#i just reblog stuff that appeals to me at the moment

[moonchild9350]

Still Life and Nude Surprises

Summary: you need to prep for an art show and sign up for a class for extra practice. the model you’re assigned however turns out to be someone you know very well.

Pairing: best friend!Felix x fab!reader

Genre: friends to lovers au, fluff, smut-18+MDNI

Word Count: 4.8k

Warnings: nude modeling, mutual masturbation, dirty talk, mention of overstimulation, clit play, unprotected sex (don't), creampie, implied multiple rounds

Notes: another fic from when I was feral sorry not sorry lol this was fun to write though and it’s Felix so…. lol

If you enjoyed please consider a like, reblog, or comment as it keeps me motivated ♡

Divider by @cafekitsune

Please do not copy, translate, modify, use, or repost this work elsewhere without my permission. ©moonchild9350 (2024)

"Hold still!"

You chastised the blonde who was at the moment wiggling around in his seat, his eyes focused on his computer screen as he blasted god knows what on the latest game he acquired.

"Y/n! Lemme just finish this round, then I'll do anything you say," he responded as he showed off his biggest pouty face.

You sighed, not being able to say no to that face. Felix smiled and went back to his game, his fingers tap tapping on the keyboard.

Felix is your best friend, he has been since you were neighbors as a kid. You've done everything together, from attending dances as each others dates, sleepovers as kids, endure heartbreaks, and even live within the same building as adults.

You couldn't live without him, your relationship going beyond your wildest dreams.

Now, you were trying to sketch your best friend as you were trying to improve your still life skills, preparing for an art show that you had signed up for. Everything was going well until he received a text from a gamer buddy, wanting to go for a round on a new game he recently started.

You set your sketch pad down and watched your friend as he scrunched his face in concentration, his tongue sticking out the corner of his mouth as he shot down enemy after enemy. It was pretty humorous to watch, as everytime he missed his target he'd scream "noooo!" before concentrating once more.

You knew it was a lost cause, understanding once he started gaming, it would be hours until he would stop. You gathered up your stuff, packing it into your bag.

You got up and walked over to Felix, ruffling up his hair, obscuring his view of the computer screen.

"Y/n!" he exclaimed as he blew his hair out of his face, the strands framing his face haphazardly as a result.

"I'm gonna go home, it's getting late. I"ll see you later ok?"

Felix took a chance and looked away from the screen to you, "I'm sorry, I'm a horrible model."

You chuckled and slapped his arm, the boy yelping at the sting. "No you're not, you just get distracted easily."

You continued to laugh as you walked to his door, listening to Felix mutter under his breath something along the lines of "that's not true."

Closing his door, you walked the few doors down to your apartment, dropping your bag on the hallway table. You really did want to practice your skills as the show was getting closer day by day and you were banking on using Felix to start.

You grabbed your laptop and plopped on the couch, propping your feet on the table in front of you. Opening up the search engine, you began to look for classes that you could attend to help you practice.

You came across a particularly promising site, the company offering a variety of classes from group sessions to private ones. You clicked on the private session info bar, as the prospect of it just being you and the model seemed appealing.

You noticed they offered private nude modeling sessions as well, your eyebrow raising in interest. This would be the perfect opportunity to study the human body and to improve your skills on drawing it.

The company had a few sessions open over the next few days which would be perfect as you were free. You clicked on the time slot for tomorrow's private session, your mind running over the pros and cons.

You've never sketched anyone nude, the prospect seeming a little embarrassing to you, but how would you get better if you didn't step out of your comfort zone? Plus, these models were trained for this, and it was with a reputable company.

The cost of the class wasn't much either, definitely within your budget. You filled in your information, whatever they asked for. Once done, your hand hovered over the book button, as you considered what to do.

"Fuck it," you said, bringing your finger down to press book.

A confirmation page popped up saying your session was successfully booked and they'd see you tomorrow. You let out a breath and closed your laptop.

This was really going to happen. You wondered if you'd have a male or female model, noticing there was no option to choose. Shaking your head, you decided not to think about the session until the time came, opting to go in with a fresh and unbiased mind.

You went about the rest of your night, prepping everything you would need for tomorrow. Settling into bed you pulled the covers up to your chin.

You were ready for tomorrow and whatever it were to bring.

--

It was a beautiful day, the sun shining, the weather warm but not too hot. The walk to the art studio wasn't too far away, the building being within walking distance.

You were giddy with excitement, your anxieties gone about the details of the session. You texted Felix to let him know you would be occupied today and would be over later on. He didn't mind as he apparently had something to do as well.

You approached a chic building, the outer walls appearing old yet charming to fit the town. You opened the door and walked in, met with the scent only an art studio can provide, from the scents of paints to fresh canvases. The scent of coffee drifted in the air as well, as there was a fresh pot that seemed to have been brewed in the corner of the reception area.

You approached the front desk, greeting the worker behind it.

"Hi, my name is y/n, I'm booked for a private session at 10:30?"

The lady looked in a book on the desk, her manicured fingers running down the page to the appointed time. She tapped her fingers on the page, finding your name as expected.

"We have you all set, would you like to pay now?"

You nodded and pulled out your card. She took care of the payment and then smiled.

"Have a seat, someone will be with you shortly to take you to the studio."

"Thank you," you said, walking towards a comfy looking chair in the corner.

You sat down, cradling your bag to your side. The atmosphere was quiet, the occasional sound of chatter meeting your ears. You watched as people walked to and from, their focus on getting to their destination.

Not long after sitting down, a young woman appeared calling your name. You hurriedly grabbed your bag and walked towards her.

"Ready?" she asked with a smile.

"Absolutely," you responded as you followed the lady down the hall.

She stopped at a door, the placard reading studio eight. It was more secluded than the other studios, the room being near the back of the hall. The lady opened the door and stepped in, you following right behind her.

As you crossed the threshold, you took in the surroundings of the room. It wasn't too small but not too big. The walls were covered with sketches and paintings, portraying various body types. Each painting was beautiful, the artist capturing the details of the human body in intricate detail.

There was a ceiling to floor mirror along one wall, the whole room visible in its reflection. In the center of the room, there was a chair next to a series of boxes, linen draped over it to make a makeshift bed. You eyed the stool next to an easel, which you assumed is where you would be sitting.

"So, this is where your session will take place. You have this space for four hours. If you need assistance of any sort, just press this button here and one of the staff members will assist you."

You followed her hand as she pointed to a blue button next to the door. You nodded and faced the lady again, waiting for her to continue.

"You have opted for a nude model for your session correct?"

"Yes, I have," you replied, feeling your cheeks flush at her question.

"They will enter after I leave. If at any point you feel uncomfortable, you can ask them to robe again, they will not mind. I think that's all. Any questions?"

You shook your head no, as everything was pretty straight forward.

"Great! Go ahead and get settled, your model will be in shortly!"

You thanked the lady and walked over to the easel. Setting your bag down, you began to pull out your sketch book and various pencils, setting them up accordingly. You sat on the stool, crossing your legs as you waited for your model to arrive.

It didn't take long until a different door than you came in opened, a person stepping in within the room. It was a flurry of movement as they walked into the room with their head down.

"Sorry, I'm a little late," the person said in a deep voice.

Wait...you knew that voice. Shocked, your head snapped up to look more closely at the person. You couldn't believe it, that person was...

"Y/n?!"

"Felix?!"

Your model was Felix? Your best friend? What the fuck?!

You were confused and shocked. Felix seemed to be as well as he stared at you with his mouth wide open.

You eyed your friend who was prepped in a white robe, the material seeming soft and cozy on his skin. His long hair was in a ponytail, framed away from his face, his numerous freckles on display.

"What are you doing here?" you asked in disbelief.

"I could ask you the same thing," Felix responded as he came closer to you.

"I uh...I signed up for a class to work on my skills since you know..." you said, your voice trailing off at the end.

The atmosphere was tense, neither one of you knowing what to do. You never expected to see your best friend here, especially since he never mentioned he modeled for an art studio...nude at that.

Felix nodded at your response, "I work here as a side gig...make some extra cash you know?"

You nodded, accepting his answer.

"Why did you never tell me you did this?" you inquired, curiosity getting the best of you.

Felix fiddled with the strap of his robe, his gaze anywhere but yours. After a moment he cleared his throat.

"Well, I thought you'd find it weird. I mean I'm naked in front of people and they draw me in the nude. How would I bring that up with you?"

He had a point. That would definitely make for an interesting conversation. Now the question becomes do you go on with the session? Sketch your best friend nude? You could make him keep the robe on.

"Do you...do you still want to proceed with this?" Felix asked, his hands gesturing toward the makeshift bed in the center of the room.

"I'm ok if you are," you said shrugging.

Felix cleared his throat, surprised at your answer. Recovering quickly, he said, "Of course."

You nodded and watched as he padded toward the bed, stopping in front of it for a moment. His hands went to the strap of his robe, his fingers fiddling with the knot before he stopped.

"You ok with sketching me nude?"

"Yes Lix, I've seen you naked before."

You really have and with years of being best friends, it was bound to happen.

Felix nodded before he grasped the strap again, this time untying the knot.

You watched as the knot fell away, the straps now dangling at his side. He brought his hands up, to grab the soft material and slide it off his shoulders. With a flurry of movement, he let the robe fall, the fabric pooling at his feet.

You gasped, your eyes glued to your best friend as he stood in the center of the room, his back to you. Taking the chance, your eyes roamed his back, taking in his muscular frame, down to his lithe waist, which you've always admired. You smirked at seeing his ass wanting to reach out and smack it.

Felix took a deep breath and slowly turned around to face you. You watched with bated breath as he now stood facing you, his eyes on yours.

Your eyes drifted down his torso, eyeing his nipples, the pinkish-brown buds perky in the cold room. You eyed him further down, down, down until you came to his pelvis, a happy trail of hair leading down to his cock.

You subconsciously licked your lips, your eyes glued to his soft cock lying amongst a smattering of hair, his balls hanging nice and delicate. You couldn't help but admire his cock, wondering how it would feel in your hands, how it would feel...

"Earth to y/n! My eyes are up here pervert!" Felix exclaimed while snapping his fingers to get your attention.

You snapped your eyes up to his face, feeling your cheeks flush in embarrassment. You definitely were just checking out your best friend, the feeling in your panties a little more wet than when you came in.

You cleared your throat and gestured toward the bed, "Umm, wanna get started?"

Felix nodded, "How do you want me?"

"You can just lounge on the bed for now."

Felix nodded again and sat on the bed, swinging his legs up to rest on the linens. You walked over to your best friend and stopped in front of him, your hands reached out. You hesitated for a moment, looking into his eyes asking silent permission to touch him.

"Go ahead, position me how you want," Felix chuckled.

You took his hand in yours and draped it across his face, his fingers dangling delicately on the side of his cheeks. You angled his head to look toward where you would be sitting. You looked at his legs, taking a breath before propping one of his legs up.

Once finished, you quickly took a step back, eyeing your work. Satisfied, you sat down on your stool and grabbed your sketch book.

You picked up a pencil and began to sketch, easily getting lost in your work. You looked up at Felix every now and then, to get some details solidified in your head before you translated it onto paper.

It was silent in the room, neither one of you speaking. It was not as awkward as you thought it would be, but rather comforting.

Time passed and you got more of your sketch done, the outline being nearly complete.

Felix was staring at you, watching your hands dance across the page, sketching his frame. He couldn't take his eyes off of you, admiring how you got lost in your work, that not even your best friend posing naked for you can distract you.

He loved how you let out a small smile when you got a detail just right or how you scrunched up your face and bit your lip when something did not seem right.

You were beautiful, that he couldn't deny and you were even more beautiful in this moment, sitting on a stool in an art studio underneath the dim lights.

Felix started to feel warm, despite laying right under the air conditioner, the feeling spreading down his belly and settling at his cock. He could feel the blood slowly fill out his cock, the appendage slightly harder than before, laying haphazardly against his pelvis.

He willed himself to breath, to cool down, not wanting you to see the effect you have on him. He could never live that down. He tried to look everywhere but your face, especially when your head was down. But to no avail, the feeling increased, his cock twitching slightly in response.

You looked up at your friend to get another look at his torso for shading the area on your sketch, but froze at what you saw. Felix seemed to be in turmoil, his breath shaky, his eyes darting everywhere around the room.

Your eyes traveled to his cock, noticing how it seemed to have hardened some since you last took a look at him. You thought you would feel embarrassed, however, you felt quite the opposite.

You lingered on his cock a little longer, a a pleasurable shock traveling down your body and straight to your core. You pressed your thighs together in response, feeling your slick slowly seep into your panties.

You cleared your throat and went back to your sketch, not wanting Felix to catch you staring, not let him know that you were aware he was hard while you sketched him.

Felix was turned on, that was the brunt of it. He tried to stop his reaction to you, but he just couldn't do it. He felt his cock hardened until it stood fully at attention, the tip pressing up against his pelvis.

It was torture laying there, only a few feet away from you, his cock so hard it was starting to hurt. He wanted to touch himself, relieve the ache, and maybe just maybe you could help him out too.

He watched as you lifted your head up once more, gasping at the state of him.

You were in shock, noticing now that Felix's cock was fully hard, the member seeming angry and red at the lack of attention it received. You could see something shiny glistening on the hairs littering his pelvis. You watched as a drop of pre-cum oozed from his tip, the liquid dripping down his shaft until it reached the hairs, getting caught in the thickness.

Looking at Felix's face, you could tell he was miserable, as he breathing was shallow and he was clenching and unclenching his hands. You knew he wanted to touch himself to relieve himself of the ache he was feeling.

"Felix?" you questioned, your eyes reaching his. "Do you wanna touch yourself?"

Felix's eyes widened at the question, disbelief written on his face.

"I'm..I'm sorry y/n, I just couldn't help it," he stuttered, lowering his eyes in embarrassment.

"It's ok," you responded with a smile. "You can touch yourself, make yourself feel good. I'll continue to sketch."

Felix stared at you for a moment more before he took his other hand that was at his side and placed it on his chest.

You watched as he gripped his aching cock and gave it a squeeze as he moaned lowly. He shifted his hand upwards, his thumb pressing on his slit before gathering up some of the leaking pre-cum.

He began to stroke his cock, steady but slowly, his fist reaching the base just to travel back up and circle around the head. Felix kept eye contact with you, your sketching forgotten, as you took to watching your best friend pleasure himself.

He increased the speed of his wrist movement, wet sounds from the aid of his precum filling the room. With each moan he let out, you felt your pussy clench over nothing. You were soaking wet, your panties stuck to your skin by now, your clit throbbing to be touched.

"Y/n," Felix said, his voice raspy as he continued to stroke his cock. "Can you touch yourself? Pleasure yourself for me?"

You looked into Felix's pleading eyes, watching as he licked his lips and swallowed. You didn't give a moments thought at your friend's request, instead ridding yourself of your leggings.

You stood before Felix, your fingers going to the band of your panties. You watched Felix's eyes drag to the piece of cloth, his eyes widening at the wet patch present on your panties, the material sticking to your skin, leaving nothing to the imagination as the outline of your lips could be seen.

You slowly slid your panties down your legs and set them aside. Felix let out a groan at the sight of your pussy, his cock twitching in his hand.

You sat back down on the stool and spread your legs, your wet folds separating to show him your entrance. He kept his eyes glued to your pussy as you brought a finger to your clit, flicking the bud and the rubbing it gently.

You sighed out as you dipped a finger lower into your hole, gathering your slick that was pooling there before bringing it back to your clit. You circled it gently, applying the slightest pressure, a jolt of pleasure causing your pussy to clench.

Time passed as you both sat there, eyes on each other as you pleasured yourself, the room filled with wet sounds and the mix of both of your moans.

You matched Felix's pace as he stroked his cock, harder and faster, his hips bucking up into his hands. You let out a whimper as you felt the tightening within your belly, the coil tightening, filling your core with warmth.

"Felix, m'close," you moaned as your fingers slipped and slid around your clit, your pussy getting wetter by the minute.

"Yeah? Cum for me? Will you cum for me like a good girl?" Felix cooed. "I'm close too, fuck."

Your breathing increased as the coil expanded in your belly, the feeling getting larger and larger until you tipped over the edge, your walls spasming, clenching down rhythmically as you rode out your high.

You didn't stop rubbing your clit, watching as Felix let out a groan as he bucked his hips, spurts of cum landing on his belly creating a painting with its pearly white sheen.

You pulled your hand away, the feeling of overstimulation settling in. You looked at your best friend, both of you breathing hard as you came down from your highs.

You chuckled as you noticed Felix was pretty much in the same position you put him in, his resolve at staying true to his role admirable.

"You um...you can keep sketching if you'd like," Felix said, his voice soft with uncertainty.

"We literally just got off together and you want me to continue sketching?" you asked incredulously as you cocked your eyebrow.

Felix cleared his throat, his body slighly shifting on the makeshift bed causing his softened cock to jiggle.

"Well...yeah, you paid and all..."

You stared at your best friend in disbelief. You hated that he had a point, you did pay a pretty sum to be here today. But here you were, nude from the waist down, your nether region a mess. You sighed and picked up your pencil, moving your hand to start sketching again.

There was silence once more as you got into the zone, focusing on shading in your sketch. You began to hum to yourself, adjusting yourself sligthly on the stool.

Felix returned to staring at you, watching you get lost in your work. He tried not to remember that you were naked waist down, your pussy seconds away from being on display if you decided to open your legs.

The thought caused arousal to seep through his body once more. He cursed silently as he felt his cock twitch. Why does he have to be turned on by you? He's never had this reaction before for any other client.

Maybe it was because they were strangers, people he didn't know, while you were his best friend, his life line.

He couldn't help it as his thoughts wandered, wondering how you would feel wrapped around him. He wondered how you would sound as he pounded into you, making you feel better than any of your little flings ever could.

He peeked down to look at his lower half as he silently groaned noticing his cock was fully hardened, resting against his belly once more.

You looked up to gather reference and noticed Felix's cock was hard, more of his precum leaking out and onto his belly. You squeezed your thighs together at the sight as your tongue darted out and licked your lips.

"Fuck this," you said, tossing your sketch book to the side.

You stood up and walked towards Felix, lifting your shirt up and over your head in the process. You unclasped your bra and let it fall to the floor, your tits spilling out and on view for your friend.

Felix scrambled up quickly and grabbed you by the arm, pulling you toward him until you stood right in front of his face. He grasped your waist and smashed his lips to yours, letting out a moan as your lips moved with his.

Your hand reached down to grasp his cock, giving it a squeeze. Felix moaned against your lips, his fingers digging into the flesh of your hips.

"Can I fuck you y/n?" Felix asked with hope in his eyes.

You've both come this far, why stop now you thought.

"Sure," you agreed as more arousal gushed out of your pussy and onto your thighs at the thought of his cock filling you up.

Felix helped maneuver you onto the makeshift bed as he hovered above you. He spread your legs and pushed them upwards, giving him a clear view of your wet pussy, your slick coating your folds and dripping down your ass.

He brought his thumb down to press against your swollen clit that was peeking through your folds. You let out a whine at the sensation, your pussy clenching around nothing.

"I've waited for this moment for a long time y/n," Felix said, his eyes lifting up to your face.

"Me too," you confessed, your heart swelling at the thought that you both have liked each other probably for years.

He really was your person, your everything, and you would love nothing more than to give yourself fully to him.

Felix smiled down at you before swiping his finger over your clit again, watching as you wiggled your hips at his touch.

"I'm gonna give you my cock now," he grunted, grasping the appendage at the base.

He rubbed his cock through your folds, collecting your slick before pressing against your entrance, his eyes glued to how his head disappeared within your hole.

You mewled as he withdrew his cock just to press into your entrance again as he fucked you with just the tip.

"Felix, please," you whimpered, holding your legs open even more.

"Want my cock hm?" Felix asked, his eyes on yours. He watched as your mouth hung open, soft moans falling out as he teased you, spreading your folds open with just his head.

He was faring no better as he felt a shutter run through him, every time he sunk his tip within your warmth.

"Fuck me," you commanded, your eyes snapping open and staring Felix down.

You reached for his cock, your hand wrapping around the shaft. You wiggled your hips attempting to take more of his cock, ignoring how Felix was laughing at you.

"Ok, ok, don't get your panties in a twist," Felix chuckled. "Oh wait, you lost those hours ago, so desperate for my cock y/n."

Without any other warning, he slammed his hips into yours with a groan, sinking his length within your walls until bottomed out.

"Fuck, so warm and tight," he grunted as he began to thrust his hips into yours, withdrawing his cock just until he was all the way out and pushing back in.

You pussy clenched around him, the feeling of his cock stretching you out causing waves of pleasure to settle in your pelvis.

Felix grasped your legs, pushing them further to your chest as he pummeled his hips to yours, his heavy balls slapping against your ass with each thrust. He couldn't believe how tight you were, how your walls molded around his cock perfectly, like you were made for him.

His moans mingled with yours, as you both chased your highs. Felix licked his fingers and brought them back down to your clit, the digits slipping and sliding along the nub, causing shocks of pleasure to wreck your frame.

"Shit, I'm close, gonna cum. Can I come inside?" Felix panted, his thrusts becoming more erratic.

"Please, need your cum!" you whimpered as your pussy contracted at the thought of his cum within you.

Felix slammed his hips into yours once more before stilling, ropes of his cum flooding your walls.

"That's it, take my cum," Felix cooed as he continued to finger your clit.

You let out a loud moan as you came, your arousal seeping out of your pussy, coating Felix's cock as he thrusted his hips into yours a few more times to help you ride out your high.

Felix peered down at you, his eyes searching yours as you panted, your hands running down your body. He slowly withdrew his softening cock, his eyes glued to how his cum leaked out of your pussy, a smile gracing his face.

He leaned down to press a kiss on your lips once more as he whispered "I love you."

You carded your fingers through his hair, eagerly returning the kiss.

"And I love you Felix," you cooed.

You both laid there a little longer, exchanging soft kisses, neither one of you in a rush to move.

After a while, Felix perked up, mischief in his eyes.

"Wanna keep sketching? You still have another hour."

You smirked at the suggestion, knowing exactly where it will lead, and that was definitely ok with you.

"Sure thing, let's go for another round," you teased with a grin.

Taglist: @jehhskz @jeonginsleftcheek @simpforleeknaur @armystay89 @palindrome969 @slut4hee @ivydoesit23 @amarecerasus @kaysungshine @fun-fanfics @baby-stay92 @velvetmoonlght

[rayday-mayday]

I seriously don't get why antis believe that SA ( or just sex in general ) and violence are so far removed from each other. Like, of course there's how both rape/SA and violent actions ( murder, battery, etc ) are illegal and harmful, but there's a lot more on top of that that links the two.

Like, there's how SA aka Sexual Assault literally has the word "Assault" in it. You know, which is a crime of it's own that involves physical violence sometimes. Saying rape/SA of any kind and violence aren't the same/linked, inherently takes away the violence of rape/SA.

We could also take a look at the BDSM scene, where stuff like choking, spanking, bruising, biting, etc are quite common kinks that obviously go alongside sex, which, once again, links the two subjects.

There's cannibalism which is inherently violent, but often sexualized in multiple different ways. Be it the classical soft vore fetish art you see online, or the metaphors where cannibalism and sex are woven together to show some deeper meaning.

And there's also how classical horror media and ( fictional ) non-con media can produce similar reactions in people. I know personally that when I read yandere x reader fanfiction ( both with- and without non-con elements ) it gives me this form of rush that has helped me cope with the urge to be abused. And just here a bit ago I was playing Doors ( yes, the Roblox horror videogame ) which gave me a similar rush of adrenaline.

I know part of the appeal of monsterfucking at times also ties into the fear and horror of the creatures, which ties into the violence and destruction these monsters can commit.

There's also how both violence and sex can be practiced safely if everyone involved is consenting, and have the proper safety precautions in place; and how both can also be traumatizing if done without consent and/or without the proper safety precautions.

As you can see just by those examples, sex, violence, fear, and trauma are incredibly closely linked. This isn't to say that sex is bad or that violence is good, but that denying that all those subjects are tied together, or that saying they aren't similar, is just flat out wrong.

Tbh there's probably more examples out there, too, but those listed above are just the ones I can think of at the moment. Feel free to add onto this in the reblogs/tags/comments if you can think of any. I just wanted to ramble about this after I realized how similar the rush I get from horror games is to the rush I get when I read darkfiction.

[pervcoded]

DOG-EARED AND DOUBTFUL starring yuuji itadori. part iii.

──☆*:・ﾟcontent warning: amab!reader (referred to as a boy), canon divergent, college au (18+ characters) inside of the hybridverse. artist!reader, sukuna is related to yuuji. awkward meet-cute, but yuuji is implied to be (and is) slightly unhinged. reader is human and yuuji is a doberman hybrid. fluffy, safe for work-ish. nude modelling. bashful , sorta pushover reader. reader has a stutter. invasion of privacy (yuuji goes through your sketchpad and gets comfortable fast). british use of trousers (pants) and pants (underwear). scent stuff going on, yuuji has a good nose. yuuji is sorta feral and reader's not in a position to (nor does he quite want to) argue. mdni! reblogs and comments appreciated!

wc: 4.2 words.

It’s beautiful, truly. Yuuji is admittedly philistine in his artistic taste, never had a muse for it; but he finds himself wholly appreciative of the opportunity to become yours- even if it’s only for the evening. He can’t control the way his tail wags, heart pattering quicker in his chest as the excitement overrides his previously projected aloofness, his hands moving faster than his mind in that moment. One more page wouldn’t hurt.

You’re just like any other boy in class, really. Maybe the round ears and lack of fur are a bit of a weird look, but Yuuji wasn’t popular when he first transferred to the university either - and some change is always good, he thinks.

“And your tongue—is it really that small?” Someone had asked on your first day in, your classmates ogling your skin, analyzing its novel texture. You’re good at acting nonchalant when you’re placed on the spot. Tone even, eyes level, posture loose and relaxed as you fold your arm over the back of your chair. You’re smarter than they’d ever give you credit for—laughed along with their jibes so they wouldn’t see how gently you swayed. Trembled. The claws of some touchy Wolverine mutt glancing at your collarbones, and you laughed it off, never once minding the sweat cascading down the apex of your temple.

But your scent is disloyal to you. He never thought to mention it. The sour notes of tangerine, key lime, crescendo in the spot where you stand, a heady cocktail of anxiety and embarrassment and horror. 

You’re quite popular for a human, however. Maybe that was your conventional appeal. Or rather stood next to them you stick out like a sore thumb, and that makes you far more interesting—purely by virtue of your association. But Yuuji likes to think you have your own redeeming qualities too. You’re an artsy type. Try and spend a lot of time by yourself if you can manage, but your peers seem intent on laywaying your silence; coveting your time like shiny trinkets in a magpie’s nest.

Still, you’re nice to him. 

You remember his name. Say “Itadori, hi,” and give him a solemn nod before going on your way. You give him your leftovers you don’t want if your class schedules happen to line up that day. You share your notes from Anthropology, and sketch him in the margins of your notebook on the days you can’t focus.

The patience of hybrids doesn’t often extend to their own kind, and Yuuji’s felt terribly lonely since his grandfather passed - what with his uncle not being much in the way of making conversation. But you’re easy to talk to.

“Ah, Itadori, can you come here?”  His tail wags a little at the acknowledgement, but if you notice you failed to comment. “Uh, yeah? What’d you want? I’m a little busy right now, so,” He smiles half-heartedly, suddenly a little uncomfortable to be seen with you like this. You move your stuff away from where you want him to sit at the table, and his eyes are acutely drawn to each movement of your hands. Gathering up runaway pencils, stacking textbooks. “You can call me Yuuji, by the way. I don’t mind.”

Your face lights up at that, and you tell him your name in kind. He tries it. Once for his pleasure. Again to make sure he got it right. He looks back down at the now emptied table, though he doesn’t go to take a seat.

Your lunch is sparse. Two pieces of bread with peanut butter and something else sandwiched in the middle. A browning apple eaten to the core. He thinks about mimicking the impressions of your teeth.

“Ah, well, I know we don’t talk and um - I’m still kinda new here and - please, you can sit,” Your hand fans out to gesture at the chair in front of you, and Yuuji settles into it uneasily. He can smell you’re afraid of something.

“Yuuji…” You tap your pencil on something he can’t see, draped over your thigh. “I.. wanted to draw you.” Yuuji tilts his head, finger absently reaching towards his chin. “Me?” “Yeah. It’s for an art assignment. We’re practicing portraits.” Your smile is disarmingly charming. “If it was okay with you, I wanted to see if… we could find some time to—y’know. Have you model for me.” Yuuji doesn’t let himself get excited so quickly, the hair on his forearm bristling a bit as he digs his nails into his thigh. Keep it from bouncing. “Okay. Yeah. Sure - that’s fine. I’d love to.” Yuuji sounds like he’s speaking through grit teeth, but his expression doesn’t expose anything other than slight apprehension. You sigh, a weight seemingly lifted off your shoulders. “Oh! Okay!” You try not to sound too happy about it, but a smile keeps weaseling onto your face. “Okay so, we’d have to book one of the art rooms, but that shouldn’t be too hard—nobody really lingers around after class. Lucky us, right?” You’re fishing your phone out of your pocket, and Yuuji nearly forgets to grab it with his unbloodied hand.

“Here. Add your number, take a photo if you’d like.” You’re teasing, but Yuuji never was good with sarcasm. He smiles big and wide for it, pointed teeth all in the front row. 

He saves his name as ‘Yuuji 😎’, and hands your tech back to you. You send a quick ‘hey’ to make sure you got the right number. When his pocket rumbles he’s off no later, barely waving goodbye as he leaves you to your own devices.  

You text out the details later. Tomorrow, at 7:00. 

He gets there at 6:56 on the dot. Campus has been largely deserted this time of day, and the few stragglers left, student and faculty, each flock to their club space or the odd, afterhour meeting. You’re all set up by the time he’s there. You’re well-prepared, graphites and eraser shavings finding a home on the floor around you. Sticks of pastels lie short and chipped on the easels mantle, your fingertips already blackened by charcoal. This wing is new to him, but the hallways look just like this rooms walls. Student made murals scaling taller than him, ferals unfurling across the unorthodox canvas; a magnificent sky. Ceramic busts settle atop storage cabinets; baked and glazed vases filled with paper flowers, tucked into empty corners. Paintings hung to dry. Thick ink stains as he sidesteps a rolling chalkboard, gently pushing it to the side.

You glanced up when the door opened, but it was more reflexive than comprehending. You saw him, then looked back at the canvas, focused. Only when he nearly stumbles do you look back up again, and you’re smiling really wide. You wave excitedly. “Hey Yuuji!” His ear twitches near imperceptably, tail high and wagging. “Hey.” He’s decent at acting, if you think he’s faking casual you don’t mention it, just gesture to the seat beside you. The chair you saved for him has tall legs and a strong, straight back; perfect for a model.

“Well, you can take this chair when you’re ready,” he’s taking a peak at the easel sat in front of you, identical setups matching yours haphazardly set up around a squat stage in the center of the room.

Your sketchpage: marked with vague gestures and dancing, people-like shapes. You’ve been practicing. You absently tug at your collar at the lack of distance between you two (forgot you were using charcoal, so you quickly stop) and a strange aura radiates from you, the smell of frayed nerves stinging his nose. His tail lulls in its movement, a tad disappointed you weren’t as comfortable with him as he thought you were.

“For a portrait, you being closer is ideal, so we don’t h..have to use the stage. I’ll just do my thing over here and… Oh! I brought some water and um, snacks.” You tilt your head in a familiar, curious motion, ”You like shrimp chips?” 

He shrugs at you and smiles. “They’re okay.” He’s flattered you considered him, mostly. He really did like that about you humans, such soft and compassionate creatures; moreso than any of the hybrids he knew. Where they-mournfully, himself included-took a unique pleasure in watching another squirm, your kind wasn’t like that at all, were they? Perhaps an underdeveloped survival mechanism. A tail to tuck in the presence of a predator’s bared fangs. Regardless, your grin crinkles the corners of your eyes and makes his heart soar, your anxiety easing out as you stand from your seat, revealing your true smell. Heat and sweet and pastry-light; a creme bruele after the top has been carefully cracked open. Tickles his cheeks pink.

“So, how long you been doing this art stuff for anyway?” You seem startled by the ask and pause before you answer, probably not used to being asked about your interests by the other hybrids. “Years now. E..ever since I was a kid I always liked art, drawing-” You curse as something rolls out of your bag and say sorry to nothing and no one. “Drawing, traditional, digitally. I was thinking about going into graphic design! - I’m still technically undecided, but I love art… It just calls to me, you know?” Oh, he has no fucking clue what you’re talking about. But he hums in the affirmative and reckons now’s a good a time as any to check. Take a peek through your lens and see the shape of your artisan mind. An artist’s sketchpad to him seemed the appropriate equivalent to their soul; so he takes the opportunity to flip through the pages on your drawing pad. 

He’s admittedly expecting something grander. Maybe the inside of an old world colosseum or perhaps something abstract and profound, the kind of things disheartened schoolchildren write essays about; A Great Wave or Thinking Man, befitting of the brand of mystery he’d superimposed on you. Nothing suitably miraculous happens. The task merely becomes more intimate by virtue of your artistic repertoire. Surely, not the fault of his plain nosiness.

All flesh upon the paper is laid entirely bare. Inscriptions of bodies wrap around the canvas from the top to the very bottom like the prayers in a holy book. Any free tarp is not spared, a bared torso and breast here, the sole of a foot en point over there. Largely unfinished yet tangible, beginnings and inbetweens and many more ends; scores of tails, teeth, tongue and claws. “Oh, wow.” You’re still digging through your bag so you don’t mind him, preoccupied second guessing kneaded erasers and rags to wipe your creativity off on.

To describe your work as a product of mere fascination would be a woefully inaccurate assessment. Not a proper acknowledgement of your time, effort, sweat, (more than a few smudges in the graphite, a whiff of salt that sticks out above the rest) and conviction. 

There’s quick notes scribbled between poses and observations, some names - none of which he immediately recognizes, but makes his head fog with some vague posessiveness regardless. Jealousy maybe. He doesn’t linger on it, instead flipping to the next page. Bodies more and more bodies, some without heads; long torsos; hips; thighs and legs and asses,

Lips, mouth wide open, teeth and tongue presenting. There’s a notable lack of vulgarity to the images. A seemingly clinical observation of how the parts move, some independent of the others; but when it all comes together…

It’s beautiful, truly. Yuuji is admittedly philistine in his artistic taste, never had a muse for it; but he finds himself wholly appreciative of the opportunity to become yours- even if it’s only for the evening. He can’t control the way his tail wags, heart pattering quicker in his chest as the excitement overrides his previously projected aloofness, his hands moving faster than his mind in that moment.

One more page wouldn’t hurt. (It’s just admiration he’d say, when the real reason he’s so riled up is because he’d been hoping for this moment; all his anxieties of pursuing you assuaged by your apparent obsession for him- er- hybrids like him—can’t get ahead of himself just yet—) His fingers move with deft purpose. 

You come back with a whole bag of stuff; chips, ramune, what smells like pocky, but he’s not looking towards you as you return. Surely, you think, a blank page can’t be that interesting, and you’re right; that’s not what he’s staring at. 

He’s found your page.

Your life drawing class encourages you to practice still lifes in your free time. There aren’t many hybrids tripping over themselves to be ogled by a human - some models even abject to posing in the room while you’re there - so when the opportunity presented itself to observe something more than a picture, someone else, removed from your wheedling peers, obviously you lept for it. 

You’d grown tired of drawing yourself.

“Ah, Yuuji-” Your inhale quick and sudden, the sharp clatter of a glass bottle twitching him out of his stupor. You stiffen up when he looks back at you despite his brevity (because he is just fascinated with your canvas all the sudden), your hands flapping anxiously as you step close, you’d collapse in on yourself if you had the option. “Um wait, please! That’s private!”

You are deeply gifted. He doesn’t have to stare it like he did the other ones cause he recognizes it as you so immediately. (Letting his eyes wander all those times seems to have payed off). Recognizes the arch and swell of your muscles, the slope of your back and the softness of the dimples in your hips, the gentle curve of your -

A hand darts over the artistic nudity before he can fully commit it to memory, and you shout: “Yuuji! I got the snacks, okay? Just- we can get started now,” He can’t read the expression on your face as you reset your canvas and flip to a blank page. He desperately tries to meet your eye; but your gaze is leagues away. An inkling of some base, carnal attraction blooms in his chest; your unwitting submission appealing to some feral hindbrain before he recalls your humanity, disappointingly gentle emotions and sensibilities. 

He feels sad for you after though it only lasts a moment, his tail drooping pathetically and eyes sagging similarly as the compunction grapples him; and in a frenzied moment of attempting to sooth your shame (smells dull and salty like wood grain) he gets a good idea. According to his standard, anyway. He smiles at you and pants a little. His finger is digging into his collar at an angle, tugging up; in demonstration.

“If you want me to get naked, I really wouldn’t mind!” His whip tail thud-thuds into your easel. “Excuse me?” You initially abject, dumbfounded. Your face feels warm and your skin tingles, the blood in your cheeks stinging it darker, body tensing up. “W-why would you..? I..I wouldn’t, you really shouldn’t. I-it’s a, well - Portraits are mostly sup..supposed to be your face, so, getting naked? Really not necessary,” 

He’s already taking his sweater off. “Yuuji, please.” His tail wags a little when you whimper and he has a mind to admonish himself for taking pleasure in such a thing.

“It’s fine, really!” Sounds so easy for him to say, when you’re on the verge of an aneurysm. “I was reading a little about it-” (and hardly did he ever read), “-and apparently, portraits can be half, or full bodies. Well, you’d probably know that better than me anyway.” His voice is dampened by the fabric, but you’re too dazed to notice he said anything. Everything is happening too fast.

He kicks off his shoes and drops trou in your choked silence, your hands tremble as dread wars in your mind and you remain uncertain of where to put them. Nevermind your eyes. The thought of trying to stop him warrs with the concept that having to touch him, see him, will surely kill you. “You seem to draw a lot of hybrids- so I assume you’re already used to seeing us naked? Though I didn’t see a lot of dogs in there…”

The room kicks up a few degrees and your blood simmers beneath your skin, your boundaries bent and bowed as you struggle to figure what happens next. Your shirt feels too, too tight. His is starting to come off. The slow drag of cotton across his body is amplified by the emptiness of the space, at a pace entirely too casual for an impromptu strip tease. “But there’s nothing wrong with trying something new every once in a while, y’know?”  He stumbles a little when it’s past his shoulders, self consciously fixing his hair after he’s gotten it slung over his arm. 

As if he has anything to be nervous about. He looks at you triumphantly when he’s finished (pants regretfully still on), and he wishes you couldn’t meet his eyes this time; get a good eyeful of how excited he is for you. In what must be respectful to you, you catch his gaze this time, with these big round prey eyes that makes the fur on the back of his arms bristle in the studio’s cool air. A vein in his throat jumps and his pupils dilate, but (too) soon you turn away.

You’ve seated yourself back on your chair and fixed up the workspace, though he has a hard time gauging this new expression on your face. Maybe apprehensive, again? Bashful? You chew your lip with this insistence, bruising the delicate skin there. Your hands move with opposed intention; flattening out the canvas and arming yourself with graphite.  “O-kay. Y..you can.. Make yourself comfortable I guess..” He can still smell you, too.

This scent is new. Near cloying and knitting to the inside of his nose as it pours off of you, slight, topping off that twinge of orange peel and grapefruit. 

“Okay!” He brusquely shoves past your apprehensions; looking mighty pleased with himself-the dog-the muse’s chair dragging agonizingly against the floor as he goes to set it in place. You do nothing at first. He is seated within seconds and after your hand suddenly is no longer your own, flexed potential in every muscle put to pause in the air, your brows furrowing in newfound frustration.

You don’t look at him, still. Yuuji’s triumph of domination having past, he finds the selfish desire to be observed and admired comes gnawing back to him. He doesn’t want to push you (so he says while shoving you) but he really is going all out. He’d like some of that signature human hospitality back, pretty please? He leans closer. 

You get infinitely stiffer and he whimpers. An honest to god beaten doggy whine, and your shock is what finally gets you to look up. He’s far more relaxed than you at present, pouting expression at odds with his slouched posture and occasional pant. His floppy ears tilt open and he momentarily mirrors your wide-eyed wonder. “Finally,” he chirps. ”I was starting to think we weren’t actually friends!” You scoff, still staring saucer-eyed. Your eyebrows go up and down and up, your forehead wrinkles. “You ge-get naked for all your f..friends?” The incredulous twang to your voice wants to read to him like jealousy, but projection is a fickle thing.

Yuuji  genuinely thinks about your question, further astounding you. “Well. I guess only for the ones I really like.” The statement is made sincerely, the smile accompanying it darling, and could have perhaps romanticized the situation had you not been a sane-minded human man. The warmth in your face has turned to fire hot heat and you sputter on your words. “I’m fl..flattered. But humans? Don’t do t..this,” you attempt to gesture to the entire situation, “With their friends! This is, frankly, too, too-” You stutter into nothing, the thought dying on your tongue. “Too what? I mean, you don’t smell like you hate it,” he sniffs. “My nose is pretty good! If you-” you dislike the way he stresses the syllable, like you’re special some how, “-were scared, I’d smell that miles away. You have a very strong scent you know? It’s not a bad thing though, don’t worry! At least, it isn’t for me anyway. It makes you feel more.. Genuine.” He hums matter-of-factly, your pencil beginning to tremble above the page. “But aren..aren’t you cold? Or-or something? It’s always freezing-freezing in here!” Yuuji shrugs, ”Aw, it’s no worries really. I sorta run hot, so,”

You knew a lot of things about hybrids. About their keen noses, most gifted with perceptive capabilities beyond that of your kind. Still it feels no better to hear that for despite your subtlety, you never had a chance to evade their prying eyes. You sigh with a shake of your shoulders, and Yuuji takes your silence as an excuse to move closer. “Hey, don’t worry. What’d I say about new things?” You don’t feel terribly reassured, but you nod along for your own sake. “You got an assignment due, don’t you? Just focus on that. Forget Yuuji, focus on capturing..” “The form.” You finish. Yuuji would have said ‘these guns’, but shrugs. “Yeah, that.”

You look at him again, but only now do you truly perceive him, resigned yourself to capturing his image and replacing the blankness on your canvas. Your gaze is sharp and surgical, your pencil connecting with the paper as you change focus between him and it. Him, his infuriatingly cheeky grin and easy-going eyes and loose limbs. This body worthy of envy. Laid bare for you to wrangle and tame, reduce to your second dimension.

You begin to draw.

Yuuji sits in a silence punctuated by the sounds of your scribbles. Upwards stroke, down again; quick curving motions. Stare right at him, into the depths of his soul. Turn away, and sketch some more.

It’s a lot more boring than he’d imagined it. He is very excited you have your eyes on him; don’t get him wrong, but your stare doesn’t possess any of the fullbodied fascination, like he has for you. He almost wished he could give you his nose just so you could smell his pheremones, or his eyes, so you could catch every little jump of his muscles or twitch of the tail. He’d refrain for a few selfish reasons; Your changes in mood. The straightening of your spine and the twitching of your eye after you got a rhythm going. You ditch the graphite, go for the charcoal, and make some bigger shapes, Strikes some fine lines. Stillness comes simply to him, studying you as intently as you are him. 

Your movements slow to an inevitable stop after a time, “Okay…” You stare stonily at your canvas. Briefly compare in silence. “I… think I’m finished.” You don’t move away, seemingly taken by your own creation.

He shoots up from his seat and moves close. “You’re no..not gonna put your c..clothes back on?” He looks down at you with his head at an angle, suddenly peered over your shoulder. “You want me to?” Your silence is loud. “Okay then.” He smiles, finally taking a look at your drawing.

The expression you gave him is burrowing and severe. An intense glower that catches even him off guard. An unbidden hunger beneath his eyes accentuated by whisps of charcoal, a pinprick of yellow nestled into his irises. He is in both awe of it and horrified that is how you saw him. How he truly was. You define the slant of his collarbones after the fact, rounding out the muscle of his pecs. You sketch and erase, sketch and erase under his curious eye, sketch. Your palette grows. Swirled into colorless grey by your finger, pencil replaced by your finger. You draw without a model, so he no longer sees the point in teasing you with his nudity. Forgive him for expecting something more dramatic- he’s been reading too much manga, surely…

He gets dressed slow and gets as close as possible to your face whenever he has a question. 

“Is art always this boring?” He whispers close to your ear and you shiver. “M..maybe if you’re not the one…the one drawing. This.. I-I’m having fun, actually.” He tuts at you, “You need to teach me how to draw then. Next time when we do this, I can take a crack at drawing you!” His clawed finger crawls down your shoulder, you sweat a little under his attentions. 

“Y..yeah,” you swallow. “Maybe..” He smiles cooly as he eases back into the seat opposite you. “I just don’t think it’s fair you get to have the fun all to yourself, y’know?” You shoot him a look, lip pursed. “A-a lot more people would be more … excited about getting a free portrait.”

“Well, a lot more people would be more excited about getting to see me half naked.” Practically naked, to be a precise as possible. Your exasperation beats out your nervousness and you’re no longer afraid to set your brows with attitude, scoffing in irritation. Like he knows how you feel. The sheer restraint you’re exercising. How adamantly you will not allow this to get out of hand; you will not allow yourself to do something you'll regret- “G..get them to draw you, then!”

“Nah.” He drags his chair closer, but it’s not casual like before. Now the oxygen feels stuffier. Hotness that makes the air thicken and drag you down, a heat that blazes too close to your ears and seemingly makes the air tremble before you. You look toward him, not knowing what to expect (but twitching, aching for it). 

His tongue runs over his canines in a raw, animalistic fashion, the deep pools of his amber eyes threatening to drown you beneath their surface. “I don’t like them nearly as much.”

all content written by me @pervcoded is owned by me, and you are not allowed to repost or translate my works. don't put my shit into ai generators, don't steal my shit and put it on wattpad. thank you.

[otomiyaa]

nice.png

(literally how I named the image, couldn't think of something else)

Hi guys :') To my followers and tumblr friends, I'm really sorry if my sudden disappearance scared or upset you. It wasn't quite... planned. And today was a busy day and I needed some time to consider what I wanted to do.

Short version of the story:

My tumblr account got terminated for copyright infringement. A certain Mr. Green got me in unlucky trouble (ref 1, 2).

I won't get it back, or try to get it back. It's gone.

Needed a moment to consider 2 options: ask Mia to extend my dramatic farewell letter and stay gone, or make a new blog.

Not planning to post new writing here. I won't be using words like 'never' or 'forever' because I'm a known clown with things like this, but the intention is to no longer post fics. I will finish Tickletober on AO3 and then take a break from writing. So yes, I cancel the swiftscribbles event too, sorry!

When I opened my laptop, I could see my old blog in its final hour lmao (I found out about the loss on my phone). So that's what the snap is from on a fitting grave. It was fun while it lasted!

Long version of the story:

Losing my blog(s): My Tumblr account with main blog + sideblogs got terminated overnight, it was quite the surprise! I've either been reported or tracked by bots. The posts are a bunch of numbered URLs I can't open, but the message is clear: for including anime content, genshin impact or media from other sources (whether it's videos, screenshots, official art, gifs or even fanwork) you technically can get a strike. Upon googling the claimer I quickly found this first, and knew it was a lost cause. Although it feels shitty and unlucky, I am in no place to appeal. It's like when I used to make AMVs in the past, you never knew whether a song or even anime footage was going to give your YT account a copyright strike or even a ban, it was a gamble. I have lost YT accounts before, and now I lost the Tumblr one. With 7+ years of tickle trash content and a bunch of sideblogs. But oh well, moving on!

Starting a new blog: It was a serious consideration whether this was my ultimate chance to do what I've always said I wanted to do eventually - quit my blog. My first thought was to ask Mia to share my explanation and literal goodbye with you guys, and stick to my chaos of a Twitter account to indulge in fandom stuff. But then I thought of how happy Tumblr made me, even without the fic writing, but just.. reblogging things, getting random asks, shouting about life and of course, about tickles. I decided to make a new blog after all, but also decided the following:

The 7K+ milestone swiftscribbles event is cancelled, for which I apologize! The follower milestone, together with the motivation to write the fics, and even the asks with the requests I got, all died with my former blog.

I will see how long I can survive without posting a new fic or drabble. A loose headcanon or two might fly around sometime. And if necessary, a link to a new fic on AO3.

Tickletober? Hell yes I'll finish it, I would cringe in bed for 49 days at least if I would stop. I just won't post the fics here, but on AO3.

Reposting/reblogging my old works? Undecided at the moment but I'm tired and lazy. I don't feel too upset since most of my fics are still on AO3 at least and not completely gone.

Anyways, I'll see what happens and how long I can enjoy this nerfed version of blogging.

Surprisingly I'm not upset about losing my other blog, there were a lot of memories but it was also very cringe. I'm gonna be just as cringe here, but at least I feel cleansed.

For those who choose to follow me again, thank you, but please know that there won't be much original content coming from me, for now!:)

[im-a-king-baby]

I was just watching videos of Omar on tour and it reminded me of ELYN. The way he is on stage is so ELYN vibe. I feel like I’m watching the chaos tour haha (minus the negative stuff)

<3 <3 <3 Hiiiii, thank you!!! It's been fun to see all the pictures and videos coming from the concerts and play spot the difference with my mental pictures of Simme. (Sadly I haven't been able to go, very rude of Omar not to go to Australia on his Europe tour. We're in Eurovision! That makes us basically part of Europe.)

Also since you reminded me of it and my November resolution was to try to post more things, here is a Simme Chaos tour snippet that is (mostly) the positive stuff <3 😅

(And for the reblogs, this is a prequel snippet to Everybody Loves You Now @ AO3)

He has his first solo concert in Europe. Not counting the promo events, or the industry shows, or the monopolized Open Mic Nights.

The first show in a concert venue, which was booked in advance, with tickets sold that have his name on them, printed in all-caps.

Of course it’s tiny compared to the stadium they were in last night opening for Ariana. A theatre most used for plays with a single bathroom backstage in place of a dressing room and where Candace had had to drag them all out to the alley where the van was parked for the pre-show pep-talk so they couldn’t be heard on stage over the support act.

But Simon has a support act now. There are other solo shows booked, in and around the Ariana dates. Every day Candace is making calls and emailing contacts and adding things to the calendar pinned up on the inside of the van. Filling up all the gaps.

Which is good. It’s great. They’re gaining momentum and Simon is getting better at jumping from show to interview to show, at catching sleep in bursts crammed between commitments, at finding products that cover up the exhaustion on his face. And now he’s got a solo show, and Candace is In Talks about the second album that he might be able to work with a songwriter to put his own songs on, and he’s in Europe again for the first time in… months.

“This could be the start of bigger things,” Candace had said in the alley, while Simon bounced on his toes to keep warm, already dressed in his show outfit of a black mesh tank and jeans slashed open on the sides. “So drink it all in tonight, we’re only going bigger from here.”

He’d thought he was used to it by now, the noise of the crowd, the sight of phone lights spread out before him like stars, but it turns out it’s different when they’re all there for him. When they’re screaming his name before he’s even stepped on stage, rather than him having to slowly win them over. When he runs out onto the stage and the screaming ramps up and hits like a wall and he can feel the smile stretching at his cheeks that he can’t even pretend to hold back. He might cry, actually has to sniff a few times, turning away from the crowd to pull himself together.

There were so many moments he thought he wouldn’t get to have this. When the label said his songs weren’t good enough, when the graphs showed sales were falling, the shows where he opened and the crowd barely seemed to notice, the phone call in Texas to ask what the plans were for the tour break only to get Rachel’s Assistant ‘Ms McKenzie has decided to cull her list and focus on acts with more commercial appeal.’

“Sim-me! Sim-me! Sim-me!” The crowd chants, falling into rhythm and his heart seems to speed up to match Sim-me Sim-me and it doesn’t matter that it’s three hundred people rather than ten thousand, he spins around to the mic and there’s enough light from the spots and the phones to pick out faces. Girls with glitter dots around their eyes, boys in black eyeliner edged with gold, people in Simme T-shirts, waving signs saying DANCE LIKE THIS, people who came to his show who traveled and paid money and got dressed up because they wanted to see him.

“Oh my god, hi. Hello. Hi. I love you.” There was a script, he thinks, but he has absolutely no idea what it said. It’s only thanks to the set-list taped to the floor by his mic stand that he can even remember what he’s meant to sing. “Hello Cologne. This is the first official show of what I think we’re all agreed is the Chaos Tour.”

They laugh along with him and they cheer and Simon can only hope he’s still capable of singing around this wild, insane grin on his face because it absolutely isn’t going away. “Thank you for coming. Thank you for supporting me. The fact that I’m here, the fact that we can do this at all, is all because of you talking and filming and sharing and streaming and this was my dream for so long I can’t say thank you enough for making it come true.”

The fight is lost, the fight is over, he is absolutely crying as they scream again, someone shouts 'Simmers forever,' and more people shout 'Simme,' and the exhaustion melts away like it was never there.

He’s not cold, or tired, or lonely, or afraid. It feels like getting his song picked for the jubilee, like seeing Wilhelm running after Sara’s car, like everything.

“Now I hope you’re all here to dance,” he says. “Because all of us up here, We Wanna Dance.”

Kevan hits the intro, the backing track hits the beat, and every single person in front of him starts singing. Every word, thrown back at him. Screaming, applauding, chanting his name.

And it’s all worth it. Whatever it takes. To have this.

[tossawary]

The haiku bot reblogged my ATLA post. :(

I personally generally think the bot is kind of cute, if kind of uninteresting after a while, though there's something to perhaps be said about being mindful of the structure of everyday sentences? Idk, I think it's a "your mileage may vary" kind of thing. At this point, I'm personally more interested in reading a book about the history and present of actual haiku and the surrounding culture or something, so I guess I like it fine (neutral to positive sentiments towards the cute bot?) but also don't find its additions to be specifically appealing to my interests at this particular moment. I'm overall that it glad it exists, though! It does bring a sense of whimsy!

But I really do not enjoy my own posts blowing up or getting too far outside my general circle, so this is kind of an unpleasant experience? I turn off reblogs sometimes if posts get too big, or I phrased things badly and I'm not communicating my original concept well (so I should maybe rephrase later), or someone adds something that kind of takes over the post, which I don't mind necessarily, it's often very cool when people get excited and add fun stuff, but I don't really always want all of the notifications for it on my activity page? I'm generally trying for a small-ish, SVSSS-focused fandom blog of people who know me enough to understand my general vibe and usual perspective. I made a post for other people in that fandom, you know? Not for people to comment on the haiku bot showing up at the end of my silly fic idea.

This is not, like, by any means a tragedy and I'm not seriously annoyed. I do think it's funny that this happened to me after 10 years on Tumblr. I was really not expected this at all? It's almost a pleasant surprise in a way? I'm not turning reblogs off on that ATLA post yet or anything.

Just saying, I guess, that if the haiku bot or any other prominent bot reblogging your posts is an experience that you personally know that you do not want, maybe preemptively blocking them is a good idea? I've blocked the bot on this blog now, because idk, I looked at my activity page and realized that this happening was fine, cute, whatever, but I REALLY DO NOT want this potentially happening to some silly post about Shang Qinghua being stupid horny for Mobei-Jun or something.

[babyhatesreality]

Steve is such a sweetheart! How he feels all the pain his little one feels at the same time but is also so calm 🥺

So I have this funny ask:

She is running around while Steve is doing some paper work and well she runs right in to a Glas door. While Steve is literally having a hear attack she is laughing and like „that’s funny!“ so I guess Steve would not let her do something like that again and the Glas door would be decorated whit some of her stickers to be sure nothing happend again 😂

still don't know how to do two at once 'cause I'm freakin' ollllllld....

Anyways.

Trouble Smash!

Pairing: Daddy!Stucky x little f!reader

Warnings: DDLG (SSC), f! reader, nicknames, reader is named but name scarcely used, reader gets hurt (mild concussion), angsty everyone, doctors, fluffity fluff fluff fluff.

YOU ARE RESPONSIBLE FOR YOUR OWN MEDIA CONSUMPTION. THIS STORY IS SFW- THE REST OF MY BLOG IS NOT NECESSARILY SO. MINORS DNI. I DO NOT CONSENT FOR MY WORK TO BE STOLEN, COPIED, OR TRANSLATED ONTO ANY OTHER SITE BUT MY OWN. Likes, comments and reblogs are deeply appreciated.

"Hey Trouble- stay out of trouble while I'm out," Bucky teased you, grinning at your delighted giggle as he left to run errands. Once you heard the door click and lock, you turned on your heel and ran to the office, where Steve was working. The door was open. You knocked politely like you'd been taught, but you were still wiggling with energy.

"Come in, baby," Steve said, his eyes not leaving the paperwork covering his desk. You skipped in, planting yourself at his side. "Did Daddy leave already?"

"Yup!" you said, craning to look at what he was doing. "What's da papers for, Papa?"

"Lots of boring stuff," Papa answered you, making you giggle. "Why don't you go play in your playroom until I'm done? Or do you want to stay in here?"

Normally you'd love to stay in the office with him, but you weren't really allowed to drag toys into the office- only books or crayons- and you had waaaaaay too much energy to stay put and read. With a mischievous giggle, you spun around and darted out of the room.

"Guess that answers that," you heard Papa say in a joking tone as you sped off. "Baby, remember- don't run in the apartment," he reminded you. You skidded to a stop. Once again, you'd forgotten the no-running rule in your exuberance. Papa always understood, as long as you stopped running after he reminded you.

You started walking towards the playroom, but suddenly it wasn't as much fun as a destination as normal. So you turned and headed quickly towards your bedroom, before growing bored as you stepped over the threshold. Suddenly, the lure of the living room appealed to you, and you took off. Right past the office door again.

"Katie Cat," Papa called out, this time in his warning voice. "No running." It was almost physically painful to obey, but you managed to slow your feet as you approached the living room. You looked around, your mind going a million miles a minute. Oooooo what if you made a blanket fort?! And then you and Daddy could play soldiers in his army when he came home!!

Spinning on your heel you took off towards your bedroom to get more blankets, and once again, forgetting the rule. "Katie, no running! Don't make me tell you again, or you're in trouble!" Papa scolded suddenly and loudly. Between your feet trying to make you stop too fast and the shock at your surprise, you weren't paying attention to where you were going. You smacked right into the sliding glass door to the balcony. It knocked you backwards onto your bottom, and you just sat there in shock for a moment.

"Baby? You okay?" Steve called out as he came out of the office, worried at the sudden smacking sound and then lack of noise from you. His heart raced in fear when he saw you on the ground, but you immediately popped up, giggling.

"I runned into the glass door!" you laughed, thinking it was hysterical. Steve shook his head, unable to keep his smile in check when he saw that you were fine and that it was funny to you.

"Daddy is right, you are 'Trouble'," he teased you, making you laugh even harder.

"Lookit!" you said, the mischievous twinkle in your eye. "I like Unca Bruce! Trouble SMASH!" And without further ado, before Papa could stop you, you flung yourself into the glass again full-bodied.

It didn't go quite as well this time.

You knocked your head hard against the window, falling backwards again, hitting your head on the floor. You froze again in shock, but this time there was accompanying pain. Before you could even cry, Papa was on the ground next to you, gently checking you out like he'd been trained to do. When he asked you how you were feeling, you mumbled that you felt fuzzy and that your head hurt. Then you blacked out.

The next thing you knew, you were lying on a very cold table and everything was too loud. You whined and tried to sit up, but you were so dizzy you immediately fell backwards.

"Shhh, shhh, baby, it's okay, Papa's right here," came a voice on your left. You turned your head and tried to open your eyes, but the bright lights in the room made you whimper and you squeezed them shut again. "It's okay baby girl, just keep your eyes shut if the light bothers them," Papa said in his soothing tones.

You wanted to cry but your head felt so fuzzy and your stomach was bubbly and you knew crying would make it all worse. You reached over towards where you'd heard your Papa's voice, stretching out your little hand. You felt him close his huge, warm one around yours. It helped to ease the scariness inside you, but you still felt rotten. Papa stroked your cheek, calming you down until you fell asleep.

When you woke up, you were in Papa and Daddy's big bed, right in the middle of it, cocooned in your weighted yellow blanket with Jellybean tucked into the crook of your arm. You wiggled a bit, as you were wont to do, and wrinkled your nose when even that hurt.

"Careful, baby, careful," came Papa's voice again. You managed to open your eyes this time. The lights in the room were wonderfully soft, and all the shades had been drawn to block out any additional light. You turned your head slowly to see Papa smiling down on you.

"There's my pretty girl," he said gently. "How are you feeling?"

You thought about that for a moment. "Ick," you mumbled. He laughed softly.

"You banged up your head pretty good there, bunny, I'm not surprised you feel 'ick'," he said, brushing a few stray hairs off your forehead with a feather light touch. "Why did you run into the glass door like that?"

"It was funny," you explained feebly. "Hulk say 'smash' so I say it and den it make you laugh."

Steve couldn't help but cuddle closer to you- you'd been trying to make him laugh. How could he be mad at that? "Baby, thank you for trying to make me laugh, but next time, do you think you could do it without getting yourself hurt?"

You sighed heavily. "Okay."

You heard another chuckle from the doorway, and slowly moved your aching head to look. Daddy was walking in with a sippy cup and a washcloth.

"Trouble, there are other ways to make us laugh besides giving yourself a concussion," he chuckled before carefully sitting on the bed next to you.

"Daddy, you home!"

"I've been home for a while now. You took a long nap, munchkin," Bucky said, handing you the sippy cup. "You need to drink some water now. You think you can do that for us, baby?" Without waiting for an answer, he slipped his arm underneath you and propped you up like you weighed nothing. You slowly drank as he gently sponged your forehead with the cloth. You didn't have a fever, but it did help to soothe some of the pain.

"Alright, bunny, Uncle Bruce said that you need to stay down and rest until you don't feel fuzzy anymore," Steve said, shifting on the bed as Bucky cradled you. "Would you like us to read to you while you drink your water?"

"Watch cartoons?"

"We can try, but the light from the TV might hurt your eyes."

Remembering the bright lights from before, you wrinkled your nose again. "Oh, no cartoons," you agreed. "Weading okay, please?"

You spent the rest of the day going back and forth between laying on Steve's chest and laying on Bucky's while they read every book you wanted. Later, when you weren't feeling quite as fuzzy, they let you pick out some window decals and stickers on the iPad to decorate the glass door with so you wouldn't run into it again. They kept your sensitive eyes in mind and kept the brightness on the tablet low. You were able to eat a bit of the pasta that Papa made for supper later that evening with his help and felt a little better.

Tucked into bed between them that night, Bucky was stroking your hair, calming you as you were nearly asleep again.

"So, no more Trouble Smash?" he said softly, with a grin in his voice.

"No more Trouble Smash," you agreed sleepily.

[voltrixz]

hey I’ve been meaning to ask this… as a fellow Shocker enjoyer who couldn’t get through all off TSSM and therefore missed out on some Sinister Six dynamics — what is the appeal of electroshocker to you? Why do you ship them? Like, I mean this as a genuine and positive question!! Please rant about your guys I really want to be in on the excitement/fun :3c <33

/pos /nf

GRINS RLLY WIDE AT YOU. Thank you for this opportunity, wipes away a tear...

Also woops this got rlly fuckin long, lemme just toss a read more here

Ok so I always like to play with relationship dynamics and tbh. I think electro and shocker have some rlly interesting potential. I always like putting my fave characters in a metaphorical chamber and watch and experiment.

For electro and shocker obv they're my faves and from what we seen in the first s6 ep, they do actually temporarily work together, their powers work similarly and shocker takes the lead and electro follows. So first off it is about their powers/names, I've seen people mix the two up and such and it made me giggle, like hm yeah, despite their personalities being very different.

Also there is one scene where a couple of the s6 memebers are walking through thr sewers and shocker asks doc how they're gonna find spiderman but electro pipes up to respond, say8ng here's how and shooting off a bolt of lightning. (The fact he immediately gets scolded and sent off is so funny)

^iconic moment to me. Was he like. Trying to show off?? If he was its rlly funny because yeah I think he kinda was??? Like this cool experienced guy shows up (and also heh. Hehe. He kinda bad? WHO SAID THAT)

But yeah def think theres a sliver of an admiration thing, funny as shocker just sees him as an amateur but willing to help him later. Would have been interesting to see shocker help electro get better with his powers (like that one fanart i reblogged) AND SPEAKING OF SAID FANART

Clutches my head and falls to the ground. About that fanart I very much do think electro would get jittery/flustered from how close shocker is becuase well. Being made out of literal electricity means not a lot of people can be that close to you AND SRGH. You know that guy is starved for physical contact. And while I don't think it's actually like. ? Canon or whatever, or just a popular hc but I like to think shocker's suit is immune to Electro’s electricity or at least he doesn't get hurt by it (would make sense his suit was made to handle his gauntlets which obv are powered by electricity) and idk. That closeness in training slowly developing into subtle touches and just being physically close with each other ARGH . Makes me crazy.

Also now leaning more into hc stuff. DRINKING BUDDIES ELECTRO SHOCKER AGEGRH. Then getting closer through drinks at shocker's bar argh. Electro becoming more of a regular argh argh, shocker warming up to electro and even the rest of the sinister six argh argh. (Forever crazy over the idea of shocker warming up to the s6 arghh)

But also hrm. Hrmmm. Stares off into the distance. I also do think like they are gonna be in situationship hell or something undefined like they're def friends it's def smt more but it's just so??? Too many things in the way I would say. Shocker is loyal to tombstone, Electro is loyal to doc. Shocker will clearly prioritize his job, that's his way of living. Electro was just tossed in here and trying to deal with it. They both have pretty bad tempers, one just has way more of a handle on it. It's like ARGHH. This shit gets messy!!!!!!!

[mazeinthemiroh]

ateez and their s/o move in together pls ❤️

ateez when they move in with their s/o

genre: crack, fluff

word count: 1.1k

warnings: some are longer than others, apologies

pls like and reblog if you enjoy! feel free to request anything <3

hongjoong

hongjoong had the design of most of the rooms all figured out. and you trusted him with this because he just has a naturally good eye for these things. he has a unique but organised mind; he knows what looks good.

for this reason, everything seemed to be in place quite early on after moving in. the challenging tasks lay with putting together certain furniture.

"we shouldn't have to pay someone to do this for us when we can do it ourselves!" hongjoong said defiantly and optimistically. "how hard can it really be?"

he soon regretted asking that because it was 11:30 pm and you both sat together on the living room floor, still contemplating the instructions that made no sense and the unit you were trying to build still not complete.

you both looked over at each other and exchanged looks, not needing to say what you both thought about the situation.

"you wanna get a takeaway?" hongjoong shrugged at you.

"oh, absolutely." anything was better than this.

seonghwa

seonghwa was in a dream-like state the moment all the boxes were unboxed and everything was in its place.

you looked at him and shook your head, "oh yeah? you're happy now, but earlier you were a nervous wreck!"

seonghwa chuckled sheepishly and leaned against the kitchen counter, a slightly guilty look on his face.

"yeah, sorry about that," hecrossed his arms over his chest, "i just wanted everything to be... perfect?"

"yes, i can tell," you giggled at him gently, wrapping your arms around his waist in a hug. seonghwa grinned at your actions and hugged you back.

"now that i've stopped to take it in, i just can't believe we've moved in together," he dreamily, a thankful smile on his lips, "it feels so surreal. and so, so lovely."

yunho

"so what are we gonna do about that spare room?"

yunho whisked his head around excitedly at this question. of course, he had to play it smart in order to get his way. so he sat and raised his hand to his chin, stroking it as if he had a beard, and acting as if he were in incredibly deep thought.

"we could... i don't know..." yunho lead up to it, "turn it into a gaming room?"

you smiled and him knowingly and tutted, "why am i not surprised?"

"hey," yunho chuckled, "it's got multiple purposes. if we have a big tv in there and a couple of consoles, when people will come round we will all have something to do to break the ice."

yunho always made a good point.

"and when it's just us two, we can cuddle up and watch a movie," he fluttered his eyelashes and you shook your head, rolling your eyes at his forced cuteness.

"fine, whatever. have your game room! but only if you let me beat you when we play fifa."

"yeah, i don't see that happening."

yeosang

you and yeosang both agreed that the fridge was the most important appliance in the house. the fridge was a priority.

and so here you both were, standing next to a fridge full of food. perfect. but what to do next? neither of you had a clue.

"maybe we should have thought this through," you hummed, suddenly becoming overwhelmed with the thought of everything else you had to get through.

"yeah, but hey, at least we got food," yeosang grinned and grabbed a chocolate bar. you shoo your head disapprovingly at him.

"onto the next thing now," you said, acting as the voice of reason in this situation (it tended to alternate) and on passing yeosang, you took a big bite out of his unwrapped chocolate. he was appalled at your actions but knew he had to oblige.

indulging in chocolate would have to wait.

san

"so now that we have settled in, we need to de-clutter all our stuff. you know, get rid of stuff."

the word 'de-clutter' never really appealed to san. he wasn't a hoarder by any means, but he did tend to keep a lot of stuff for the sake of keeping them.

"i know i need to get rid of some clothes," you said, going through your wardrobe. you came across something of san's and smiled, amused.

"i suppose we are keeping this?" you held up his shiber plushie that he has kept for all these years. he looked at it with a fond smile and practically snatched it from your hands.

"yes, i'll keep shiber," he hugged the plushie to his chest, "for old time's sake, of course"

mingi

you and mingi lay in an exhausted heap on the sofa. the unpacking was done. everything was in it's place. it took ages but finally, everything had come together.

"we did it," he mumbled, his tone tired but triumphant as he raised his hand lazily to offer a high-five. you high-fived him back, a half-hearted effort on your part too. your hands collided and fell into each other in the same movement. you were both tired, but that didn't mean you couldn't hold hands.

"what do we do now?" he asked, half-worried there would be more work to do.

but you shook your head as if you sensed his worry.

"nothing," you replied, "we do nothing."

wooyoung

"there is no way we're having yellow-coloured walls when we have to work with this green carpet."

wooyoung decided he was an interior designer when the two of you moved in together. it was hilarious to you because both organisation nor coordination was just not his thing. but hey, he sure had some style to live up to, apparently.

"i should have gotten another roommate," he sighed dramatically and shook his head.

"i'm not your roommate, i'm supposed to be your soulmate you idiot," you whacked him gently on the arm, before poking him playfully in his sides, making him chuckle and grin at you. "maybe i should find another soulmate then, hmm?"

"you wouldn't dare."

jongho

having a boyfriend like jongho had a lot of perks.

for instance, when moving in with him, he did all the heavy work. it made things much easier having him around that was for sure; lifting things you would never be able to lift yourself.

"can you lift that cabinet over here a sec, i wanna see something," you asked jongho, pointing to the place you wanted it to be put. you were seeing what layout of the lounge was better.

"am i your personal forklift now?" jongho asked, chuckling at his own little joke. he couldn't deny that he enjoyed helping you build the home for the both of you to share.

it was weirdly romantic for him. it felt like a new start to your journey together.

[feralferretxp]

[click for higher quality]

I am proud to announce that I finally got around to remaking Widget Whatchamacallit's character sheet! I'm so excited! My lil creature has come so far 🥹

Just wanna take a moment and give my appreciation to everyone and all of you who have liked my art and continue to like and reblog my stuff, it means so much that other people also enjoy the things I make and enjoy myself. Also crazy to think about how such a show like Storybots could have a fandom like the one it has and be liked by all people of all ages.

I remember seeing my niece and nephew watch this show and at first, just brushed it off as just another kid show. But then as I watched it with them, I began to see the appeal. I even began watching Ask the Storybots on my own time and loving it more and more with its wonderful characters, fun adventures, and stellar animation.

You had no idea how excited I was when Storybots Answer Time was released.

But yeah this is all so amazing. Thank you guys for supporting me and I hope you all have a fantastic good day 🧡

[crimsoncold]

Current thoughts on HOTD

(i.e. the disappointment, the choice not to hate watch the show, and my continued appreciation for the fandom itself)

So I'm admittedly done with the show itself... I can tolerate quite a bit of lackluster writing when I love the concept or certain characters enough- seriously I watched all of the original 9 seasons of the x files (+ the films) even when it had pretty much abandoned the monster of the week format I loved, got extremely convoluted in terms of its plot/conspiracies, and most of the original cast wasn't even around anymore- but sometimes a show declines in quality so much I'm too discouraged to want to continue watching.

S1 already had issues but the inconsistencies in plot/messages/characterization and the strange changes writer's have made to the source material in S2 all sort of converged to make a show that is ultimately not just generally disappointing but now is outright unimpressive and unwatchable (side note i feel so bad for the cast they're working their ass off and the writer's are just giving them literal garbage).

I'm just not a person who really enjoys hate watching stuff? Like no judgement if you want to continue watching or if you do choose to hate watch- do what makes you happy- it's just not something I personally would choose to spend my time on- if a show doesn't even interest me to begin with or nothing about a show makes me happy anymore I'm not going to watch it. (With many of the better shows out there getting unfortunately canceled so quickly I'd rather spend my time watching enjoyable shows while they are still around- I know I'm just one viewer and likely I make zero difference in the scheme of things but I just don't want to be part of a viewership that encourages studios to cancel well written but less popular shows and continue with the poorer quality shows because hate/outrage inspired so much viewership... I think it's just that this business practice pisses me off enough that I don't want to be a part of it or reminded of it)

So for HOTD I'm not personally continuing with the show I'm just going to rely on the braver souls in this fandom to show me how crazy things get - at this point it feels like for my sanity there is nothing left to do but laugh at how bad these showrunners are ruining their story/characters and otherwise just move on and watch other things.

When it comes to fandom side of things well I'll quote myself from a different hotd post for a moment..."disappointing or poorly written shows are not without their appeal for participating in fandom (i.e. making, viewing, or sharing the art, writing, metas, or other content inspired by the show) particularly when there is a handful of interesting characters (looking at you book/S1 HOTD's team green) that fans want to rescue from the terrible writing/butchering by the showrunners ... sometimes it is even one of the most appealing sort of set ups for fandom to take over and fix things."

So I will absolutely continue to appreciate the general efforts of HOTD fandom (writers, artists, gif makers, etc.) and I will continue to seek out/like/reblog/comment on fan works as well as the many well thought out/eloquent metas and write ups fans put out about this show.

To paraphrase once again from one of my other hotd post "The juxtaposition between how underwhelming and juvenile the showrunner's storytelling choices are compared to how eloquently fans interpret, analyze, deconstruct, criticize or even defend the show and it's characters is absolutely wild...a not insignificant amount of hotd fandom puts in more time, effort, and thought into hotd than ANY of the showrunners/writers."

While I was admittedly intrigued by select characters of hotd my desire and decision to participate in hotd fandom really came down to the amazing efforts of fans who analyzed the show, wrote incredible metas on it's characters, and who made their own transformative stories and art based on hotd.

So in conclusion I'm done with watching the show, I hate everything the showrunners are choosing to do (the audience deserved a better story/show), I feel so bad for the cast and wish the characters hadn't been massacred by these writers (Alicent, Aemond, Helaena, Aegon, and the rest of team green all deserved better writing, i.e. consistent and coherent characterization or you know getting time on screen/together in general, all characters deserved better than being reduced to props for this strange pro targ/pro Rhaenyra storyline the showrunners have made up, hell even Rhaenyra herself deserved better writing),

I will continue to think about the "what ifs" that come up around this ... (what this story and these characters could have become in the hands of better writers) and I will always still appreciate/comment on and reblog fandom efforts themselves (whether you continue to participate in hotd fandom or are done with it just know that even though the writer's suck and the show has just gotten worse and worse, and the few character's we liked are getting destroyed by the writing, I still admire everybody I encountered in the little niche of the hotd fandom I have participated and appreciate what you all contribute to hotd fandom.

AND I will continue my own little additions to said fandom-i still have hotd inspired art coming soon and while I'm done with the show itself I intend to steal away the shiny things I liked from hotd (certain intriguing characters and the possibilities that could have existed if this had been adapated better) and continue to enjoy them while I ignore the rest of the nonsense the showrunners have created.

- Crimson Cold

[thisfoxisgayaf]

About Me:

Call me either Aster

He/him most preferred

MINOR

Transmasc

Pansexual

This blog is just nonhuman stuff, reblog, random stuff, and occasionally mental stuff

I speak English but am learning German and Spanish

I’m a Therian, Otherkin, and plantkin

Theriotypes: grey/gray fox, bearded vulture, somewhat domestic dog, and bull

Kintypes: satyr, elf

Planttype: some form of vine

Hearttypes: lynx, moth, bear, raccoon

Questioning: none at the moment

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Likes:

MCYT (specifically Hermitcraft. Not DSMP, I’m pretty neutral on DSMP but not a fan)

The colors green, brown, red, and black

Birdwatching

Plants

Collecting bones

Crystals and cool rocks

Pain

Shiny stuff

The smell of death and rot

Drawing

Traveling

Bugs (moths specifically and anything that has a cool pattern or looks “creepy”)

Fire

Reading

Random crafts

(Bands and singers I like): Subhumans, Suicidal Tendencies, Sex Pistols, Misfits, Rancid, Dead Kennedys, Green Day, MDC, NOFX, Descendants, Beastie Boys, The Clash, Nausea

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

Dislikes:

Hazbin hotel (don’t despise it but don’t see the appeal), Fakeclaiming, People chewing with their mouth open, the government, bright lights, fireworks, tight clothes, Certain textures, Loud sudden noises, Dream and dsmp, bigots and fascists, spam accounts

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

DNI:

I don’t really have much of one but I just want you to be respectful and br older than thirteen. If I don’t like you or if you act like a bitch I’ll block you 😊

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

I will most likely block you if your blog has topics I’m uncomfortable with

You are allowed to send asks (it is encouraged)

DM’s are allowed, but I will make it clear if I a don’t want to talk to you or about a topic

[flamerunn3r]

Sorry this is unfinished but I need to post these now just bc idfk when i'm gonna actually finish the rest realistically. Idk it will happen eventually. For now heres the great p5u ramblings post detailing my thoughts designs

This is my own personal interpretations but is also somewhat speculative in nature. I'm mostly trying to deal in already established characterizations and epilogue set ups but there might be stuff I've missed or forgotten (i also haven't played dancing yet sorry if there's something in there I hadn't accounted for). This is kind of like if I took the creative reigns on the story where I'd continue for it. Only the investigation team for now (and 2 boss characters I have an idea for) but maybe I'll do the shadow ops at some point. Only 4 characters for now but I'll reblog with additions when I finish the rest or if I edit any of these

Yu Narukami

He's currently attending school as a journalism student in the city or just starting out as one. Enthusiastic about his field but still tries to find the time to keep up with his friends and visit Inaba on his holidays. I felt journalism made alot of sense for him with the themes of persona 4. I liked the sport jacket and turtleneck but wanted soemthing different so the scarf was chosen to keep the same kind of silhouette. I made the collar on the winter coat large and I feel like Narukami's large uniform collar is a key part of his design. and I wanted to call back to that in his casual outfit. The summer outfit I mostly kept close to his summer outfit from p4. I'm kind of unsure on it though I might come back to it. I mostly wanted to keep his outfits smart and simple. For his meta verse outfit I really wanted to go all out with the bancho (kingpin) stuff and other delinquent tropes. I lengthened the uniform coat a little because I wanted it to look like a tokko-fuku. Alot of smaller detail inspiration was taken from Izanagi. The lenses in the mask are supposed to mimic glasses. I'd imagine he'd take off the mask the same way he throws off his glasses in myriad truths.

Teddie

I can't imagine him leaving Inaba and the TV world behind. Still staying in town and working largely the same job. He's got his own place now albeit small (still a step up from the closet though). At some point the IT asked Mitsuru to pull some strings so he actually has a legal personhood now. The animal hoodie is something that came to me spontaneously but I knew I needed to include it. I really that his normal outfit in 4 keeps the white and red of the bear costume in the outfit so I tried to keep the colour scheme here too. Most of his later outfits are less flashy and more casual so I tried to continue that trend. I didn't want to lose the rose from the corsage completely so I included a rose pattern in the second shirt. Alot of his outfits feature light blue so I wanted that in at least one outfit. I considered making the hoodie light blue initially. I don't think he'd have a metaverse outfit he'd just use the bear costume.

Naoto Shirogane

I'm under the assumption Naoto is still presenting masculinely to the general public as of p5 but I may be mistaken in this. If I'm wrong I'd still probably largely keep the outfits similar to this. Naoto's still working as a detective and I don't think that's ever really going to change. One thing that a hypothetical p5u would have to address is what Naoto and the shadow ops would have been doing during the events of persona 5 and I unfortunately do not have any ideas for what that would be at the moment.

I feel alot of the appeal of Naoto's design is the kind of boy detective fashion. I went at this design with the intention of kind of refining that into something a little more adult while still keeping in a similar vein. I did have to ditch the pageboy hat unfortunately as I felt it made them look too young. These outfits were kind of design as pseudo work clothes which is why I tried to make them a bit more formal then the other characters. Something I consider notable about Naoto's design but deliberately avoided here was the rolled up pant legs. It's very obvious in 4 it's done because Naoto is short but I feel like Naoto would start getting that either custom made or tailored to fit. I was initially going to forgo the blazer on the summer outfit but the design felt empty without it. Naoto having a noir detective themed metaverse outfit is an idea I'd had for years but I tried to incorporate design elements that were princely. I alot of the inspiration was from Sam Spade specifically. Deliberately made similarities to Akechi's white crow design. The band around the hat is supposed to invoke the similar one on the old page boy hat.

Yukiko Amagi

Still working at her families in but is taking online courses during the off seasons. She's mostly happy where she is but is keeping her options open. Occasionally makes visits to other ryokans out of town for ideas for her families own inn, as well as an opportunity to for her to sight see.

The headband was included in her design in p4 as a like retro design thing but I find it too important of a marker of her design to remove it. I understand the why they went with the hairstyle they did for her golden epilogue but I feel it just ends up making her look way older then she is. I thought her having her hair up would be a nice change since she does it so rarely and settled on a ponytail. Tried changing the bangs but the ones she already had just felt right. I wanted her clothes to carry this kind of air of sophistication so I tried to keep them relatively simple and sleek. She's wearing pants in the winter outfit but I chose the longer coat to keep a similar skirt silhouette. The choker was largely inspired by the scarf she has in her winter outfit. Despite being a different colour the cardigan was also chosen to tie back somewhat to the sweater she wears with her school uniform.

In some side material it's mentioned that Yukiko has an interest in western fashion and aesthetics (part of what made the castle manifest the way it did) and I wanted to lean on that in some way for her metaverse design. I ended up going with a masquerade ball theme. I tried to keep the dress to something simple and easy to move in. The gloves and boots take inspiration from her persona in terms of design and size. I wanted to incorporate elements from her work kimono as well hence the ribbon around the torso and flower patterning. Probably the most unsure of this one of the metaverse designs so far. Especially the colours (considered making the reds pinks initially). Might revisit this one.

Ok that's all I have for now I'll probably do Rise's next 👍👍👍

[tikay21]

🐺How to use hashtags on tumblr to organize a story!

It was like paddling in an open sea .... Ok, it really took me 4 years to figure out the thing with the internal hashtags on Tumblr and realize that there is an advantageous sense in them initially only working within your own blog. If you don’t really need them, the benefit isn’t immediately obvious.

Plus, the display of the most commonly used hashtags leads you to assume they are more universally intended. The advantage of internal blog hashtags didn’t click for me - until the moment I actually needed them to bring order to my blog chaos and understood that you can easily sort everything with them, especially when it comes to storytelling.

I originally thought: “I'll make sideblogs for the stories, so I can have everything neatly gathered, with matching colors and background images." However, the hashtags from the main blog don’t work in the sideblogs anymore unless I link them and unless I’ve missed something again. Now I’m wondering if I even need the sideblogs anymore. Probably not. So, new plan:

I’ll post everything on my main blog

tag it with both specific and general tags

using intern unique tags for different supposes

and that’s pretty much it. At the top of a pinned post, I’ll provide an overview of what you can find under which hashtag, and they’ll automatically function as a sorter for an entire internal storyline. Done.

Btw, thanks for the right hints, which made me take a closer look, test things out, and understand how it works by answering my question on it here ...

@figure-it-out-later and @tenyrasims - which made me think about it and especially @satureja13 for the needed key to my head to unlock this blind point🥰. from @satureja13 : ... I just make sure to tag every post properly so I can add new stuff to my pinned post. You can also keep your pinned post clean by making sub posts, like I do for my chapters, for example. ... I can find every event, character, location… within seconds. That’s what I really love about tumblr.

So, what can I do now to satisfy my need for beeing over organization🙈? Technically, I could delete the sideblogs, but I can also use them in parallel, reblogging the respective content there, and thus have everything in a separate place, visually appealing with the story-appropriate colors - for my own peace of mind or for anyone who prefers to read there. But I’ll only reblog, not post the original, so following the sideblogs isn’t really necessary - though of course, you can if you prefer the color-coordinated layout there. If I ever decide it’s all too much, I can delete the sideblogs without losing my original content, as long as I only reblog from the mainblog to the sideblogs.

Is anyone still following? Probably not,😂 but I think this works for me.

Long story short: I’m going to rearrange things once more and adjust the pinned post accordingly... and bring any duplicate content back to the main blog. My old stuff from before the long break will stay here, and maybe I’ll update broken links if I ever get bored - not that I know the meaning of the word, lol. Otherwise, it’ll just stay as it is, since there’s barely anything left in my EA gallery, except for the stuff that can’t be deleted.

Ok, here we go ...

[thestobingirlie]

the thing that really annoys me w ppl that whine about stancy is when they also reblog stuff about ships that make each other worse or more insane etc etc as tho that is not at least part of stancy's appeal. a number of steve and nancy's respective insane moments are literally directly tied to each other (specifically thinking about steve's spiral in s1 and nancy pointing a gun in steve's face). not to mention that steve and nancy, in survival situations, both tend to be proactive and kind of ruthless. i very badly want stancy trapped in a survival situation alone together bc they would definitely reach peak insanity. tbh i think the fact that they started flirting again when steve just tore a demobat in half w his bare hands and nancy dove in to help him immediately and they are both trapped in the upside down further supports this.

you know what, that’s so real. stancy really are just two insane teens against the world.

nancy’s covering steve’s open wounds, just staring into each others eyes, making little flirty jokes about how nancy almost shot him, and he “almost deserved it 😚😘”

um!!! the hell dimension around you would like some attention. vecna’s gonna kill you all any day now lmao

like you said, if left on their own in any kind of survival situation, you know they’re gonna do some crazy shit.

[uzumaki-rebellion]

“Ramonda’s Choice”

Summary: Ramonda Matela makes a choice that changes the course of Wakandan history forever.

Finally! My Ramonda fic is finished! Enjoy because it’s long! Please reblog, comment, share etc, because that is the only payment I require.

NSFW. Some smut. Angst. My usual stuff!

"With every passing moment Thoughts of you run through my head Every time that I'm near you I realize that you're heaven sent, baby I think you're truly something special Just what my dreams are really made of Let's stay together, you and me boy There's no one like you around…"

Tamia – "So Into You"

Ramonda Matela knew the Udaku brothers like the back of her delicate hand from childhood to adulthood.

T'Chaka Udaku was the gregarious extrovert: arrogant, vain, and the elder statesman of the two. N'Jobu was the introverted one who observed the world with inquisitive eyes, a quiet nature, and a smoldering confidence that was less flashy than his older brother, but just as appealing nonetheless.

Ramonda was in the middle of their age group, meeting both boys at the same time when she was thirteen and dreaming about becoming a Dora Milaje. The palace had an extravagant fourteenth birthday celebration for T'Chaka out in the royal garden that was so exclusive, that Ramonda almost didn't get invited herself. It was by sheer luck on her mother's part in nabbing coveted invitations. Saffra Matela knew the head gardener who oversaw the royal grounds, and he was the Godfather to Ramonda and her younger brother, Khosi. L'Wazi had twenty years of service to the royal family, and he emboldened his throat to ask for permission to allow his Godchildren to attend the festivities and have the one opportunity to see the layout of the garden estate. He was granted permission and their household received the invitation on exquisite linen paper laced with pure gold and purple satin trimming on the envelope.

She squealed when the personal invitation sat in her hands, and she traced languid fingers across the gold-embossed words that lifted in a heavy Wakandan script from the paper.

"You are cordially invited to the Umgidi of Prince T'Chaka Milani Udaku…"

Fourteen was the age of manhood for Wakandan boys and after the birthday celebration, Prince T'Chaka would be whisked off to initiation school near Warrior Falls where all fourteen-year-old boys went for thirty days, only returning from the rites of passage retreat wth a new status as young adult men.

Ramonda couldn't wait for her version of the event. Her parents saved money for three years to prepare for her upcoming intonjane and the celebration that went with it. T'Chaka was lucky, his parents could afford to have a combination birthday and rites of passage party. Every night she counted down the days of the royal celebration. Her mother sewed her a lilac dress from a pattern Ramonda begged her to make, and her father purchased plum-colored diamonds for her neck and ears. Her maternal umakhulu twisted her hair into an elaborate cascade of thick textured layers that made her neighbors snap tons of holo pics when she was picked up with her brother by her Godfather L'Wazi.

They brought a hand-crafted citrine gilded filigree of a golden jaguar made by their father as a gift. It stood two-feet tall in a fancy silver gift box and Ramonda held onto it so it wouldn't fall to the floor in the back of L'Wazi's vibranium powered car. Nervous and a bit anxious at being around so many nobles and royals for the first time, Ramonda's godfather was a natural charmer and had everyone thinking that Ramonda and her brother were nobles from the Panther tribe because the Queen of Wakanda, Zintle, greeted him with such affection. Eyes wide and full of wonder at the dazzling purple dress and matching isicholo of the queen, Ramonda stood frozen in place with T'Chaka's gift in front of her while introductions were made.

"I see you love purple as much as I do," Queen Zintle said. She touched Ramonda's ears. "What lovely plum diamonds. You have wonderful taste for such a young age. L'Wazi tells me you have so many interests and hobbies. Tell me, what do you want to be when you grow up?"

"Queen," Ramonda blurted out.

But that was not what she meant to say. The exact words Ramonda practiced in her head just in case anyone asked her was "To become a Dora Milaje for the queen." However, the dazzling smile and elegant beauty of Queen Zintle flustered the young girl, and made her forget the first seven words in her sentence before the word "queen".

"Ohhhh, I see!" Queen Zintle said out loud for all the adults to share in the bold accidental declaration.

Queen Zintle winked at L'Wazi and then put a finger under her chin.

"Well, in order to become a queen of the nation, one must meet the crown prince. T'Chaka, come here! N'Jobu, you too!" Queen Zintle shouted.

Ramonda's cheeks warmed up like the tea on her mother's stove and she stood there mortified in her pretty lilac gossamer party dress and grown-up fancy jewelry in front of the mother of the nation. Two good-looking rambunctious boys trotted over with feisty giggles and a jovial shoving of each other as they approached the queen.

"I want you both to meet, Ramonda."

T'Chaka grinned at her with big white teeth, and N'Jobu lost his smile as he stared at her.

"Hello," T'Chaka said, his voice bold, colorful and a little bit creaky from puberty.

Ramonda lowered her head in a polite bow.

"Hi," N'Jobu said.

Ramonda lowered her head to him too and then forget to raise it back up. Both boys were so handsome and she was not prepared to be up close and personal with royalty so soon.

"What is in the box?" T'Chaka asked, touching the gift Ramonda brought.

"That is for later," King Azzuri said, stepping forward with a flock of admirers following behind him.

Ramonda's heart beat so rapidly like hummingbirds fluttering around inside her chest. The king's powerful voice was like a sudden booming of thunder from out of nowhere.

"Why is she still bowing?" N'Jobu asked.

Ramonda raised her eyes and the first-born prince smiled at her again and she could not fathom the emotions that swirled inside of her. She was two feet away from the future king of Wakanda and her friends back in her neighborhood would not believe that she had spoken to him.

Wait.

She hadn't said anything yet.

Royal drummers beat out a steady rhythm to announce entertainment, and when Ramonda finally straightened her back, she watched the shaggy-headed king and graceful queen lead away a procession of adults. Her brother ran off with the two princes to check out the stunning colorful acrobats flipping and flying through the air in the distance above the surging crowd of guests.

Left alone as two servants lifted her gift for the prince to join the hundreds of others on a raised dais, Ramonda touched her heart to make sure she was still alive as the beginnings of a crush developed for Prince T'Chaka… and Prince N'Jobu.

"Hurry up, you silly girl!"

Sixteen-year-old Ramonda stood on a flat wide rock ledge and peered down into the cool, dark blue waters of Warrior Falls. Laughing voices echoed all around the enclosed part of the natural pool that sat far enough away from the actual waterfall.

T'Chaka called out to her again, teasing her for not jumping into the depths like the others had moments before. There were six of them there. T'Chaka, N'Jobu, Ramonda, and their three school chums, Zhari, Sitha, and Imbo. Everyone swam in the pool except for Ramonda. She had a fear of dark water and the inky depths below the surface frightened her. The others frolicked in the cooling liquid counteracting the blistering sunlight that roasted all their skin into dark ebony hues. N'Jobu was the only one who treaded water in front of her, beckoning for her to join them with his hand outstretched for her. T'Chaka had encouraged her to jump in holding hands with him and she thrilled to the touch of his warm fingers threaded with hers. But she panicked and he became annoyed, leaving her to dive in head-first with the others.

"You won't drown, Ramonda. Holy Bast, you know how to swim for goodness sake!" T'Chaka shouted.

The two other teenage girls and boy watched her with T'Chaka and smirked at her fear.

"Ramonda, it's okay. It's not that deep," N'Jobu whispered to her.

"Don't stand there all day!" Zhari yelled, tightening the braids on top of her head with a hair tie.

Warrior Falls was a sacred place and they weren't supposed to be there desecrating the waters with their loud splashing and wild frolicking in the nude. Skinny dipping was something they started doing as a group the previous year and the risqué behavior was something Ramonda liked because she had the chance to look at T'Chaka naked. He had a beautiful physique and began to receive the delicate scarification rites that would prepare his body for ruling. Fresh symbolic cuts had been made on his pectoral muscles and on his stomach, marking his future ascension to the throne. The wounds had finally healed and his dark mahogany skin looked like a work of masterful art. T'Chaka preened and strutted like he ruled everyone already and it sometimes annoyed Ramonda because he was so much more than that when they were alone. He was sweet to her, and patient, but not then, not in front of their friends he liked to show off for.

N'Jobu had no marks on his body.

As the second son, he would receive no special cuts or the same treatment as his brother. The weight of the nation would never burden his shoulders like his brother. He was the spare royal, born into wealth and power, but would never harness it for himself… unless, of course, something happened to T'Chaka. Perhaps that fact made him the way he was with people. Unpretentious. Self-deprecating. Down to earth. His soft puppy eyes looked up at her and she still couldn't unfreeze her legs or stop her heart from palpitating, looking down into the void. If she could just see the bottom, she would be able to leap and join the fun.

Clenching and unclenching her fists, she relaxed her hands and stepped away from the ledge,

"I can't," she whispered.

"It's okay. Sunbathe and relax. Read a book," N'Jobu suggested.

Ramonda nodded and headed back to her folding chair where a fluffy yellow towel protected her skin from its heat. Stretching out her body, she watched her crew swim away toward the hidden caverns they would explore. She read a book about gemstones, her latest hyper fixation, and dozed off.

An hour later, she woke up to a wet tongue sliding around her right nipple. Opening her eyes, she blinked several times from the brightness of the sun and found T'Chaka's head dipped down to her plum-sized breasts. She glanced around to see if their friends were watching, but they were alone.

"Relax, everyone is still exploring the caverns," he said.

He lifted her off of the chair by her hands and wrapped his arms around her. Their naked forms melded together, and he kissed her with so much passion that it took her breath away. Rubbing her lower back, T'Chaka sighed into her mouth.

"I'm sorry for teasing you," he said.

She lowered her gaze to his chest and traced her fingers along the embedded half-moon-raised scars that marred his flesh.

"You always make fun of me when I'm afraid of something. You know dark water scares me. I don't know why you insisted on coming here. We could've gone to the beach or Pearl Lake. There's the palace pool—"

"Everyone wanted to come here. I didn't want to leave you behind. You would've been upset with me if I planned a trip leaving you out… even if I did it to protect your phobia," he said.

He nudged her chin to raise her eyes to his.

"Still mad at me, love?" he asked.

She tapped her fingers on his collarbone.

"Are you?" he pushed.

"It hurt my feelings," she said.

He kissed her forehead, her cheeks, her nose, and her chin, his special way of begging for forgiveness. She crinkled her nose and twisted her lips to pout, seeking more affection from him. He stroked her dark twisted hair that fell to her shoulders and nibbled on her earlobe.

"I don't want to hurt your feelings. I love you," he said.

She stared at him, her heart nearly flying out of her throat. He grinned, flashing those pretty teeth and a lupine smile.

"Say it again," she squealed, jumping up and down in his arms.

"I love you, Ramonda Matela. I have loved you since you told my mother you wanted to be queen and take her place on the throne so you can rule the nation—"

"I did not say all that back then!" she said, smacking his chest.

He pressed his forehead against hers, scooping her elbows into his chest.

"You have to take a chance sometimes and push against your fears. I will never let anything bad happen to you… ever," he said into her mouth before kissing her.

T'Chaka pushed her against a grainy wall of red rock and slipped his tongue into her mouth. He palmed her breasts, tickling her nipples with flicks of his fingertips. His left hand trailed a line down her flat belly to her warm mound. He palmed his hand into the shape of her vulva and held her gently as he gave deep, slow kisses. She moaned into his mouth once he went further and fingered her clit, spreading her natural sticky lubricant all along her sensitive folds. He pushed open her labia, allowing air to hit her damp opening before he dared to insert a finger. Her body stiffened. It was the first time he had ever tried to do that with her. The furthest they had gone with her body was the slow delicious fingering on her clit until she came. That was usually hit or miss because she was still learning her body with him. Sometimes he could make her cum and sometimes he couldn't, depending on how relaxed or tense she was.

Ramonda grabbed his arm when her opening resisted the push of his fingers inside of her.

"Relax, I'm moving slow," he whispered into her ear.

"I'm too tense," she said, gritting her teeth with discomfort.

"You need to relax so you can enjoy it… I'll go slower… like this… see… I'm almost in there all the way," he huffed.

T'Chaka's dick was hard and pushed against her thigh, the tip already spewing pre-cum. His steady breathing turned into heavy panting. Ramonda tried to relax, but once she focused in on his pleasure instead of her own, she tightened up down there and his fingers hurt.

"Stop, it doesn't feel good anymore," she said.

"Okay," he said, removing his index and middle finger and placing them back on her clit.

He rubbed gentle circles and pressed into the swollen nerves, but Ramonda couldn't find pleasure in it anymore because she was so worried about disappointing him. She faked an orgasm and stroked his dick for him, forcing him to splash cum all over the rock wall. He shouted with pleasure and hugged her afterward.

"You always make me feel good," he said.

He grabbed her hand and dragged her to the ledge again.

"Jump in with me. I will hold your hand. If you get scared after we get in, I'll lift you out," he said.

Ramonda could see the love in his eyes for her. He wanted to share everything with her.

"I don't want to jump. Can we just sit on the ledge and just… drop in?" she asked.

"Of course!" he said.

They sat down together, and he kept holding her hand. He kissed her knuckles, then leaned over and kissed her cheek. There was something so young, sweet, and innocent about them being naked together out in nature.

"On the count of three… one… two… three…," he said.

They scooted their rumps together and plopped down into the chilly water. Ramonda shivered from the cold until her skin became accustomed to the temperature. T'Chaka clapped his hands for her and snuggled with her near the ledge, their legs pumping furiously below the surface. She eventually swam away toward the middle of the pool and felt more confident with him next to her. The others returned, impressed that she finally braved the water. N'Jobu gave her a thumbs up and she had her chance to frolic and gossip while cooling off properly.

T'Chaka summoned a spider jet to pick them up on the other side of the falls and a pilot flew them toward Birnin D'Jata to have a late lunch before the two princes had to return to the palace. Everyone had to sport large shades to avoid the intrusive nature of the Wakandan paparazzi who snapped holo pics of their group dining in an expensive restaurant.

T'Chaka waved goodbye to them all once they arrived at the palace. A royal shuttle took the rest of them home and Ramonda floated to her room in a daze. The future king of her country loved her. She twirled around giddy and tapped her kimoyo beads to tell her besties the good news.

Ramonda caught them in the shadows of the tearoom when she ran back to fetch a headscarf for the queen.

T'Chaka had pretended to seek his brother in the royal garden and would see her at his mother's private art reception inside the second palace. The queen, forgetting a simple teal silk scarf, brought Ramonda face-to-face with her lover's infidelity.

She stood in the shadows with tattooed geometric red shapes on her bald head designating her status as a Dora Milaje guard for the queen as T'Chaka inserted an uncovered erection inside of a woman he insisted was the head of his new conservation project in the Border Tribe lands. He grunted and humped the full-figured woman, pushing her up against a wall with her curvy thigh resting over his arm. Pulling out his dick for a guttural climax, he ejaculated all over the woman's vulva.

"Bastard!" Ramonda shrieked, running from the room without the queen's scarf.

She ran smack into N'Jobu, who carried a tall stack of old texts, knocking them over.

"Ramonda," N'Jobu said.

Flustered, she dropped down to help collect the books with him. T'Chaka rushed out and his secret tryst was revealed to his brother, too.

"Let us not make a scene, Ramonda," T'Chaka said.

He stroked the hairs on his new goatee as his lover dashed off in embarrassment, avoiding eye contact with Ramonda. Had N'Jobu not been there, she would've knocked T'Chaka on his ass with her sonic spear. N'Jobu positioned himself between the two of them, sensing the rage coursing through her fired-up body.

"Leave us," T'Chaka said to N'Jobu.

"I should scratch your eyes out!" Ramonda screamed.

"You are on duty and will do no such thing," T'Chaka said.

The sweetness he once carried in his teenage face so long ago didn't stay with his mid-twenties demeanor, and a part of Ramonda knew that the halcyon days of their youth would change once they grew older and adulthood wiggled into the equation. They had kept their love affair quiet, but Ramonda trusted he would be faithful as she took on her additional responsibilities as a Dora. All her life as a child, she dreamed of wearing the shaved head, regal-looking uniform, and garnering the respect of her family and peers for such a prestigious honor. Her grip on the sonic spear tightened, and she lifted it an inch off the floor. N'Jobu blocked her from T'Chaka.

"Mother is waiting for you," N'Jobu reminded her.

Ramonda stomped into the tearoom and collected the scarf she came for.

"I hate you!" she hissed at T'Chaka, storming past him.

He chased her down, and they stalked through the halls side-by-side.

"I messed up," T'Chaka barked.

"It's over."

"It doesn't even count as cheating. We are on a break, remember? Your new assignment changed things. You told me—"

"I told you my work would keep us apart at times and we should concentrate on our duties until I was settled in my position. That was not me saying we were on a break."

"I misunderstood—"

"Liar—"

"Watch your tone with me!"

He snatched her arm and pulled her into an alcove for privacy.

"I am still a royal and above you in rank and status. While you are on duty you will address me as the Prince of Wakanda."

"Fuck you… your highness," she spat.

She left him behind and wiped away the tears that leaked from her eyes. Reaching the queen, she handed over the scarf and took her place among the other Doras. T'Chaka pretended to be interested in attending his mother's social event so he could be near Ramonda, but she ignored him. Queen Zintle's gracious nature dazzled her guests, and the artwork was astounding. Over one thousand guests packed the gallery, and Ramonda kept her concentration on protecting the mother of the nation. T'Chaka's regretful stares didn't penetrate her cooled heart. How she wished she had been on assignment with the king in America. Discovering her man in another woman's arms was the last thing she imagined happening in her life. Would it have been better to not know in a foreign country, or walk around like the biggest fool in Wakanda with the revelation?

There were signs of his unfaithfulness in the past year.

She ignored her intuition, hoping she was wrong about her man. After college, they went their separate ways for one summer as she trained to become a Dora. Their love was too strong to stay apart, and they found themselves together again, more in love than ever, until they handed her final assignment to her. Working for the queen. It shifted their relationship because Ramonda was out and about in public all the time. She committed to five years with the queen before she'd have to be rotated in duties or discharged from the corps, and it put a damper on their time together.

The eldest prince walked around the art gallery being charming, keeping himself in her constant view. Hurt washed over her in waves that grew in intensity until her eyeballs felt like they were cooking in their sockets from the heat of her anger. Her temples throbbed all night. He took advantage of her words. Used them as a loophole to fuck someone else. Perhaps two others. There were women he had around that she was not familiar with personally, and she chalked that up to his extra responsibilities as the Black Panther. They had given the mantle to him right when she became a full Dora. The added complication of their important work and love life clashed. They hadn't slept together for a few weeks because of travel and the various events the queen was in charge of while the king was away for conferences and the U.N. general assembly meetings in America. T'Chaka was left behind to protect Wakanda in his father's absence, and Ramonda was grateful that the prince would be home and not abroad.

A lanky woman with twisty black hair approached T'Chaka in a way that was too familiar and Ramonda grit her teeth. So be it. If he thought he was single, she would let him be that. A hot pain brewed in her stomach and she clenched her jaw until N'Jobu swept into the room. The younger prince looked like a dream in a cranberry and crème colored tunic and flowing pants. He had spruced up for the event after bumping into the scandalous affair of his brother. Ramonda's jaw relaxed watching the royal sibling make the rounds of greeting guests.

"Mother," N'Jobu said, kissing his mother's cheeks.

Queen Zintle beamed, having both of her sons present. N'Jobu positioned himself beside his mother, but close enough to Ramonda.

"It would be wise to finish my brother in private and not disrupt the queen's gala," N'Jobu said with a playful tone as her eyes glared at T'Chaka like hot spikes ready to carve him into pieces.

"The Wakandan streets can have him. We are no more," she whispered.

"You only say that because you are hurt. Look at him, doing his best to impress you," N'Jobu whispered back.

T'Chaka was all smiles, but he kept looking over at Ramonda with worry in his eyes. N'Jobu's cloying cologne shifted her attention. Standing close to him, she studied his profile, and a feeling came over her that should've stayed hidden. Her attraction to him bubbled up quickly.

There had been public gossip about N'Jobu's dating recently. He stayed discreet, but there were rumors of him courting two noblewomen from distinguished families vying for a chance to snag him. Ramonda hoped he went for the sweet one with the wide eyes and the adorable wide nose who made him laugh in all their holo pics together in the media. He liked plump women with personalities and they appeared to be a good fit from what she knew of their relationship.

"I am ready to retire," Queen Zintle said to all four Doras protecting her.

Ramonda tapped her spear, signaling the queen's departure from the event. She helped lead the queen out into the hall where a new set of Doras met them for a change in shift. Free from her duties for the night, Ramonda scurried down a palace hall that led to a private elevator for staff to leave the main rooms. The other Doras followed her, chatting about tired feet and wanting to sleep for hours.

"Ramonda,"

N'Jobu called to her before she stepped onto the elevator with her co-workers. The doors slid shut, and she faced the younger royal. Released from her work, Ramonda's body trembled with vexation as she fully processed T'Chaka's deceit. Her kimoyo lit up with T'Chaka's avatar signature and she ignored it. N'Jobu watched her expression and chuckled.

"Let's go have a drink before you run off to fight him," he said.

T'Chaka appeared down the hall and she balled up her fist, ready to punch him.

"Can we talk, please?" T'Chaka begged.

"I think you should let her cool down first," N'Jobu said.

"This is none of your concern, baby brother. I want to talk to my woman."

T'Chaka clasped her hand and Ramonda shook him off and turned away.

"We can't even talk?" T'Chaka whined.

"Go away. I can't even look at you!" she said. "I'm working my ass off protecting your family and you're running around fucking women all over the palace. You disgust me."

"You broke up with me."

"No, I didn't!"

"Okay… okay you two. Stop. Take a breath—"

T'Chaka threw up his hands at his brother and spun on his heels, leaving in a huff of entitled indignation.

"Brother," N'Jobu called out.

T'Chaka ignored him.

"Did you know?" Ramonda asked.

N'Jobu's bottom lip smooshed up into his top lip and Ramonda sighed.

"I didn't think it was my place to speak. I'm not privy to your personal interactions on that level," he said.

She waved a hand at him.

"Don't beat yourself up. I always suspected there was something off about us. I just didn't want to see it… not like that."

She rubbed the deep crease in her forehead and closed her eyes.

"Maybe I did make him think we were on break. I put a pause on so much to do well in my work."

"Don't second guess yourself. Clearly, you thought you were still connected, or else you wouldn't be so distraught. I'm sorry I said nothing to you. I try to stay out of his way. Being the Black Panther has puffed him up."

"Does that drink offer still stand?"

He grinned.

She pretended to escort him to his quarters and, once there, she placed her spear against the wall and pulled off her work boots. He loaned her a long caftan to change into after she took advantage of his luxury shower that overlooked a terrace with a view of the golden city that was spectacular.

N'Jobu mixed their drinks from his private bar stash and they sipped together, leaning against the terrace railing. The liquor hit them both hard on empty stomachs. She needed the feeling. It protected her heart from breaking.

"What will you do?" N'Jobu asked.

"Work. Become the best Dora Milaje there ever was. I'm living my dream. Your mother is an exceptional woman and I am so blessed to lay my life for hers if I ever need to."

N'Jobu reached over and stroked her cheek.

"Hopefully that will never happen. You would be a significant loss to me."

Ramonda took a step back and gulped down her third glass of hard spirits. She willed her legs to walk to her spear, grab it and her uniform, then vacate the premises, but she stood there and allowed his fingers to linger on her skin.

"Maybe breaking up with him is best," he said.

"Maybe."

His eyes captivated her, while his hand cradled the back of her neck and pulled her in closer.

"I think we've had a little too much," she said, holding up her glass like a talisman to ward off the arousal stirring within.

"I don't think we've had enough," he said.

She became so aware of herself naked under the caftan. Strange to think that for years they'd swam nude together as teenagers, but at that moment, a thin bit of material made her feel more naked than she had ever been in front of him.

"He doesn't deserve you. Never has," N'Jobu said.

"Why are you saying this when you know I'm feeling vulnerable?"

"What better time to tell you how I feel than now? When you're finally free?" he countered.

"This is too much. Goodnight, your highness—"

Warm arms with powerful muscles enveloped her, pulling her close to his broad chest.

"I'm sorry. This liquor has loosened my tongue, and I have dishonored your feelings," he said.

His touch caved in her will to leave his side. The urge to get back at T'Chaka with someone else raced up her spine and tilted her head up to look at the second prince with desire. Thrusting herself against him, Ramonda kissed N'Jobu and gave in to feelings that hovered beneath the surface between them since childhood. Her world had been upended and giving into her lust for T'Chaka's brother felt like the right thing to do.

Their lips sought an agreement on who would lead, and N'Jobu gave Ramonda control of the encounter. Full fleshy lips painted stories across her mouth before moving to play sonatas on her neck and clavicle. She arched her body, giving him room to explore, and he lifted the caftan off of her, tangling her hands. He nibbled, licked, and kissed his way to her breasts, circling each pebbled nipple with the tip of his hot tongue, bathing her areolas with saliva and promises of more.

Ramonda moaned and buried her fingers in his thick curls that smelled of sage wood and bitter root hair butter. His tongue slid further until it reached her clipped mound, slathering the area with more warm saliva and tender kisses. He parted her folds and teased her clit with artful, long swipes of his eager mouth muscle and looked up at her face. N'Jobu's lips glistened with her arousal and the slick feel of his lips on her forced a whimper from her throat. He took that as the signal to go further, resting his tongue against her slippery folds, before sucking on her clit again. She pulled his head back by his hair.

"We can't," she said.

"We can… we will," he replied.

He stood then, revealing an erection through his garment. Pulling it over his head, his length bobbed with pre-cum spilling out from the deep slit of a wide head that ran down the thick ridge surrounding his tip.

"Come," he said.

He led her to his bedroom and tapped the top of his fireplace to make a small fire appear, making the room cozier. The firelight flickered, and she glanced around his private space. Books were in various stacks on every open surface. English-language books and non-fiction texts about America surrounded them. The Udaku brothers were already fluent in three languages other than English. She herself was taking a crash course in American standard to prepare for away trips with her work.

His unmade bed had a small pile of poetry books resting on an unused pillow. He lifted them away and added them to his nightstand. Reaching for her hand, he settled her on the edge of his bed and sat next to her. The doubt in her eyes clouded his.

"If you don't want this, I will understand," he said.

He cupped her chin.

"I won't pressure you," he said.

Her rational mind finally made an appearance. She scooted away from his warm thigh.

"I'd only be doing this to spite him," she said in a harsh tone.

"So spite him."

"I would be using you."

"Use me."

"This isn't right. You're his brother. My friend. I can't sink lower than him."

N'Jobu's eyes were shiny beacons reflecting the crackling fire.

"I'm in love with you, Ramonda. I will never have a chance to be this bold again," he said.

She touched her right temple lightly and thought of a hundred reasons to walk away, but… she couldn't. T'Chaka stopped her angst by calling her again. Her kimoyo beads warmed up and his small avatar floated above her wrist. N'Jobu crashed his lips into hers with a sad desperation to keep her by his side.

"I love you," he murmured under his breath, his lips sending hot tendrils of pleasure all across her chest and neck.

He placed her hand on his dick and she squeezed it, wanting to know the heat and thickness before she jumped up with his pre-cum sticky on her fingers.

"We can't… I'm sorry. I love you too, but not the way you want…"

Ramonda ran out of his bedroom and gathered up her uniform and boots. She dressed quickly in the living room and grabbed her spear. Praying to Bast, she hoped no one saw her leaving his quarters or looking suspicious while departing the palace. A mad dash to her vehicle in the underground parking structure had her out of breath and feeling loopy. N'Jobu had never acted that way with her before. She sensed a crush when they were children, but she thought for sure he would never cross a line over his brother. What a mess!

She used autopilot and sat back in her car, watching the cityscape whip past. Her condo was located a half hour away by car and she arrived home trembling with confusion. Stepping inside of her spacious floor plan, she locked her spear in its safety housing and nearly jumped out of her skin when T'Chaka approached her on quiet feet.

"What are you doing here? Don't you have some other woman to bed tonight?" she quipped, turning the living room lights brighter.

His royal attire was gone, and in its place was a basic loose-fitting pink shirt and white lounge pants. He stood barefoot in the middle of the room with his hands at his sides, looking defeated and sad. For the first time since knowing him, he looked vulnerable.

"I made a mistake, Ramonda. You were so adamant about work and duties and being apart. I really thought you had broken off our relationship. My love, I am so sorry. I never meant to hurt you by seeing me like that. There's nothing serious going on with that woman. Just a fling to pass the time waiting for you to come back to me."

A quiver in his voice gave credence to his words.

"T'Chaka, I'm tired…"

She walked around him, hoping N'Jobu's scent wasn't obvious. Rushing to her bedroom, she removed her clothing and jumped into her shower, scrubbing so hard that her skin became irritated. Water ran down her bald scalp and she tilted her neck, allowing the warm liquid to rinse away tears and guilt.

T'Chaka stood in her bedroom doorway when she stepped out dripping nude, searching for a clean towel in her bathroom cabinet.

"I want us together," he said.

"Can we talk another time? I'm not… I'm not in the right frame of mind to deal with us."

A shimmer in his left eye brought her closer to him. Watery sadness threatened to drip down from his tear ducts.

"Mondie, I miss you. I barely see you anymore. I'm lonely without you with me. Being the Black Panther is difficult, knowing you don't need me anymore. I wish we could be like we were as teenagers… free. No responsibilities. Without you, I am nothing… not even close to being my best self."

He encircled her waist with his arms and pressed his cheek against the middle of her breasts.

"Please, don't throw us away," he said.

Ramonda cuddled him with her hands on his nape. His tears were warm droplets on her clean skin trailing down her belly.

"I love you, Mondie," he shuddered into her flesh.

His pet name for her soothed the ache in her heart. She lowered her head and kissed him, his lips frantic to connect with hers. Slow and lazy, she shared her mouth until he undressed, parting from her to get everything off until he was naked. Ramonda straddled him, gripping his hard dick, lining it up with her entrance. His skin smelled delicious, lickable, and all hers. Inching her way down on his erection, she grunted in her throat when she reached the fruit at the bottom.

T'Chaka's soft lips were slightly parted as he grew accustomed to having her ride him again. His pants and gentle groans pleased her. Clutching his strong back, she bounced on him faster. Images of N'Jobu tangling up her lovemaking. She squeezed her eyes shut, savoring the feel of T'Chaka inside of her, chasing away thoughts of his brother's dick weeping pre-cum in her hand. Ramonda slammed her ass cheeks on T'Chaka's thighs and he shouted her name. He threw his head back while praising her tight walls clenching him into submission.

"Yes… yes… yes…," he panted in her ear, fondling her ass cheeks while his warm breath stimulated her ear.

The woman he fucked in the tea room flashed in her mind, throwing off her rhythm. She adjusted her speed and thrust into his groin, bending him to her will. He began lifting her up and down, and gulping for air. His release was upon him., so she tried extending it by pushing him back on her bed and loving him slow and easy.

"Oh, Bast… oh… Bast!" he shouted, staring at her breasts.

The juiciness of N'Jobu's dick haunted her, and she stared across the room at her reflection in a wall mirror, drifting into a state of panic. Her pussy grew wetter thinking of the younger prince. The memory of his mouth on her folds catapulted her into murky waters. Watching herself fuck T'Chaka, she pretended it was N'Jobu and her walls spasmed. Her orgasm throbbed all over the future king's dick, shoving him over the precipice of release too.

"Mondie!"

He shoved his hips up from the bed and rooted himself in her depths. His body became stiff, and he shoved his face to the side, lost in his pleasure. His cum felt warm and thick, coating her walls. She collapsed on his chest and their sweat mingled and cooled quickly.

Butterfly kisses peppered her chest as T'Chaka showed his appreciation for their reunion. He helped her roll off of him and they stared at her ceiling, shoulder to shoulder. They fell asleep together in that position.

The next morning, they made love again. The parting of her folds relaxed her with his gentle missionary position. Afterward, he showered, and she stayed sprawled on her bed. Her kimoyo lit up with an encrypted code in the floating avatar. Facing away from the bathroom with T'Chaka singing off-key, she read the message.

"I love you."

N'Jobu's three words filled her heart with dread and longing.

Ramonda kept her distance from N'Jobu in private. Publicly, she did her job as a Dora and treated him the way she treated all the royals, with deference and respect. But he scared her sometimes. His eyes followed her whenever they were in a room together, and she feared everyone could see his feelings for her.

She made a mistake.

A year after his confession and their only sexual encounter, she gave into their lust for one another. It took place on her first and only trip to America with the queen. An East African delegation of women headed to the U.S. for a week-long women's conference. Queen Zintle was a guest speaker, and Ramonda almost didn't make the journey because her English skills were still very poor. The queen vouched for her to go anyway so she could learn on the job. Ramonda was one of the fiercest Dora Milaje, and the king allowed her to take the trip. She wore a translator to help guide her and felt comfortable leaning into the tech to help her along.

Ramonda hadn't expected N'Jobu to accompany his mother. A sudden change in plans had T'Chaka traveling with his father to Europe instead of the queen. Doing her utmost to stay above the carnal desires that always lingered around them, she picked a fight with N'Jobu to thwart his advances when she had a half day to herself to sightsee and play tourist. Exploring the rugged harshness of New York was going to be an anthropological experience for her. Americans were dangerous and odd. A deadly combination. New York was supposed to be the epicenter of their culture and it smelled like human waste and hot garbage the moment she stepped out onto the street to protect the queen and her son.

N'Jobu found it a fascinating place and went on day-long excursions, worrying his mother. He had the audacity to ditch his set of Doras on a subway by pretending he had to use the restroom. Queen Zintle fussed with him and forced Ramonda to escort him because he could never ditch her. N'Jobu went all out pretending to be upset with a babysitter, but the moment they hit the streets together, he gloated. It was her time off, but she didn't want the queen to worry and fret while trying to represent Wakanda.

"You are a stubborn rhino," she hissed as they rode to a museum.

"Do I look like I fit in?" he said in English.

She stared at him with wide eyes and an open mouth. His English was impeccable and there was no trace of an accent. He winked at her and stuffed his hands in a puffy black jacket that was a stylish New York trend in the city. His hair was clipped short and tapered in a style that fit in with the Black Americans on the subway.

"I do!" he said with enthusiasm.

She rolled her eyes, and he pressed into her, using the crush of new riders boarding as an excuse to get closer to her.

"Yo, my man, back up from my lady," N'Jobu said.

Ramonda glanced to her left side and noticed a light brown-skinned man easing up to her with a large backpack draped on his chest. N'Jobu glared at him and the man moved through the subway to get away from the bass in the prince's voice. She couldn't get over how comfortable he was speaking the language.

He grabbed her hand for the next stop at the American Museum of Natural History and dragged her out of the subway.

"Where are you going? The museum is over there," she pointed.

"Plenty of time to see that. Let's go for a walk," he enthused.

The excitement on his face made her smile.

"An hour's walk, and we'll come back," he offered.

They never made it to the museum.

N'Jobu entertained Ramonda with stories of his travels in Brooklyn and Harlem, speaking to her in his flawless English. Her earbud translator missed a few phrases, but he allowed her to practice openly and didn't chide her for mistakes in pronunciation. The city's ugliness transformed into a lesson in American culture through his eyes. He fed her giant salty pretzels with mustard, had her try a greasy pizza slice, and then took her to Central Park. Hours flew by. On their way back, he took her to a discreet hotel to rest in private. Watching American news together was depressing. Nothing positive happened in the country. Murder, poverty, racial tensions, and government failures dominated the airways and Ramonda switched over to her kimoyo beads to check on her homeland and all the amazing progressive programming they had for their news streams. N'Jobu seemed fascinated with the Americans. His eyes never left the flatscreen as story after story piqued his interest. Ramonda grew bored.

"We should leave," she said once the sun slipped down from the sky.

"No rush. You're not back on until morning," he said, relaxing on the king-sized bed across from the chair she lounged on.

"I have to check in with T'Chaka," she lied.

His expression changed with his lips pouting in frustration.

"You don't have to lie to me," he said.

"I'm not."

T'Chaka hadn't responded to the last four messages she sent, so wrapped up in being around his father. A bit of worry whispered to the anxious part of her brain with him being so far away.

"Okay, let's go then," he said.

He checked his kimoyo, swiped some code, and grinned.

"What?" she asked with curiosity.

"Made some plans. Grab your sweater," he said.

"Plans… where? With who?"

"Dinner with a friend."

They left the hotel and journeyed down to the subway. Ramonda fidgeted in the seat next to N'Jobu, wanting so desperately to know who he was seeing.

"Here's my stop. You can continue on back to the hotel on your own," he said.

He plunged through the crowd and exited with ardent strides to his next destination. She followed him down several blocks until he arrived at a hole-in-the-wall spot stuffed with chatty diners. He took a seat in a far corner booth. Ramonda spied on him from outside, but he sat alone for fifteen minutes. His date must've stood him up. She walked inside the restaurant and surprised him at his table. With hands on her hips, she stood ready to tease him until he pushed a menu on the table toward her.

"I hear the seafood here is delicious. It took you long enough to come inside," he said.

Flummoxed, Ramonda sat across from him on an uneven chair that rocked slightly when she moved closer to the table.

"You tricked me into having dinner with you?" she said.

"Not exactly. You want to be around me… don't shake your head… following me here lets me know you have feelings for me."

"Your safety is important—"

"I can protect myself with my vibranium shield. You were jealous and wanted to see who I was with. Admit it."

"I love T'Chaka."

"I know you do. But you love me too."

"Absurd."

"Why? Love is a powerful emotion that transcends time and space… history, even. It is limitless, and sometimes it does absurd things like put you in my heart… and my brother's."

"You are a mess."

"Then leave."

Ramonda stood up. Then sat back down abruptly. N'Jobu reached across the table and held her hand.

"Fate has brought us all together. You love my brother. Dearly. He has all the trappings that women want. But a part of you wants something different, just like me."

"The boldness from your lips—"

"I never pull punches. You know that. Give me one night. That's all I ask. If you don't feel it's right after that, I will fall back and let you trot after him."

"You make me sound like some lovesick puppy."

"You are a lovesick puppy with him. But it's not a good balance. I could give you a life, too. It may not be as flashy and far-reaching as my brother, but I sense a longing in you, Ramonda. You want to live a full, unrestricted life and you can't do that if you become the queen of Wakanda."

Her cheeks warmed up. Talk of becoming the queen was wishful thinking, considering T'Chaka hadn't proposed or even brought up marriage.

"This tension between us could go away if you stayed with me tonight. Last year, when we were together… I've never forgotten how you tasted or how you felt in my arms. You ran off before we could consummate our union fully, but I know you still dream about that. I know there are times you are with my brother and you wonder what it would be like with me. Give in to that and we can see if I'm being a fool for you."

"You are a fool. I am too, for sitting here and entertaining any thoughts of that. It is a betrayal—"

"Alls fair in love and war. This is a battle for the rest of your life."

She pushed away from the table with a queasiness souring her stomach and mouth. He spoke the truth. She loved them both for different reasons, but since she accepted T'Chaka's advances so long ago, she wanted to remain loyal. N'Jobu had plenty of time to claim her hand, but he didn't. His loss.

Ramonda turned down dinner with N'Jobu and wandered the streets for an hour. She caught a cab back to the luxury hotel they were hosted in with their entire Wakandan delegation. Inside her room, she showered and called T'Chaka on her kimoyo, but he still didn't answer directly. There were messages left for her, and he sounded bored and irritated at the European trip. He hated the outside world and how primitive it acted compared to their homeland.

Unable to relax fully, she showered, changed into casual clothes, and stared out of her window. Checking her kimoyo, she noticed the Wakanda media posting photos of T'Chaka in France, posing with international women who attended the same event as him. He wore a broad smile in all the pictures. The ones with his father were nice as they stood near the Eiffel Tower with a group of government officials. Wakandans back home gossiped about when the eldest prince would marry. She hated conversation threads like that because she couldn't scream to the world that he was her choice. Until T'Chaka made an official proposal, Ramonda was nothing to him. Just his secret lover hidden in the shadows until he stepped up to the light and made them official. For all she knew, his parents could arrange a marriage for him in the future to someone else. The queen had discussed family alliances in her presence with the king before.

Grabbing her room card key, she ambled down to the hotel lobby bar to get a drink and commiserate all alone over what her life would be in the future. The longer she sat and sipped, the fuzzier her mind became. Hailing a cab from outside, she returned to N'Jobu's secret hotel, tipsy and unstable on her feet as she knocked on the door. He answered. Naked.

Wasting no time by overthinking it, Ramonda pounced on him, smashing her eager lips over his thick, willing ones, and they tumbled back into his room and onto the bed. She wanted a fast fuck, a way of getting it over with and out of her system so she could erase N'Jobu from her mind, but his hands ruined her. He held her still, slowing their progression.

"No," he said.

"What?" she asked, breathless and agitated.

"You will not give yourself to me like this. Like I'm some chore for you to complete."

Pushing her away, he sat up from the bed and palmed his forehead.

"Leave," he said.

Naked and warm by his side, Ramonda stared at him with a puzzled expression. Her lips quirked and the creases in her forehead tightened her face.

"This is what you wanted," she spat out.

She shrank away from him.

"You're only toying with me. Is this to shame me? Test me?" she screamed.

"Lower your voice."

She slapped him. Twice.

N'Jobu closed his eyes and curled up his lower lip when she struck him there. She burst into tears.

"Oh, Bast! Why did I even come here?!" she wailed.

Raising from the bed, she wiped her eyes furiously, then held up her wrist draped with her kimoyo beads.

"I'm going to tell him," she threatened, "I'm not worthy of him."

N'Jobu leaped from the bed and held both her wrists.

"You are worthy," N'Jobu said.

"No, I'm not… I wouldn't be here if I was…"

Ramonda went limp in his hands and N'Jobu held her up, gripping her arms tight.

"I'm sorry, Ramonda. I don't want you to hurt, but this is more than I can bear. I love you and want you… but I can't force you to do anything you don't want. I want to see you happy."

She nodded and let her tears drip onto his neck as he held her close.

"I wish one of you was just awful so I could move forward in peace. You're both… perfect in your own special ways…" she moaned in his ear.

She pulled back from him. His eyes bound her to him.

"This will never go away. I'll love no one else but you for as long as I live, Ramonda."

The love in his eyes bathed her in warmth. Touching his face, she thought of all the times N'Jobu had stayed quiet behind his brother in all things. His family cherished him, but the reality was a more blatant truth-teller: T'Chaka was the favored one. He was destined to lead the nation and N'Jobu would forever be in the wings, watching and hoping to be noticed.

Ramonda kissed him, letting her tongue dance in his mouth. She shed away all the years of viewing N'Jobu as her friend and T'Chaka's side-kick. At that moment, he was to become her lover for the night. The elder prince was thousands of miles away, and once she was back in Wakanda, she would pretend nothing happened in America.

Lush lips explored her body.

Ramonda reclined under N'Jobu and allowed his mouth to savor every inch of her body. He took his time, the soft pads of his fingertips tattooing unspoken words onto her skin. Lifting her legs and dropping her cinnamon brown thighs open, she watched him fist his length, the swollen mushroom cap of his tip dripping pre-cum. She held her breath at his girth, stretching her, and only released it when he planted himself deep within. Slow and meticulous, he made their lovemaking last a long time. Soft murmurings and gentle pants spilled from her mouth. He grunted a few times and locked eyes with her throughout. His thrusts arched her from the bed and she threw her arms around his shoulders to tether her passion in that room. She had to keep it locked there forever, never to be opened again.

But it was.

Again and again.

Returning to Wakanda didn't quench their thirst for each other. It inflamed their lust. Not only did their passion ignite… so did her ardor toward T'Chaka.

Ramonda became insatiable. Loving both men in secret. In fact, her sex with T'Chaka became even more intense and more pleasurable. She worked her job well, rising in the ranks of the Dora Milaje, and becoming the head Dora for the king. Her mind hid the niggling doubts about how long she could sustain juggling two men. She spent most of her time with T'Chaka, but he traveled often with the king. On those occasions, N'Jobu would come through. She had learned to balance her affections with him, but he increasingly grew reckless with her love. Wanting more from her than she was willing to give. Despite her behavior, T'Chaka meant the world to her, and she held N'Jobu back from making future plans. The Dora Milaje was her priority over everything. He kept pushing, and she stopped seeing him. Cut off their affair and never looked back.

It all came to a head many years later when the king died.

King Azzuri was already middle-aged when he married Queen Zintle. She was a few years younger, but Wakandans tended to marry later and have children later in age, too. The culture believed in having full lives before settling down. Azzuri died peacefully in his sleep with his wife by his side, and although it was a sad occasion, there was no time for the queen to mourn when she was set on putting T'Chaka on the throne quickly.

Ramonda had entered a new phase of her career, training young Doras. The news of the king's passing came directly to her from T'Chaka. He arrived at her small house with a weary expression early in the morning.

"My father has transitioned, Ramonda. He is with the ancestors now."

T'Chaka sat at her kitchen table when he told her, and she hugged him until he wept. Wiping away his tears, it surprised her to see him smile.

"He lived a good life. A joyful life. I want that for us. I was hoping he would be around to see our first child together," T'Chaka said.

He held out a small satin purple box.

"I was going to wait until after winter when you finished training your latest recruits. But now, Baba is gone… and I will be king. I need my queen by my side."

Ramonda couldn't hide the shock from her face.

"Will you marry me, Ramonda Matela? I know this isn't the most romantic way to do this, but the way I feel, nothing is more special than now."

Her emotions were all over the place. Learning of the king's passing rocked her, but being asked to become a wife too was staggering. T'Chaka fell to his knees and held the box out to her. She took it, popped it open, and they both stared at the delicate blue diamond-crusted gold band. He lifted the ring and held it at the tip of her ring finger.

"Ramonda?"

T'Chaka's soft voice prompted her to smile and nod. He pushed the ring far back onto her finger and clasped her hand before burying his face in her lap and weeping profusely.

"Thank you, my love," he said between tears.

She held him, rubbed his back, and said soothing things about his father before he raised to his feet again.

"I would like for you to come with me to the palace. The family is gathering together for the press announcement. Queen Mother is waiting for us."

Ramonda showered and dressed quickly, choosing a long pale blue dress. Pale blue was the king's favorite color, and she wanted to pay tribute to that. She ran a light oil over her baby locs and put on make-up. The Royal Talon Fighter floated in front of her house and her neighbors were outside watching and wondering why it was there.

They flew over the golden city and arrived inside a hectic palace. The severity of the passing hit her. Nothing would ever be the same again. The gravity of her thoughts were reflected to her as the palace staff worked non-stop. The Dora Milaje escorted her and T'Chaka to the queen's chambers. Close relatives were already there. N'Jobu stayed by his mother's side with a grim expression. Queen Zintle's eyes shined with tears, but they became shinier when she saw the ring on Ramonda's hand.

"Daughter," Zintle said, holding Ramonda's finger up to admire the engagement ring.

N'Jobu's face became unreadable. Ramonda couldn't bear being near him. They hadn't been intimate for a long time, and there was enough distance in that for her to ignore his disapproving glare. She focused on the bereavement instead, hugging the queen and greeting the rest of the Udaku clan. T'Chaka introduced her as his fiancé with pride. Ramonda rested in that pride, wishing that they had been connected like that years before.

She avoided N'Jobu and took part in the mourning period, which lasted weeks. Plans were already in the works for T'Chaka's coronation and the presentation at Warrior Falls. She wondered if other tribes would test the new king, but there was no word on any challengers to the throne. Ramonda planned for a summer wedding that would take place once T'Chaka was crowned. The palace kept her busy with lessons on protocols and her new role as a future queen. Zintle was over the moon. Keeping busy with a wedding helped ease the loss of her husband. They spent hours on the design of Ramonda's wedding dress and royal isicholo and fussed over what foods to feed the guests. The queen showed Ramonda what would become her new home in the palace with T'Chaka.

Her life became an open book to the palace, and N'Jobu's words came back to haunt her. She wouldn't be free anymore. The needs of the king and the Council of Elders would dictate and control every aspect of her life. Ramonda belonged to the people and not herself anymore. The weight of that pressed down on her shoulders.

A few days before challenge day, Ramonda wandered the halls of the palace alone, taking in the beauty and thousands of years of history that rested within that structure. Meandering out into the royal garden to get fresh air, she came across N'Jobu walking near a gazebo overlooking a pond. He noticed her before she could slip away.

"Hi," he said.

She lowered her head, and he shook his.

"You are about to become royalty yourself. No need to defer to me anymore, Queen Ramonda," he said.

He pointed toward a bed of water lilies.

"Right over there, you told my mother you wanted to be the queen one day. You finally got your highest desire," he said.

"I hope we can be civil," she said.

"Why wouldn't we be? Instead of a lover, you will become my sister."

Ramonda stepped closer to him but kept a respectful distance.

"I will challenge him," N'Jobu said.

"No," she said.

"I will."

"Please don't do that. Your mother just lost her husband. She doesn't need to see her two sons fighting over the nation."

"Fighting over the nation? Do you think that's why I want to challenge him? Stop being silly."

"I chose him. It was always going to be him."

"It doesn't have to be."

"Things have changed… I've changed. Please, don't do this."

"I can do what I want."

"You're being spiteful. I'll tell him everything. Confess it all!"

"You think he doesn't already know? Maybe I told him myself."

Her heart fell to her feet.

"You didn't…"

"Marry me."

Ramonda pressed her right hand into her chest.

"Did you tell him?" she demanded.

N'Jobu's blazing eyes glared at her. Her eyes welled with tears. His face softened.

"I have not."

She covered her face with her hands and exhaled loudly.

"Please. Let me be with him in peace, N'Jobu. Don't tear apart this family over me."

"You're asking me to live without my heart. How am I supposed to survive without that? Eh? What do you expect me to do, fade into the background like always? I am tired of being second in your life."

"We are over—"

"We will never be over. You can marry him and fulfill your role as queen, but you will always itch to come to my bed. That is a fact."

"Don't fight him. If you love me, let me have this. Don't destroy the family."

"If you marry him, you will destroy me."

"I'm sorry."

She fled the royal garden, blinded by her watery eyes and fear.

"Ramonda."

She slammed into T'Chaka near his quarters, and he hugged her.

"What has you so upset?"

"I was thinking of your father… in the garden. The memories came back when I looked at his favorite lilies. I'm fine… really… it's hard letting go. I grew up here and around him. He was like my father, too. I wish he could see us marry."

"Me too," T'Chaka said.

Her heart thumped in her chest, and the lump in her throat swelled as more tears leaked down her face. What if N'Jobu killed T'Chaka? What if everyone found out it was her fault?

T'Chaka held her for a long time. All of his love flowed into her. The fear never left.

At Warrior Falls, Ramonda stood next to the queen as the royal shaman beckoned challengers to step forward. The elderly woman wore long, dark royal purple robes, and held out a long staff that she pointed toward each tribe's representative who was eligible to fight T'Chaka. Two men and two women stood in their tribal regalia, deflecting their eyes from T'Chaka, who knelt down in the cool water, shirtless, covered in dark body paint, waiting to see who had the nerve to step to him. Hundreds of witnesses crowded the sacred site, hoping for something to pop off. The energy in the air crackled with intensity and anticipation.

"Anyone?" the shaman said, her glittery eyes encouraging bravery.

Ramonda's eyes cut to her left as N'Jobu shifted his weight on his feet. He leaned forward and Ramonda nearly lurched from her spot to stop him. Their eyes met and locked. She trembled and her lips parted. N'Jobu lowered his gaze and kept his head down.

"I present to you all, King T'Chaka Udaku!" the shaman said.

Ululations and drumming rang out as the shaman placed a panther claw necklace around T'Chaka's neck.

"Wakanda Forever!" the people shouted.

Ramonda closed her eyes and shoved her hands to her lips to hide her relief. The crowd genuflected to T'Chaka, and he held his hand out toward Ramonda. She lifted her dress and stepped into the sacred water to greet the new ruler. He kissed her cheek and whispered in her ear.

"One day, our child will stand here to rule the nation. Don't you ever forget this day because we shall see it again," T'Chaka said.

They stepped on board the Royal Talon Fighter to do a flyover of the city before heading to the banquet and ball back at the palace later.

The day flew by fast. There was the Council of Elders' special ceremony for the king and then greeting all of his kin privately before they had a break to change clothes and prepare for the evening festivities. Ramonda had her hair in long braided extensions decorated with shells and gold hair jewels. Her elaborate orange ball gown was presented to her by personal handmaidens, and she allowed them to bathe, perfume, and pamper her for the night. Once dressed, she presented herself to the king, and the audience of guests praised her beauty and charm. The coronation turned into an engagement party as the queen brought in gifts for the couple. The whirlwind of activity gave Ramonda a taste of what life would be like with T'Chaka. All eyes were on them.

Ramonda took a private respite to walk outside on the long bridge that connected the double palace. The cool air blew across her face and hair, rejuvenating her spirit. N'Jobu walked past her on the bridge, his steps brisk. He ignored her completely, which was surprising. The Queen Mother came out onto the bridge with her personal Dora.

"N'Jobu! Come back!" Zintle shouted to her son.

"What's wrong?" Ramonda asked.

"He's being foolish. Maybe you can talk some sense into him," Zintle said.

Ramonda gathered up her gown and followed the angry prince.

"N'Jobu."

He stopped at an elevator and jabbed at the call screen.

"What is going on?" she asked.

"Did Mother send you?" he said.

"She said you were being foolish. What have you done?"

"I'm leaving Wakanda."

"Leaving? Leaving to go where?"

"I'm going to be a War Dog. If I can't have what I want here, I will go away."

"Breaking your mother's heart is what you're doing."

"Don't talk to me. Go back to the party and live it up."

"You stubborn man!"

She gathered up her dress and huffed away. He snatched up her arms and shoved his lips against her ear.

"Come with me," he pleaded.

Ramonda shoved him from being so close to her on the bridge exit.

"I want to hate you so much… if I could hate you…" he said.

The doors to the elevator opened, and he fled her side to jump on it. She ran after him, jamming her arm through the doors before they closed. Riding up to his floor with him, Ramonda stayed quiet.

"You won't truly be happy. I wish you well, though," he said.

"And you are making a decision in haste and under duress. Your father just died. The nation is in transition. Queen Zintle needs you here."

"I cannot stay here any longer. I will not be at your wedding next month."

The elevator doors opened on his floor. N'Jobu stepped out and faced her. The lights from his floor made his skin look like the precious ebon stones from the edges of Warrior Falls. His nostrils flared with his intention to escape the palace.

"Do you really want to be a spy?" she asked.

"I know how to blend in anywhere," he said.

He tilted his head.

"Do you even want to be a queen?" he asked.

"It is my destiny. According to you, it is my greatest desire."

He gave her a slight smile, then stroked her face.

"You are truly a queen at heart, Ramonda. You will serve the country well."

He leaned in and kissed her cheek.

"Next lifetime then," he said, before the elevator doors closed.

Ramonda saw N'Jobu one last time before he took a War Dog assignment in Oakland, California.

T'Chaka stayed busy adjusting to being king and left Wakanda before their wedding to take part in a summit that his father was supposed to preside over. Left alone in the palace with the queen, Ramonda prepared for marriage and decorated her new wing of the palace, making it cozy for T'Chaka's return. His presence at the summit cemented his place on the global scene. He was a colossal hit with Americans and the EU, and this pleased the Queen Mother and Council of Elders. T'Chaka's leadership would continue the great legacy of the Udaku rulers.

She invited N'Jobu for tea with his mother and he was pleasant and funny, making Ramonda relax. The sweetness he held blossomed all over their afternoon together. Zintle wanted to be supportive of her youngest son, but becoming a War Dog was a heavy burden for any family. N'Jobu had military training and the skills to do well overseas. Pretending to be a Black American seemed like such a simple job and so beneath his skill set. He appeared excited and his mother accepted his new pursuit.

They left her home in the early evening, and she cleared away their teacups and dishes without her servants. Spending time out on her own terrace, Ramonda rubbed her arms to self-soothe and watched a quarter moon rise. Her kimoyo beads lit up.

T'Chaka.

"I miss you," she cooed at her fiancé's floating avatar.

T'Chaka smirked and gave her a pretend smooch by puckering his lips.

"I miss you more. I'll miss you even more in the next few weeks. They have invited me to present in Switzerland at a consortium."

Ramonda pouted.

"Patience, my love. Oh, before I forget, did you have the tea gathering with Mother and N'Jobu?"

"I did. It went well. Queen Mother is upset that you won't be able to see him off."

"I will see him when he does his first check-in. Don't worry. I'll be with you soon enough."

He ended their call, and she went back into her parlor room. N'Jobu left T'Chaka's small parting gift on a side table. She picked it up and stroked the blue ribbons and decorative wrapping around it. Ramonda knew there was a ring inside. A black and silver ring that belonged to King Azzuri and was made as a set for both sons. T'Chaka wanted his brother to have the ring before he left the country and entrusted it to Ramonda. She hurried out of her suite to give it to him.

N'Jobu had a few bags packed and by his suite door when she arrived. He answered her knocking with a grin on his face.

"You forgot this," she said.

He took the gift and opened it, slipping the ring on his finger, and they both marveled at how regal it looked on him.

"There are only three rings like this ever made. We buried one with my father. T'Chaka has the other. I have this one," he said.

"Take care of yourself, Prince N'Jobu," she said.

"Farewell, Queen Ramonda."

They stared at each other for a very long time until he kissed her mouth.

After marriage, life was kind and fruitful.

Ramonda gave birth to a son, T'Challa, and she had never seen a man lose himself over his child before. Her T'Chaka spoiled and coddled the baby boy so much that she had to fight for time with her own child to breastfeed him. Never a prouder father had existed before King T'Chaka. Their son brought the family closer together over the years, especially when N'Jobu disappeared.

His last check-in had been when T'Challa was nearing thirteen. After that, there was an attack on Wakanda by a colonizer named Klaue. T'Chaka lashed out for answers as to how a white man could enter and exit Wakanda. Those were dark days, and the king leaned on Ramonda for support. Hundreds of Wakandans lost their lives on the border and T'Chaka swore to find the perpetrator no matter how long it took him. Soon after, they lost track of N'Jobu. Ramonda and Zintle pestered T'Chaka about his whereabouts, fearing the worst. The king stayed elusive and cryptic, telling them the work was a part of national security. Zintle visited the royal temple daily, burning incense and praying for her youngest son. Ramonda joined her on the days that T'Challa wasn't busy with school or activities. All three of them would kneel at the temple in front of a small black marble statue of the Panther Goddess holding long incense sticks, praying to Bast that N'Jobu would be found alive.

T'Challa asked about his uncle and Ramonda soon learned to change the subject until T'Chaka confessed to believing the worst, too. N'Jobu must've died on the job and was lost to their family forever. There was no official burial and T'Chaka forbid anyone to discuss N'Jobu in front of Zintle. He was simply missing in action under the official record.

Ramonda wept in secret often. The stubborn fool had gone out and gotten himself in trouble. All just to escape from seeing her with his brother. Lamenting over his fate, Ramonda's son helped bring her out of too much sorrow. He was a brilliant, growing boy who needed a mother's full attention. Especially since he had developed a crush on a young girl named Nakia.

Years marched on.

T'Challa became a young man, and Ramonda had a daughter to tend to also, little Shuri. The world moved on without N'Jobu.

Then the world moved on without T'Chaka.

The news came to her from T'Challa as he stood in front of a damaged building in Sokovia that a bomb attack had felled. Through smoke and tears, her beloved son told the sad fate of the king of Wakanda.

Broken down to her knees, Ramonda screamed her grief. She lost two men she loved in tragic ways.

"Mother… my wonderful mother… do not worry. I am coming home," T'Challa said.

His grief slashed lines across his forehead as he wore his father's ring.

"Come home, my son. Bring your father to me," Ramonda told him.

She trekked through the palace moaning her sorrow. Shuri held her arm, weeping, and Ramonda gathered the strength to be a rock for her precious baby girl. T'Chaka had been a lion for the nation. After their marriage and the birth of T'Challa, he rose in stature as the global leader the world needed. She created a life with him that put the needs of Wakanda first and they led the nation as no other royals had ever done in the past. Their War Dogs kept them abreast of the pulse of other nations and T'Chaka walked with the power of knowing how to bend the world in protection of his people.

"Mother, it's time. T'Challa is here," Shuri said.

Ramonda looked at her youngest child with loving eyes. Seventeen and full of spunk and confidence like her father.

"Let us greet the new king," Ramonda said, clasping her daughter's warm hands.

A phalanx of Dora Milaje surrounded Ramonda and Shuri as the Royal Talon Fighter gently landed on the Talon Port. A ramp slid out from the aircraft and T'Challa walked with the swag of his father. Nakia was by his side. Ramonda closed her eyes for a second to thank Bast for his safe return. She held her head high in the colors of dawn, her isicholo tall on her head, fingers clasped together. Her daughter stood next to her, watching T'Challa walk with General Okoye. The Dora Milaje crossed their arms with respect in the traditional Wakanda Forever salute, but protocols and salutes meant nothing to Ramonda. Her son was home. She bowed her head slightly to thank Bast, and then her feline eyes sought the child who would soon become king.

"Queen Mother… Princess," Nakia said.

The Wakandan spy bowed in the colors of her tribe, her head wrapped and her eyes downcast before Ramonda.

"My comfort for your loss," Nakia said.

Ramonda noticed her son could not stop looking at the River Tribe woman who grew up with him. Holding her queenly stance, Ramonda grinned at who she hoped would become her daughter-in-law soon.

"Thank you, Nakia. It is so good to have you back with us," Ramonda said.

Okoye addressed Ayo.

"Take her to the River Provence to prepare her for the ceremony," Okoye told Ayo.

"Yes, General," Ayo said.

Nakia walked toward another aircraft behind Lieutenant Ayo and once more Ramonda's son tracked her with longing in his dark brown eyes. Shuri fidgeted next to the queen.

"Did he freeze?" Shuri asked Okoye with playful aplomb.

"Like an antelope in headlights," Okoye offered with teasing eyes.

The embarrassment on T'Challa's face made Ramonda soften inside. She understood the feeling he wore on his handsome face. Shuri laughed, making her brother uncomfortable because of the open desire in his eyes.

"Are you finished?" T'Challa demanded of his first in command.

Okoye's teasing eyes fluttered across to the queen, and Ramonda held her head higher, trying to diffuse the ribbing her son was taking so poorly. Okoye tapped her spear and all the Dora Milaje turned in perfect formation to enter the palace, leaving the Udaku family alone.

"So surprised my little sister came to see me off before our big day," T'Challa said, holding his arms behind his back.

"You wish!" Shuri challenged. "I'm here for the EMP beads. I've developed an update."

"Update? No. It worked perfectly," T'Challa said.

Shuri pursed her lips, then cajoled her brother.

"How many times do I have to teach you? Eh? Just because something works doesn't mean it cannot be improved," Shuri said.

Ramonda caught the unsaid teasing name-calling in her daughter's tone.

"You are teaching me. What do you know?" T'Challa said.

He handed over his EMP beads, and Shuri palmed them.

"More than you," she chided.

"I cannot wait to see what kind of update you make to your ceremonial outfit," T'Challa called out.

Not seeing her daughter from behind, but knowing her well, Ramonda tilted her head back and called out to Shuri, who more than likely had her middle finger up.

"Shuri!" Ramonda shouted.

"Sorry, mother!" the princess called back.

Ramonda gazed at the man before her. Thirty-three years ago, Ramonda gripped her birthing chair and squeezed T'Challa out to the world in a rush of blood and prayers. He was the light of T'Chaka's life, the future beacon carrying the hopes and dreams of Wakanda. The world was much too cruel to deny T'Chaka the chance to see T'Challa take the throne. N'Jobu too.

Ramonda fought back the tears that loomed so close. The past created a reckoning that she swallowed down.

"How are you feeling today, Mama?" T'Challa asked.

Ramonda quelled the broken parts laying inside of her spirit. Deception and regret had no place before her son.

T'Challa had his eyes. His temperament. His smile.

"Proud," she said as T'Challa entwined his hands with hers. "Your father and I would talk about this day all the time."

A lie.

"He is with us… and it is your time to be king," Ramonda declared.

N'Jobu's son smiled at her, and Ramonda stroked his cheek. The past was the past. She made her choice and had to live with the outcome. Alone.

N'Jobu's son, not T'Chaka's, would become the king of Wakanda.

The secret she held for thirty-three years would never have to be revealed. T'Challa would go to Warrior Falls and defeat anyone who challenged him. The two men she loved were dead and gone. The living would carry on. Ramonda would carry on.

"Your grandmother is waiting to see you. Come, my son," Ramonda said.

She led T'Challa inside the palace. The family would live on in peace now, Bast willing.

Author’s Note: Betcha y’all will look at the Black Panther movie different now, lol!

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