at each other, shook our heads, and kept cutting our grapefruit slices. “Put the knife away, LaThon, she said. *Put it down. Now!"

"Mee-guh," we said to each other. "Meager," the opposite of LaThon's favorite word, was my favorite word at the end of seventh grade. We used different pronunciations of meager to describe people, places, things, and shhhtyles that were at least eight levels less than nothing. "Mee-guh," I told her again, and pulled out my raggedy Trapper Keeper. "Mee-guh."

While Ms. Reeves was still talking, I wrote "#1 tape of #1 group?" on a note and passed it to LaThon. He leaned over and wrote, "EPMD and Strictly Business." I wrote. #1 girl you wanna marry?" He wrote, "Spinderalla + Tootie." I wrote, "#1 white person who don't even know?" LaThon looked down at his new red and gray Air Maxes, then up at the ceiling. Finally, he shook his head and wrote, "Ms. Reeves + Ronald Reagan. It's a tie. With they meager ass."

I balled up the note and put it in my too-tight khakis while Ms. Reeves kept talking to us the way you told me white folk would talk to us if we weren't perfect, the way I saw white women at the mall and police talk to you whether you'd broken the law or not.

I understood how Ms. Reeves had every reason in her world to think I was a sweaty, red-eyed underachiever who drank half a Mason jar of box wine before coming to school. That's almost exactly who I was. But LaThon was as close to abundant as an eighth grader could be. (Meager, pp. 65-67)

***

When I came back from playing ball at the Greenbelt rec center during spring break, you made me read back over sentences I’d written in my notebooks back in Mississippi. You said I asked a lot of questions about what I saw and heard in my writing, but because I didn’t reread the questions I didn’t push myself to different answers. You said a good question always trumps an average answer.

“The most important part of writing, and really life,” you said, “is revision.” (Contraction, p. 85)

***

When I got in the house, you brought your belt across my neck. Earlier in the day, Ms. Andrews, one of your friends who was a teacher at my school, told you Coach Shitzler said I was in a sexual relationship with a white girl. You heard this “news” on the same day you watched a gang of white police officers try to kill a chained black man they later claimed had “Hulk-like” strength.

I did not know Rodney King, but I could tell by how he wiggled, rolled, and ran he was not a Hulk. Hulks did not beg for mercy. Hulks did not shuffle from ass whuppings. Hulks had no memories, no mamas. I wondered what niggers and police were to a Hulk. I wondered if all sixteen-year-old Americans had a little Hulk in them.

I knew, or maybe I accepted, for the first time no matter what anyone did to me, I would never beg anyone for mercy. I would always recover. There was physically nothing anyone could do to me to take my heart, other than kill me. You, Grandmama, and I had that same Hulk in our chest. We would always recover. At some point during my beating, I just stopped fighting and I let you hit me. I did not scream, I did not yell. I barely breathed. I took my shirt off without you telling me. I let you beat me across my back. It was the only beating in my life where watching you beat me as hard as you could felt good. (Hulk, pp. 96-97)

***

I listened to the Coup and read everything James Baldwin had written that summer. I learned you haven’t read anything if you’ve only read something once or twice. Reading things more than twice was the reader version of revision. I read The Fire Next Time over and over again. I wondered how it would read differently had the entire book, and not just the first section, been written to, and for, Baldwin’s nephew. I wondered what, and how, Baldwin would have written to his niece. I wondered about the purpose of warning white folk about the coming fire. Mostly, I wondered what black writers weren’t writing when we spent so much creative energy begging white folk to change. (Already, pp. 143-44)

***

I’d never given much weight to the idea of present black fathers saving black boys. Most of the black boys I grew up with had present black fathers in the home. Sure, some of those fathers taught my friends how to be tough. But I can’t think of one who encouraged his son to be emotionally or even bodily expressive of joy, fear, and love. I respected my father but I never felt that I needed him or any other man in the house to show me how to become a loving man. I knew, truth be told, that a present American man would likely teach me how to be a present American man. And I couldn’t imagine how those teachings would have made me healthier or more generous. (Seat Belts, p. 200)

#Kiese Laymon #book quotes

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hello-im-not-a-possum · 4 years ago

Note

Prompt: Wally Franks, but he's a wizard.

One wizard Wally coming right up!

It was a miracle how the Janitor kept the studio clean.

Even when it was just a tiny shack of a building, it was a busy tiny shack of a building that had ink and papers constantly spilling everywhere; crumpled up balls of paper that would miss the trashcans, broken bottles of ink, and god knows what else because people are messy. But it was manageable and easily cleaned. After all, if Wally 'slacks off until the last possible second every single day in that dumb hat of his' Franks managed to keep the place spotless, it couldn't be that hard.

Anyone in the studio could recognize Wally without even meeting the man because of that ridiculous hat, but nobody could tell why he wore such a thing as he always changed the story behind it.

"Laugh now, but dese are all the rage ouva in dose hoity-toity upscale cities. I'm gonna mistaken for one of those shmucks and get famous!"

"Oh, dis old thing? Okay, let me set the stage fah ya: Way, way, back in good ol' 1692, my great-great-insert a couple dozen or so more 'greats' in dere grandpa really cheesed off a witch in da woods... *one over the top ridiculous story later* ...and now my entire bloodline is cursed to weah stupid hats."

"I Might've lost da first bet, but ya should've seen da getup the outha guy's stuck with!"

"Da best way ta keep a clown from sneakin' up an killin' ya is ta trick 'em into thinkin' you're one of them."

"All my outha hats got covered in ink."

"Didn't ya see dat Mickey Mouse short in da 'Fantasia' thang Disney put out? Obviously I wear dis stupid hat 'cause gives me magical powers."

"Isn't 'Steamboat Willie' they only animation that Disney made?"

"Aw shoot- I mean, I must've been thinkin' about something else then."

Often after answering he'd laugh and nonchalantly change the subject. Nobody really thought anything of it, the Janitor was the biggest chatterbox in the studio and always had a bunch of different subjects on his mind.

The day after Henry left, the studio expanded.

More rooms to fill with art, more people to fill the void of the lost creator, more ink to fuel it all. In fact, it didn’t stop there, why should it? Joey more musicians and started hiring voice actors to make future cartoons even better than the old ones, to prove to himself that he didn't need Henry to make their creation successful. Yet in spite of this rapid growth, the cleaning staff still only had one member; a single janitor and his stupid, colorful, pointy hat.

Joey didn’t even bother trying to hire anyone else for the studio’s cleaning staff. Even when animators and musicians got concerned for Wally about being the only janitor at such a big studio, Joey always said that he could never find anyone as ‘talented’ as Wally for the job. And to the Director’s credit, he was correct. No matter how large the studio grew, no matter how often the janitor slacked off, and no matter how bad the messes got, the studio would always be completely and perfectly spotless when the workers arrived in the morning. While Wally did complain to high heaven about having to clean up after everybody and often repeated what was essentially now his catchphrase, he never seemed to be exhausted from the job itself. If anything, he seemed to be overall more well rested than the other staff.

However, almost no one paid mind to this, after all, they work to do and had deadlines to meet, no time to spend wondering about the Janitor's uncanny ability to stay on top of his workload, they just were used to it and accepted it as one of the studio workers’ natural mysteries. Like how the building felt like it was changing itself sometimes, or how the projectionist seemed to be anywhere and or everywhere, or how the music director seemed to be a seer who made bitter, sarcastic, and or dry humored remarks that would often turn into accurate predictions of the future, or how Joey always seemed to know where everyone in the studio was. (Okay, that last one might’ve just been that he had the building wiretapped and there was nothing supernatural about that.)

Thankfully for Wally Franks, there was only one person who really took the time to sit down and question how he managed to get all several stories of the now almost constantly inked studio completely spotless was the man who had piled on a couple extra chores with his and his machine's arrival.

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

“So I’m cleaning da studio late at night an' I almost forgot dat Mistah Conner started doing late night shifts an' he almost caught me in full swing, I had brooms and mops out flyin' everywhere an' he almost saw everythang! Luckily, his footsteps are pretty heavy so it was easy ta know when he was coming but man dat was close! And I'm startin' ta think he's caught on to da fact dat there's something fishy goin' on down 'ere an' I bet I was really something suspicious back 'dere. 'Dis is the first time since dat incident he let me outta his sight while on da clock. What do ya think Sam? Last straw? Should I really get outta here before it gets worse? How'd my futuah look eitheah way?"

The music director sighed in annoyance before answering the janitor.

"For the last goddamned time, I CAN'T really see the future, Franks! That's just a dumb running joke between the studio."

"But you definitely can! And wit' accuracy too! remembah when ya told me ta not eat dat sandwich in the fridge or else I'd get punched even though it was MY Sandwich and afta I shrugged ya off, Jerry went an' clocked me in da jaw? You saw the freakin' futuah! You saw that I'd get punched and ya tried ta warn me!"

"Or, I saw the fact you have a long history of eating other people's food, had my back turned to you at the moment, and thought you were eating Jerry's sandwich. Jerry probably also thought you were eating his sandwich because you two brought in the exact same lunch!"

The musician stood up from his seat to refill his coffee mug, but before he could, the janitor dropped down on his knees in front of him and gave him his best 'puppy dog eyes'.

"C'mon Sammy! Please tell me what I should do! I don't wanna end up stuck in jail or dead from this! I have a girlfriend and a kid!"

The unwilling prophet pinched the bridge of his nose as he thought of something to tell the "wizard" to get him off his back.

"My best advice to you is to tell Conner about your secret in a secluded area, preferably a night shift you both work. If he doesn't believe you, demonstrate a simple yet flashy spell. And then wait for his reaction. If you get the feeling he's going to tell the world, tell him that if he tells anyone else, you will curse him and his entire bloodline."

"Wait, really? I mean, I don't plan on ignorin' ya but is dat really the best caurse of action?"

"What's wrong with it?"

"Well fer starters, cursing an entirah bloodline ain't somethin' you should take lightly! Even if it's something small, just, an' kinda silly like; 'Every time ya yell at someone for somethin' they didn't do, yer voice turns all high pitched and squeaky'. Ya could end up ruinin' someone's life! What if Tom's great-great grandson or whateva decided ta become a lawyeah and while defendin' his client, his voice got all squeaky. He'd be da laughin' stock of da legal system an' I'd be ta blame!"

"Okay, fine. Then just curse Conner specifically if he tries to ruin your life."

"But I don't even use magic on livin' things! What if I screw up an' accidentally turn him inta some kinda squeaky toy? Besides, is dere any otha way than just, revealing my secret dat I kept for my entirah life ta some guy who came in here an' started bossin' me around?"

Sammy rolled his eyes in annoyance. An action that registered to Wally as 'Why do these people keep asking me for help with the future if they keep fighting against me over the advice I give?' While Sammy knew his action meant 'Why am I constantly being bothered by my coworkers over their dumb running jokes pretending that magic is real?'

"Well, you told me, didn't you?"

"I mean, yeah, but dat's different! We're both, you know, and he's... well, not! I know you won't out me, but he might, even unda da threat of cursing!"

The two stood in silence for a bit before Sammy tried to leave again and Wally blocked his way.

"Just in case, do ya have any otha predictions?"

"I predict that if you stand between me and the coffee machine for any longer, you will suffer a terrible fate by my hands."

"Okay, okay! jeeze..."

And as the musician left for the break room, Wally silently dreaded the next time he and Tom would work a night shift together. Hopefully the studio's constantly irritated oracle was right about this being the best course of action.

#bendy and the ink machine #wally franks #sammy lawrence #batim au #fanfic #request

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autty0314 · 5 years ago

Text

If it’s meant to be - Bucky x Reader Ch. 2

Summary; a few events have happened since Bucky has his soulmate; he’s trying to find everything out about her. On the other hand, Y/N is trying to get school done with and working extra shifts at the Bar she works at. She has been thinking a lot of him since she saw him last.

Warning: Violence, Mention of fighting and death, blood, stalking, mature language

Word Count: 1545

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“Hey Sam, I need you to do some research on this girl. I was to get a picture of her at the bar. She has the same tattoo I do.” Bucky asked Sam while getting over things ready for the big meeting on taking down Rumlow and his Hydra goonies.

“Are you sure she has the same tattoo; you said the same thing about that Natasha girl, but it wasn’t her. Just send me the picture and I’ll get everything I can for you.” Sam said while Bucky hung up the phone. Bucky got the files he needed for the meeting, he got a text back from Sam.

‘That was quick.’ He thought when he looked at all information he pulled up on Y/N Y/L. Has who her parents are, what her parents do, siblings, where she was going to college and what for. Her birthday, and all her friends she had in New York. He also saw that she was currently dating someone, Natasha. Bucky was a little surprised but thought it was great that they have the same taste in women. His smile disappeared when he got to the meeting door.

“Barnes hurry the hell up. What are you taking forever?” Steve asked taking the file from Bucky’s hand.

“Now we can begin.” Tony said as they all started to decide how to take down Rumlow.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Woke up with a big hangover,

‘Knew I shouldn’t have went drinking with those fools.’ I thought as I started to get out of bed, I noticed that I am naked and there is someone beside me. I am freaking out and I look to see my lovely girlfriend Natasha sleeping peaceful. I smile, I know that I must work a double at the bar tonight because I picked up some extra hours before summer lets out. I should get ready, need to see what the time is.

1:45pm

SHIT!! I only have 15 minutes to get there. A quick shower and do my makeup when I get there. I rushed to get everything done so I can be on time, I take a quick shower to get clean. I get out to put on my flirty pencil skirt and my floral top that has a deep neckline. I dress like this sometimes to make better tips on the weekends.

“Hey Nat, I am going to work. Feel free to have a shower and everything. I love you, see you when I get off. I was on my way to my bar.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Alrighty, if that is all let’s get everything ready. Barnes, you’ll follow Rumlow tonight to see where he goes. I want reports on everything he does. Rogers, I need you and Banner to find a good way to end his life discreetly. Wilson, you’re with Barnes on these one. I want eyes every where people.” Tony says giving everyone a task to do

“You are all dismissed.” Tony declares getting up and leaving the room. Sam and I start to head to the car to find Rumlow and follow him. We get a call to where he is heading to The Rum House, a neat little bar on W 47th St.

“So, how did you find Y/N” Same asked starting up the engine.

“She came to Attaboy, she was buzzing and then she saw my tattoo. The same on my bicep.” Bucky said while buckling in, they continue talking about her till they are they’re on the block on W 47th and 8th Ave.

“All rightly, let’s get a seat and watch everything go down.” Sam said turning off the car and walking toward the bar. The next thing that they see blows Bucky’s mind.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“A little late aren’t we Y/L” My boss said while I hurry up and put some makeup on before I go waitress.

“Eh, I prefer a little early.” I wink at him and he scoffs off heading back to his office, I check myself in the mirror again before I go. I flatten out my skirt, make sure my 5-inch heel straps are tucked in, making sure everything looks good because heading out there. I see my regulars siting at the bar stools.

“Hey guys, what the regular?” I asked in a flirty way, they all had a little bit of a crush on my because I was always a sweetheart and always gave them advice if they need it.

“Yes, gin and tonic”

“Rum and coke”

“Jack and Dr. Pepper” All three of them said one by one. I smiled while making them for them and handing each one with their drinks and heading over to the booth in the corner.

“Hi boys, what can I get for you.” I smile looking at them,

“Hey pretty thang, could you get us a pitcher of beer? Also, if you aren’t busy after work, I could always take you back to my place and show you what a real man can do for you.” Rumlow said, I start to giggle at him.

“Oh Brock, you know I have a girlfriend that does the same job but twice as better as you.” I said laughing lightly while his buddies start laughing as well

“I’ll be back with 4 glasses and a pitcher of beer for you love.” I said as I turn around to head back up to the bar to get the beer and glasses. I return to Brock eyeing me; I wink at him and leave while going to the next table.

“Hello gentlemen wh-“ I started to say until I locked eyes with him again. His blue eyes are dangerous yet gorgeous. His friend besides him looks really shocked to see me here.

“What are you doing here.” Bucky asked me while keeping his intense gaze with me,

“I actually work here, but my shift ends soon. . . Do you guys what anything to drink?” I asked nervously, I can’t figure out why I get a weird vibe off them.

“Well doll, I’d like whiskey on the rocks.” He said while smiling at me

“I’ll take just a beer.” The other guy says smiling. I nod and head back to the bar to get their drinks. I start to have a panic attack. I just need to breathe, it’s just a guy that is your SOULMATE that is here. Now he knows that you work at a bar, great… just breathe and smile. You have 30 more minutes till you get your break. It’ll be okay, I walk back to them. I spot them staring at Brock, they broke their gaze when I got to the table with their drinks.

“Here you boys go, enjoy!” I said walking off to the back while Wanda goes out to cover for my break. I sit back and relax. I start to think, I don’t even know his name. . . How am I supposed to talk to him if I don’t know my own soulmate? After my thirty minutes is up, I walk bout for the remainder of my shift. I notice that his guy and so is Brock and his friends. I frown a little but go on with my job. Toward the end of the night, I start cleaning up the bar and close when Natasha came to me while I was locking up.

“We need to talk, when we get back to your apartment.” Natasha said in firm yet frighten voice. I just look at her and nod while we start heading down to my apartment.

“I know who your soul mate is, and you are not going to like who it is.” Natasha said we stepped into my apartment.

“Why don’t we go out tomorrow and you show me who it is then love. I’m tired and my feet hurt.” I said as I start taking off my heels. I look up at her and she had guilt written all over her face.

“What happened? Why are you looking like something happened?” I said standing up to meet her gaze

“It’s about your soulmate. I know who he is.” Natasha said looking at me with a serious face, I looked at her and I knew she was telling the truth,

“So, you do. . . doesn’t this mean we just need to be friends do I can be with him?” I asked her waiting for an answer.

“Yes Y/N, it is.” Natasha started tearing up at the fact that we are just going to be friends and not lovers.

“Okay, I will always love you Nat. We can go out tomorrow and we can find him, you can tell me all about him okay?” I said hugging her. She nodded and we went to bed after I got a shower and cleaned my face. Tomorrow is going to be a crazy day. . .

#bucky barns x reader #bucky barnes #bucky barns imagine #bucky barnes smut #sebastian stan #sebastian stan smut #natasha x reader #natasha romanoff #wanda #peter parker #tom holland x reader

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