#forbidden de-eared machete

[canisalbus]

✦ Happy hoodie ✦

[namorslut]

NAMOR / PEARLS OF JADE

SUMMARY: you're a marine biologist sojourning in the Yucatán Peninsula and stumble upon an underwater cave in the clearing of a dense rainforest. expecting to make an amazing scientific discovery you're swept into a spell down the abyss into the reach of a loveless serpent feathered god who will go to any length to claim you as his.

WARNING: yandere!namor, body worshipping!namor, gift giving!namor, thigh gripping, sub!namor (if you squint) hc!siren!entrancing!namor, human!reader, dub-con (i think)

NOTE:  after reading @jottositto 's post i've included some yucatan maya using a translator although it's not 100% accurate. if this came across a native speaker could you maybe give me corrections as i'd like to be as respectful and accurate as possible. ofc the people living in the peninsula will be speaking spanish as this area was colonised and y/n only has an understanding of spanish. thank u and enjoy!! ps: namor?? more like "mi amor" that man had me kicking my toes and twirling my hair in the cinema on friday. this is dirty af i feel like i'm teasing y'all. might write a part two laterrr. no beta so there are 100% spelling errors which i'll check when i got time.

"Me gustaría ayudarla pero en el tiempo que he vivido en ese pueblo, los que se han atrevido a salir de la seguridad de ese pueblo y dentro de la jungla nunca más fueron vistos. Estarías en mucho peligro si te fueras. No creo que tu proyecto de ciencia valga la pena el riesgo.” The short Mexican woman explained.

Her thinning, silver hair was pulled down into two long braids down her protruding collarbones. Her brows were pulled in a frown, revealing creases running the length of her forehead and the outer creases of her beady, mud-brown eyes.

You pleaded with her, your coffee stained research folder clutched in one hand, as you made contact with her elbow gently.

"Pero señora, forma parte de mi trabajo. Fui enviada para investigar los ecosistemas marinos de esta península."

She considered you for a good minute. Searching your unwavering eyes. She sighed and leant toward you, dropping her wobbling voice to a whisper.

"Has lo que deseas, Cariño. Pero que tengas cuidado." she warned, using her eyes to signal you in the general direction to take to enter the forbidden forest. You trailed her eye line and saw a wooden bridge not so far off camp. You bowed to her as a sign of respect.

The journey through the rainforest was an arduous one as the way was shielded by a mass of coiled, everlasting lianas, strangler figs and long, shallow buttress roots along the soil of the shrub layer of the forest which you tripped over several times. You had to slice through the layers of tropical plants in your way with a machete you "borrowed" from a fruit cutter that was left around camp, making your hiking backpack even considerably heavier than it already was. You didn't stop once to admire and take in the smells of passion flowers or orchids as you moved through the brush; you knew better than to let yourself become the prey of the several species of venomous snakes and amphibians native to this rainforest.

It looked to be late afternoon when you stopped by a tributary, crouching over the crystalline water, you followed the stream with your gaze to check for growths of algae when you noticed a dark entrance. You stood up rigid as your breath stilled, you noticed the eerie silence of the clearing. The sounds of bushes rustling, frogs croaking and flapping wings had died down entirely.

There was utter tranquillity. 

You heard a low, rich brassy voice hum a melody from the rocky cave, the sound reverberating to your spot on the damp soil. You dug the heels of your mountain boots as you felt your body being tugged slowly to the body of water, your heartbeat drumming in your ears, your breaths becoming shallower.

The song sounded like one you would hear as a premonition for bad things taking place in urban legends told around campfires, it spoke of men searching to mine riches out of foreign land to find fool's gold instead and meeting their demise at the hand of otherworldly things. Despite the warning behind the unspoken lyrics, you felt your body lull into relaxation.

You saw him rising from the dark aquamarine pool beyond, his eyes glistening a tawny shade of brown. You didn't miss his long ethereal pointy ears and his full lips. His tanned muscular body was slick with droplets as the rest of his body appeared from out of the water. He was adorned in golden bangles and a thick necklace dating from an ancient civilisation, encrusted with what looks like azurite and pearls of jade.

He floated above the surface and toward you. You felt your mouth dry and heart drop to your stomach as a human-looking man flew slightly above the land slowly in your direction. You fought back a scream as the soles of his foot made contact with the ground, and still towered over you despite that. He scrutinised every detail of your face with an unreadable expression.

You breathed in, mustering the courage to speak.

"What are yo-"

He raised a large hand over your face, your vision darkening and body tumbling forward.

You awoke in what seemed to be an underwater cave with overhanging stalactites, you sat up abruptly from the makeshift bed out of bamboo. You noticed the absence of your backpack beside you. Remembering your phone in the jean pocket of your shorts and pulled them out. Scrambling to get a signal.

"Teech ch'íijsajil despierto." a female voice enunciated in a foreign tongue. You flinched, your pocket phone nearly flying out of your reach. Your eyes landed on a blue skinned woman. A respiratory mask covered her nose and mask.

She wore indigenous print robes and held a spear encrusted in emerald jewels. You noticed how her mouth didn’t move, her voice seemed to have come from inside your head as she stood alone in the middle of the rocky cavern.

"I don't understand" you thought, testing your theory out.

A female voice penetrated in your brain again, speaking to you in what sounded like an ancient Mayan tongue.

"Kukulkán in tu k'áataj a buscara. Búukint le, ku leti'. '' the woman seemed to lecture as she crossed the round room and reached into a clam basket by the foot of your mat and pulled out folded sheets of cream coloured linen, extending them to you. You accepted and forced a small smile to show gratitude.

You put the robe on and the beaded necklaces of jade over the dress, which ran up to your mid thigh and was sleeveless. The material was comfortable and baggy over your body but you felt uncomfortable at the lack of bralette you had underneath, leaving your breast exposed. You found a pair of golden strappy sandals at the bottom of the pile which you put on as well.

The woman from earlier came back for you and beckoned you with her hand out of the round room and past hung tapestries depicting ancient Yucatan gods and monsters. She stood behind you, ushering you to go into the room.

"Cha' k" a familiar voice spoke out. The man from the cave turned from his spot facing the painted mural, his back shifting as he smiled at you as you shivered in fear.

"Teech wilik ki'ichpam yéetel a prendas, a wilik ti' beyo' utia'al in reina” he flirted, in a deep, suave tone advancing toward you, you took a step back. Your eyes caught a glimpse of his rigidly sculpted chest, welded in the image of a divinity and the sleek look of his tanned copper skin. 

"Look, I don't know where I am or what you want with me but I certainly didn't mean any harm by stumbling on your cave. I'm not a threat to your people but I wish to be let go." you raised your hand to your chest, gesticulating as clearly as possible your words, shaking your head. The mythical man let out a boisterous laugh at your words, startling you. He grasped your hand in his firm one, raising it in front of him.

"Oh my little angel, I do know that. But I haven't taken you for that reason." he admitted, speaking to you in English as he interlaced your fingers together.

Fucking bastard.

You shook your hand out of his.

"You can speak my language." you pointed, growing irritated with the man.

"Of course, a dutiful ruler needs to be educated of the world around him." he boasted proudly.

"What is your name?" you asked as politely as you could muster

"My people praise me as Ku'kul'kan but my enemies call me Namor." he tucked a strand of your hair behind your head as his eyes traced your figure, wandering down from your budding breast to your legs.

"Why did you take me? What is it you need?" you defied. He cupped your chin gently with his smooth thumb, inclining your head up to his.

You shrugged against him but felt another hand slithering to your lower back, his touch cementing your body in place. His brown irises dilated as his gaze softened.

"Well if it isn't obvious, I want you. I want you to rule beside me and light a match that will burn the world from underneath their inconspicuous feet. Be my queen and I'll give you all that which your heart could desire."

You shook your head frantically.

He's insane.

His eyebrows quirked at your lack of cooperation.

"I see it in your eyes, that spark of passion and resentment. You've been underestimated your whole life. Your life's work is meaningless to the people around you, you're not getting the recognition you deserve." you grunted, bothered by his assumptions. 

"You know nothing about me or my life.” you stated. 

“I hate to disappoint you my angel but you can either bend to my desire of your own will or we can do things my way.” he remarked as he traced his thumb over your lips, pressing a chaste kiss to them. You felt as if every inch of your body was set aflame at his touch. You reclined your head in disgust.

“St-” 

Your mouth betrayed you as it parted open to receive the soft ones of the God before you as his palms felt their way treacherously down your body to the back of your thighs and your nape. You felt your knees buckling together, the flesh of your upper thighs pressing together as you felt heat pulsating from between your legs. You bit back a moan of pleasure as his imposing form bent down to kneel before you. Your eyes widened as his lips pressed against your vee line. You saw a flash of green in his eyes as he looked up to you. You pressed your eyes tightly shut. 

No. 

Suddenly you pushed against the invisible boundaries around you, stumbling backwards out of whatever spell Namor had put on you. You breathed out painfully. 

“Fuck you.” you whispered. 

“Oh?” he enquired, surprised at your incredible amount of resistance. 

She has the spirit of a warrior queen, he thought. I must bind her to me forever.

Namor arose, striding to you. In a single movement, he coiled his arm around your throat; putting some pressure down onto your windpipes as you clawed at his hand. 

He moved you easily against the wall rubbing his nose onto yours, turning his face toward your ear as he whispered:

“We’ll have to go for that second option then.��

[eng231digitalproject]

Viva Puerto Rico Libre (Part I)

Espada’s Reflections on Puerto Rican Nationalism in “Hands Without Irons Become Dragonflies”

Hands without irons become dragonflies, red flowers in our hats, subversive angels flutter like pigeons from a rooftop, this stripped and starving earth is not a grave.

Espada rounds out Imagine the Angels of Bread with a poetic elegy that honors the legacy of Puerto Rican Nationalist Clemente Soto Vélez. He introduces “Hands Without Irons Become Dragonflies” with the following note:

Through the subject of Soto Vélez’s life and legacy, Espada not only honors his friend while presenting poetic commentary on Puerto Rican Nationalist causes and viewpoints. Memory presents as a thematic undertone as well.

The poem begins with scenes from Lares, Puerto Rico in 1868, 37 years before Soto Vélez’s birth. These scenes provide a description of the armed revolt against Spanish occupation known as El Grito de Lares:

One night after sleep in September, the merchants fumbled with wire spectacles at the window to witness the levitation of rebel machetes. The mayor curled on the floor of his own jail, peasants showered in wine looted from forbidden cellars, and slaves marveled as hands without irons became dragonflies. Soon the Spanish troops would sweep through Lares dragging the cannon’s operatic mouth, and the rebels died from yellow fever in prison, the loudly humming darkness of Aguadilla. (Espada 93-94)

Not only does this beginning offer relevant historical context, but it also serves as a clear suggestion that Lares itself is the birthplace of Puerto Rican Nationalism. This connects to the poem’s initial notion that Soto Vélez was born into revolution, steeped from his very beginnings into the memory of this moment and into a reality that necessitated his lifelong place in the continuing fight for Puerto Rican freedom, autonomy, and independence.

Your people were peasants without soil, buried in the soil while their hair was still black. But in the plaza of Lares, the muttering of fever-mad revolutionaries brushed across your neck, pausing in the hollow of your ear. The ancianos, with skin like cured tobacco leaves, remembered 1868, taught you in hoarse conspiracy that a machete could chop the wrist of a landlord easily as cane. (Espada 94-95)

Espada moves on from these beginnings to map out the entirety of Soto Vélez’s life’s work. The life and legacy presented in the poem is shaped by a commitment to activism and freedom, spanning from Lares to San Juan to East Harlem, with periods of imprisonment included along the way. It is important to note that Espada effectively uses Soto Vélez’s elegy to project a larger commentary on the trajectory of the Nationalist movement in Puerto Rico, often providing references to the social and political circumstances shaping Puerto Rico’s continuing colonial relationship to the US. In doing so, Espada validates the efforts of the Puerto Rican Nationalist movement.

…Theodore Roosevelt in a white suit and Panama hat driving a steam shovel through the canal. (Espada 97)

Additionally, Espada injects into the poem a remembrance of The Ponce Massacre, which took place in 1938, during a time in which Soto Vélez would have been serving a prison sentence. He combines vivid images of Soto Vélez’s internal and external experiences in prison with the acts of resistance to colonial occupation that continue to unfold in the streets of Puerto Rico.

Meditations on the jailhouse ceiling: … This is the law of poets and their newspapers: for the word “weapons,” a cell with no toilet; for the word “revolution,” a door bolted in rust; for the word “Yankee,” a window blindfolded with bars; for the words “Puerto Rico,” a wall of cockroaches too fat to kill with a fist. Your poems became a crust sealing your eyelids, a wet string of coughing in your throat. In Ponce, police fired bullets through the palms of toppling demonstrators. (Espada 96)

Espada then shows how Soto Vélez’s social and political activism on behalf of Puerto Rican Nationalism continued in his exile to the mainland US.

…the red Congressman bought steamship tickets and welfare for every Puerto Rican coming to East Harlem, so they would mark their ballots with his name: Vito Marcantonio, American Labor Party. The ward heelers never heard you at the microphone, Clemente, your American Labor Spanish spreading in the sky like a flamboyán tree split through cement, till the immigrants in the street swore red flowers rained on their hats and floated in the shovels of their hands. (Espada 97)

In the culmination of the piece, readers bear witness to Espada’s injection of himself into the poem, framed through his journey to Puerto Rico to visit Soto Vélez’s gravesite in Lares. The final stanzas function not only to clarify the heroics of Soto Vélez’s lifelong activism that are projected throughout the piece, but to connect the poem’s primary reflection of Soto Vélez’s legacy to the present-day reality of Puerto Rico’s continuing colonial status. The poem’s closing lines offer an image that ties directly back to the memory of El Grito de Lares.

Now a dragonfly drifts to the forehead of a vagabond declaiming groggy rebellion in the plaza, insect-intoxicated, protesting his own days blindfolded with bars, his faith louder than his infected mouth. He says that he remembers you. On the road to Lares, a horse without a rope stands before the cars in glowering silence, infuriating traffic, refusing to turn away his enormous head. We know what the drivers must do to pass: shout Viva Puerto Rico Libre. (Espada 101-102)

As presented through Espada’s poem, the legacy of Clemente Soto Vélez demands the persistence of revolutionary acts in the name of freedom, autonomy, and independence for Puerto Rico.

(Photo Credit: https://centropr.hunter.cuny.edu/education/clemente-soto-v%C3%A9lez-documentary-teaching-guide)