#is this a bad piece? I hope it isn't a that bad of a piece ;-;
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fanart for @qoldenskies's caged lungs fic 💥💥
it isn't based on any scene in particular, just my overall interpretation and visualization of things I felt. mostly bad things. but apparently human brains enjoy that. so let's go
I'm gonna ramble now, buckle up
Frankly that's the first personal piece I've drawn in months, and I'm grateful for it. I'm grateful that I was able to feel emotions and wanted to draw something again
I struggle a lot with empathy and understanding of other's feelings and displaying my own but. I hope people will feel something by looking at it, too
I've got inspired by the old tale that we used to read on literature lessons, altho I for the life of me can't remember the name of it, or anything else from the plot for that matter. There were a competition for retrieving the jug from the bottom of the river, where many men tried and failed, as they couldn't reach it. As you can already tell, it was a reflection of the jug that was hanged on a tree all along.
I liked the concept of something unreachable being seen as being very close to you :) hence the whole water situation
generally water is seen as a positive symbol in art but for me it's cold, slippery, you can't see shit in it, misleading and uncomfortable. go figure
and I really like how CL displays yellow as a color with negative connotation while it's classically being the The Most Happy Coded Color Ever.
while I'm at it I wanted to share a song I associate with caged lungs in particular
just let it die!
I would have liked to talk more about how awesome the fic is and how invested I'm in the plot and characters and how noticing details and parallels makes my brain go brrrr but I'm shy and not really eloquent with my words. I hope you will get the idea anyway. I love it <3
& textless version :0
If you spot any symbolism, it's probably there. or not. up to you really. that's how art works. have fun
#this art is about diluting yourself for the cause that deceptively seems reachable#i feel so embarrassed every time i engage with the fandom#i fight my cringe for my freedom every day#I couldn't NOT include the bird in my art that isnt happening#I couldn't NOT include the skeleton in my art that isnt happening#canary continuity#rottmnt#my nerd self tells me that turtle ribs dont work that way but my artist self tells me fuck it we ball#digital art#art#Spotify
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All Of Your Pieces (2 - Liar! Liar!)
Chapter Summary: You wake up one morning compelled to say the truth and nothing but the truth. Wanda seizes this opportunity to ensure everything remains under her control. Meanwhile, Jimmy and Darcy finally discover what happened to Agent Monica Rambeau. Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x Female Reader Chapter word count: 3k+ | Chapter Tags: Manipulation
A/N: Billy is my favorite twin, if that isn't obvious already :P // More author's notes here.
Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist
It doesn’t require a calendar to track the days here in Westview.
It's the kind of repetition that settles over suburban life, where dates fade into insignificance and days blur into a seamless loop, distinguishable only by the changing seasons. But even the current season—fall—is as predictable in its passage as ever, like storybook weather in its perfection. The birds are always chirping, the sun rises promptly at 6:40 every morning—never a minute early or a second late—and it never rains. Just endless clear skies, day after day, until the sun sets at five.
You've been chewing on this odd feeling ever since you and Wanda arrived in this part of New Jersey, but today, there's something extra. You can't pin it down, just that it's…there. Today feels different—more than usual—and you didn’t really get it until breakfast, when your mouth slipped past your usual tact with the kids.
“Mommy, do you like it?” Tommy asks, his eyes big and hopeful as he holds up a crayon drawing of what looks like the family standing outside a perfect little house.
Perfect. Honestly, you’re getting pretty tired of everything being so perfect around here.
“It's...very colorful,” you start, the usual praise ready on your tongue, but what comes out instead is, “Though it's kind of all over the place, isn’t it? Maybe you could try to stay inside the lines a bit more.”
Speaking aloud is like sending an email: once it's out there, it's out there for good. Even so, an email would have been the better option. At least then, you could just hack into Tommy’s account—if he ever figures out how to set one up—and erase your blunder for good.
Could having a magical wife somehow save you from this mess?
It’s too late though. Tommy's face crumples, and Wanda doesn't seem keen on throwing you a lifeline, just a dirty look from across the table as you sip your morning coffee.
“But if you’re going for an abstract—” you start, but your son is already sulking off to his room.
Billy digs into his cereal, blissfully unaware. Wanda, on the other hand, looks as if she's ready to rip open a portal to another realm and hurl you out of this one.
That can’t be good.
“You really upset him,” she says, arms crossing over her chest. “He was so proud of that drawing.”
“I know, I feel awful about it,” you groan, burying your face in your hands. Seeing your genuine remorse, Wanda eases up, giving you a moment to stew in your guilt before she comes back to the table with a stack of pancakes.
“Here, eat up,” she says, setting them down in front of you.
You pick up your fork, cutting into the stack. They look perfect—golden brown, with the butter melting just right. You take a bite, and before you can stop yourself, the words are out.
“They're a bit dry,” you blurt out, instantly regretting your words. But once you start, you can't seem to stop. “And this maple syrup... it tastes kind of artificial.”
Wanda gasps. “Excuse me?”
“Shit—”
“Language, Y/N!” she snaps, but it's too late, the curse is already out there, floating in the air like a bad smell.
In the next moment, something strange happens—your lips tingle, and suddenly you can't feel your mouth. Alarmed, you touch your face, finding smooth skin where your lips should be. You try to protest, but only muffled noises emerge. Fear surges as you point frantically at your face. You attempt to scream, but no sound comes out.
Seeing your flustered pantomime, Wanda’s face goes from angry to horrified. With a wave of her hand, your mouth is back in its place, and you’re gasping, both of you staring at each other, not believing what just happened. Meanwhile, Billy is giggling, clapping his tiny hands together, and gleefully repeating the S-word you accidentally let slip earlier.
You and Wanda just continue to stare at each other in shock, but then you glance at Billy, his innocent delight completely oblivious to the fact he’s saying something he shouldn’t, and you see the corners of Wanda’s mouth start to twitch. A moment later, she’s laughing unabashedly, and before you know it, you’re doing the same.
Despite the peculiarities of your life here in Westview, you don't think you've ever been this content. Before Wanda, the idea of having your own family—your own kids, two no less—seemed unthinkable. You never imagined you'd have a wife, a house in a quiet suburb, or hear one of your sons swear for the first time. Westview is far from normal, but then again, so is your family. As you watch Wanda's laughter taper into soft giggles, you think it's impossible to love her any more than you already do.
Wanda made this all conceivable for you.
“Sorry, honey,” you say, though still a bit shaken by the ordeal. “I didn't mean to be so rude.”
Wanda looks even more remorseful than you feel—which makes sense, considering she did erase your mouth, however briefly.
“And I probably shouldn't have... you know, removed your mouth,” she murmurs, guiltily picking at her cuticles.
Admittedly, it was terrifying—one of the scariest experiences you've ever had. You certainly don't want a repeat. It makes you slightly wary of your wife, but your love for Wanda outweighs your fear. Standing beside one of the most powerful beings in the universe takes courage, and you've built up plenty over the years together. You're made for this—for her, for this kind of love.
“Apology accepted,” you say, mustering a weak smile.
Wanda's face floods with relief, then quickly contorts into worry. “What’s with you today?”
“I can't seem to lie,” you confess, realizing there's no easy way to skirt the truth. “I don't know what's happening, but I just can't stop saying exactly what's on my mind.”
She stares at you, confused and a little hurt. “What do you mean you can’t lie today? So, you’re usually lying?”
Before you can smooth that over, Billy looks up from his cereal, fixing you with that stern look that’s pure Wanda. “Mommy, lying is bad.”
Wanda’s gaze softens as she looks at Billy, then back at you, the seriousness returning. “Billy, why don’t you go brush your teeth and check on your brother? Your mommy and I need to talk for a little bit.”
“Okay, mama.”
Billy scampers off, and you feel your stature shrink under your wife's gaze, suddenly feeling every bit the child.
“What’s this about not being able to lie?” Wanda asks once it’s just the two of you.
You shake your head. “Look, it’s not that I usually lie, but today, I can’t even if I wanted to. It’s like a—a truth filter permanently switched off.”
Wanda takes a few moments to mull over your words. “Oh…” she starts, sounding half-convinced. “Maybe it’s stress,” she throws out after a beat. “You’ve been working really hard lately, haven’t you? Perhaps your mind is just overwhelmed and you need a mental day off.”
You had thought of that, but the whole situation seemed too weird for such a simple explanation. Then again, maybe seeing shadows where there aren't any is just another stress symptom. So you let it slide.
“Yeah, maybe you’re right. I’ll see if I can call in sick next week,” you mumble, trying to sound cheerful about the prospect of a break.
Wanda comes around the table and cups your face in her hands. You let her pinch your cheeks together, feeling both stubborn and a bit sorry for yourself. It's silly, but all you want is for Wanda to coddle you and make you feel better, not to dish out logical reasons for why you’re not yourself today.
“Well, if you're stuck with the truth, let's have some fun with it,” Wanda says.
You swallow hard, aware that any question she might ask now would either please or upset her—and there seems to be no middle ground.
“Uhm, honey, I don’t think—”
“Do you love me?”
You smirk at her; that’s an easy one. “More than anything else.”
“Only me?”
You laugh at her silly follow-up. This reminds you of the early days of your courtship when Wanda was a bottomless well of need. You didn't mind at all, knowing she needed to hear it as often as you made her feel it. Initially, you were a bit bothered, wondering if your actions weren't speaking loudly enough for her to trust you. Eventually, it became less frequent, until the question turned into a statement—You love me—to which you responded with your own: You love me too. Since then, it quickly became how you say ‘I love you’ to each other.
“Only you. I'd sooner die than love someone else,” you confidently tell her.
Her smile in return is a beautiful riddle—a riddle you can’t figure out.
“Wanda, I—”
“Do you like living here?”
“Sometimes.” The words slip out before you can think, and you're relieved to realize that your feelings about Westview are honestly not all negative. “It’s a nice town. Quiet and cheap.”
Wanda's face does something subtle. You can't quite read her reaction, but it's clear she has more questions when she doesn't park on your answer, instead moving on to something else.
“Do you... do you remember how we got here?"
You blink at her. Initially, the question seems a bit absurd. But as you try to formulate a response, “Of course. We got married at…” you stall, your brain blanking on the when and where of your own wedding. “...then we moved into this house last…”
You try to pin down the date, but it slips through your mind like sand.
“Wanda?” A laugh escapes you, but there's a nervous edge to it. “Why can’t I remember any of the details?”
The last thing she says before flicking her wrist is, “Because you’re not supposed to.” But even that slips away, scrubbed clean from your memory by Wanda’s sweeping hand.
–
“Jimmy?”
“Yeah?”
“I think I found her.”
Jimmy hurried over to the tight corner of their camp where Darcy had practically set up shop for the past few days. Since the signals were first picked up, she's taken charge of monitoring the transmissions, her main focus being to locate Agent Monica Rambeau. They've already confirmed that many of Wanda's bizarre, sitcom-style characters are, in fact, real residents of Westview, somehow trapped inside whatever anomaly Wanda seems to be in the center of.
“That’s Monica, right?” Darcy points at the grainy image on the retro television set they've been using to watch the town's activities. The broadcasts come through at odd hours, which makes every second of surveillance crucial.
Jimmy leans in closer, squinting at the screen where a woman bearing a striking resemblance to Monica appears. “It sure looks like her,” he confirms.
The woman onscreen is dressed in distinctly 70s fashion—a bold, patterned blouse with wide lapels tucked into high-waisted bell-bottoms. Her hair is styled in voluminous, bouncy curls that softly frame her face, completing the look that is so far removed from the S.W.O.R.D. uniform Jimmy last saw her in.
“I wonder what character she’s playing in the show…” Darcy muses.
A handful of nearby crew quietly look on as Monica steps out of a Hornet, a stack of papers clutched in her hand, and strides confidently toward one of those cookie-cutter houses lining the street—yours and Wanda's.
“Stay frosty, Monica,” Darcy mutters under her breath, staring unblinkingly at the screen as they watch her knock gently on the door.
It’s Wanda who greets her with a guarded smile. “Hello, can I help you?” she asks, sizing up the stranger on her doorstep.
“Hi, there. I’m Geraldine. You must be Wanda,” Monica says. Jimmy and Darcy exchange a look, both arriving at the same conclusion: whatever spell has ensnared the other residents, Monica appears to be under it too.
“Do I know you?” Wanda asks, her teeth gritted in what she hopes passes for a smile. But Wanda, she’s got a tell. It’s never hard to see when she’s faking it. The sitcom laugh track of this Westview tries to spin it as humor, but it’s clear to anyone—she’s not thrilled about Geraldine’s arrival at all.
“Oh, I’m sorry, has Y/N not mentioned who I am?” Geraldine asks mildly, like she’s bringing up some small, casual detail—which, for Wanda, it isn’t.
“Honey, who's at the door?” Your voice drifts from the living room just before you step into view, crunching on an apple. When you spot the visitor, your face lights up with recognition, puzzling Wanda even more.
“Evening, ma'am,” Geraldine nods at you with a polite smile.
Wanda keeps darting glances between you and Geraldine, trying to piece together what's going on. And what’s frustrating her is you don’t seem privy at all to her disconcertment.
“I told you to just call me Y/N,” you admonish with a light grin. “What brings you here?”
“W-Who is she?” Wanda jumps in, keeping up her charade of a pleasant surprise.
“It’s Geraldine,” you tell Wanda, expecting her to recognize the name. Her blank, slightly annoyed expression forces you to jog your memory and that’s when it hits you that your wife has no idea what you’re talking about. “She’s my new assistant. Didn’t I tell you?” you say sheepishly.
“No, honey, you certainly did not,” Wanda replies, her smile stretched a bit too tight. She turns to Geraldine. “Aren’t offices usually closed by five?”
“They sure are, Wanda,” Geraldine replies cheerfully. It bothers Wanda how Geraldine uses ‘ma’am’ for you but casually drops her first name like they're old friends.
“So, why are you here?” Wanda asks, no longer bothering to hide her irritation.
“Oh, just dropping off some reports that Y/N needed to review tonight. Urgent stuff, you know?” Geraldine holds up the stack of papers in her hand as proof.
“Yikes,” Darcy winces at the tension practically leaking through the screen, feeling that deep cringe of secondhand embarrassment for Monica's obliviousness to Wanda's ire.
Fortunately for your assistant, you position yourself between her and Wanda, intercepting just as your wife’s temper begins to flare. You remember Wanda’s warm, almost syrupy kindness with Agnes when she first appeared, which only makes her sudden cold front toward Geraldine unreasonable.
“I completely forgot about those reports. Thanks for bringing them over, Geraldine,” you say, nudging her toward the exit. “See you Monday!”
Then, you close the door before she can add anything else, sparing both women from each other.
“So, why haven't you mentioned Geraldine before?” Wanda asks, not sparing another second to grill you about your new assistant.
You frown, thinking back. “I thought I did.”
Wanda looks at you for a long moment, her expression inscrutable. “Are you sure there’s nothing else you’re not telling me?” she demands, her eyes searching yours.
“Uh-oh, trouble in paradise,” Darcy sing-songs, stuffing a handful of popcorn into her mouth. Jimmy reaches over, trying to sneak a handful, but she swats him away.
You give her a lopsided smile, doing your best to charm your way out of the situation. The compulsive honesty from earlier isn't nagging at you anymore, but really, there's no need to sugarcoat anything in this case.
“Sounds like someone's a little jealous,” you tease lightly. And there it is again—that distant chorus of an audience, laughing on cue. You really need to talk to Wanda about this; it could be linked to all the experiments she's been doing with her powers.
Wanda barks out a forced laugh right into your smirking face. “Jealous? Me? There's no way I'm jealous of anyone, especially not Geraldine.”
“Then why did you look like you wanted to throw her out yourself when she showed up?”
Wanda's smile fades a tad, then she just shrugs. “Because she was interrupting our family dinner time. That's all.”
Normally, you'd draw this out until she admits she's jealous, but that could take all night. Right now, all you want is to kiss your beautiful wife, the only one you see. It's getting late, and not being able to touch her all day is driving you a little mad with want.
“Fine, you're not jealous,” you whisper, moving in, wrapping your arms around her waist. “Why would you be? You’re the prettiest, smartest, most amazing woman anyone could ask for.”
Wanda melts into you almost instantly. “You love me.”
“You love me too,” you say before leaning in to peck her lips. She hums happily against your lips, but just then, you hear the boys complaining about being hungry. Sharing a smile, you both head back to sort out dinner.
The episode ends, credits roll, and Darcy groans, tossing her head back. “No way. I need more of this,” she huffs, stabbing her finger at the screen. “They're perfect together. Shame Y/N’s supposedly dead. I hate spoilers.”
“She doesn’t look dead to me from here,” Jimmy says.
“My theory? That’s not actually her. I bet Wanda or someone did something to make a rando look like Y/N.”
“You think?”
Darcy nods. “With all the surreal stuff happening here? Yeah, I'd put money on it, dude.”
“Maybe you’re right,” Jimmy concedes. “Anyway, it’s a relief to see Agent Rambeau’s alive and kicking.”
“As Geraldine,” Darcy reminds him. “I wonder who chooses their names for them. Back to Y/N, what did that Howard guy have to say about Y/N being dead but so alive in Westview?”
“It’s Hayward,” Jimmy corrects her with a sigh. “He doesn’t seem interested in her or anyone else trapped inside. He’s more interested in the energy field surrounding the town.”
“And their boys?” Darcy adds, not listening to Jimmy’s rant. “We don’t have any public record of their true identities in Westview, right?”
Jimmy gives her a sidelong glance. “No records, no data. As far as Westview’s concerned, they just… appeared.”
“Typical,” she mutters, jotting down notes without looking away from the TV's static, hoping there’s a bonus episode or something.
But the screen stays blank, nothing but static for hours on end.
–
After hours of making love, Wanda lies next to you, watching you sleep. She’s used her powers on you before, but never here, never without your consent since you became a couple. Casting the hex was the easy part, the lying to you—not so much. Acting like she didn't know what was troubling you had hurt her more than she let on.
She wanted to check if you were still happy here, still content, or if doubts were starting to creep in. And knowing you—the real you—you'd probably lie to Wanda just to keep her happy, just to ensure she has everything she wants. You've always prioritized her needs over your own, always stepping aside to let her shine. She wants the same for you, but you always manage to outdo her in every act of self-sacrifice.
When you started asking her about the exact dates of the wedding you thought you two actually had, it confirmed you still had no idea why you’re here, or what she’s done. She was relieved, honestly, because it meant she could stop forcing you to tell the truth, a spell she’d put on you out of desperation more than distrust.
She isn't sure how long this will last, just that it might be the most happiness she'll ever know, even if it's a delicate, fleeting kind. How did she even do this? Wanda doesn’t even know. It just happened—like a rose that has sprouted off a barren land. And now, despite having everything she's ever wanted, there’s always this nagging fear that it could all fall apart.
Quietly, she makes a promise to herself to fix things. She promises to you and her boys, she’ll find a way to make this life real, something that won’t just vanish like everything else she’s ever loved.
#wanda maximoff x reader#wanda maximoff imagine#wanda maximoff x you#wanda x you#wanda maximoff#unbetad#my writing#my fic#elizabeth olsen x reader#elizabeth olsen#wanda maximoff fanfiction#oneshots#fic request#wandavision#monica rambeau#darcy lewis#jimmy woo#All Of Your Pieces#AOYP
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I am sick of Yohe's misery and spent five minutes thinking I wish I had ten nice things to read this morning before realising I could write them myself:
Jarry - who, let's not pretend otherwise, is not my favourite goalie in the NHL - was fantastic at lots of points especially at the start of the game (let's not talk about the bit where he wandered off at the end, we've all gone rouge at the end of a night out haven't we, let's not be judgemental). Do I know what makes a goalie fantastic? Not really. But he made lots of saves and there were many points where I thought we were done for but he came through. He really really tried and God loves a trier and it's also really nice that Ned got a bit of a break. Being a goalie for a special team like ours must be tiring
Nostril boy scored a great goal which is an enormous feat considering he was skating on a line with a Drew O'Connor who's shaved head looks so bad it would frankly throw anyone off their game. I wonder if Sid will now declare the baldness unlucky and send him to Geno's hair man
On that point - Doc admitted that his hair looks terrible - which, yes, I know that isn't exactly a win from a hockey perspective but it's a man showing self awareness which is a rare win for humanity and not to be overlooked. I think Yohe could actually really spice up his journalism by writing a piece on our hair to win ratio
Sid's assist on Raks' goal was gorgeous. Gorgeous!! It wasn't goal 600 but it was a point and a beautiful one AND we got to see him smile
Our powerplay wasn't horrific. Our PK wasn't horrific. At points they looked good! I didn't feel sick watching either and the dash managed to stay mostly sane!
All our young guys were pretty good! And hey!! We have young guys!! Young guys playing on our team!! Let us not be ungrateful for what we have. Do I squint at their numbers on my grainy livestream and say who is that? What line is that? Where did you come from? Yes, but change is sometimes good and they lower our average age by like ten years
Geno showed so much energy towards the end of the game. I know he didn't do much but my gosh he really tried! He clearly had the legs. I don't like to dwell on it but at some points last season he just looked slow and tired not quite there and last night he looked hungry for it! He's been so great this season. I could make a point about the motivational powers of the stache here but i'm not Rossi so i'll leave the RPF to those better qualified
Also, Geno's line started the game! We rarely get to see him being broody on the ice during the anthems so that was a lovely treat.
For my fellow stachefuckers, the sidstache (and rustache and others) are all going strong. How long will they survive? I'm not sure. But we've made it 20 days with our beautiful slugs intact and that's so much better than last year. We have so many pictures! So many gifs. So many clips of the stache being discussed! Movember 2024 has not disappointed
Finally, it was a Hockey Fights Cancer night! There were some lovely stories and it was so moving to see survivors celebrating at the game. I think this is where Sid would say something nice about hockey being more than a game and having the power to unite people and include them in a community and give hope and inspire and and and. So insert that here. I think he's right.
#pspspspss join me in the hockey optimism camp of delusion it's much better than being sad#pens lb#pittsburgh penguins
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H-hey mootie
So it’s my birthday this week
So if you would make a blurb about drider!Miguel killing readers shitty husband then fucking her 🕷️
I would love it 🥺🥺🥺
Yes it’s Halloweeny that’s cause I didn’t have the energy to write it myself no matter the word count or format I know you can do it Justice!! Love ya!!
YES U CAN MY WONDERFUL MOOT. 🎉🎂 Dedicated to the amazing moot 🖤 HAPPY BIRTHDAY ILYYY 🕸️🕷️ @cullen-rutherford-wifey
Huge thanks to my moot adqui for the Spanish translation help, and to @politemenacephd for the inspiration and their flawless Drider!Miguel smut in Arachnophilia that helped me a ton with this fic. 🖤
can I be him
CW: MINORS DNI, X FEM!READER, MONSTERFUCKING, SMUT, P IN V, LOTS OF CUM, NIPPLE PLAY, LIGHT BONDAGE, SPIT, BREEDING, CREAMPIE, ANAL PLAY(idk if that's what it's called) EDGING, DRIDER!MIGUEL, ANGST, MUTUAL PINING, SLIGHTLY STALKER ISH BEHAVIOR, GRAPHIC BLOOD AND VIOLENCE, DOMESTIC DISPUTE, YOU HAVE A SHITTY HUSBAND, MURDER, INFIDELITY, A DARKER PIECE PLS PLSSSSS MIND THE WARNINGS.
Words 6.1k
Miguel shouldn't be doing this. But he can't help it. It was wrong to watch you like this. To want you like this.
The warm glow cast by the screen floating in front of him softened his chiseled features as he gazed longingly at you through the portal of dimensions that kept you apart.
A gorgeous, living variant of his own version of you that he could not save. The only one out of thousands he had come across. And believe that when he first lost you, his unfathomable grief kept him searching, scouring, waiting, hoping for months that there was one more universe out there where death didn't rip you away.
And the first he discovered just had to be one where you belonged to someone else.
Dated for almost five years now. Married for going on three. And the kicker was that bastard didn't even deserve you.
The multiverse was cruel. In every other reality, tragedy irrevocably tainted the legacy of Miguel O'Hara.
Always so close, and yet, never finding peace in any set of cards he was coldly dealt.
In this particular dimension he was watching you from, he was a mutant with his top half being that of a man and the lower half, that of a spider. A large abdomen adorned in fuzzy black hair with eight enormous thick legs like a tarantula and venomous fangs, irises of bleeding crimson to match. He was a drider. A monster, as far as he was concerned.
But there were times when he'd watch you that he'd allow himself to be crazy enough to dream that you could love someone like him.
At least in his mind he wasn't chained back by his fears and insecurities. At least for now in the sanctity of his office, your shitty husband didn't exist and you weren't lightyears away in an opposite plane of reality. You could be free to be all his, monstrous features be damned.
A version of you loved him once, would it really be all that far fetched to think you could possibly learn to love him again?
---
Another long day ended. You exhaled a weary sigh as you left the cold of late fall that was descending quickly into winter in the icy world behind you. Closing the door to your house that seldom felt like home these days.
You supposed your life was okay, but still you wouldn't have chosen it had you known this feeling of monotony would haunt you everywhere you went.
From your job, to sometimes family, but most of all your marriage. Nearly all your life, you felt out of place, but never quite like this. You supposed it started as early as nine months into your relationship with your now husband.
When he stopped buying flowers, when his texts became fewer, hours at work became longer, his patience shorter. You chalked it up to the unpredictable ebbs and flows of love.
"Love isn't perfect. Not all rainbows and butterflies," you were told time and time again.
When your husband wanted to, he could be great. When he was bad, he could be exceptionally worse. But how could you be so sure? With practically nothing to compare it to, you supposed this was simply the path that was carved out for you. Mediocrity may be disappointing but passion alone couldn't keep a roof over your head. Stability was still a wiser thing to choose than comfortability.
Even so, on the eve of your birthday, the empty spot next to you in bed that you slowly became accustomed to delivered that sharp reminder of just how lonely you really were.
Tears fell and seeking solace, you shamelessly indulged and allowed your mind to visualize him. That mystery man from afar who haunted your dreams and took up permanent residence in your mind with his bewitching crimson eyes. Sometime around when you suspected the love your husband once had for you had all but ceased.
You don't know why, but this being seemed to call for you, seemed to speak to you. To that forgotten part inside that for the life you couldn't explain why it remained empty.
It was almost like a cosmic bond to him, an adept yearning. An invisible lining etched into your very being that somehow recalled him in a different life. That gorgeous face without a name.
Miguel.
----
Miguel stirs awake, realizing he was a victim of sleep while watching you. His attention is called immediately to a growing spat between you and your husband.
"I asked a simple fucking question, John. Where. were. you."
"And I GAVE YOU A SIMPLE FUCKING ANSWER. Don't. fucking. worry. about. it."
Miguel sits up, high on alert, spider senses kicking in. Something about John's tone this time was highly unsettling.
"You know what, I've lost count by now, John..." You flung your hands in the air, weary, defeated and broken down by the endless disappointment, tear soaked trails running from your eyes that hadn't stopped since last night. "But of all the days out of the year...you just couldn't keep it in your pants on my fucking birthday..."
"Do you fucking hear yourself??" John screamed. "Nobody said anything about cheating! Where in this entire conversation has there ever even a hint about cheating? I'll fucking tell you: NONE." He points an accusatory finger. "You brought this all on yourself, not me!"
"It was Carla again, wasn't it." You nodded with a tearful sob, pacing around the living room. "Carla, fucking, Carla..."
Maybe fixing these pillows could distract you from the agonizing realization that you were reliving the nightmare of John's infidelity. Going on three for three when you thought the first and second time he had learned enough.
"I didn't sleep with goddamn Carla!!" John grabs a mug and hurls it at the wall.
That's it. Miguel draws a portal immediately. His yearning had reached a breaking point, and this fight was all the push he needed to come to shove. Miguel O'Hara normally obeyed the rules, but this version of him was unlike the others.
No rule was above being broken when it came to the lengths he would go for you.
"Real fucking mature, John. What are you gonna do huh? Gonna hit me, choke me?? Maybe then you'll actually be half the man you think you are!"
"Ohhh you fucking little..."
But before the worst can happen, an otherworldly threat makes itself known with a random buzzing orange window opening, allowing an enormous half man, half spider through.
You and your husband scream in horror, your conflict between you temporarily forgotten.
"Shit shit SHITTTT!!! WHAT THE FUCK!! John what's happening??"
"I don't fucking know..." John mumbles in disbelief, flinching as Miguel's long legs pound on the hardwood floor, echoing under his formidable size. His eyes appeared menacing, deeply laced with venomous dislike as he glowered at John, but seemed to soften, if not only for just a fleeting moment when they landed on you.
"If...if we both don’t get out of this. I need to tell you something" John mumbles almost incoherently as your fingers dug into his arm.
"W-what?" You turn to look at John, at this face that housed a soul inside it that you once knew but no longer recognized. Almost wordlessly appealing to whatever final shred of respect he had left inside for you as a last ditch effort to give you some semblance of the man you once loved.
"I ruined everything. Your sister and I fucked. Just know, I'm sorry..."
And before you could even have a moment to compute that final godforsaken dagger he had the nerve to drive into your heart, he shoved you in the way of the monster like a piece of meat so he could save his cowardly ass.
"JOHN!" the sound was wretched and broken. Devasted by betrayal. You shrieked in fear and brought your arms over your head, prepared to absorb whatever immense pain was about to wrack your whole body, praying frantically for a quick death.
But, you gasped in alarm when no such fate arrived and Miguel charged headfirst at your fleeing coward of a husband, pinning him to a wall as nearby photographs came down with crash of splintering glass.
His head hit the wall with a deafening crack, a dark pool of maroon beginning to leak from behind him and drip out of his nose.
He yelled but the sound was quickly muffled as Miguel's calloused hands wrapped around his throat, a couple trails of blood oozing down his fist.
"B-babe....aacghkk...please m'ergh sorry, I'm..." John tried to choke out, his teeth now coated in sheer red from where he bit his tongue, quiet trickles audible as the blood from his head seeped onto the floor underneath him.
Miguel was only moments away from crushing his windpipe, but he untensed his jaw when he heard you trying to catch your breath on the floor. He turned, taking note of how helpless and fearful you looked.
Though it would have given him immense pleasure to pull the plug, he had to think of you first.
"Do you mind?" He merely asks, his eyes cold as his fingers tightened just a bit.
"P-please..." John croaks. "Please...Babe..."
You're still reeling from anger that was slowly turning to anguish. As you looked at John, for the first time you felt nothing. It only took years and him nearly sacrificing you before himself for you to wake up and realize the sorry shell of a man he had turned into.
"Goodbye, John." You uttered like venom and turned away as you heard the sickening crackle and then wet sound of choking blood as Miguel snapped John's neck in half.
----
"You okay?"
"Fine."
Miguel could tell you were lying. After swiftly disposing of the body in a different dimension and washing up, he had came back to discover you hadn't moved an inch from your spot on the floor. Your numbness kept you anchored, gazing into the haunting abyss of the blood spatter that remained on the wall.
"Hey, easy now. " Miguel murmured as you finally began to stand up.
"I can handle my own, thanks."
"Of course, I mean..." He clears his throat, stomach uneasy when you became short with him. "Sorry."
You two sat opposite each other in the living room with you and on the couch and Miguel on the floor as that was the only space that could accommodate him.
Sometime during the seemingly infinite silence, you realized all of this bullshit your now dead ex managed to put you through in his final hours on earth made you profoundly indifferent to the fact a literal drider broke into your home.
"Who are you?" You ask at last. "And why didn't you kill me too?"
Miguel looks at you quickly, glad the empty silence was broken at last. "My name is Miguel." He looks down, shame in his expression. "And I, well.."
He doesn't think he should divulge all of his secrets yet. Surviving near death by drider and having your husband's cheating revealed shortly before his untimely death was more than enough burden to bear.
"I'm not from around here."
"I gathered that." Your eyes rake over his enormous form. You should be beside yourself. This man creature just killed your husband after all. But something about his voice was calming. Oddly soothing. Dare you say it was, rather attractive?
"So what are you, half spider?"
For the first time, an inkling of amusement shows on his face. "What, did my eight legs give it away?"
"Just a little." You hum, bringing your knees to your chest as you allowed yourself to relax.
"You know, you're...eerily calm about all of this."
"Heh...I know. Guess I kind of feel like I'm still asleep and I'm gonna wake up any minute."
"Wanna test that theory?" Miguel quirks a brow.
You pinch yourself while keeping your deadpan stare, holding it for a moment as if it would do anything. "Nope."
"Wow." Miguel says sarcastically to which you can't help but snicker. "So, do weird occurrences like this happen to you often? Still doesn't explain why you're not completely hysterical about all this."
"I watch the news." You shrug. "Crazy shit happens in New York all the time. What with Spider-Man being a thing and all. Just a step above normal, I'd say."
"Ah." It made sense. Miguel should've known your dimension had its own spider. A little bit of relief washed over him. At least this made things a bit less messy on his end. He falls silent again, stealing little glances of you now and then.
You were fucking ethereal in person. Being this close was something he only dreamed about. Now that it was happening in real time, he was wracking his mind desperately for ideas on how to drag it out as long as he could.
"So if I may: how'd you become half spider?" You ask the hard question at last.
Miguel raises his eyebrows, somewhat relieved you took the first leap. He proceeds to tell you about his lab accident, and how he became spliced with spider DNA.
He tells you about the multiverse, and how there are many versions of him out there with the same story, but his cursed him with the lower half of a mutant unlike most.
"So, if there's a whole multiverse out there, are there multiple versions of myself too?" You lean your chin on your hand like a curious pupil.
Miguel nods stiffly, trying to disguise the weight of the information he held. "Yeah. "
You go silent again, then you ask, "Did you know me in your own universe?"
Miguel's heart pangs subtly at the reminder. "Yeah, I did..." He looks away from you but you can't help but continue to stare at him.
He really was so pleasant to look at. That brown, wavy hair that curled just slightly at the ends you could only imagine would run like silk between your fingers, eyes a hue of red that couldn't be replicated anywhere except the deep center of the rarest rose, lulling voice that dripped from those full lips. This formidableness about him that crumbled into gentleness only when it came to you did absolutely nothing but pull you closer to him.
For the first time, those unconnected dots in that unanswered part of you in your dreams might be falling into place.
"Was I quite close to you?" Your heart steadily begins to pick up.
Miguel shook under his desire to just let the facade fall away and pull you into his arms. But he remained still as he looked back at you, silent plea from behind his words that was only articulated in those eyes that put bleeding sunsets to shame.
"You meant the world to me."
The pieces coming together prompted these strong emotions you weren't expecting, coming out in broken tears. "So that's why you found me..." You shook your head.
Miguel's heart tugs outside of his chest. He stands up, drawing closer, then his legs folded as he leaned in to where you sat on the couch. When you didn't pull away, he got the courage to cup your face in both his hands, gently wiping the wetness away.
"Why didn't you come get me sooner?" It clicks at that very moment. That tender gaze that graced you now could not belong to anyone other than your starcrossed beloved who visited every time you closed your eyes.
"I wanted to." Miguel must suppress his own tears at this point. Oh how he wanted to, how he ached to.
"Believe me, I really did, mi vida.."
His term of endearment for you just encourages you to liquify under his touch even more. "But why didn't you?? I was so miserable. I waited for you. I thought you weren't real. Thought you were never coming..."
"I know, I know." Miguel closed his eyes when your foreheads met at last. This feeling of touching you for the first time elated him, shedded him of his internal torment. He felt like he was soaring.
"You were married and I was..." He sighs deeply, pulling away just a little, "I was... well, me."
"What do you mean by that?" You furrow your brows, your heart panged by hurt, trying to understand why. Why he deprived himself of this thing you both clearly wanted when it was right there.
"Nobody as beautiful as you would ever love someone who looks like me.."
A pit falls to the bottom of your stomach and you immediately shake your head. "No...no, that couldn't be further from the truth, Miguel..."
You sit up, leaning in as you took his face in your hands again. His eyes went wide in disbelief. "W-what are you..."
A million chills erupt in Miguel's body that become embers of warmth as your lips touch for the first time. He holds his breath, then sighs. The little break in between the kiss and the low, gentle sound coming from him just encourages you to meet him again, and again.
Your fingers wind their way into his hair and his own hands couldn't do anything but pull you even closer as the kiss deepened under the weight of the burning passion. The longing was set free, a million questions answered that just kept confirming to Miguel over and over that this couldn't be more right. Canon be damned, rules be damned as your lips and your hands became a slow dance of sensual exploration.
"Miguel..."
"Please I-mnghhh..." He pleads then relents immediately as he lets his head roll gently back, allowing you to continue blazing tantalizing trails of kisses all over his neck. Because of the size difference between you both, he scoops you into his arms off the couch. He can't help but indulge the feeling of your body pressed against his, using his grip on your thighs to grind you ever so lightly against his abdomen.
The pressure delivered from the press of his body shoots directly to your core and you shamelessly take that as permission to roll your hips slightly as you straddled him, releasing that first moan into his mouth when your lips came back up from exploring the warmth of his neck.
That delicious little sound you make nearly wrecks him in the best way. Miguel moans equally louder as his kisses dial up in intensity. His teeth begin nipping intermittently as the kiss morphs into a passionate exchange of saliva and collision of lips on lips. The potent venom laced in his fangs pools with the building zeal and it seeps into your mouth, leaving sweet aftertaste whose foreignness only fuels your arousal.
An enormous thud echoes as Miguel falls backwards, but it does absolutely nothing to deter the flame lit under you. You both find a comfortable rhythm as his hands guide your hips as you ride his large spider abdomen while your makeout session riled with fervor. The coarse bristly hairs were a delicious addition to the addicting friction with each slow roll of your body. Miguel's lips fall open and his eyes falter. You relish this feeling of power over him, this enormous drider who all but became a weak weak man when he was underneath you.
You bite your lip as each heavenly movement inspires you to leave all shame at the door and start to put on a show. You card your fingers in your hair, moving it in your eyes in erotic display, groaning as you rolled your head every which way in careless abandon, letting your fingers dip in your mouth, squeezing your breasts.
"Fuckkk me..." Miguel breathes out. "Fuck me, you're so...God, you're so beautiful..." He hands continue to knead the swell of your ass, gritting his teeth as his grip locks down even harder and he feels you humping directly over his slit where his phallus was hardening underneath the ocean of fur to the point of ache.
His hands then move to play with your breasts, your eyes widened when the spot on your hips is quickly replaced with two of his smaller forelegs, one of them teasing the waistband of your pants as his human hands quickly unclasped your bra.
"Miguellll...." You mewl as one of his forelegs holds your hip steady while the other works little circles through your clothed clit, all while you felt his warm, wet tongue flatten and tease your left nipple. All you can do at this point is moan and let him wreck you completely, this pleasure that was smoldering you from all sides.
You gazed down, amazed and aroused to discover that the lower half attached to this beautiful man you were tangled in only fueled the desire, this taboo. Knowing fully well that he was capable of bloodshed, but for now he only wanted to fuck you. You grinded harder against him, answering his soft ministrations of your clit with eager gyrations of your hips.
"Me vas a terminar matando..."(You'll end up killing me) He weakly chuckled, "So, so perfect..."
Miguel is intoxicated by your breasts, circulating and squeezing them together, while his lips dribbled and slobbered as he sucked them both greedily into his mouth in messy alteration.
Soon both round globes were coated in a dripping sheen of his venom, working the thickening syrup in sloppy circles over both nipples that tingled and numbed you so deliciously along with the teasing circles of his thumbs that it made your back arch to the heavens.
He leaned back momentarily to admire his handiwork, lower jaw shiny with a mixture of venom and spit, a steamy yet filthy display of his subtle ownership he now felt over you.
His.
His rightful claim when he snapped your sorry ass excuse of a husband like a twig. Each little noise you made all for him only swelling his pride and confirming his suspicion that the loser couldn't make you cum like he could.
Speaking of cumming, you were damn near close. Miguel doesn't want to be greedy and would love to let his sweet little darling cream and squirt all over his stomach right now, but the thought was more appealing for this first time being on his tongue or, if you were up for it, his drider cock.
"I wanna cum, Miguel, please I wanna cum..." You whined, temporarily losing that sweet spot as he removed his forelegs from their massage on your clit.
"I know baby, I'm gonna make you cum..." He kissed you. "You'll cum for me. Many times, I'll make sure of it..." He panted, moving a finger underneath your chin. "How do you feel about taking my cock?"
The straightforward nature of his question answered itself in the further dampening spot in your panties. "Please...Y-yes pleaseee, Miguel. Want you to fuck me...want you to give me your cock..."
"Yeah?" He groaned, hands slinking all up and down your body, under your clothes, stroking your breasts. "I'll give it to you then, baby...fill you up so good..."
He paused then kissed you deeply once more. "You're gonna have to trust me... We'll have to try something different so this can work..."
You nodded. "I trust you, Miguel."
"Okay..." He whispered. "You're still okay with this?"
"Yes, I'm okay..." You breathed back. "I'm okay, baby. I want you so badly. I'm willing to try anything so you can be so deep inside of me..."
"Fuck, me too..." He groaned back against your lips. "Okay, hold on f'me..."
He set you back down on the couch and you were floored as you watched your beloved turn into an artist, spinning an elaborate web that stretched from floor to ceiling, almost like a swing that was anchored solidly on both sides to the wall.
"Mi vida..." He offers you his hand like a gentleman, helping you up. "Can I?" He whispers as his hands disappear underneath your clothes.
"Yes..."
He strips you carefully and slowly like fine china, letting the anticipation build as every patch of skin slowly became revealed to him.
Somehow letting him undress you, sliding the rest of your panties off and simply letting his eyes roam freely all over your body felt like the most intimate thing you had done all night, even more so as he still remained fully clothed in his top half as he stood back and drunk in the sight of you like wine.
"You're simply stunning, love..."
His hands ghosted low on your hips until they rested on the bare curve of your ass. You jumped and wrapped your thighs around him, Miguel tensed his jaw with a smirk as he kneaded the plump flesh of your ass, hardening again when he felt your bare slick he drew out of your pussy earlier against his stomach.
He nestled you into the makeshift swing that was soft and sticky as the fibers clung to your bare skin in a natural adhesive. He spun more webs around your ankles, opening them slightly.
"Is this still okay?" He asked gently again.
Exhilaration washed over you but you nodded, grinning and easing your legs open in further tease to demonstrate your own building excitement for what was to come. "Yes..."
"Good." His voice went halfway between a groan again at your pretty pussy blossoming like a flower in front of him.
He stood back, eyes cloudy and trained on you as he removed his shirt, letting it fall in a quiet heap to the ground.
You drank him in as well like an offering, moaning audibly when the slit in his fur low on his abdomen opened to reveal a long, thick, hard red cock with pulsating black veins adorning both sides. It curved upwards, and it throbbed, making your mouth water.
This only made the full sight of your monstrous lover even more alluring as he stood before you in all his drider glory, towering over you even now when you were closer to his eye level in your makeshift swing, with your thighs spread and your silky cunt begging to be filled.
He shot a web onto your belly, pulling you in closer while you still sat settled on the swing, giggling as he smirked playfully at you, until just the tip of his cock kissed between your folds.
"Hi there..." You chuckled, tilting your head up, wetting your lips seductively.
He groaned quietly in a stew of lust as he saw your tongue rake over your bottom lip,
"Hello, sweetheart...fucking gorgeous thing, you..."
He gently pinched both sides of your cheeks between his thumb and pointer finger, immediately bringing you into a deep french kiss.
The feeling of his warm tongue sliding in your mouth shot directly down to your cunt, only amping up in electricity as he teased his plump girthy head of his cock all around your pulsing clit.
"Miguel....fuck me..." Your spine arched and your nails dug into his shoulder, aggravating the raging arousal he was simmering for you all over his body. "Don't tease me like this, baby..."
Miguel released a mischievous chuckle that tapered into another one of his low moans that goaded you even deeper into all this pent up frustration you wish he'd take out on your now sopping pussy already.
"Ten paciencia, mi vida, por favor... " (Be patient, my life, please) He cooed sweetly at you, lightly brushing his nose against yours "Gotta get you nice and ready to take me..."
You breath became choked in your lungs when he begins to massage the fat tip directly over your velvety clit, grunting as he felt another drip of arousal leak and coat all along the thick head.
"Besides..." He murmured heavily though soft parted lips, entranced with hooded eyes. "The more I edge you, the more pleasureable it'll be when I finally make you cum all over my cock..."
"Baby, please..." The crescendo of arousal swelled in your belly, making your eyes water. You coaxed your body against him faster, desperate to reach that peak, but your movements were minimal due to the webbing. The feeling of emptiness covered you but was quickly eased when he promptly removed his tip from your clit again, this time dragging it down to your dripping entrance.
"Kiss me..." Miguel murmured and he didn't need to tell you twice. His tongue rolled and rubbed with yours as he began to circle his cock into your wet opening, inch by inch filling you ever so slowly. You gasp into his mouth, realizing this whole time what he was talking about. You felt every rigid vein, every solid groove as his drider cock slowly pushed into you, stretching you beyond comprehension. It was unlike any you've ever taken before. Fuck, it felt better than any you'd ever taken before.
Once you got past the daunting size, the addicting feeling and pleasure of having his cock inside you set off a new chorus of breathy moans from your lips. You sighed deliciously as you greedily accepted everything he was giving you, so transfixed on his divine face that was watching you the entire time.
Miguel was irrevocably smitten, completely enamored with the way your warm silky walls wrapped around him, the way you looked at him with immense rapture. Fuck, this feeling was greater than anything he felt in his entire life as your pussy molded to him like it was made for him. "So tight, cariño..." He teased then hissed as he reached the hilt.
You two gazed at each other, completely silent for what felt like divine eternity. Simply enjoying the feeling of Miguel being buried so deeply inside you.
"I'm gonna start fucking you..." He whispered.
"Go slow at first, baby..." You purred back, clenching your pussy around him, biting your lip when it earned another weak grunt from him. "Wanna feel you nice and deep like this for a bit..."
"Haah...you're a goddamn tease..." Miguel huffed. "I'll try and go slow as long as I can..." The sound that came from him next was downright pathetic as he looked down at where he had you stuffed to the brim, feeling along the emerging bulge in your belly.
"You feel so fucking good, it's hard not to just fucking ravish you right now..."
"Mmm...just kiss me, then..." You murmured and he quickly seized onto that opportunity as he slowly began to pump inside you with lengthy, meaningful thrusts. Every movement was so wet and sloppy with drenched noises as a sea of slick began to drool from your pussy, coating his cock that slid in and out of you with greater ease as the moments passed.
You squeezed your thighs in a death grip around his large waist as you became more hammered off this euphoria, the bristly hairs tickling the sensitive sides along your clit, goading you to grind back into each deep thrust.
"Shit..." And Miguel's patience flew out the door with that lethal squeeze of your thighs, his hands gripped the curve of your ass as he began to completely unload on your needy wet cunt. You cried out as you took every torturous inch like the absolute whore you were for him in this moment.
It tested your limits but God, this feeling of him thoroughly fucking you nice and hard scratched that nagging, primal itch you experienced ever since you first laid eyes on him. You were practically drooling at this point, laying back and taking it, your submission just fueling his fire, unlocking that deep seated urge to fucking breed this perfect cunt for all it was worth, to ruin you and fuck your brains out so you could feel him for weeks.
"Miguel, Miguel, Miguellllll....." The hungry, wispy mantra of his name from your lips nearly set him off the edge alone, a raw possession washing over him completely as he railed his cock into you to new limits.
"You're all mine now, you know that..."
"I'm all yours Miguel...all yours baby..."
He cut you off with another fiery kiss. "Wanna cum inside you, baby, can I?"
"Fffuck yes....yes, Miguel, fill me..."
"I'll fill you up, baby..." His forelegs come up again, but this time one directly rubbing quick, vibrating circles on your clit, while one gently teased and massaged the puckered rim of your ass, all while his heavy slick covered cock continued to pound your pussy. "But you're gonna cum f'me first..."
"Miguel..."
You nearly black out as you see heaven. Miguel locks in, dipping his head down as he swallowed onto your left breast again, tweaking and tugging the nipple of the right, his mouth salivating and more venom dousing and dripping from his tongue, soaking down your already sweaty body.
The web renders you helpless as you have no option but to lay there and let him pleasure you past anything you thought you could handle. It felt like overstimulation as you shook and cowered and whined so loudly it could wake the neighbors.
Your thighs trembled, tears leaking out of the corner of your eyes as you forced yourself to let go. The premature ending of all the previous other treatments he bestowed on your spent pussy piled on top of one another, making this one far more intense and overwhelming than the others. Thick cream oozed lewdly out of you, making a sticky, glossy mess of both your pubes and coating his black fur.
"Cumming, sweetheart..." He panted, dripping sweat all down his reddened face, some of it landing in your mouth but you could care less. Everything about this encounter was so dirty and nasty already. The salacious feeling of consuming every part of one another from head to toe reduced you to nothing but a hole for him to dump his cum in, and you'd let him every time.
"I-love-you...."
And his heavy sweaty shaft and bulbous tip nudged your g spot simultaneously as his foreleg's massage of your swollen clit that your orgasm shuddered and rattled your bones, a new sinful coat of wetness squirting and seeping into Miguel's black fur that he soaked in like a badge of honor.
He forgot to warn you before, but when the coil in his balls finally released and he came inside you, the thick, viscous drider cum was like lava as it spilled and drooled and leaked from your insides. Even after you thought he had emptied, another spurt of a thick rope of cum painted your drenched walls and flooded out of you.
You both merely panted, eyes locked on each other in a display of intimacy of the deepest and most carnal kind, the overwhelming haze of orgasmic bliss made you both speechless. It almost didn't compute that he told you he loved you.
You laid there in your spiderweb tangled underneath your drider lover in the now fully emerged daytime, world outside none the wiser of the steamy, lewd acts that took place. All the more enthralling that this became a love nest built on top of your blood lust and mutual yearning that exploded like gasoline on a fire.
For now, real life could wait as you came back down to Earth and gazed at the flood of slick cum dripping and oozing from both of you. You felt that primal urge kick up again as Miguel smirked, softly stuffing the mess of what he could back inside the pool of glistening white that peeked between your aching folds.
"And I love you too, Miguel.." You whispered back.
All the puzzle pieces of his scattered life fell back into place as he heard those glorious words hit him like a train. He willed this himself. Even if it meant taking you from another dimension, this thread across time, this inevitable bond was now cemented permanently with your lovemaking and the deepest parts of him that were now inside you.
He could deal with all that bullshit later; he had his love back with him where she rightfully belonged.
You both laughed to yourselves as you sauntered down this path of mutual bliss and made a plan to leave all this behind and start a new life with your Drider lover in his reality.
But first...you couldn't help but pull him closer and he couldn't help but groan loudly as he effortlessly slipped inside you again,
"It's you and me against the stars, mi vida..."
And he groaned before rhythmically moving his body in that sinful dance with yours,
"But first I'm gonna prove it by fucking you all over again."
---
#from my trees . ˚ 𖧷 ·𓇥 ° . ♡#miguel o'hara x reader#miguel x reader#spiderman 2099 x reader#miguel x you#miguel o'hara smut#miguel o'hara x fem!reader#cw monsterfucking#tw monsterfucking#cw blood#tw blood#cw murder#tw murder#cw infidelity#cw breeding#cw angst#tw angst#cw violence#tw violence#cw dark content#tw dark content
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My Ex-boyfriends New Girl
prologue
chapter summary: the events that force your hand in your revenge scheme come to light as you find out the man who you have loved for the past three years isn't the man you needed him to be.
word count: 4.1k
pairings: Rafe Cameron x ex!fem!reader, Sofia x fem!reader
warnings: angst, cheating, toxic relationship, asshole Rafe, swearing, not much Sofia :/ and probably bad writing.
authors note: hi!! This is the prologue to my new Sofia fic series. Tumblr has not been doing my girl justice so I decided to take matters into my own hands and write for her. I deeply apologize for any typos or any mistakes (mostly if I confuse second person and third because I am not used to writing in second). Please reach out of you want to be added to the taglist!!
series masterlist next chapter
"Wow...I can't believe you did all of this..." you said as you admired the beautifully set table in front of you. It was littered with plucked red roses and lit-up orange candles. It was perfect- well at least nearly perfect. As much as you appreciated the gesture, you couldn't help but be saddened that the only flower on the table was the one you couldn't stand.
You felt as though they were overused and cliche, but it wasn't necessarily the flowers that downed your mood but the mere fact that you had told him countless times how much you loathed them and yet, once again he had stuffed them in your face.
It was as though he never heard a single word that came out of your mouth. It was okay, you supposed as at least he put the effort in, in the first place.
"Of course, I would, baby. It's our three year, I would be stupid if I didn't." Rafe stated with a small smile, that was all he was willing to offer after the events of his father's death. You could tell it was weighing him down but you couldn't do more than you already were.
You were skipping your classes, sleeping over every night, had arranged the funeral with him and been by his side every step of the way. You were exhausted but you knew he was going through the worst time of his life and was going through worse than you. That's what you kept telling yourself, that he needed comfort more than you did. That had calmed you down for the time being but it had been months and you knew that you were gonna snap one day soon, leading you to truly hope that it was when Rafe was in a good headspace but with the way life was going, you didn't know when that would be.
"Well, the stupid part is kind of debatable." You shrugged as you stabbed a piece of carrot with your fork.
"Hey!" Rafe laughed softly as he kicked your leg under the table, his hand reaching for his glass of scotch.
"I mean it though... thank you for doing all of this."
You said as you looked at him, your eyes full of love for the man you thought you were going to spend the rest of your life with. He simply nods as he pours himself another drink, but you can tell from the light coat of pink on his cheeks that he is blushing. "I love you." You finished as you reached your hand over to hold the one that had a grasp on the bottle while he was still pouring a flood of alcohol into his glass. The action stopped him in his tracks as you lowered his hand and he let go of the half-full bottle.
"I love you too, baby." He muttered the phrase as he looked into your eyes causing yours to water as you pulled away to fix the napkin on your lap and then began to eat the slightly burnt food your boyfriend had prepared.
-Six days later-
From: Sister-in-law✨
Hey
Sent 4:34 pm
It's Sarah. I changed my number a few weeks ago I'm not sure if you have it or not.
Sent 4:34 pm
I just wanted to let you know that I broke into Tannyhill like an hour ago to get a few of my things and heard a girl in Rafe's room.
Sent 4:36 pm
It didn't sound like you and if I'm wrong then I'm sorry but I don't think I am.
Sent 4:37 pm
You stared at the messages in front of you as your eyes continued to read over them just like they had for the last five minutes. You couldn't seem to tear them away.
You had known Sarah for the last three years, even before she went all pogue and left the only life she had ever known. And though you were confused about why she did at first- when Ward's toxic actions had come to light, you had driven your overly priced car over to the shack John B called home and simply hugged the girl. She had cried in your arms because she knew that even though you loved her brother, you had believed her and loved her too.
Even when you had sat on the kook side of the courthouse the day John B was arrested, your sympathetic gaze was enough to let her know that you weren't sure what to do and chose to stick by the only life you had ever known, and she couldn't fault you for that. She would have done the same if it was just another Pogue, but it wasn't. It was the man she loved and she knew that you loved Rafe and needed to do what was right for your relationship.
You had called her later that night to give her any information that you might have known about what Rafe and Ward were planning which ultimately led to John B getting out... she would never forget what you did.
You were her sister more than Rafe was her brother and that wasn't going to change just because you were doing what it took to keep the man you loved safe, just like she was.
A tear dropped from your eye and landed on the blue messages causing some of the words to blur as you hastily pulled yourself out of your bedroom and ran to your car.
You couldn't even remember the ride over as you hurried up the stairs of Tannyhill. You did know one thing though, Sarah wouldn't have lied to you and even when you hoped Rafe hadn’t lied to you earlier that morning when he assured you that you could head back to your family home- It made sense to you. He sent you home so he could finally get alone time with his side piece.
You whipped his door open and simply nodded to yourself when your boyfriend quickly pulled away from the blue-eyed redhead to meet your eyes before quickly rolling off the bed and pulling on his shorts when he finally processed who was standing in the doorway. You ran down the stairs of the biggest home on the island and the place that you had called your second home for the last three years.
You could hear the sound of the girl calling for him and the sound of him practically flying down the stairs behind you in hopes of catching you before you made it to your car and the probability of you running him over became more likely than you hearing him out.
He was faster than you thought as his large hand wrapped around your forearm, stopping you in your tracks. You whip around with your hand raised as you prepare to smack him across the face but he catches your arm with his other hand before he harshly shoves you backward. Tears run down your cheeks as you head down his too-long driveway and it certainly doesn't help that you decided to park right at the gate and run to his home.
"Baby, just stop-" He started his voice thick as he ran after you, but he was cut off before he could speak further.
"Don't call me that! You can't just baby me and I'll somehow find it in myself to forgive you. It's not happening. Have a nice life with Merida." You shot back, your tone quickly turned from heartbroken to mocking as the second stage of grief took over.
"Look... after my dad, I just..." He bowed his head after he had finally found an excuse you may actually fall for as all the kind actions you had done for him after his father died flashed through his mind, a chill ran through him as guilt began to run through him as the extent of his choices had begun to settle in. He chose getting in the pants of a random girl over his girlfriend who had stood by him after all the bad he had done. A part of him hoped that you would do that this time- bend your morals to keep him by your side.
"Jesus Christ! Don't you dare use his death as an excuse!" You shutter out a breath as you refuse to fall for his guilt-tripping. You knew that you act crazy when experiencing grief, you had experienced it yourself when you had lost your mother a few years back. You went through the stages of grief alone as your father travelled in hopes of returning and being a better father to you but instead of him becoming a better father, his running off completely ruined your relationship. You were all alone for months with no one by your side, until you met Rafe six months after the death of your mother. And though he didn't help you through it directly, his presence had filled some of the hole in your heart and had given you something else to focus on.
You had been through the loss of your mother who died of stomach cancer, the loss of your cousin who was murdered and the loss of your younger sister who had perished in a car accident when you were twelve. You had known more about loss than anyone you had been close with and knew firsthand how grief could affect you- especially when you lose a parent- but Rafe had, had your support and love through it all. You had been by his side through it all even though he and his dad weren't close, even though your boyfriend had hired a hitman on his own father only to cheat on his girlfriend and blame it on his father when he had been dead for four and a half months.
"Look," You continued as you brought your weakened arms up to your hips as you scrutinized him dead in his eye. "I'm sorry about your dad. I really am- but newsflash the guys dead! And he has been for months- and for months, I've been bending over backwards to help you get through it just for you... to prove to me that I made a mistake. That I wasted not just months of my life helping you but years of my life loving you." You saw the range of emotions that flashed over his face as he attempted to process your words. It started with tears at the mention of his father, but his sadness flashed to anger as you began to mention all you had done for him and looked as though he was about to interrupt you but you just kept going, until it flashed to something darker.
"I told you when we started out that I had three deal breakers. Disrespect of any kind, lying and cheating- and so far you've managed to cross them all off, didn't you? Should I start yelling bingo?" You let out an angry laugh that resembles a heartbroken one as you turn around and head to your car.
"If you take one more step, I will make sure you regret it." His words came out like they were natural like you were one of the people he despised most. As if you hadn’t been the most important person to him for the last three years. It was jarring how different his voice was when he wasn’t telling you he loved you.
You stop in your tracks as a chill runs down your spine, there is something in his tone... an edge it has that sends a warning through you. You know what he's done and what he's capable of. And as much as it hurt you to think this, you could count every time he had ever scared on one hand but right now, this wasn't just fear creeping through you- it was terror.
He didn't have anything to lose anymore. His mother had been gone since he was thirteen, Sarah had chosen her true family over her blood family, Rose had taken Wheezie just days after Ward's body was found and had run for the hills without even taking a second thought about the grief her stepchildren were going through while holding on to the remaining gold and lastly, the one person he loved more than this his siblings and more than you- his father- was gone and he was never coming back.
He was no longer enrolled in college anymore and even if he was, he never went to his classes and definitely wouldn't now. He didn't have a job other than his half-assed company he was so hellbent on making. A large part of you felt sorry for him; he was going through a lot and didn't have anyone by his side, but an even larger part of you felt more bad for yourself. You loved him blindly, stuck with him after he took someone's life, stayed with him after he tried to kill his sister twice, stayed with him through his cocaine addiction, stayed with him after the death of his father and after his youngest sister was taken from him. You would have willingly been his home had he not shown you time and time again that he would stray for something else that caught his attention. First it it was the coke, then the gold, then his father's approval and now some random girl. You would have been crazed to even consider staying with him this time and to be frank, it didn't even cross your mind.
"Is that a threat, Rafe? You gonna kill me like you killed Peterkin?" You asked sharply.
"Nah...you'll just have to wait and see. You're gonna regret ever leaving his driveway." A small, creepy smile spread across his face and it was that damn smile that showed you that you were right to be done with him. He had finally lost it.
"Yeah, I don't think I will. Nothing you do to me would be worse than staying with you." And with those words you took that one step, the one that would seal your fate as you took those final steps to your sleek car before you pulled yourself in and slammed the door. Through the windshield window, you could see Rafe still standing there with his arms crossed as if he was expecting you to hop out of your car and run to him but he was clearly mistaken as you shifted your car gear and stepped on the gas like your life depended on it and in your defence, you were as you hurtled out of Tannyhill without looking back.
And though it was reckless you pulled out your phone as you slowed down on the gas when you considered yourself a safe distance away from your crazed ex boyfriend. With your phone in your hand, you opened up Sarah's contact and your eyes locked on her earlier messages. The same messages that seemed to blow up your three-year relationship.
Hey
Sent 4:34 pm
It's Sarah. I changed my number a few weeks ago I'm not sure if you have it or not.
Sent 4:34 pm
I just wanted to let you know that I broke into Tannyhill like an hour ago to get a few of my things and heard a girl in Rafe's room.
Sent 4:36 pm
It didn't sound like you and if I'm wrong then I'm sorry but I don't think I am.
Sent 4:37 pm
You changed contact to: Sista from another mista ✨
To: Sista from another mista ✨
Thank you for telling me. It wasn't me. It was some rando Rafe was screwing.
Sent 5:59 pm
Me and your brother are done
Sent 5:59 pm
I am so sorry that I didn't leave him sooner, I was stupid but I'm not anymore.
Sent 6:00 pm
I love you :/
Sent 6:02 pm
And a few minutes later you were in some fast food restaurant parking lot eating way too much food while slurping down a large milkshake as you accepted that multiple years of your life were wasted when Sarah finally responded.
From: Sista from another mista✨
Omg Y/N, I'm so so so sorry
Read 6:16 pm
As much as I thought he loved you, he can never put anyone above himself and I'm sorry if you're not in the mood to shit talk him but you deserve better
Read 6:17 pm
You always have and it hurts that you're just realizing it now.
Read 6:17 pm
No matter what you will always be my sister. I may love you even more now that you had the guts to leave him.
Read 6:18 pm
To: Sister-in-law✨
It's fine. I was dumb asf, I guess I needed him to screw someone else to realize.
Read 6:18 pm
Rafe is chaos and I guess I am too.
Read 6:18 pm
Nothing has to change between you and me. I could even stop by more without Rafe on my ass.
Read 6:18 pm
From: Sister-in-law✨
Yes!! That's such an upside and don't beat yourself up over it. You are not chaos. Rafe is. At least you left, my mom never did.
Read 6:19 pm
You could feel the hurt through the message. She loved her mom but she had never left her father even though he was a less-than-stellar husband. You had done what her mother didn't.
I'm ALWAYS here if you need to talk, no judgment.
Read 6:20 pm
I love you💗 always
Read 6:20 pm
To: Sister-in-law✨
I love you too Sare<3
Hearted 6:21 pm
The next day your life was flipped upside down after you received a call from Yale University to personally notify you that you had been expelled for unlawful drug use after Rafe had anonymously sent a video to your university of you doing coke for the first time two years ago after he had talked you into it and you hadn’t done it since as you didn't like how it made you feel. He even went as far as getting someone to plant a small amount of coke in your car resulting in you getting arrested in a ditch after being pulled over. After that, your father gave you an ultimatum. He speaks to Topper's grandfather who is a respected judge- and gets him to let you off the hook if you go to a rehab centre or you get charged for carrying drugs in your car and get up to a year in prison. And no matter how much you tried to convince him that you didn't do cocaine and that it was only that one time, he didn't even want to hear you out.
And as much as you didn't want to go to rehab, you knew that it was better than prison.
Though you knew Rafe would want to get revenge on you for breaking it off with him, you never would have expected him to partake in such a deliberate and evil takedown for experiencing the consequences of his selfish actions. It was insane to think that you had spent years of your life with a man who you thought would do anything for you, he had looked at you like you hung the moon and the stars yet he had disrespected you and humiliated you beyond belief for some random girl? You had never seen her before so you could only assume she was a Pogue which you highly doubted from the way he spoke about lower-class people, so that could only mean that she was a tourist. He had thrown your whole relationship away for some girl who was gonna leave a few days later but he felt the need to single-handedly ruin your life for having a problem with it?
You had kicked yourself every day you spent in the hellhole that was rehab, the doctors looked down upon you like you were the bane of their existence, it was exhausting constantly being judged for being an addict when you weren't even one, to begin with. Hell, the place made you want to do drugs. You couldn't quite understand why a place that was supposed to help you overcome addiction would do so little good with the amount of money that goes into funding them.
Your stay at the rehab centre was only two months but it took you seven months to return to OBX as you were sent to go live with your aunt, Mae, in New York. And in those five months, you stewed as you put a plan into action to wreak havoc upon the man who ruined your life.
Now, eight months after the fall of the most talked about couple on the island- you were sitting in the country club sipping a pina colada that a pretty bartender made while wearing a beautiful floral dress.
The booming sound of your ex-boyfriend's laugh brought you out of your head as you slowly turned your neck to look over at the approaching man, and thankfully he was by the other side of the bar which caused a smile to curl up your lips slightly as your plan seemed to set into motion, however- your smile dropped as he leaned down to kiss the pretty bartender who made your drink just a few minutes prior shocking you to your core.
You had heard from Sarah that Rafe was dating some poor girl from the cut but you hadn't expected it to be the girl you had just made small talk with a few minutes ago, and you certainly hadn't expected her to be...her.
From your conversation, you could tell that she was a very sweet girl who was just trying to change the financial situation that she had been born into and you admired that deeply. In said conversation, you had learned that she was twenty-two making you two the same age and that she was born in Mexico City but moved to the cut when she was very young.
You also couldn't ignore the fact that she was beautiful and if you were going to be serious, you were pretty jealous and not because Rafe had moved on- but because he was dating one of the most beautiful girls you had ever seen while you were tucked away in a facility or stuck in the presence of your annoying cousins.
You tuck a piece of hair behind your ear as you listen to their conversation.
"Hey, baby." He used to call me that. "I missed you this morning." So their sleeping over? You picked apart every word of their conversation, you couldn't even help yourself.
"I know," she laughed, "I'm sorry, again. I had to cover Gaby's shift."
"Yeah, yeah whatever you say." He laughed causing her to grin before she slapped his chest. "I gotta go, Toppers waiting. I just wanted to say hi and put our drinks in. I'll take-" He began to list what he wanted before the shorter girl shook her head as if she had already memorized his order, and she had.
"I know... Topper want the usual?" She asked as she began to tap on the device behind the bar to type in his drink order.
"Yeah, thanks." She nods in response, her eyes fixated on the task at hand. "Love you." He smiles as he backs away, his eyes still focused on his girlfriend.
He used to say that to me all the time, you thought.
Those words grab her attention as she looks up with a smile so wide you guessed that it hurt but it suited her quite nicely. "Love you." After that; he turned away and headed to his table and Sofia turned back to the monitor in front of her. Then, as if she sensed your eyes on her she pulled hers away from the screen and looked over at you. She smiled at you and if it wasn't so sweet you would have guessed that she was rubbing it in your face.
"Would you like another?" She asked as she pointed to your nearly empty drink, you nodded gently and she turned around to work on your drink, deciding that her boyfriends and his best friends could wait.
A wide smile fills the space of the small one that had covered your face just a minute ago as you mentally changed your whole plan of taking Rafe down for a crime he didn't commit after deciding that you had a better one in mind. One that he wouldn't never see coming and it all involved your ex-boyfriend's new girl and man- it was going to feel good.
#rafe cameron x reader#rafe cameron x fem!reader#Rafe Cameron x kook!reader#sofia x fem!reader#sofia obx#sofia x fem!reader obx#obx x reader#MEBNG SERIES
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Hi Devon, you’ve said in the past that you don’t mind being challenged so I guess I’m going to test that theory.
I totally agree with what you have said re trans men and cis men being Men but just arriving at that place from different routes.
You talk in your latest Insta post about women not seeing trans men as men as the problems with that.
However you in the past have talked openly about not feeling safe with cis women, and in fact have written a whole article on it. Outlining your past bad experiences with cis women. In that you clearly outlined a view that cis women specifically were more dangerous feeling to you, implying more so than trans women.
By your own account then are you not saying that you see trans women and cis woman as different and not as equal “women” because of your own experiences.
If that’s the case why can’t women differentiate between cis men and trans men and also say that they don’t feel safe with cis men because of past bad experiences but are ok with trans men because they haven’t had those same experiences.
For the record I’m a gay man so not coming at this from a defensive point of view but seeking to genuinely understand as there seems to be some possible cognitive dissonance or hypocrisy going on.
I say that with respect. I’m just wondering how you reconcile those two seemingly opposing views.
I think what you may be missing here is a differentiation between the descriptive and the prescriptive. The piece "I Don't Feel Safe Around Cis Women" is descriptive of my experience -- if you read through to the end, you'll see that I affirm that one day I hope that I will feel safe around cis women, and a lengthy exploration of the many many ways in which equating a person's identity to their safeness (or dangerousness) is unhelpful. That piece is far from an argument that cis women are categorically less safe than any other group, or a prescription that anyone's politics should be centered around the idea that cis women are uniquely dangerous. There is a very big difference between describing one's emotional feelings and making political pronouncements about how the world is or how people should be treated.
This same distinction applies in the opposite direction, too -- I think people have reasons for feeling uncomfortable or unsafe around cis men that obviously make a huge amount of sense. Frankly I don't care one way or another what somebody's feelings are. I have no intention of changing those. What I care about is a person's behavior, and the politics they advance -- and a politics that deems cis men as inherently more dangerous as individuals goes down a pretty troubling road when it's divorced from an understanding of structural power dynamics. The same thing is true of the cis woman discussion -- cis women aren't dangerous to me because they're women, or because of any innate quality to who they are; they're only more dangerous within a specific power differential. Similarly, cis men aren't all more dangerous to everyone who isn't a cis man -- we must take into account class, race, immigration status, ability level, and a number of other factors.
tldr; there's a big difference between someone feeling unsafe and someone having a politics that declares members of a group are actually inherently suspect, no matter the situation or their other positionalities.
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G: YOU MOTHER FUCKER
The goat punched the other again. They were already bloody and bruised from fighting. Lambert backed, coughing up the blood.
G: What the FUCK were you thinking!? They gave you a purpose, a new start at life, you ungrateful piece of SHIT!
L: I know! And I also know that it would all end when they no longer needed us or found someone stupider to their work!
G: Bullshit. They promised-
L: PROMISED? Pfft ha-! Hahahaha!
Lambert laughed. They were laughing at the stupidity of the situation. Other one gritted their teeth, clenching their blood stained fists.
L: And you believed that? What did they promise you huh?
G: None of your business! Shamura proposed stuff they never did to other people! Once I get your head to him for what you did to them, to me, I'll have everything I want!
Goat tried to punch him again. This time, his wrist was caught by Lambert painfully, twisted and forced to get on the ground.
G: Gah-!
L: What did they promise you? Your safety? No longer having to worry about being hunted down? Or is the promise of giving you the crown once their times up? Come on... We're better than this!
The lamb said harshly. They knew every one of those lies. They weren't dumb.
L: You think someone as knowledgeable as Shamura doesn't know how to manipulate people like you? People like us? They are good at taking from the vulnerable, giving empty hopes with eye catching promises.
G: Fuck you.
Lambert let go of his wrist and took a few steps back. Goat looked at them curious and judgmentally
G: I don't believe you. You yourself are a manipulator. How the hell did you convince the red crown to lend you power?
L: I didn't... He gave it to me himself. But I'm not trying to convince you anyway. You don't have to believe me, follow me, help me... But to think I'd let you come in here and kill me is just ridiculous.
G: So what now? Do you expect me to just stop coming after you after what you did? People know me as someone that never let their prey ran off, can't risk that reputation.
L: No, I'm expecting anything from you. (It's a waste of time anyway) All I need is for you to think about this, make a choice and understand. Shamura is not someone you can trust.
G: I don't need to understand. Nor do I care if you can or not trust Shamura. In this world, people like you and me either do as told or become dinner. And, you're the main dinner they crave. Don't be stupid, Lambert.
L: (That's quite poetic actually) If Shamura wants to kill me, they can come and try for themselves, no need to get YOU involved. Tho, you said it yourself that you're doing this to be not on their bad side. If you're tired of being a vessel for their needs, this isn't the way to freedom... You will, NEVER get that by simply doing what they want.
G: Freedom? Ha! It's rich coming from you. Like you did any better! You betrayed Shamura for what? To be that damned cat's lap dog, to sit when says and stand when he wants. (Or maybe things I don't want to mentally imagine) You, put all your self respect, dignity and name aside to get toyed around by someone like him. Is this what you call "freedom"?
Goat walked towards them, making Lambert take a few steps back.
G: That's not freedom. Or maybe you want that. Maybe you make him think that he's in control to betray him later on. He was being nice after all. You love hurting the ones that help you the most, right?
L: Now you're just saying random words What? Is this some kind of way to make me feel bad? If there's a lap dog here, it's you. You don't get to act like you didn't do what ANYONE asked of you just to feel like you accomplished something worth mentioning! You can continue to obey Shamura and beg them to keep you afterwards but be aware that they'll put you back where they found you! I'm gonna do what I need to do to live my way, either with you or without you! So don't- ACK!
The goat launched at them, their hands around the other's throat. Goat didn't like those words, at all. The lamb choked, scratching the hands on their throat. Goat was angry, shaking as they watched the other struggle.
G: You think you can just backstab everyone who trusts you and don't face the consequences of it!? Like how you thought I'd forgive you, after you left me in that prison!? They caught you and I did everything to help you! And I waited, waited and waited for MONTHS! IS THAT YOUR FREEDOM!? You... Selfish... Ignorant... BASTARD!
Their heartbeat filled their ears, anger consuming the goat. The blood dripping from their nose hit Lambert's wool, joining the other's own stains.
G: You left me to die. And you dare to criticize what I do to survive!? If it wasn't for me, you'd be devoured whole in a feast! We did everything together! We helped each other out! But you!? It's only you! I trusted you!
Lambert stopped his struggle, instead looking up to their... friend. Maybe one of the worst things they've done. The only thing they regretted so far.
G: What did I ever do to you!?
The goat punched them again and again. But when they got no response, they let go
G: Answer me. Don't you have a snarky come back to that? Can't even deny that you are the worst fucking friend?
L: ...
They sat up, their lip busted and nose broken. The tension and the eye contact was too uncomfortable.
L: You're right. I did that. I am, a bad friend.
G: ...
L: You're not just here because of Shamura are you? You don't care about what they want or what they told you at all.
G: Yeah. I'm here because you're a piece of shit, a backstabbing manipulator and you owe me. Did you even tried to-
L: I did... I tried to help you out.
Upcoming tears already burned his eyes. Lambert took a deep breath.
L: Maybe I didn't try hard enough. I-I know it's no excuse but, but I tried... I'm sorry. I'm so sorry... I know, I know it means so little to you and I know you don't want to hear me say it. With all this shit going on... When Shamura started to go out their way and what happened between me and the king... The things I felt and couldn't even understand at the Festival... What I had to do to prove myself, my worth and all the thoughts about not being good enough... for anyone. These aren't excuses. They shouldn't be... I was supposed to be there for you. But please believe me when I say this, I never wanted to hurt you. And if I loose you now, or already did, I would never forgive myself for making you feel like I didn't care...
Lambert was crying when he finished talking. They couldn't face the goat anymore. Years of friendship and they ruined it. The goat took a step forward. And another. Lambert assumed they'd left but...
G: (You crybaby)
The goat hugged them. So they hugged back. It was quiet for a moment... The the goat backed away.
G: If I knew you were this much of a loser... But hey. Neither of us are made in heaven. We're both shitty. And I rather be shitty with you.
L: You...
G: I'm still angry and fuck you, you know.
They smiled at Lambert, then sighed.
G: But who else do we have other than each other? So stop crying! (It makes you look uglier than you already are.) I'll forgive you for a while, aight? Cuz I know you'd miss me
L: Fuck you... Heh...
G: Same to you. So-!
The goat pulled the lamb to their feet
G: When are we killing this giant spider?
Awwww this is adorable!
Thank you for writing this it actually shows me how much I have or haven't shared about my story so far and gosh its a lot djkfllf
And gosh Lambert just taking the punches from Goat, ouch
I love the back and forth the two have here and Goat being promised stuff from Shamura is a nice touch!
Goat calling Lambert a crybaby is so cute xD and I adore the hug ❤️
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What are the consequences to keep in touch with an emotionally unavailable man that tells you that for now he doesn’t want anything serious and wants to see you only as a friend and know each others more?
Staying with an emotionally unavailable man who's already told you - "I don't want anything serious" - is signing up to get hurt, over and over again, and calling it love. It's self-destruction masquerading as patience. You're standing in a queue, waiting for a train that never comes. You already know it's not coming, but you tell yourself that maybe the timetable will magically change just for you. Spoiler: it won't. That guy is not a mystery to be solved, or a misunderstood anti-hero in a Netflix drama. He's just someone honest enough to tell you what he can't give, but selfish enough to keep you around anyway. And that's the game. He gets the comfort of your presence, your attention, your hope, without ever having to give anything real in return. It's exploitation on a vibratory level. He's feeding off the space you hold for him, while giving nothing but breadcrumbs. The audacity. The consequences: First, your self-esteem will take a hit. You'll start to equate your worth with his mood swings. If he's responsive and nice? You'll feel high, maybe you're winning him over. But if he pulls away or reminds you of "the rules" (friends only, remember?), you'll spiral. This inconsistency rewires your brain, making you crave the highs so much that you tolerate the lows. You become the one clinging to the possibility even though it's killing you. And he's fine because he's not attached to any of it. He's got his limits, his freedom. And you? You're drowning in his emotional currents. He doesn't want to "get to know you better". That's code for "I like what we've got going, so why mess it up by adding responsibility?" He's keeping you at arm's length, just close enough to keep you invested, but far enough to avoid accountability. He knows. He knows you care more than you should, and he's fine with that imbalance because it works for him. This isn't cluelessness. It's calculated selfishness. People like this thrive because society romanticizes this toxic nonsense. Movies, songs, social media - they all sell the idea that if you love someone hard enough, they'll finally wake up and see their worth. It's a lie. Love doesn't fix people. Your patience won't magically unlock their ability to care. And yet we keep buying into this garbage narrative, thinking we're the exception to the rule. We're not. Staying in this dynamic isn't just bad for you - it's bad for everyone. You're enabling his behaviour. By staying, you're teaching him that it's OK to use people as emotional placeholders. You're telling him that he can get the benefits of intimacy without the responsibilities. He'll keep doing it with you, and then with the next person, and the next. It's a cycle. And every time you make excuses for him, you're not just hurting yourself - you're hurting the world in a kind of existential ripple effect. You're losing pieces of yourself. Your sense of independence, your boundaries, your ability to recognise when you're being abused - it all erodes. You'll become someone who settles for less, someone who settles, someone who thinks they have to earn the love that should have been given to them for free. And for what? For a man who told you in advance that he couldn't give you what you needed? People will tell you to "just walk away" because it's sooooo easy. It's not. Walking away feels like ripping your own heart out. But staying? Staying is like letting them rot from the inside out. Choose your poison. Either way it hurts, but at least there is a way to heal. You deserve to be with someone who doesn't make love feel like a waiting game, someone who doesn't treat your feelings like a convenience store to be visited whenever they feel like it.
#own#text#thoughtcascades#showerthoughts#shower thoughts#quote#quotes#writing#original words#poetry#literature#inspiring#quoteoftheday#poem#aesthetic#prose#inspiring quote#life#spilled ink
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Pulchritudinous Promises
Summary: Sometimes, love can be found in the most unexpected places
Pairing: Namor/K’uk’ulkan x reader
Fandom: Marvel- Black Panther Wakanda Forever
Word Count: 8,262
Warning(s): !!There are/maybe spoilers!!, canon divergence, violence, slight/sort-of Hades-Persephone trope (I hope ☹), fluff
A/N: There are details in the story here that don’t exactly follow canonically, per se but I hope I got this right! I came across this post by @beautybyfire and I thought of giving the idea a shot. This is a very loooong piece too.
A/N 2: I hope I didn’t overdo it on the suit because I tried my best to keep it true as to the movies. And tbh, this isn’t exactly my best piece. But, enjoy and comments are appreciated! ;-;
Taglist: @beautybyfire
The day was solemn, the skies were shining ahead brightly yet the air was heavy. [Name] hung her head low, the white veil covered her expression from the others. Mother held Shuri as she sobbed on the black casket before them. She felt the tight squeeze in her heart, eyes closed as she took a step forward. A hand placed on Shuri’s shoulder while another on her brother’s casket. “Death is never the end, brother. May Bast grant you peace in the afterlife with the ancestors,” She muttered. Mother wrapped her arms around both of her children, gently tugging them back as the Royal Ship took away T’Challa’s casket. Mother moved a hand to [Name]’s chin, her eyes filled with so much sadness after the loss of her son. The princess leaned into her mother’s shoulder, her cries silent as she mourned for the loss of her brother.
Life has to go on. T’Challa would want that.
A year has passed since T’Challa’s death. Everyday, by the river of her getaway home, [Name] prayed to Bast, praying that her brother was well with the ancestors and that She gave her the strength to push on every day. Life was hard after T’Challa’s death but she had to move on. As the middle child to Queen Ramonda and the older sister of Shuri, Princess [Name] was next in line to be Queen and the next Black Panther. She felt that it was too quickly for her to take up the mantle but she cannot leave Wakanda defenceless. So, she and Shuri got to work over creating a synthetic heart-plant. The siblings would spend days and weeks on the creation and even with the help of Griot, it was time consuming and everyday, [Name] prayed that their formula would work.
Her prayers did not fall on deaf ears because when they finally got the right formula, Shuri immediately instructed Griot to print the plant. Mother was present too and [Name] thanked Bast for the absolute miracle, Shuri bringing over the plant that was cupped in her hands.
“Are you sure you want to do this?” Mother asked and the princess looked up. She nodded, shedding her coat and folded it on a nearby chair.
Mother pulled away, taking the plant from Shuri. “I will get the plant ready for the ritual,” she said, leaving shortly.
“I want to, Mother. T’Challa made me promise him. A promise that I would always keep you, Shuri and Wakanda safe. How am I to fulfil his wishes if I do not take up the mantle of the Black Panther,” [Name] replied softly and her Mother smiled. The Queen moved around the table, bringing her daughter into a hug.
[Name] sighed softly, returning the hug. She didn’t want to break her promise to T’Challa. After all, she was ready. All of her time spent training beside her brother led to this moment.
“To me, you will always be that adorable little girl,”
[Name] sat on the bed and Shuri approached her with a sad smile. The elder princess took Shuri’s hand, recognising the look on her face. “I know that look, Shuri. What’s wrong?” And at that, the genius woman sighed.
“I’m just..I’m just afraid that I would lose you too. Taking up the Black Panther mantle..it’s a big responsibility, you know? What if you run into battle and never return? What if you fought and didn't survive? You and Mother are all I have left,” Shuri confessed. [Name] smiled widely at her words.
“Shuri, little sister. You won’t lose me. I promise you this. Whatever happens in the future. Whatever threatens our kingdom in the future, I promise you this, Shuri. I will never leave you or Mother alone. Okay?” [Name] gently pinched her sister’s cheek and the princess grumbled at the gesture.
“Why do you keep doing that? I am not a five-year-old anymore,” Shuri rubbed her cheek and [Name] laughed.
The siblings shared a laugh as Mother returned with a bowl in her hands. Shuri stepped back and [Name] laid on the bed, exhaling deeply. “You know what to do if this doesn’t work, right?” she looked at Shuri. The young princess nodded, removed her Kimoyo beads and placed them on her sister’s chest. Mother brought the bowl down onto [Name]’s lips and as the liquid seeped past her lips and down her throat, Mother and Shuri began chanting.
[Name] shut her eyes, praying to Bast that this would work.
[Name] awoke with a loud gasp, looking up into the purple skies. She swallowed, the sound of water caught her attention first as she stood up slowly. She noticed she was dressed in white, raising her head to face the river. [Name] took a step into the water. It was cold and shallow and the peace she felt was beyond anything. She wondered who she would see. Would it be an ancestor? Her father? Or perhaps her brother? She leaned down, her fingers dipped into the cool water. Her eyes fluttered shut, easing her mind and body.
But the silence was soon broken by a low growl behind her. [Name] furrowed her brows, regaining her posture as she turnt. A tall figure stood before her, a goddess, one with the head of a Panther.
“Bast!” [Name] gasped, moving to kneel before the Goddess but she was stopped by a hand under her arm.
“Please, my devoted child. There is no need for that,” The Panther said and the woman stood back up.
“You have suffered greatly, [Name]. The loss of your father, losing your family to the universe cleanse and now, you have lost your brother. Yet, with each turn, you sought me for help. Child, I admire your strength and your devotion towards me. You seek power in the heart-shaped plant and I am giving you so much more so you shall keep your promise to your brother. Your protection to your family and your kingdom will last endlessly,” Bast said, laying a hand on [Name]’s head. At her words, the princess allowed her tears to fall, tearing down her walls as she silently cried.
“Thank you, Goddess..Thank you..,” She wiped her tears, closing her eyes.
“My brother..is he with the ancestors?” Her voice was quiet.
“Yes, my child. He rests with the ancestors. He is very proud of you and Shuri, little one. Though he may have left the world, he still resides in all of your hearts. Never forget that, child,” Bast’s voice faded, leaving the woman alone.
[Name] sat up from the table, gasping hard. Mother and Shuri had their hands on her as the princess slowed her breathing.
“Who did you see? Did you see T’Challa?” Mother asked and she shook her head.
“No, Mother. I saw our Goddess. I saw Bast,”
Shuri gasped.
The mannequin was shoved backwards, hard, wedged into the wall.
“But how is that possible? How could you see Bast?”
[Name] swallowed, shaking her head.
“I don’t know either. I thought I would see our father or our brother but Bast herself came to see me,” The woman moved, swinging her legs off the bed. She flexed her fingers, feeling normal so far.
“If I met Bast..this would mean that the ritual worked, right?” [Name] questioned, approaching a mannequin. Examining it to ensure it was sturdy, she gave it a hard kick.
[Name]’s jaw dropped, snapping her head towards Mother and Shuri.
“Woah..,” she said, attention turning to the small glass of water on the table. She furrowed her brows, moving a hand up in the direction of the glass. [Name] moved her fingers and the contents within the glass moved along with it.
“But…But that is impossible,” Shuri tilted her head. Mother too had a shocked expression but it returned to a smile.
“Bast has granted you the power of the Gods indeed. The Black Panther lives!”
“The Black Panther lives!” Shuri copied and [Name] knew this would be the beginning of her heroic life.
--------------------------------------------
The testing lab was bustling with technicians and engineers, Shuri’s minions, of course. The youngest princess was busy working on the final touches of [Name]’s new Vibranium suit while the newest protector had spent her time assisting both her mother in the royal duties as well as her sister in testing out the new suit. Truthfully, apart from her new strength and enhanced abilities as well as water manipulation, she did not know what else she got.
“The suit is ready,” Shuri set down her holo-tablet, picking up the metal bangles from the table. [Name] approached the table as well. “This is still very new but I can promise you that this suit is perfect,” Shuri fastened the Vibranium bangles on each of her sister’s wrist. She stepped back, activating her Kimoyo beads to record.
“How do I activate the suit?” [Name] adjusted the bangles, stepping back just in case anything happens.
“I simplified it. Cross your arms over your chest,” Shuri instructed.
The princess nodded, crossing her arms over her chest. The bangles touched and soon enough, she felt her body engulfed in the nano-suit. The helmet covered her head and [Name] opened her eyes. They widened, looking down at her hands. Shuri was cheering loudly, ending the recording momentarily.
“Damn, sister. You look good,” Shuri took one of her sister’s arms and dragged her to the mirror.
Shuri clicked her tongue. “Anyway, I designed this suit specifically to match your abilities. Strength, agility, durability, all the usual stuff. Flick your wrist for me,” [Name] did as she was told and claws shot out from the nails as well as her toes.
[Name]’s jaw dropped, looking at Shuri’s new masterpiece. Her suit reflected most of the past Black Panthers but it came with many modern twists. The nano-tech was the first example but the colours, while it was traditional, instead of the usual black and gold or black and purple, her suit was black, blue with some bits of silver-white. There was a short cape that connected to the fur around her neck.
“You know, maybe I should start getting you to design everything for me because Shuri, by Bast, this is amazing,” The nano-helm retracted back to reveal the wide smile on [Name]’s lips.
“The suit is water-sensitive. Which means, once it touches water, it will power up the suit. You will get stronger. Of course, in addition to your new water bending powers,” Shuri chuckled as the older princess relaxed her fingers. The sharp vibranium claws retracted. She brought the bangles together and the suit quickly disappeared back to the metal bands.
[Name] exhaled softly, the excitement slowly dying down upon realising that the first anniversary of their brother’s passing is in a few days time.
“Shuri..,”
The younger stopped, turning around.
“Do you remember what’s coming up soon?” Her voice was quiet as she approached her sister. Shuri’s expression faltered, a frown clear on her face.
“One year since brother’s passing,”
“Yes..Do you have any plans for the day?”
Shuri pursed her lips as [Name] took her hands. It was clear the pain still rests in her heart.
“No. Not at the moment. I’m afraid that If I do something, I will reopen the wound,”
“I know. I’m afraid too. But Mother says she has plans and she wants the both of us to come with her,”
Shuri gave a muffled reply.
Shuri raised an eyebrow. “Where?”
The older one shrugged. “Mother didn’t say,” And Shuri nodded, leaning in for a hug. [Name] sighed softly, returning the tight hug. She knew how Shuri felt, sympathising with her sibling. “I love you, Shuri. I won’t ever leave you, okay?”
The fateful day arrived and Mother had brought them to the Wakandan Rivers. Shuri had started a fire while [Name] gathered the stick for burning. The skies were dark but the moonlight above shone bright. The sound of nocturnal animals was somewhat comforting during this dark time.
Namor approached the three, Mother and Shuri had the spear tip pointed towards him.
[Name] stood by the water, kneeling before it as she prayed silently to Bast. Mother was speaking to Shuri. [Name] felt minor vibrations from the water, looking up to find a small herd of elephants approaching the water for a drink. She moved a hand into the water, feeling the vibrations. The water was calm, ripples light until the ripples got faster and heavier. Her head snapped up, a figure hovering over the water.
“Mother!” She called out, alarming the older women and Shuri. Both moved to grab their spears and [Name] stood guard as the figure hovered to land. Water dripped from his body, the jewels he wore glinted under the pale moonlight. [Name] wore a calm expression, studying the potential threat before her. His ears were pointed, wings on his ankles which gave him flight. He wore nothing but a green short decorated with gold. His pectoral, a gorgeous shade of blue and gold, fulgent under the moon. He glanced over to the woman, his own eyes studying the woman’s form.
“Stop right there!” Mother hissed. Namor raised a hand up, running his fingers through his dripping hair.
“Who are you and how did you get in here?”
Namor inhaled deeply, looking around. “This place is amazing. The air is pristine,” He faced the river. “And the water..,” The King turned back to Mother.
“My mother told stories about a place like this. A protected land with people that never have to leave, that never have to change who they were..,” Namor turned to [Name], keeping his eyes on her momentarily before returning to Mother.
“What reason do you have to reveal your secret to the world?”
Mother gripped her spear, [Name] was ready to defend her in case he decided to attack.
“I am NOT a woman who enjoys repeating herself. Who are you?!”
Namor had a smug look on his face.
“I have many names. My people call me..K’ul’ulkan. But my enemies call me Namor,”
“I need your people to do something for me. It is something..important to me and my people. Surface dwellers intruded my waters, bringing their technology to my sea in search of Vibranium. They talk of a scientist in America. I want you to bring her to me,” Namor stepped forward, placing the conch shell down.
“Should you have acquired this American scientist, speak into the shell. I will come. I leave that in your hands,”
Namor gave one last look to [Name], jumping back into the water.
The tension in the air left as soon as he swam away. [Name] looked ahead, a large piece of equipment sat on the grass. “How did they do that?” Shuri thought aloud as she laid the spear down.
“Mother, what should we do?” [Name] turned to the Queen, who visibly relaxed. The silence indicated that she was deep in thought, possibly planning out future situations should they not comply.
“We will take the device back to Shuri’s lap. Both of you will work on this together. This changes everything,”
--------------------------------------------
Work could never be finished especially when the many lives within Wakanda are under threat. Shuri took apart the machine, examining each part closely to find out more about the device. She was impressed at the fact that this machinery was mostly made out of everyday materials. Garbage, to say the least. ‘Whoever made this is a genius and resourceful,’ Shuri made a mental note, pulling up the protective goggles as the piece of metal she was cutting fell off the side.
Meanwhile, [Name] was working on decoding the device’s internal drive, digging deeper on where the device came from.
“This is some impressive coding. Whoever did this..it’s clearly above their paygrade,” She told Shuri. “The codes are simple but they work so perfectly in what they do. How is it possible that that piece of junk can even detect Vibranium?” [Name] leaned back on her seat, tapping the tip of her pen against her lips.
“All of this is made of..trash,” Shuri set down a piece of equipment. She hadn’t realised Mother had entered her lab and was talking to Okoye. [Name] wheeled herself over to the big machinery, looking up.
“What do you think they’re talking about?”
Before Shuri could reply, both had turned to the siblings.
“Okoye is insisting that she takes the lead in the investigation in America and she wants to bring Shuri and [Name]-,”
“When are we leaving?” Both asked, interrupting Mother. The older woman sighed, lips pursed as she turned to Okoye. She worries for the wellbeing of her children going on his mission but she trusts the General and her oldest daughter.
“We leave as soon as possible,” Okoye nodded.
Just when [Name] thought things couldn't get any worse..
The trio had managed to track down Riri Williams, a student studying in MIT who had apparently made the Vibranium detection device. Shuri managed to persuade the young girl to follow them to Wakanda and she had agreed, not wanting to succumb into the hands of her supposed water hunters.
The team hid in Riri’s warehouse, red and blue lights flashing through the tinted windows.
But, she snapped back into reality when a sudden force struck the car.
“We meet at the rendezvous point. Shuri, get in the car,”
“No, sister. I think it’s best if we separate. Don’t make us easy targets,” Shuri reasoned. [Name] thought her reasoning. It was true. Okoye was about to protest but the older princess raised her hand up. “General, take the wheel. Shuri, ride safely. Riri, watch the skies. Let’s get out of here,” [Name] got into the car with Okoye, the car revving to life with the help of Griot. Shuri had rode off with Okoye’s car following suit. The American authorities were hot on their tails. “Griot, follow Shuri. Don’t let her out of our sight,” Okoye instructed. A HUD formed on the windshield of the car, directions to their rendezvous point clear on the screen. [Name] turned around, bullets struck the back of the muscle car.
“We have to get clear of their guns,” [Name] turnt back, her hands moving around the HUD screen to find their next best route. “Take a hard right into the alley. There’s a road on the other side that leads towards the bridge,” She swiped the GPS back to Okoye. The General swerved the car, the wheels skidding hard against the asphalt as she turned into the alley. [Name] was focused on her sister and planning on their escape route, the bridge was in view and the authorities were falling behind.
“Shuri!” [Name] screamed, the impact threw the bike mid-air. The car overturned, slamming down on the hard floor with a loud bang. The princess groaned, knocking her head to the side of the door upon impact. Something felt damp on the side of her head and she knew it was blood. “Shuri!” [Name] groaned out, tugging on the seat belt. It wouldn’t budge. In the distance from Shuri, she could see the authorities had stopped, guns in their hands as they approached the site cautiously.
Okoye groaned, lifting her head to assess the situation. “[Name], are you hurt?”
“I’m good. Check on Shuri,” Okoye carefully crawled out. A hook grabbed onto Riri’s unconscious form and the warrior woman didn’t hesitate to cut the wire with her spear.
The wire was pulled back over the bridge. Okoye rushed over to Shuri, shoving the helmet off her head. “Griot?”
“The princess is well, General. She should return to us in a few minutes,” The AI confirmed, the Kimoyo beads on the woman’s hand lit up, showing Shuri’s stable heartbeat.
“Call for extrac-,” [Name] stopped, the sound of water splashing harshly. Five Talokanils jumped off the back of a whale and onto the bridge, weapons ready. The princess stood, rushing over to defend her family with Okoye doing the same.
Meanwhile, [Name] still couldn’t get the seat belt off. She growled, flicking her wrist. The nanotech formed around her hand. She flexed her fingers, blue claws ripped through the belt easily. She fell with a soft groan, slowly crawling out of the car. Her eyes looked around, the cold wind bit on her skin. Shaking her head slightly, the princess moved to Riri, cradling the young girl’s head on her lap. She felt a pulse on her fingers and sighed in relief, turning to Okoye.
“She’s well, princess,” Okoye reported and she nodded.
[Name] had her eyes on the pair of blue-skinned people, studying them. They certainly did not look like some common soldiers. They wore elaborate garments and guessed that they should be Namor’s champions.
The large male looked at the woman, speaking in a language she didn’t understand. The female nodded, joining the other three soldiers to fend off the authorities. Okoye raised her spear. “How should we do this?” Behind, Namora and her soldiers easily incapacitate the men. “I’ll take on the four. Can you take the big one?” [Name] crossed her arms. Okoye removed her coat and threw it aside. “I got him,” She held her spear in a defensive position as the two circled one another.
[Name] had to help the Americans. She ran towards the four Talokanils, her suit wrapped around her like a glove. She lept in the air, swinging a kick to one of the unsuspecting warriors. He was knocked back, slamming on the side of the bridge. The next noticed her presence, twirling his own spear towards the Black Panther. She knew better than to hurt them so knocking them out was the better option. The second warrior yelled, jabbing his spear forward. It grazed [Name]’s side, her heart racing with adrenaline pumping in her veins. She grabbed the spear, pulling the Talokanil forward towards her. Then, she dropped the spear, a foot on it to prevent the Talokanil warrior from taking his weapon back. She rammed her shoulder into his chest, knocking him back with ease.
The third warrior lept in the air, slamming the spear on [Name]’s shoulder. She hissed, leaping away and landed on the hood of the car in a stalking position. The female spoke in her language but the Panther waved her hand, a wave of water grabbed the three and threw them into the water, hard. She doubted it would do much but hoped it was enough to stun them.
Namora whipped the end of her spear onto the last American, turning to the Panther. [Name] flexed her fingers as Namora slammed her spear down, both women facing one another.
“Túun, k'a'abéet a beel le leti'ob guerrero Wakanda,” (So, you must be Wakanda’s own warrior?),” Namora spoke, her head tilted, anticipating the fight to be a good one.
“K ilej bix a meetik justo ti' jump'éel ba'ate'el,” (Let’s see how you fair in a fight).
[Name] circled the Talokanil woman and she mirrored the Panther. Namora ran to [Name], twirling her spear in her direction. The Panther kneeled down, narrowly dodging the tip of the spear as it brushed the pointed ears of her helmet. She twirled around, spinning backwards to get up. A leg hooked onto the Talokanil’s spear, pushing her down from the force. The Panther hadn’t expected Namora to recover so quickly, already whipping her spear in her direction. The hits were sure to cause bruises but her training allowed her to take in every hit. Namor slammed the back of the spear into the Panther’s chest, slamming her down harshly into the asphalt road. [Name] groaned, hands on the body of the spear and lifting it to try and ease the pressure. She growled, waving her hand.
Water slammed into Namora’s side, sending the Talokanil woman hitting the side of the car. Namora seemed surprised at the unexpected attack. The Panther jumped to her feet, turning around to find Okoye on the floor with the male warrior approaching her. She ran to Attuma, jumping on his back with ease and had both arms squeezing his neck. The Talokanil thrashed around, hands trying to pull [Name] off but she refused to let go. She flexed her fingers, claws on her hairs and dangerously close to Attuma’s neck.
“Enough!” [Name] growled. Okoye slowly stood, grabbing her spear as her chest heaved from exhaustion. Attuma stopped moving, head tilted back and away from the shining claws. Namora and the three soldiers had seemingly recovered and ran towards the end of the fight, the Panther getting off Attuma’s back. The helmet pulled back to reveal [Name]’s damp face, claws retracting back.
Shuri let out a soft groan, carefully standing up. The elder princess turned, running to Shuri to catch her sister in a hug. Shuri let out a soft ‘oof’ as she returned the hug.
“You’re alright, sister. You’re alright,” [Name] patted Shuri’s back as she pulled away. The younger looked behind to find the five Talokanil soldiers.
The Panther turned, looking at Attuma and Namora. She raised her wrist up, activating the kimoyo beads. “Griot, I need translation,”
“Did I miss something?”
“No, not much. I want to make an offer with them,”
“I am a Wakandan royalty. I have an offer to make to your King. Take me to your King but let them go. Namor has no more quarrel with the girl. I wish to make a peace offering with him,”
Attuma and Namora turned to one another.
“Leti' le realeza Wakanda,” (She is Wakandan royalty?)
“Míin le ajawo' aceptaría u ti'ibil óolala',” (Perhaps the King would accept her offering)
Namora turnt to the princess.
“Le ajawo' taak le ch'úupalo'. Yaan k bisikech ta yéetel le ch'úupalo', chéen ba'ale' P'at bin a kiik yéetel a guerrero,”
“The King wants the girl. We will take you and the girl but let your sister and your warrior go,” Griot translated and just as Okoye was about to protest, [Name] held a hand out to prevent her from furthering her actions.
“Fine. We will come with you. My sister and my General will return home. Take us,” [Name] flicked her bangle, her suit disappearing into the metal completely. Shuri grabbed her hand and tugged her aside.
“What do you think you’re doing?! You want to willingly give Riri away? He will hurt her, sister,” Shuri frowned.
“Shuri, please understand. We don’t fully know Namor’s capabilities. For all we know, his army could best us in every fight initiated. I want you to get ready Wakanda just in case my peace offering does not go as expected. I promise you that Riri will return safely to you. Okoye, take Shuri back. I don’t wish to discuss this further,”
[Name] turnt to Namora, a mask held in her hand. She placed it over her mouth and nose, a soft hiss emitted from the mask itself. Attuma had picked up Riri, making his way to the edge of the bridge. The princess felt her vision blur, Namora quickly catching the woman before she could fully pass out.
She could hear Shuri’s faint scream and that was the last thing she remembered.
--------------------------------------------
[Name] felt hands on her, eyes fluttering open to the soft, blue light. Slowly, she sat up, finding Riri in front of her with a worried expression.
“Oh, I thought you were dead or something,” Riri heaved a sigh, sitting on the hammock. She pursed her lips, unaware of their whereabouts. It scared her.
“Where are we?”
“What happened on the bridge?” Riri turned to the princess, awaiting some answers.
[Name] rubbed her head, shaking it.
“I..uh..I don’t actually know,”
[Name] furrowed her brows, recalling the events.
“A fight with the people who wanted to take you. I had to end it,”
“A peace off- Are you serious, right now? Man, you are crazy, seriously,”
“And..exactly how are you going to do that?” The young girl crossed her arms over her chest.
“An offer of peace,” She said sheepishly, scratching the back of her neck gently.
[Name] laughed nervously. “Yeah, maybe I didn’t really think this through properly but this man..he has the power to hurt my people and you and I had to do something. What better way to talk, right? War and violence isn’t always the answer..,”
“Oh, I’ll show him violence,” Riri mumbled.
A pair of Talokanil maiden approached the two, one carried a basket of fruits and another held a garment in her hands. The second maiden held up the garment.
“Nook' teechi', princesa. Bey teech u le realeza, láayli' k'a'abéet a beel tratado bey tal way te' Talokan,” (Clothes for you, princess. As you are royalty, you are still treated as such here in Talokan)
[Name] took the garment, the material was soft but the dress itself was hefty.
“K ajawo' k'áato' wilech,” (Our King wishes to see you) The maiden gestured for [Name] to follow her but before she could leave, Riri grabbed her hand.
[Name] was led to a small area where she could change out of her clothes and into the dress. She had to admit, it was the most beautiful thing she has ever seen. A white and blue garment decorated with jade. She inhaled deeply, following the maiden once more towards a secluded part of the cave.
“Wait, where are you going? Don’t leave me here!” She squeezed her hand. [Name] smiled softly, gently taking her hand.
“I won’t be long, Riri. I will be back soon,” The princess released Riri’s hand, following the maiden deeper into the cavern systems.
In the middle, was a small hut of sorts. Inside, she could see Namor with his back facing towards her. The maiden left the two alone. [Name] looked up, glow worms lit the cave gorgeously. There was a pool of water by the step stone and it looked very deep. She slowly made her way across towards the hut, swallowing as Namor slowly turned to face the princess. He had donned a cape to cover himself mildly. He was distracting but the art behind her pulled her attention fully. “It’s beautiful..,” She acknowledged the mural. It was painted in various colours and it told a story, one she couldn’t exactly figure out.
Namor moved to the princess.
“I thank you for your kind words, princess,”
[Name] tilted her head down, eyes meeting Namor’s.
“Thank you for agreeing to this meeting, Namor. I’m just disheartened it had to be under tense circumstances,” She began. Namor gestured for her to sit and she did.
“I don’t want war, Namor. I bring the girl to you to show that I do keep the end of our bargain. But I cannot willingly give her over to you. She did no wrong, Namor. It is her country’s people who have acquired her project for their usual selfish usage,” At this, Namor lit up. Her views were similar to that of his own. He felt his own heart skip a beat at that.
“My warriors told me of a peace offering you had,” Namor adjusted his cloak and the woman nodded.
“I’m doing this for the benefit of your people and mine, Namor. I hope you understand that I would do anything for peace and for my people. As a king to your own empire, I’m sure you share this with me…,” She trailed off, reading Namor’s expression.
“My views are the same. Surface dwellers are the true monsters of our story. They are selfish, destructive and they cause harm to everything they touch,”
[Name] had to thread carefully now. She didn’t want to give Namor the wrong idea.
“What I’m trying to say is that, you have no quarrel with the surface world-,”
“No, princess. I bear hatred towards the surface dwellers,” Namor’s eyes darken and [Name] leaned back, afraid he might do something irrational.
He reached towards the table, picking up a jaded bracelet.
“This belonged to my mother. She gave it to me before she passed all those years ago,” Namor held the bracelet out to [Name] and she took it. She brought it up closely, examining its own beauty. “It’s so pretty,” She smiled softly, fingers dragging to study each carved jade.
“We were not always who we are,” Namor began, looking at the mural on the wall.
“My mother and her tribe were born human, living on the surface world where they thrived greatly. Then, one by one, they fall ill. Strong men would grow frail and die. Children barely reach the age of maturity, dying in the arms of their mothers and fathers. Their tribe was stricken with a sickness brought in by the colonists. As a final resort, the tribe shaman sought help from the gods, seeking for a cure to their ailment. The gods gave him signs, where it led him to a water hole,” Namor moved a hand over the mural of the depiction.
“The Shaman found a blue plant beneath the water hole and made a cure for the tribe. The plant alleviated the sickness but it left them with a gift. A gift you see before you,” He paused, turning to the princess.
“At that time, my mother bore me. Despite her wishes not to consume the plant, the shaman had begged her to do so, foreseeing that the child would not survive if she did not consume the plant. So, she did. I was the firstborn son of Talokan, a hybrid that gave me powers beyond anything imaginable. I was a mutant,”
[Name] stood, joining Namor by the mural.
“But my mother, over time, grew sick. She couldn’t bear the thought that she could not live on the surface anymore. She longed for it. She died not long after and as per her wishes, I buried her on her land. But, what I saw was the seed to my hatred towards the surface dwellers. My mother’s people became slaves, treated poorly beyond anything I have ever seen. So, I killed them all, burning everything to the ground and killing everyone,” He paused again, looking at [Name] in the eyes.
“A Spanish man of faith cursed me as he died by my hand. He called me, ‘El Niño sin Amor’. A child without love. And I took my name from there. Namor. Because I have no love for the surface world,”
[Name] understood his feelings. He was the ruler of a hidden tribe, one hidden for very good reasons. If she were to be placed in his position, she would have done the same thing.
“Why are you telling me this?”
“Why? Because you and I are the same. We would do anything to keep our people safe from the outsiders,”
Namor’s hand moved to [Name]’s, fingers moving to tie the bracelet around her wrist. Her heart raced at his sweet gesture, cheeks reddening under the blue light. He was such a strong warrior but his hands felt nothing as such. They were soft, warm and large enough to cover her own hands.
[Name] was taken aback by his words but then, a smile formed on the King’s lips.
“Thank you, Namor,”
Their eyes meet momentarily, until Namor pulls away.
“Talokan is a beautiful city. I want to share it with you but the water down there..it’s enough to kill you,”
“We have a diving suit for you,”
Oh, she couldn’t wait to see his world.
Talokan was unlike anything [Name] has seen. To see a home thriving under the sea, she fully understood why Namor was so driven to protect his people.
She sat by the water, Namor beside her.
“Namora told me of your special abilities. Do you love the water?”
She looked over to the King, her lips pursed to bite back a smile.
“I do. More than anything. When I took my own version of the blue plant, I was met with our god, Bast. I was a devoted pupil of hers and that pleased her. In return for my devotion, she granted me the power of the Panther, alongside with a few extras,” She waved her first finger, a small wave of water brushed against her bare feet.
She hadn't realised that Namor was staring at her, one filled with admiration and adoration.
“K’uk’ulkan, there’s a reason why I offered myself here. I want to have peace between our kingdoms and there has to be a less violent way to do so. Riri, she’s only a child. What she made was merely for a school project. She had no way of knowing that her country’s government had intended to use it for their own. There has to be some other way, K’uk’ulkan. I am willing to offer a peace offering in return for peace. But, you should pick whatever peace offering you wish to have. I believe it’s only fair,” [Name] turned to Namor. He looked relaxed but behind those brown eyes, he already knew what he wanted.
“Anything?” He repeated.
She nodded. “Anything,”
She gasped, wanting to pull her gaze away but kept it firm. Her cheeks were hot and reddening.
Namor leaned forward, a hand moving to cup the woman’s jaw.
“In that case, I believe the best and most traditional way for two kingdoms to form an alliance would be a marriage, no?”
A marriage?
“The marriage is one thing but the other thing..I want you to stay with me,”
Namor wanted a marriage..with her?
The King of Talokan wants to get married to the Princess of Wakanda? What would mother think? What would Shuri think? [Name] closed her eyes, calming her erratic mind. She parted her lips to speak but Namor beat her to it.
Namor gently gripped her hand.
“K’uk’ulkan..,” She began, taking a deep breath. She moved a hand over his, the one that laid on her cheek. She took his hand, placing her palm on his.
“This marriage, I can agree to. But to stay with you? Please, Namor, I cannot simply abandon my family and my people. I am still their protector,”
“Then for six months, stay with me. The remaining half, you may return to your kingdom but once it ends, you stay with me again. Do you agree?”
[Name]’s eyes met with Namor’s. She knew what she was walking into. If she had to do this for the safety of her people as well as form an alliance with Talokan, it would be a win for both parties.
Namor leaned in close and she did the same. Their foreheads meet, eyes fluttering close at the intimacy they shared. [Name] will learn to love the King.
She nodded, a smile on her lips.
“I agree to your terms,”
The times the princess had with the King were well spent. Namor was relaxed around her and [Name] opened up to the King. He became her listening ear when she had to release the emotions she withheld about her late brother. He understood perfectly what it was like to lose a family member. He sympathises with her.
When Namor was busy, [Name] had Riri to go to. Riri eventually eased up around the Talokans but there was still some form of tension between them. She didn’t tell Riri of her arrangement with Namor.
The princess was unaware of the fact that Nakia had infiltrated Talokan. Her eyes darted to the silhouette beyond the far edge of the caves and she stood immediately, stopping her conversation with Riri.
Nakia had a rifle up, pointing to the Talokanil guard.
“Nakia!” She rushed over, the guard held her spear up.
“They’re friendly, Nakia. They are friendly,”
Nakia furrowed her brows. “What? But I was briefed-,”
“Nakia, I have established an alliance with their King,”
At that, the other woman froze. “An alliance? The Queen told me they were dangerous beyond anything Wakanda has faced,”
“Yes, they are but trust me on this..please?” [Name] begged, approaching her friend slowly. Nakia lowered her rifle and the guard, her spear. The princess nodded to the guard, who stepped back. She rushed to her friend, hugging her tightly.
--------------------------------------------
“It is so good to see you, Nakia. I know you have your orders but take the girl,”
“What?-”
“Take Riri and bring her to Wakanda. Namor has agreed to let her go and our alliance in exchange for a peace offering. I will stay here but please, tell mother and Shuri that I am safe and I will return soon,” [Name] gestured to Riri to follow Nakia. Nakia wanted to say more but the princess urged them to leave. Soon, the two disappeared from sight. [Name] knew better than to argue with the princess. A soft, sad sigh left her lips as she made her way to Namor’s home. She allowed her mind to drift as she sat on a stool, staring up at the painted murals, thoughts filled with how she yearned to return home and to reveal to Wakanda of their newly formed alliance.
[Name] wore a wide smile on her lips as Wakanda came into view. She wore her suit, protecting herself from the water as she swam. With the aid of her powers, she moved quick, though Namor was quicker. The princess had got into contact with her Mother a few days back and the worries the older woman had almost drowned the princess. She had to assure Ramonda that she was alright and that Namor had done nothing to hurt her. He had finally agreed to go to Wakanda with [Name] and her kingdom prepared for their arrival. Talokanil soldiers rode on whale-back into the Wakandan waters, royal ships hovered overhead to lead them to the palace. [Name] resurfaced, jumping out of the water and onto land. Namor returned to her side.
“Are you ready, sthandwa?,” (my love)
“I am, princesa,”Namor nodded as a royal ship brought them to the palace.
[Name] could see that Mother, Shuri and the Dora Milaje were waiting for their arrival. The ship landed shortly. [Name] was out of her suit, running to her Mother and Shuri.
“[Name]!” Shuri caught her sister in a tight hug, faces buried in each other’s neck as Queen Ramonda approached her children, hugging her eldest tightly. Behind, Namor stood by the ship, his soldiers behind him. The Queen pulled away, her gaze dark as she glanced at the King.
“Nothing is more important than the safety of my child,” Mother cupped [Name]’s cheeks, her shoulders visibly eased up knowing her first daughter had returned.
[Name] pulled away.
“Mother, Shuri, I know you have questions but we have more pressing matters. It is related to the future of Wakanda and Talokan,”
“I know, Mother. I have missed you and Shuri so much. I miss home so much,” [Name] turned, Namor had approached the family.
“Mother, Shuri, you know K’uk’ulkan. He isn’t here as a threat but as a friend to Wakanda,” She moved to Namor, arms brushing against one another.
“Let’s talk inside, Mother,”
Mother glanced between her daughter and Namor, a frown clear on her lips and an obvious displeased expression. Shuri was confused, following Mother into the gathering hall.
“I hate to see you unhappy, Princesa,”
[Name] turned to her lover.
“Thank you..,”
“For what, my love?”
“For bringing me home. To see Mother and Shuri again,” [Name] reached up, arms around his neck as she pulled the King down for a hug. His hand gripped her waist comfortably, lips brushing her neck as she pulled away.
[Name] smiled widely, turning to follow her family. Namor gestured for Namora and Attuma to stay with the other soldiers as he followed his lover.
Mother sat on her throne, Shuri beside her as [Name] and Namor stood before them. The elders were all here in the citadel, surrounding the pair.
“I know you have a lot of questions, Mother, Sister, Elders but what I did, I did it for a good reason. What reason do we have to seek war with Namor and Talokan? Yes, his motive at first may be unjustified but he did it to protect his people, to protect his kingdom from the touches of the outside world. Are we not the same? We protect Wakanda and her resources from the touches of the outside world and we would do anything to keep us safe, don’t we?” There were murmurs going around the hall. It seems the Elders were agreeing with her words.
“Did he force you to stay?” Mother asked, her voice was firm and hard.
This time, it was Namor’s turn to speak.
“No, I did not force her to stay. At her own will, she chose to stay with me in Talokan so we may talk about peace between our worlds. What she speak, is true. Princess [Name] has opened my eyes to the surface world, helping me see that there is more than just war, violence and greed. We share the same vision and the same mission. She made a peace offering with me,”
“And what is this peace offering exactly?” Mother hissed.
Silence fell on the Citadel momentarily.
“To ensure an alliance between Wakanda and Talokan is forged..I have agreed to marry K’uk’ulkan and to stay with him for half of the year,”
Loud gasps and louder whispers went around the Citadel. Mother stood up, horrified.
“What?! No, absolutely not. I am not losing my child again. I will not agree to this peace offering,”
“Mother..,” [Name] approached her mother, a small smile on her lips as she took Ramonda’s hands in hers.
“Mother…K’uk’ulkan has agreed to this alliance. Think about how it would benefit our people, how an alliance would mean that Wakanda would grow stronger. This marriage is for all of us, for both Wakanda and Talokan. I will come back for the next half of the year. I will always be your daughter, Mother..I will always be the protector of Wakanda. You will never, ever lose me. I promise you, Mother. I promise you, Shuri and the people of Wakanda,”
Queen Ramonda looked defeated, clear tears pricked her eyes. Her heart grew heavy, turning to her daughter. Her hand cupped her cheek, tears threatening to fall.
Tears fell as the Queen stroked her daughter’s cheek.
“Is there no better way?” Her voice was soft. The princess smiled sadly, shaking her head.
“I..share feelings with K’uk’ulkan, Mother. He has treated me with nothing but kindness and my heart is for him,”
“I always told T’Challa that you would grow up to become a strong, independent woman who would be fit to be Queen of Wakanda one day.. If your brother could see you right now, he would be so, so proud of you,”
This time, it was [Name]’s turn to cry at the mention of her brother. She hugged her Mother tightly, sniffling into the older woman’s shoulders slightly. Mother gestured for Shuri to join and she did, hugging her family as tightly as she could.
The elders looked at one another, nodding in agreement.
[Name] pulled away, wiping her tears with her sleeve. Mother took in a deep breath, quickly wiping her tears.
“Are there any objections to this alliance?”
All eyes were on M��Baku, the Jabari Clan leader, who inhaled sharply. If all of Wakanda would benefit from this alliance, then it would be the same for his clan.
“There are no objections from the River Tribe,”
“There are no objections from the Mining Tribe,”
“There are no objections from the Border Tribe,”
“There are no objections from the Merchant Tribe,”
“There are no objections from the Jabari Tribe,”
“Then it is agreed. Wakanda sees Talokan and her King as our allies. Therefore..this marital alliance shall be the beginning of our endless alliance,” Ramonda announced.
[Name] turned to her mother and Shuri, a smile on her lips.
“Thank you, mother,”
Ramonda cupped her daughter’s cheeks.
“Will you be staying?” Mother asked and she shook her head.
“It would be wrong of a mother to hinder her child’s fullest potential. It pains me and Shuri to be separate from you for six months. I know you’ll return but the hole still burns in my heart,”
“I know, Mother. I feel it too but I know you two trust me on this. This will work, I know it will..,” [Name] trailed off, glancing at Namor.
“No. There are some matters K’uk’ulkan and I have to attend in Talokan but I promise to keep in touch,” She brushed her fingers on the Kimoyo beads, smiling as she pulled away.
[Name] gave her family a last look before leaving the Citadel.
She found Namor speaking with his people and her presence made him stop.
“Don’t stop on my account, my love,”
Namor wore his beautiful smile, one she grew to adore so much. Her cheeks felt hot.
“Why don’t you start by giving me a kiss and then..we can continue once we reach Talokan,”
“In yakunaj, words cannot express my adoration for you. My heart races whenever you are around and there is so much I wish to do to you,”
[Name] gasped at his words, not expecting his confession. She smirked, leaning close to the King. An arm snaked around his neck, fingers tangling in his hair.
Namor didn’t hesitate next, capturing his future queen’s lips in a soft kiss.
This was a start of a new chapter for both kingdoms and a start of a beautiful relationship between the King of Talokan and the Princess of Wakanda.
#marvel#marvel one shot#marvel imagines#marvel x reader#marvel imagine#namor#namor x reader#namor x fem!reader#namor x you#namor x y/n#namor imagine#namor one shot#black panther 2#black panther wakanda forever#mcu#mcu x reader#tenoch huerta#is this a bad piece? I hope it isn't a that bad of a piece ;-;
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their relationship means everything to me
#THE WAY TINA WAS THE ONE WHO HATED SYD THE MOST AND MADE HER LIFE HELL AT FIRST AND TRIED TO GET HER TO QUIT#BUT SYD INSPIRED TINA AND THEY SLOWLY SLOWLY BEGAN TO WORK TOGETHER#AND NOW TINA IS THE FIRST TO ASK SYD IF SHE'S OKAY ON A BAD DAY AND SYD IS THE FIRST TO TRUST IN TINA AND HER SKILL#BAWLING ACTUALLY!!#this show is so genuinely good like i was saying to my mum the other day that this is the first time in so fucking long#where ive watched a new piece of media and it's just genuinely been GOOD. like i find myself pointing out shit that was once a given#in media like 'every single character is given time and depth and purpose and everyone has dynamics with everyone#not just the leads with each other and there's difficult-to-love characters that work hard to grow on you' etc etc#and it's such a shame that the entertainment industry got to such a place where every piece of media currently coming out was just awful#and you'd have to really dig to find something good but i hope with the strikes atm at the very least we're headed in the right direction#and i know this disney show isn't exactly some radical new thing but. idk it's just nice to watch something good again#and get really into something that is generally quite mainstream#the bear
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Well that's not how I wanted my night to go. Like. At all
#💭 — ⌗nervo rambles . ★#my bird isn't doing great I think he ripped a piece of skin off where his tail used to be and bled rlly bad#he's alive but idk for how long#rghhhh I hope he'll be ok and make it :((
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When Dowon said:
"I was hit by an arrow. Do you not wish to know if I am fine? Father, have you ever loved me even for a short moment? Have you ever thought of me or missed me, even just once? Have you ever felt affectionate toward me? I am asking if you have ever truly thought of me as your child."
#rookie historian goo hae ryung#prince dowon#prince yi rim#kdrama#i wanted to poke my eyes out and peel off my skin for real#but also console him and help him run away from that cursed place#my boy's crying over his (not biological) dad hating him and the worst part is#dowon isn't even aware his ''dad'' is a piece of trash and shouldn't look for his validation at all#bad parents (biological or not) deserve all the worst happening to them#i'm boiling inside and hoping the king's (scumbag's) downfall is near#quotes#kdrama quotes
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.
#I might delete this later but I'm feeling a bit disheartened and want to just put this out there into the world but not super publicly#But like#The worst part of being overweight in my opinion is that it's so so hard to feel cute or pretty or even decent looking#I'm going to Japan with my older brother next week and I've been curating a cutesy Lolita-esque style outfit for the trip and I finally#got the last of the pieces so I tried it all on. And it's just... no matter how hard I try I can't really see myself as cute in it#I don't know maybe pink isn't my color and this just isn't my style. But.#I tried really hard to make an outfit I'd feel cute in and it's devastating to not really see myself as cute#And it's not really that I think I look bad per se it's just...#I don't know#Not what I wanted it to be I guess#And I know that if I posted pictures people would say ''wow you look great!!!'' because people always say that kind of thing#But I'd always think they were lying or were playing it up#Even if they really weren't#I just wanted to feel cutesy and everything and it hurts somewhere deep inside to not feel that way#I'll still wear the outfit in Japan since I spent enough time and money on this outfit but it really dampens my enthusiasm#And this wasn't the first time I've tried on the dress obviously. I've been trying it on periodically all along#But I kept hoping that once it was done and I had the makeup all on maybe I'd finally be able to see myself as cute#But no#I still don't. Not really.#It doesn't help that the dress itself doesn't even fit properly#I got it on sale which is what sparked this whole idea in the first place and it was always a size too small#It never zipped properly but I was able to work around that with an outer corset that held it closed#And a lace shrug that helped hide the weird bunching in the back#I can sometimes get the dress zipped now since I've lost a little weight#But it's a struggle and I can only do it about half the time and it feels like I'm going to break the zipper each time#I'd think to buy a new dress but a) that would cost even more money and I've already spent way more than I had wanted in my endeavor#to feel cute in this dress. And b) all of the accessories are tailored to this dress specifically#It would be hard to find a good replacement and there is no guarantee that would even help#So I just... I don't know#It's just hard.
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@jerottblyth I was writing this in the replies of your “ a glimpse of BJ's post-series white picket fence” and then I got annoyed with the limit, so!
I just rewatched the episode with Hawkeye's ex that he didn't marry (twice), and BJ talks about how he's never even been tempted by another woman, vs later on cheating once (I believe in s5 -- the first BJ episode I really commented on, because it surprised me at the time and I couldn’t place him or it), and then later on him considering leaving Peg for the reporter...
and then I watched some bits of Inga (s7 -- the last of the relatively what I call “good boy BJ” seasons, and the season that ends on all the main cast family members meeting one another, which idk, I just place at an interesting juncture narratively) in which he talks about himself and Peg as equals/her as a woman who has a mind being a good thing, and how that contrasts with the especially 8-onwards intense reactions he has to her growing into a more and more independent person -- changed beyond the person he knew before he left, changed without him, changed to no longer needing him, changed into a reality he cannot return to and pick up from as if he never even left in the first place (not that I read BJ as conservative for the day technically, but that she’s not the person that said goodbye to him and that manifests in unintentionally sexist ways, where he gets upset by her just living her life, when he needs her to be a symbol of unchanging normality that turns back on the second he’s back in the picture and youknow... that’s fucked up sir)
I think it fits with the weariness of the later seasons: BJ s8-onwards getting more cruel and lashing out more, and him and Hawkeye increasingly acting like an unstable relationship in which Hawkeye often plays the role of the placating wife to an emotionally unpredictable husband. I make it heterosexual on purpose, my headcanons about BJ do veer more towards him having a het read of whatever is going on between him and Hawkeye -- first evidenced that one time he was physically violent, and Hawkeye was both an outlet and a consoling partner and BJ was jealous of not getting to be a partner to Peg/father to Erin, and jealous of Trapper’s relationship to Hawkeye at the same time???
Long story short there is a trajectory for sure, from the man who arrives to the guy I’m seeing now (one more episode left before the finale!), and yeah, I definitely like to read it as the fantasy-of-home bit by bit falling to pieces around him, and also the guilt at all of that heroic all-American fantasy of war not being what the reality is, and maybe feeling like an idiot for believing in any of it in the first place (he had that line where he mentioned that he had the chance to not get drafted and he wanted to do the honourable thing, or something along that phrasing, and he has a few episodes in which he does try to play hero of a kind, like in BJ Papa San and he gets very upset when he can’t save the day), and of course the guilt at all of his personal failings, especially -- I decide to headcanon -- the fact that he did cheat. The evil of the situation seeped into him and made him a “lesser” man than what he was
and all of that manifesting his pettiness (which was clearly something that was already there, although pointed in the direction of acceptable targets like Frank or bad guys of the week, or that old friend he had who was Also A Dick and how that suggests some of BJ’s past, or even Charles, soz Chuck -- because BJ is a Good Guy Honest).
And now I’m on my rewatch at the same time, and almost finished s4, and looking at it from the pov of that trajectory, it’s very fun looking for early-season-in-hindsight cracks in the “good boy persona”
and with all of that, I do enjoy currently joking about how he’s the end-series villain (Frank is gone, Charles isn’t the main source of conflict, Margaret has long since developed into the love of my life...) but the most interesting thing about it is of course that the story doesn’t end with a villain, it just ends with broken people, from what I see -- BJ is not a bad guy, certainly not in comparison to the likes of someone like Frank, he’s just... not coping at all. And some of the things he does are seriously messed up, and I wouldn’t be surprised if he does more things like that before the end.......
I do like seeing how different characters break, and BJ’s breaking is oh so very messy/shrapnel filled
#bj hunnicutt#im watching MASH#MASH meta#MASH#hawkeye pierce#peg hunnicutt#tbh dont think you can fully piece together bj's character without the last three seasons which is interesting on its own#when everyone else felt pretty clear to me from the get go#this was a very ramble in phrasing but i hope it makes sense#bj as a batman villain who wants to commit naughtiness but tries to direct it at worse bad guys#bj as a great depiction of a man who returns from war and gives in to bitter feelings about whats been lost and takes it out on family#bj as a heterosexual man in a wartime relationship with a queer man who is forced into the role of a heterosexual woman#bj as a very bomb that exploded 10 minutes after trapper's plane left the runway#bj as a mask under a mask under a mask under a mask#bj as romance narratives about a straight frat boy that the lead heroine wants to punch in the face but secretly isn't so bad#bj as the posterboy for early 50s america gone on the fritz#bj as knowing he's the shadow of a man he'll never meet#etcetetc.
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I just discovered you via Ao3 and lemme tell you, finding someone who seems to feel the Sam way about Blake as I do? Immaculate. Writing? On point “Return to me?” My new favorite fic.
CBHD"WK%£^72JDNB"D&YEUODJ"*YDI"QSKXTHANK YOU
aaaaah return to me is one of those funny ones in my mind - i got a bit worried when the balance got a big push lately, but thankfully my characterisation of blake seems to be holding up pretty well!! and vshbdkjvbhwidasckj i'm so glad you like my writing - i know that my particular style can sometimes come off as overly flowery and winding (in this fic it's particularly egregious!) so i'm SO happy that you're enjoying it 😍😍😍
aside from being a rather strenuous exercise in the conditional tense, the idea was basically just 'blake is so fucking redpilled and nobody is talking about it we should talk about it'! to me, blake is a fascinating example of a reasonable, rational bad guy - in the sense that he's gone so far off the deep end in pursuit of keeping his listener close to him that he's circled back to behaving semi-rationally, just operating under a completely batshit set of rules that he's convinced himself (and been kind of convinced by closeknit, although that's since been slightly disproven) are real.
it was a LOT of fun to write, and i'll never pass up the chance to stick one of the redacted 'bad guys' under my little microscope - very glad you had fun!! <333
#im melting of flattered rn THANK U BABES 🥰#i know that blake isn't everyone's cup of tea so im so happy that he's striking a chord w you :DD#if you're into this kind of 'redacted bad guy gone so fucking weird for his listener' then i may not have any more blake atm#but i do have two vega fics that might be of interest!#they're called 'oops-a-daisy' and 'resist and elongate' and they're both on tumblr and ao3 <3#please do mind the warnings though - esp on the second one#i can't remember if oops-a-daisy is 18+ only but resist and elongate DEF is#i know that star @starlitangels and ej @ejunkiet have some WONDERFUL blake pieces if you're in the market#much love to you darling and hope you're staying safe <3#ginger speaks to lovely blogs
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Hi there, if you don’t mind me asking, why don’t you like moffat?
Hi, Anon,
Okay, so, this is going to be very long winded as I ramble on and go on tangents like all the time so I'm going to hide it under a read more (I hope it works, I'm on mobile.)
Okay, I've let it be known multiple times that I don't like Moffat, I don't even like his solo episodes during RTD's era and they're the most popular of RTD's era. There are so many things but they mostly boil down to his sexism, his ego, and his poorly written characters. He's very much a Tell, Don't Show, writer and he writes for himself
Now, I'm not saying he's completely terrible, he does have some good episodes. But it's not enough to for me to see past his flaws.
His female characters (excluding Bill because I've only watched two of her episodes) are all written to be very flat and one dimensional, they're often referred to as girls (The Girl in the Fireplace. The Girl Who Waited. The Impossible Girl.) And their entire life revolves around The Doctor like Reinette being a French Princess and very powerful woman, yet left pining for him, Amy dedicating her life to him returning, River being brainwashed to kill him (yet still somehow becoming his wife,) Clara literally being made to save different versions of him. The way he took Queen Elizabeth in the 50th and made her obsessed with marrying The Doctor.
His sexism. There's this one scene I remember during Eleven's run, he's with a monk and he's talking on the phone, the monk asks who's on the other line, and The Doctor says, "A woman." And the monk does the hand to head and chest cross sign, and it's like??????? Haha there's a woman on the phone, women are scary? There's a moment in The Doctor Dances, where Nine realises Nancy is the boy's mother and Moffat just completely looked down on her, judged her for having sex, judged her for being a single parent, acting like she was beyond a terrible person. He introduced a lesbian couple but then had a male character forcibly kiss one of them and made it a joke. The repeated comments on Clara's appearance. The First Doctor's characterisation and comment when there was literally no need to portray him that way. He originally turned down an actress for the role of companion because, "she's a bit wee and dumpy." Whilst commenting on Karen Gillain's legs.
His plots just fall apart, he builds them up to be something big and massive but the resolution is underwhelming. The Silence were built up to be this big thing, but then they're almost completely wiped out by the next episode (The Doctor asking the human race to kill an entire species for him??????? That's the solution you came to????) A repeated moment in that season, "Silence will fall when the question is asked." "The question that's been staring you right in the face the entire time." And the question was, "Doctor Who. Doctor WHO. Doctor. WHO." An entire season of hints for that?????? No. It's bad, Silence didn't fall, it wasn't a question, it resulted in nothing (the emphasis on The Doctor's original name always felt wrong to me, that's his birth name but he refuses to use it/go by it and hasn't done for a long time. Why are you putting so much into it?) Amy being pregnant but not pregnant due to being replaced by a Ganger and The Doctor said nothing. The moon is an egg being an anti-abortion allegory and The Doctor refusing to save the life of billions of people because he didn't want to.
The lack of character development, Amy gets kidnapped, becomes aware of it right as she goes into labour so she's just wakes up one day, finds out she's been kidnapped, finds out she's pregnant, is actively in labour, her child gets kidnapped, and she's just like, "WHERE IS MY BABY?" for one episode and that's it. There's no exploring her trauma, there's no coping with it, there's nothing.
There are so many penis jokes and innuendos, there's one scene where a woman walks in and The Doctor is holding a poker that's pointing downwards but then rises upwards. But I'm super ace and I project that onto my faves, so just ignore this point. I'm not uncomfortable with sex (I'm sex positive to those that have it, but neutral towards myself having it) but there's just so many.
The way he just wants to get his hands on every aspect of the show, Clara saving each version of The Doctor, River knowing all versions of The Doctor, Clara being the reason The First Doctor stole that specific TARDIS.
The Fiftieth Anniversary of saving Gallifrey, I was fascinated by the concept of the Fiftieth exploring the Time War, I wanted to see the moment that led to The Doctor wiping out his home. I understand that parts had to be changed because the BBC wouldn't let him have McGann. But saving Gallifrey ruined the emotional impact from moments like The End of the World, "You think it'll last forever, people and cars and concrete, but it won't. One day it's all gone. Even the sky. My planet's gone. It's dead. It burned like the Earth. It's just rocks and dust before its time. There was a war and we lost. I'm a Time Lord. I'm the last of the Time Lords. They're all gone. I'm the only survivor." The emotional impact of taking Rose, a stranger, to see the death of her world because he's suffering and just needs someone else to experience what he's feeling is lost somewhat because Gallifrey is fine and it's all in his head.
Everyone dies, but no they don't. The universe is ending, time itself is unraveling, the big bang is happening again. But no, it's not. I hated how overdramatic it all was, the stakes are so high all the time and yet, they're not. I know this isn't exclusive to Moffat (look at RTD's S3 and 4 finales) but it felt so much more prevalent with him.
This ramble has gone on long enough and I still feel like I could say more, but I'll stop now, and I can say more another time.
I know Moffat improves over time the middle of Eleven's run is nothing compared to the end of Twelve's run. I follow several Moffat enjoyers and I can see why it appeals to them, his characterisation improved, his plots weren't as underwhelming, he got more consistent.
I tried to rewatch it during 2020. He has some good episodes, but Moffat isn't for me. I can see why other people enjoy him, but I don't and I won't.
#long post#i hope the read more works#i know you can just ignore elements of Doctor Who because the show itself does#and i do#but sometimes it's hard to get past that#and watching it as it aired week by week back in 2011-2015 made it harder and harder to do that#especially when it's all built up to be something good and exciting#and you're waiting an entire week/half a year for the next episode#and then it just isn't#it's got forced humour‚ bad jokes‚ sexist remarks‚ confusing plot points‚ underwhelming conclusions#and it leaves a bad taste over it all#like a bit of bread that's gone mouldy#it might just be the one piece but you're not going to eat the rest of the loaf
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