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naeverse · 4 months

Text

Drunken Love

A/N: OMG guys, it took forever to write this due to my busy schedule as of late, but my classes are now complete. Hooray! 😆🥳 Thank you all for your patience, and I hope you enjoy. ❤️❤️ Art generated on: niji・journey

🥃staring: FatherBestFriend!Miguel O’Hara x Fem!Reader

🍴preview: Without looking at him, you nodded, feeling his burly arm around your waist and soon his breath fanning against your ear. “I want you to forget about your troubles and give your worries to me to bear.” He uttered, caressing your lower back in gentle, loving circles.

“And in return, allow me to make things better for you, mi amor.”

💰summary: After four years of studying abroad, you return home to a 'Welcome Home' party hosted by your father. However, you quickly realize that nothing has changed—your father remains the same rude and selfish man, solely focused on money and his business. As before, you're expected to conform to his strict rules and spend your days under his watchful eye. But with just a glance, Miguel O’Hara, your father’s best friend and business partner, seems to shatter all your desires to comply with your father's suffocating expectations, and offers an enticing escape...

Just like before…

🔥tw/cw: Age Gape, Big Dick Miguel, Body Worship, Car Sex, Cock Bulge, Cunnilingus, Desperation, Dirty Talk, Forbidden love, Modern AU, Multiple Orgasms, Oral Sex, Size Difference

❤️‍🔥Pet names: Amor (Love), Bebè (Baby), Cariño (Darling), Mi amor (My love) Princesa (Princess), Querida (Dear)

🖤Rating: 18+ explicit I SMUT I

🥀 Word Count: 8.2k words

As you stepped through the wrought iron gates of your father’s manor, a wave of nostalgia washed over you. It had been four years since you last set foot here, having been away studying abroad. Now, back home, everything felt familiar...

But not in a good way.

The scent of freshly cut grass mingled with the aroma of sizzling meat on the grill, filling the air as your heels clicked cautiously on the smooth paved pathways leading to the center of your father’s luxurious backyard, where your 'Welcome Home' party was to be held. Yet, deep down, you knew it wouldn’t be the warm reception you hoped for.

The atmosphere exuded polished formality, with every blade of grass meticulously groomed to perfection. The yard held an aura that compelled one to straighten their posture and don their most radiant smile. Small tables, draped with white cloth, adorned the grassy area, displaying an array of finger foods and appetizers. Servants circulated with trays of alcoholic beverages, adding to the air of sophistication. Every attendee was elegantly attired, clad in lavish dresses, uptight suits, diamond necklaces, and gold bands, engaged in hushed gossip in small groups.

‘No wonder Jessica styled me this way,’ you thought, scanning the guests who greeted you with smiles, waves, and brief 'Welcome back's.' Jessica Owens, your personal assistant whom you hadn’t seen in years, had welcomed you at the airport and accompanied you to select a divine outfit tailored to your tastes for the occasion.

A one-shoulder column sequin dress hugged your figure, its scarlet red fabric boasting a leg slit that offered a glimpse of the matching closed-toe, ankle strapped heels you wore. Bold chandelier earrings adorned your ears, drawing attention to your exposed shoulder, while a delicate bracelet with sparkling gemstones adorned your wrist, subtly shimmering in the light.

Makeup further accentuated your beauty—a radiant red lip, sultry eyes, and flawless complexion with highlights completed your look. Your hair, styled as per Jessica's suggestion, cascaded around your face, having been released from an updo to frame your features perfectly.

You could feel eyes on you from every direction, a sensation you didn’t miss on your time away. The overwhelming attention began to stir a wave of nervousness within you. Seeking a moment to collect yourself, you slipped away to a secluded corner of the gathering, observing the events of your supposed 'Welcome Back' party from afar.

Musicians played a steady and upbeat tune, chatter and fraudulent giggles echoed throughout the night. Amongst the festivities, an even more rambunctious laugh caught your attention.

Your father, gleaming in a tailored suit, stood at the center of the gathering. Just like you remembered, his smile was as polished and white as the silverware laid out on the tables, scrubbed to perfection and shining like stars. Studying your father like a book, you couldn’t help but notice his forced chuckles and strained cheeks from grinning too much, a sight that churned your stomach.

After all these years, he remained unchanged—viewing you as nothing more than a tool for gaining him attention.

So why the hell did you expect a warm hug and genuine affection from him without a crowd present?

Rolling your eyes, you politely signaled to a nearby server to fetch a champagne glass from his tray. You knew you would need it to endure the rest of the evening filled with your father's rehearsed conversations and gestures.

Taking a long sip from your glass, relishing its divine taste and the sizzling burn down your throat. Upon lifting it from your lips with a contented sigh, a voice filled your ears, causing your heart to skip a beat.

"Look at you, all grown up."

The abruptness of the deep, Latino-accented words left you momentarily speechless, a whirlwind of emotions bursting inside you like fireworks against a starlit sky.

There was no mistaking whose voice it belonged to...

It was one you could never forget during your time away, and just thinking about him made butterflies dance in your belly.

"Miggy?"

You called out the sweet nickname of the older male in shock, turning your gaze up to the towering figure before you, successfully avoiding choking on your champagne in the process.

True to form, his tan face retained its stoic expression, marked by a scowl, tight-knit bushy eyebrows, and stern amber eyes, yet even you could see the familiar corners of his lips draw up into a tight lipped smile.

"It's nice to see you again, Y/N," he replied nonchalantly, causing your entire face to light up. "Miggy!" You exclaimed, throwing your free arm around his neck as he chuckled lowly at your enthusiasm.

"What did I tell you about hugs, hmm?" he inquired, practically whispering into your ear, though you couldn't ignore the loving undertone in his deep voice. "That you didn't like them, but I do it anyway," you giggled, standing on tiptoes to deepen the embrace due to his towering height. Despite himself, you felt one of Miguel's burly arms wrap around you, pulling you close in return.

You sighed in contentment, his body heat engulfing your smaller self compared to his massive 6’9 height and muscular figure. The Latino's woodsy and wealthy cologne clouded your senses just like before, as the nostalgic feeling of security filled your being.

I take it you missed me, Cariño," he uttered from above you, his gruff voice rumbling through the expanse of his chest. You nodded, snuggling into his beige collared and button-up top, eliciting a rare hum of contentment from the typically stoic man.

After a while, his arm gave your body another comforting squeeze before reluctantly pulling away. You pushed back the pang of sadness at his sudden absence of warmth.

Clearing your throat, you redirect your focus, following Miguel's gaze to the bustling, fancy gathering, a tranquil silence settling between the two of you.

"How was studying abroad?" Miguel's deep voice, though always soothing, retained its usual coldness. "It was honestly fun," you smiled, recalling the freedom you enjoyed without the scrutiny of your father's strict eye. To your surprise, Miguel scoffed in amusement, shaking his head.

Your eyebrows raised in confusion, and you turned to see him taking a sip from the glass of bourbon you hadn't noticed before in his hand. "What is it?" you urged, causing him to shake his head dismissively once more. But upon his amber eyes catching your growing pout, an expression you knew was always his weakness, he heaved a sigh.

"Dios mío, ese maldito puchero tuyo…" He muttered under his breath, turning to face you fully. "I'm not... pleased with the amount of 'fun' you had away," the older male stated, leaving you confused.

"W-what are you talking about?" you chuckled, watching him nod towards your champagne glass. "You are drinking... You didn't before," he acknowledged.

You followed his gaze to your half-empty champagne glass, a remnant of your previous gulp. "Why does it matter? It's just one glass," you stated, emphasizing your point with another sip, which seemed more like a gulp in Miguel's eyes.

"Querida, before, you could barely handle half a glass, let alone one," he scolded, unable to tear his eyes away from your alcoholic beverage. You gave Miguel a small smile, his overprotectiveness—a trait you actually missed while you were away—evident in every word he uttered.

"Relax," you tried to reassure. "I can handle my alcohol now, Miggy. There's no need to worry." At your words, he huffed, turning his gaze from you back to the gathering unfolding before you. "So you went abroad to become a party animal?" he asked under his breath, the question unsettling you like a disturbed hive. Your face twisted in confusion and a hint of hurt at his comment. "No, I didn't. I went because I wanted to, something I see you still do not understand," you explained, feeling your fingers tighten around the underside of your glass in growing irritation.

Miguel sighed in disapproval, taking a gulp of his dark brown drink. "I just find it hard to believe," he replied. "Studying abroad of all places?" he chuckled, tapping his ringed middle finger against his glass. "I didn't take you as someone to run away from your problems, princesa."

"I didn't run away," you retorted, shooting him a small glare before finding your eyes drawn to your father, who was shaking hands with a well-dressed man and woman. The more you stared at your 53-year-old father, the more your thoughts churned.

‘Did you leave because of your father?’ you pondered as he was indeed one of the reasons, but mainly you departed to study far away from home to pursue your dreams—something your father greatly opposed.

Being away from your father and his strict rules felt like taking a breath of fresh air. It was the most free you had ever felt. But now, back home, the overwhelming restrictions and harsh regulations felt suffocating, and you wanted nothing more than to retreat back to the paradise you found on your own…

Your thoughts were soon interrupted when a set of ringed fingers gently cupped your chin, turning you to meet the owner of such calloused digits.

With surprise, you found yourself face-to-face with Miguel, his features still stern, his jaw clenched, but his touch gentle, and the coldness in his eyes replaced with something softer.

"I missed you, mi amor..."

He whispered suddenly, his thumb caressing your skin affectionately. Your heart fluttered at the vulnerability in his words, as memories of every moment spent with him flooded back: Every conversation, every touch, every kiss, and every passionate night rose to the surface of your mind.

Like a reviving fire, his mere words set your body ablaze.

You never saw Miguel in this state, never heard him utter something affectionate to you as his love was mostly shown through his actions, making his confession leave you shocked and speechless...

Despite your disapproval and your desire for him to move on, Miguel had waited for you as he promised. The thought of you being gone from his side was unbearable for him.

Every waking moment was excruciating, every sleeping night insufferable.

He knew how much you wanted to pursue your own dreams and be free of your father, whom Miguel knew all too well as someone very snobbish and selfish. But being away from you for so long was a pain he couldn't bear.

You and Miguel loved each other in secret, the two of you became so good at pretending, one only saw you two as just friends. But your father and Miguel were close—

Very close.

Miguel and your father were business partners before they were best friends. Your father managed the finances and marketing of their shared bourbon line, while Miguel owned distilleries and oversaw production, even owning his own bars where his bourbon was the highlighted beverage.

Their booming business soon forged a friendship, and like welcoming one to the family, your father introduced Miguel to you.

At the time, you were young, and Miguel was evidently older, but when your eyes met, you both fell hard.

You started off as friends, Miguel being a wise, older male you went to for advice, and you were someone who kept Miguel company, even though he once adored being alone.

The more time you spent together, the deeper your feelings grew, until you both made it official to date in secret.

From then on, private getaways, hidden touches, and shared nights of passion became the norm, despite knowing how enraged your father would be if he discovered such a thing. But neither of you minded; staying attentive and careful kept your secret safe.

It wasn't until you confided in Miguel about your desires to leave and study abroad that reality kicked in.

All at once, your hidden life of fantasy collapsed.

You were going to leave to pursue your dreams, departing from Miguel for four years...

Miguel loathed that, and even more, he despised your reasoning. He wanted it to be because of your strict father, the overbearing rules he'd set upon you. Miguel didn't mind if you left because of him even! But you weren't going for either of those reasons.

"For me, Miggy. I want to go for myself," were the words you stated when he inquired why you must go.

He detested your reason because he knew he shouldn't fight you in the matter; it was what you desired. But he was selfish—possessive even. He wanted you, needed you by his side, so he couldn't accept you leaving him.

Many arguments ensued on the matter. He demanded you to stay, while you found every good reason to leave and achieve your dreams, ones that your father opposed you seeking. It ultimately led to you deciding to put an end to your secret relationship with Miguel.

It wasn't because of the many fights and arguments, but because you knew he loved you too much—too much that you didn't want him to miss you so intensely that it hurt, to the point where it would leave him in an irreparable state.

To spare you distress and further heartbreak, Miguel agreed to end things, despite his sorrow and disdain at the thought of breaking up. However, while you were concerned about his emotional stability, Miguel's workaholic tendencies got the best of him after your departure—a trait only you could suppress.

He threw himself into his shared bourbon business with your father, meticulously tasting from each of his twenty distilleries, meeting daily with all his workers for updates, making significant improvements on the bars he oversaw, and even holding one-on-one meetings with your father to explore new ways to expand their bourbon industry. He became addicted to caffeine and deprived himself of sleep, to the point where hibernation seemed like the only cure to replenish his exhausted body.

Miguel worked tirelessly in this manner simply to avoid missing you, and he consumed so much of his own bourbon that he might as well have emptied an entire distillery on his own.

Nevertheless, his attempts were useless…

Miguel thought of you and craved you every day. He spent his days recalling every aspect of you: your smile, your laugh, your fragrance, your hair, your body, and even your affection, which he once found discomforting due to his lack of familiarity with it, but now desired more than ever.

Despite Miguel's best efforts to forget you, he only fell deeper in love with you.

His days of agony came to an end when Miguel was invited to dinner and golfing with your father. There, on the field, Miguel discovered that you'd be returning back home—back to him.

His heart skipped a beat at the exciting news, leaving him unable to perform a good swing as his golf game with your father proceeded; but to hell with it...

You were returning, and that was all that mattered.

On the day of your Welcome Back party, he found himself picky over his outfit, clicking his tongue and angrily muttering in Spanish at every disappointing attire he came across... until he found the one.

A beige, loosely buttoned top, styled with a matching sienna brown blazer and dress pants was his selection. Pairing it with his attire, he added dark umber oxfords.

To accessorize, the Latino added a complementary belt that matched his shoes and a classic watch with brown leather straps. Gold rings adorned his thick fingers, and a simple chain graced his exposed, muscular throat.

As he put on his outfit for the party, he found himself more nervous than excited. The last few times he'd seen you weren't on good terms. The days of secret getaways, kisses, and passionate touches always led to an argument about your departure, so he was worried you'd still be upset with him…

At the gathering, he found himself eagerly watching the entrance for you, his glass of bourbon in hand. His heart rose and fell with each arrival of another lavishly dressed guest, leading him to believe you wouldn't show.

Until you did...

It felt like everything stopped—the melodic tunes from the musicians faded away, the jumbled conversing of the partygoers ceased—as the only thing he heard was his heart beating loudly against his chest.

You were always beautiful to the older male, but tonight, after not seeing you for so long, you were utterly breathtaking.

His gaze trailed along your figure, remembering all the times he held your form in his hands, felt your body heat, and soft skin. He instantly noticed how enticing that scarlet dress hugged your body, teasing him to do the unthinkable right there, be damned to who was watching.

But amidst his burning desire, in that moment, he could only think one thing, and one thing only:

"Gosh, I've missed you..."

Before he could ponder or stop himself, he found himself leaving his spot to walk over to you, and the closer he got, the more his heart felt like it wanted to burst from his chest as flashes of what you shared before played on repeat in his head.

And now as you gazed up into Miguel's hardened amber eyes, you could see love for you in them. His thumb gently tracing patterns along your chin as you were still processing his touch, the closeness and the confession that spilled from his lips.

‘He... missed me?’ You repeated to yourself, almost finding it unbelievable if it wasn't for how he was looking at you as if you were the only woman in the room.

“M-Miggy…” You whispered when suddenly your heart dropped at the sound of another voice approaching.

“Why, if it isn't my little angel?”

Like the speed of light, you jumped away from Miguel to cast your eyes onto your father, instinctively gaining the urge to hide behind your champagne glass.Miguel's face returned to its usual expression of stoicism, hating how the both of you were interrupted.

“Hello, father,” you said, lacking your previous enthusiasm that you showed Miguel, however, your father ignored you, hastily turning his eyes to his best friend and business partner instead. “And, of course, Miguel O'Hara,” your father grinned, giving the Latino a firm handshake before going into a ramble. “I'd love to set a meeting with you about the idea of releasing a limited-edition bourbon,” he proposed in a jolly tone, business seeming to be the only topic he spoke of.

“Imagine just how much buzz would circulate amongst customers, the collectors, and don't forget the drive sales,” your father beamed at the thought as you watched the interaction between the two men in silence.

Miguel simply grunted to show his attentiveness, but neither agreed nor disagreed with your father's business idea. “I'd rather enjoy welcoming your daughter home. We can speak about business at another time,” Miguel stated, casting a glance over at you before turning his sharp gaze back to your father.

Your dad's smile faltered at being dismissed, clearing his throat. “Of course, of course,” he concurred, turning to you due to Miguel’s mentioning of you, his daughter. “I'm happy you are… back, daughter. I hope you used your time away wisely,” he added, causing your eyebrows to narrow. ‘Wisely? What the hell does that mean?!’ you thought, knowing your father was an expert at backhanded comments and sly insults that can be described like poisoned cake—you never noticed the venom underneath his sweetness.

“I did. I enjoyed doing something to benefit myself for a change,” you politely said, adding more salt into the wound by downing the rest of your champagne. Your father's eyes looked down at your empty glass and then at you in irritation.

Casting a fake smile, he glanced at Miguel. “My apologies in advance, my friend, but it's nothing new seeing my disobedient daughter behave so poorly,” your father said, feeling your stomach twist into knots when he looked back at you, his facade of kindness dissolved into a snarl. “She thinks that she owns the place after leaving for a few years, it's only right I put her back in her place,” your father stated to Miguel, more than you.

Keeping your gaze on your horrible parent rather than the older Latino, you waited for your father's harsh words knowing they were to rain down on you like hellfire, and like anticipated…

it did…

“Listen here, girl, you might have fled from here for whatever reason, but I didn't,” he spat, eyes full of hatred staring back at you. “Without me, our family name would have been forgotten long ago; but for the entirety of my fifty-three years of life, I've worked my ass off to provide for us, and I'll continue to do so until my dying breath,” he said in anger between the three of you.

“And now that you've returned, I won't allow my selfish brat of a daughter to ruin things for me,” your father growled as you narrowed your eyes at him, reciprocating his disdain, but it only seemed to amuse him even more. He chuckled, giving your cheek a harsh pinch. “So do not think being away changes a thing, I expect the same from you as before—obedience and perfection,” he said, patting your face with each word. “Understand, or do I need Miguel here to say it in Spanish for you?” he asked with a smirk as it took everything to prevent the frustrated and angry tears from spilling down your cheeks.

You couldn't hear or see anything or anyone, only feel the overwhelming feeling of entrapment once again. It engulfed your being, feeling like a pair of hands were strangling you, and you were powerless against it…

All over again.

With a shaky breath, you stared back at him with eyes full of raging fire. “Yes…I fucking understand,” you said through gritted teeth, causing the businessman to laugh.

“Good and clean that attitude, girl. I never did like that mouth of yours,” he said, glancing over at Miguel, whose face was still completely hardened, emotionless, but a kinder tone was used by your father when speaking with him. “If you'd like, the meat is being served at the buffet table as we speak, my friend. I heard it's very tender and is satisfactory when hot,” your father smiled. “But I hope you enjoy the gathering. Miguel. Daughter,” he growled, casting you a glare and a hint of disgust found in the way he addressed you before he departed entirely—disappearing into the bustling yard of elegantly clothed persons and leaving you enraged.

You stared at the spot your father previously stood in, a blazing fire of anger sizzling inside your being. Gripping your wine glass so tightly your knuckles whitened, you turned on your heel, shoving the empty cup into a passing servant's hands on your way out.

Everything faded around you as the only thing you desired in that moment was getting away—from this party, rich society, and most importantly, your asshole of a father. You didn’t walk far before a large hand grasped your wrist, pulling you into a secluded spot out of the ear and eyeshot of the partygoers.

With a piercing gaze, you looked up, ready to release the fury that had grown inside of you when your eyes met Miguel’s narrowed, yet, concerned ones. His towering frame cornered you against the trunk of one of your father’s massive oak trees in his backyard, a tree he ordered to be particularly planted in this area.

Although Miguel normally didn’t care for others, finding empathy a hard thing, his heart tugged whenever you became like this. “Are you alright? It looks like you want to strangle someone?” He asked, amber eyes tracing every detail of your face in search of what you were feeling inside, but your turmoil was evident.

You released an unsteady exhale, the calm before the brewing storm. “Y-You saw him!” You exclaimed. “T-That rich bastard that has his money shoved so far up his damn ass, he’ll probably believe the sky is green if it means his pockets will be filled.” You ranted in anger, every word making you feel so much better, leaving you to continue your spurge. “And he’s so controlling that it’s suffocating; whenever my father is in the room…, I-I feel like I’m dying, Miguel.” The confession left your lips before you could stop yourself, angry tears beginning to run down your face.

“A-And, he pretends he’s such a great father, going around speaking of me—of my hobbies, interests, and so much more that is all bullshit. He doesn’t know and doesn’t care to know.” You cried, trying to wipe your cheeks clean of the tears, but they continued to fall despite your efforts. “My father only cares about himself, more than anything else.” You said in a brittle voice.

“The world can end tomorrow and he’ll still be trying to get over on everyone, and count every dime he has to make sure his pockets are hefty before his time ends.” You sniffled, shaking your head in irritation, the fury in your voice escaping into sorrow. “And…I’m just done. I can’t- I can’t do this anymore.” You admitted with a trembling sigh.

“I can’t be around him anymore, live with his lies, under his rules, and like I cannot exist in his presence.” You told Miguel as after your venting, you looked up at him to find his usual stoic features staring back at you. His tanned face devoid of emotion as he simply stood over you, listening like he always did.

You bit your lip, feeling a little embarrassed after saying so many deep things to Miguel—things you’ve never actually told him in-depth, but could simply be noticed as your father didn’t hold anything back from the rich Latino. “I’m sorry, I-I’ll just go.” You said, trying to walk around him when his hand was placed onto the tree behind you, blocking you under him. “No.” He said with the shake of his head, his coffee-brown curls swaying with the movement.

You gasped, eyes snapping up to meet him in confusion when his large hand cupped your rose-tinted cheek, his thumb delicately swiping away a stray tear. “I hated the way he speaks to you; I’ve always did.” He uttered, disdain found in his deep tone. “I’ve offered you many times in the past, Querida, to let me handle it— let me handle your father, and you turn me down each and every time.” He sighed, his amber orbs staring down at you in a blend of rage for the situation you were in, but also in sympathy.

A frown graced your lips, remembering what he spoke of. “Yes…I-I did, because it’s my burden to take on—my problem to deal with, not yours.” You tried to explain. “And if you intervene, it’ll surely ruin things with your shared business with my father.”

“To hell with it.” He spat, his hand moving from your cheek to grasp your hips possessively. “We've tried it your way for years and nothing has changed.” He retorted in anger. “Your father continues to treat you like muck on his shoe while I have to sit and watch.” Miguel said, his eyes narrowed in irritation, his jaw clenched, but his anger settled upon seeing your tears start to flow once more.

“Listen to me, Cariño.” He began, staring into your eyes. “Your burdens are my burdens—your problems are my problems.” He said, determination etched on his tanned face. “I will not sit around any longer and allow your father to treat you like this, I can’t, and I won’t.” He blatantly told you.

Your heart fluttered at his words, despite not agreeing with Miguel's logic. Looking over his stern features, you could see that there was no way you could stop him—when his mind and heart were set on something, he sought to see it through. You averted your gaze away from the Latino, torn on the newfound decision he’d made.

A quietness settled between the two of you, the gentle breeze of the wind, tunes and laughter from the distant party filling the silence.

Miguel's thick eyebrows furrowed, not expecting your reaction to be this. He rubbed your hip soothingly, trying to meet your gaze once more. “May you do something for me, Querida…? Y/N?” He said, your name being uttered by him was rare, using it only during serious talks, just like this one.

Without looking at him, you nodded, feeling his burly arm around your waist and soon his breath fanning against your ear. “I want you to forget about your troubles and give your worries to me to bear.” He uttered, caressing your lower back in gentle, loving circles.

“And in return, allow me to make things better for you, mi amor.”

His words made your stomach flip as your head snapped to meet his gaze. Since you’ve arrived back home, a new side of Miguel has been introduced to you—one that you had never seen.

Before, he was always cold and stern, mostly only affectionate through a slight caress of the cheek, stroke of the hair, or even through a kiss that usually was controlled and led by him.

He’d never actually spoken sentiments in this way to you, and it made you utterly speechless.

“M-Miggy, I-” You tried to reply but your brain had become mush. Miguel gave you a tight-lipped smile, shushing you with a shake of his head once more. “Come…” He simply whispered, taking your wrist and turning to leave when you hastily stopped him. “Wait, wait, we can’t just leave together. I-It’ll lead to suspicion,” you told the Latino. Despite your hate for your father and the status your family held, you didn’t want to anger him, nor damage his most cherished reputation, believing you’ll surely bring a monster out of your father if you did so.

Miguel looked back at you with tenderness in his eyes. “What did I tell you, hmm?” He asked with a smirk, his gaze instantly mesmerizing you and leaving you unable to speak once more. “Let me take care of things with your father and the rich assholes out there,” he assured in his gruff voice that usually held a rough edge, now gone and replaced with a loving tone that made you melt.

The Latino leaned in close to you, his arm pulling you to his body by your waist. Miguel gazed down at you, his rich, woodsy cologne filling your senses and the feeling of his pecs against your body made a rush of desire burn up inside of you, replacing the fire of hate you previously felt for your father. “Let me make things better for you, amor,” he told you once more, but this time, the adoration for you was evident in his voice.

Your heart skipped a beat, noticing just how close the two of you were—lips just a hair's breadth away. “O-Okay,” you finally mustered, unable to prevent yourself from pulling him into a searing kiss. Miguel groaned in surprise, his hand gripping your waist tightly while his other clawed into your hair, drawing you closer to him.

Gasps of air escaped you, incapable of stopping as with every kiss, it cured the need that you both craved of each other. Teeth clashed and tongues entwined, hands gripping clothes to try and close the nonexistent space between each of your bodies. You only parted when in the distance, a loud applause filled the air, one that startled you both.

Jumping in each other’s embrace, you shared a gaze over at the gathering to find your father in the center, continuing to entertain his guests, their attention solely on him.

You rolled your eyes at the anticipated sight, turning back to Miguel to see that he was already staring at you. His amber orbs burned with longing, and when he pulled you close once more, you could feel his evident bulge pressing into your thigh.

“I can't wait another minute, amor. I need you. Now,” he practically demanded in a hushed whisper into your ear, a kiss pressed upon your lobe following his desire. However, his words and arousal sparked a fire inside of you, matching his own longing.

With just a shared gaze, he knew your response without you having to utter a single word…

‘Let's get out of here.’

Your fingers combed through Miguel’s coffee brown curls, pulling him deeper into the intoxicating kiss you shared as his large hands roamed your bare skin. You moaned into his lips when his hand grasped your breasts, squeezing the sensitive flesh. His ministrations caused the peaked tips to harden as his fingers didn’t hesitate to flick and roll them. Miguel’s mouth continued to ravage yours, your moans becoming lost in your shared passion.

Your eyes fluttered, trying to recall past events on how the two of you ended up in the backseat of his black Lamborghini Urus, unclothed and practically devouring each other like two rabid animals; but the only thing that came to mind was the burning desire to feel him, touch him, taste him...

Just like before...

“G-goodness, I missed you.” You whimpered between kisses, his lips trailing along your jaw as his massive body pressed you into the leather cushions, his heavy weight and body heat only arousing you further.

He breathlessly chuckled against your throat, pressing a final kiss to your skin before meeting your eyes. “As have I, mi amor,” he confessed, looking down at you with newfound love in his brown orbs. Your heart palpated at the sight as he leaned in to press another kiss to your lips. “Allow us to make up for lost time,” he whispered with a smirk. To your delight, he began to lower down your body, leaving a trail of kisses in his wake: on your collarbone, through the valley of your breasts, to your navel, and finally settling between your thighs.

He passionately kissed your sensitive, plush skin before lifting your legs up to drape over his broad shoulders, bringing himself face-to-face with what he truly desired. You gasped, your lower back arching and rising off the soft cushions of the truck's seat, thankful for the enormity of your father's best friend's vehicle, as it provided plenty of space for all the activities you wished to partake in.

Your breathing came out shaky from anticipation, the warm air from your lover's lips onto your moist core doing nothing to calm your excitement. “Are you going to make love to it or simply stare?” You asked, almost breathless despite not even reaching the peak of your intimacy yet.

Miguel laughed at your fervency, his massive body rumbling. He glanced down, his eyes meeting yours. “I'm just admiring what is mine, amor—what has been away from me for so long,” he huskily uttered, running his thumb delicately along your folds and pressing a tender kiss to your inner thigh, the sensation spreading through your body like wildfire.

“I... appreciate the admiration, but I don't think I can wait any longer,” you honestly told him with a small panting giggle. Reaching up to run your fingers through his brown curls, a deep hum of satisfaction escaped his throat at your touch.

"So eager for me, princesa. Always so eager," he groaned, pressing a kiss to your throbbing bud before flicking out his tongue to taste your arousal. The sensation eliciting a loud gasp from deep within your chest.

"Mierda, sabes tan bien… Tal y como lo recordaba," he rambled gruffly in Spanish, burying his face into your heat and wrapping his arms around your midsection to pull you closer. His desire to not part from between your thighs was evident in the growing tightness of his bulging biceps around you—his muscles gripping you in a vice like a starving man with his rations.

Your eyes rolled, the sensations so foreign yet familiar as his tongue seemed to be everywhere at once: circling your bud, thrusting into your entrance, and sucking at your soft folds. “O-Oh gosh!” you exclaimed, realizing just how much your body had been craving and missing his skillful intimacy, his age undoubtedly playing a role in his experience.

An unshakable burning sensation in the pit of your stomach began to brew, the position Miguel held you in leaving you only able to succumb to the pleasure he was bestowing upon you. Your hands tangled in his hair, not having anything else to grasp onto, while your back arched into his mouth, seeking more of his lips and tongue.

“Muy bien, babygirl. Hmm…let me taste you.” He groaned, his breath ragged with desire. His thumbs widened your pussy lips, your soft hood lifting to expose your bundle of nerves as he focused his ministrations on the pink pearl. Like his life was at stake, his tongue suckled and swirled on your throbbing bud in a frenzy until you were a trembling mess underneath him.

“M-Miggy!” You cried out, convulsing and shaking in his arms. “I-I’m cumming!” You screamed out, feeling him smirk against your core. “That's my girl. Come for me, princesa,” he urged, his efforts intensifying as your sensitivity increased. With a cry of ecstasy, you released the coil of knots in your belly, feeling your thighs become drenched in your juices, eagerly slurped up by your lover.

Miguel adored when you were like this, a twitching, moaning puddle underneath him, knowing he was the sole cause of it. It always left him with a sense of pride.

With his tongue, he traced a final circle around your folds and kissed your clit before lowering your legs back down upon the seats. He hummed in satisfaction at your flushed cheeks and heaving chest, finding the sight utterly beautiful.

“How’s my girl? Not too much, I hope?” he asked with a breathless chuckle, climbing up to brush a strand of your disheveled hair behind your ear and press a kiss to your temple. You sighed in contentment, his tenderness sending a wave of warmth through your being.

You shook your head at his inquiry, eyes slowly flicking up to meet his gaze above you. “No, I’m okay,” you replied, bringing a smile upon the normally scowling male’s face. “Muy bien. I’m not done with you just yet, baby girl,” he snickered, pressing his forehead against yours, his musk and cologne filling your senses. “I promised to make you feel better. I plan to stand by that,” he affirmed, gently pecking your lips. Your heart swelled, and your core throbbed back to life at his words. You returned his kiss eagerly, wrapping your arms around his muscular neck as his gold chain dangled from his throat.

When Miguel parted and gazed down at you, he saw nothing but devotion and love for him in your eyes—a sight that he’d never thought he’d see before. He nuzzled his face into your neck, relishing in your divine scent that he’d missed so much. Miguel’s hands caressed your bare waist, feeling the soft skin underneath his calloused, ringed fingers. His cock was painfully hard, the only thing soothing his need was the subtle grinding of his member against your thighs, and even still it wasn’t helping.

You bit your lip, feeling just how solid and needy he was, the knowledge only making you wetter. “M-Miggy…I need you,” you whimpered, wanting nothing more than to feel him after so long. Miguel grinned, finding your pleas to be music to his ears. He pressed a final kiss to your neck before parting, his hands grasping around your thighs to widen your legs for him.

A soft moan passed your lips at the contact of his tip brushing teasingly along your drenched folds, the erotic wet sounds echoing throughout the vehicle. “Are you ready for me, bebé?” Miguel practically groaned, his hand gripping your thigh, caressing gentle circles into your skin with his thumb. Biting your lip, you frantically nodded, unable to speak with how quickly your heart was beating and how filled with anticipation you were to be claimed by him again after your time apart.

Miguel growled at your response, guiding his length into your entrance as your joined moans filled the truck. You whined, feeling your walls stretch to accommodate his girthy length. “S-So big, Miggy,” you whimpered, burying your face into your arms.

The Latino grunted, glancing up to see your concealed face. He took your arms in his hands, drawing, placing them to your sides to expose your facial features to his amber eyes. “I want to see you, amor,” he whispered. “I want to see my sweet girl’s face.” He murmured, leaning down to kiss your lips while waiting for you to adjust.

Soft groans escaped him between kisses at each pulse of your walls around his length. Each peck of your lips was meant to be a cure for his burning desire to fuck your sweet pussy in total abandon after four years of being deprived of it; so he stuck to devouring your mouth whilst waiting for the magic words of your adjustment.

“I-I’m ready,” you told him between his intoxicating kisses, and Miguel promptly began to move. His thrusts started off slow and precise, each of his languid movements pulling a moan from deep within your chest. “S-So good…Miggy,” you were only able to muster, feeling every vein of his massive cock with his steady pace.

Miguel’s amber eyes were always trained on your face, constantly finding adoration for the pleasurable expressions that graced your beautiful features when the two of you were intimate. He leaned down over you, deepening his plunges as he gradually increased his speed until he snapped his hips into you in a frenzy.. “Yes, mierda, you feel so damn good…Fuck. Squeezing me just right,” he hoarsely said, his dark brown curls dampening against his forehead, and his grip on your hips tightening with each thrust.

Your eyes fluttered, hips moving to meet each of his movements. “M-Miggy…right there,” you begged, feeling your lover angle his hips to hit your desired spot repeatedly, causing your climax to hit you instantly. Your loud cry of pleasure erupted throughout the darken truck causing Miguel to smirk, pleased with bringing you to your orgasm so quickly; but not finished just yet. “Yes, princesa. There we go,” he muttered with pants. “But we’re not through yet, bebè. One more,” Miguel said. “Give me one more, babygirl.” He groaned, your stomach coiling again at his desire for you to release a second time as his thrusts resumed. .

The older Latino’s muscles flexed, his pecs and abs glistening with sweat and bulging with each brutal buck, his balls smacking into your ass. You could feel his pent-up frustration for your departure from him for the previous four years, every roll of his hips expressing his longing. “Fuck…I missed this pussy of yours, princesa,” he grunted. “Always so wet and tight for me,” he groaned between loud smacks of wet flesh.

Your chest heaved, legs trembling around his body as his shaft seemed to touch places inside of you that you didn't even know existed. Every plunge of his cock took your breath away, leaving only inaudible moans and slurred, unintelligible words to spill from your lips. Miguel cursed breathlessly, his eyes never leaving your face. He placed a hand above your head on the car seat, his thrusts deepening and making your eyes roll.

Miguel could feel himself slipping; he was close—he was certain of that, but he wasn’t going to let himself go until you did for the second time. Leaning down, his mouth found your enticing peaked tits, his tongue swirling around your erect nipples. Your eyes screwed shut, back arching off of the cushions of the seat at the added pleasure coursing through your being. Miguel growled softly, sucking your breast into his mouth whilst his other hand dipped down between your legs, his thumb circling your throbbing clit.

With his ministrations, skilled tongue, and brutal pace, your body began to squirm underneath him, all of the sensations becoming too much to bear. A fire seemed to dance along your skin before your vision blurred, and soon another satisfying release washed over you. Miguel's lips pulled away from your breasts, the clenching of your walls bringing him to his climax. “Y/N- Ay cono, I’m cumming,” he said, plunging inside for the final time before a guttural groan erupted from his large chest. He hastily pulled out, his seed shooting from his tip to coat your bare stomach. You softly moaned, feeling his warm essence upon your abdomen, and soon his massive body atop yours once more.

A quiet silence fell upon the truck except for the panting of your joined breaths. You smiled softly down at him, finding his head upon your chest to be precious. “I take it that someone missed me,” you whispered playfully into the quietness once you caught your breath, repeating the same words he said upon the two of you seeing each other after four long years. He chuckled, rubbing your sides tenderly. “Must I admit it?” he asked, making you laugh. “Yes, it’ll make me very happy.”

“Fine,” Miguel stated, looking up to meet your eyes as amusement was gone from his features to become slightly serious. “When you were gone, I was a mess. I didn’t sleep, I drank a lot, and my work filled my days,” he confessed with a sigh, your heart sinking at his words. “Miggy…” you frowned, running your fingers through his hair to soothe him. Miguel melted at your caresses, eyes fluttering closed for a moment to relish in your touch. “I tried to forget you, but forgetting you only made the memories we shared even more prominent, making me want you further, crave you even, despite us being separated,” Miguel told you, while you listened. “So yes… I missed you so much, Y/N,” he smiled, leaning down to peck your lips. “And don’t leave me again, you understand?” he asked playfully, but you couldn’t help but feel that he meant it.

You cupped his face in your hand, stroking his cheek with your thumb. “I promise. I won’t be leaving ever again, but if I do… I’ll take you with me,” you giggled, bringing a small smile upon his lips. However, the topic made your father arise in your thoughts, as any reason for leaving would be because of him.

Miguel noticed the saddened look that suddenly graced your features, causing his thick eyebrows to furrow. “What’s wrong, mi amor?” he asked, sitting up on the cushion of his truck’s seat, his hand gently rubbing your legs.

You sighed, biting your lip nervously. “My father… I can’t go back,” you admitted to not only Miguel but to yourself. The mere idea of returning to him, his suffocating rules, and lifestyle felt like a death sentence. The older Latino male gave you an emotionless look, his fingers tracing patterns along your calf, his mind seeming to be spinning.

“Then don’t…”

Miguel's sudden proposal surprising you. "W-what?" you asked in disbelief, your shock making him chuckle. "Then don’t go back… live with me," he suggested. Skeptical, you eyed him, trying to determine if he was joking, but Miguel was always serious, so you knew he was being truthful.

"But… I can’t just… stay with you, Miggy. It’ll draw suspicion—"

"Shh…" Miguel interrupted with a smirk, stroking your cheek softly with the back of his hand. "I won’t allow my girl to go back to a place where she isn’t comfortable," he explained. "So live with me,’ he stated once more. “I’ll provide for all your wants and needs, allow you to behave and speak however you like without any restrictions holding you down." Miguel's sincere voice was one you trusted more than anyone else's on this planet.

"And… what if this angers my father?" you asked warily as Miguel chuckled. "You wouldn’t have to worry about that. You won’t have to see your father unless you wish to," he assured with a smirk. "And don’t concern yourself with me; the bastard cannot hurt me even if he tried," he added, reassuring you further. Your heart soared at his words.

For the first time in your life, you were given a solution—an escape from your father and the enslaved life he’d placed you into. You pulled Miguel into a deep embrace, surprising him with the sudden affection, but he returned it nonetheless, wrapping his burly arms around you and pulling you close.

Miguel caressed your bare lower back, relishing in your closeness as your next words made his entire body become rigid.

“I love you, Miggy.”

The endearing words escaped your lips, something he thought was as ethereal as your shared love for each other. Before he could ponder it, he found himself uttering the same words back—and wholeheartedly meaning it.

“I love you too, Querida.”

In that moment, you couldn’t fathom how happy you were about your freedom, but you were even more delighted that you could finally be happy with the man you loved.

Certainly, there would be challenges and obstacles in the future, but you’ve never felt stronger and more confident to tackle them with Miguel O’Hara, your secret lover and father’s best friend, by your side.

A/N: Thanks so much for reading!! I just want to say again that I'm very thankful for the patience that you, lovely people have given me for the past few weeks, months probably. 😅 So I'm very grateful. 😊

I have many story ideas, requests and the kink series, Entangled Desires to get to, I can only hope that I'm able to get more things out to you wonderful people in the next couple of days or so. There is a lot to get done as you can see lol! 😅

But once again, thank so much, and just want to give a shoutout to @serpentineaerodynamics. This girlie has been getting my brain flowing, since I've returned and she's gotten me pumped to get back into the groove of things. 💪🏽😁 So thank you bestie! Love ya! 🫶🏽🫶🏽

Make sure to like, comment, reblog, and follow! If you'd like to add a request to the kink series, Entangled Desire, or have an idea in general, just message me or submit an ask. I hope you all have a wonderful day and stay safe! ❤️❤️

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arcielee · 1 year

Text

Aōhon iksan

Summary: Daeron has come back from Oldtown to play his role in King’s Landing and marry one of the Four Storms. Paring: Daeron Targaryen x Female!Reader (third person) Word Count: 1183 Warnings: AFAB, sexual innuendo mentioned, kissing. Author’s Note: This is dedicated to the lovely @harrycollettapologist who submitted this request and inspired this drabble ♥ Thank you to my amazing beta readers @aspen-carter and @killergirlfuria Also! Aōhon iksan is I am yours in Valyrian. Tags (Tumblr kindred spirits): @aaaaaamond @sirenofavalon @annikin-im-panicin @watercolorskyy @schniiipsel @aemondx @fan-goddess @babygirlyofthevale @httpsdoll

Daeron Targaryen was the third son of King Viserys and the youngest of his siblings; yet despite how his grandsire instilled the thought that his sole purpose would be to create alliances, he seemed more of an afterthought, with the way he was sent away to Oldtown. There he remained isolated, just a squire in Lord Ormund’s shadow until word arrived that his father was dead and it was his brother who now sat on the Iron Throne.

This ignited the dragon’s blood that burned in his veins as he returned at once aback Tessarion. He landed at the peak of Rhaenys’ Hill, the dragonkeepers rushing to assist the blue scaled dragon, alerting his grandsire of his arrival. Daeron was greeted at the barbican of the Red Keep, his mother wrapped her arms around his shoulders while his grandsire feigned the excitement of the news that his brother had just returned from Storm’s End after securing a betrothal for him to one of the Four Storms.

He prepared himself for the namesake, but instead found himself enamored with the arrival of Lady Baratheon.

She was beautiful, in the least, with a presence that soothed whatever room she entered, with grace to her every movement and a voice that was the soft trill of musical chimes. Lady Baratheon was the physical embodiment of a princess-to-be, but in the moments they were allowed alone, the few before the wedding, she showed him her tactful wit and sound mind, their conversation at ease between them.

The whispers of the Red Keep fluttered about the rushed engagement, how the poor Lady Baratheon could not be afforded even the second son, but that she had to wed the third. Though he flushed with the rumors, oddly enough, she appeared to be just as intrigued with Daeron as he was with her. With the allotted time allowed together, her questions seemed genuine and she was rapt to his attention with his reply; as they were escorted back to their respective rooms, he felt himself both fortunate and flustered by her.

A week after her arrival, it was decided to have an intimate ceremony in the Royal Sept, with only a family meal afterwards to allow them all to become better acquainted. Daeron kept his large hands folded in front to keep from fidgeting, a shyness that accompanied the lady when she came up to his side, though the soft touch of her hands to his own settled him. The Septon was monotonous and they echoed the vows, his low timbre with her melodious lilt.

They were escorted to the small hall that glowed golden with the candle light, decorated tastefully and the table laden with a feast while the minstrels played low, but jovial, melodies while they ate.

It was almost unnerving to be back within this very room, his last memory almost a decade prior where he saw his father sitting center and his mother perched at his side. Now, his mother sat at one end while his brother, King Aegon, who proudly wore the Conqueror’s Crown since it had been placed on top of his head, was seated center with his sister-wife at his side. They were picturesque, he was regal and Helaena now seemed to exude a queenly aura that complemented her serenity.

Aemond sat at the end, his severity etched into the sharp contours of his face and his jeweled eye gleamed in his scarred socket–Daeron only learning the day he returned that his eye had been taken. He glowered with the authority from the title bestowed by the king, Protector of the Realm, which seemed to be a cover-up from the debt of his eye repaid in blood.

Daeron was seated by his new lady wife, who spoke with her musical diction that engaged the attention of his family, and he sat silent at her side, the always-forgotten Targaryen prince.

In so many ways, his family had changed and grown into themselves, but some habits remained, including Aegon’s love of Dornish wine. Daeron watched his red stained lips utter a crude comment about a crude custom abolished two kings prior–his right to the first night.

There was the thought of how Targaryens were closer to gods than men and Daeron now felt the thrum of ichor curl with the fire in his veins.

But Aemond acted first, grabbing Aegon by the scruff of his regal fabric and dragging him from the table. He saw the tears that pearled in his mother’s eyes, her regret threatening to spill, and how his sweet sister excused herself to disappear in the shadows of the Red Keep.

Daeron stood, offering his arm to his lady wife.

It was a white fury that clouded his vision, the combination of his embarrassment, the rumors that trickled within the castle walls and the blatant disrespect shown at the dinner table. He wished to speak to her, to apologize, to take action, but instead his tongue remained swollen in his mouth, choking him.

His automatic steps halted when the white knight broke his trance, “My prince, this way.”

Oh. The realization they were being escorted to the marital room prepared and he now found himself truly alone with his wife, the lovely Lady Baratheon.

It was the same warm, golden hue from the candles light and that poured from the ornate hearth lit and waiting for their arrival. They both remained standing and then she moved towards the small tablet, pouring a fresh goblet and bringing it to Daeron, which he accepted numbly.

He took a sip to wet his throat. “My lady, I want to apologize,” he began, setting down the goblet and turning to face her.

“What for?”

His tongue wet his lips as he looked to her, watching her slow, serene movements as she sat down the picture and moved towards him, one step in front of the other, her brow both knitted and elegant above her scrutinous stare. “You did nothing wrong, my prince,” she continued.

He felt his cheeks warm within her proximity. “Daeron,” he placed his hand to his chest, “I wish you to call me Daeron.”

He felt his cock twitch against the crotch of his trousers from the demure way her eyes lifted, how they watched him under her long, dark lashes, how her perfectly pink lips curled. “Yes, Daeron,” she tested his name and it was sweet like honey on her tongue. “You have nothing to apologize for, nothing has changed what happened tonight.”

He blinked, empty, almost dumb until she sweetly reminded him, “I am your lady wife now,” and her smile brightened as Daeron grew rosier with her words. “I am yours, Daeron.”

She closed what little space had remained between them, her small palm resting on top of his large hand stilling resting on his chest. Daeron felt his throat hitch from her sweet scent of lavender that curled into his chest and beckoned him to her. He tilted his head, his silver tresses spilling forward, until the tip of his nose gently touched her own.

And he kissed her.

arcie’s masterlist

#just a sweet drabble #daeron targaryen #daeron the daring #daeron targaryen x reader #daeron targaryen x you #hotd fanfic #hotd fanfiction #hotd daeron

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goodqueenaly · 4 months

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Do you see a similarity between Margery Tyrell (as well as Elinor Tyrell, Megga Tyrell, and Alla Tyrell) being put on trail and the trail of the daughter's in law of King Philip the Fair of France (specifically as described in The Accursed Kings), I was reading the Iron King a few weeks ago and it made me wonder if there was a connection as GRRM is a fan of the The Accursed Kings.

Me, think about a connection between ASOIAF and The Accursed Kings? Now when have I ever done that before?

(It me, it always me. Also long, more under the cut.)

Absolutely, I 100% believe that GRRM partially (emphasis on partially) based the supposed love affairs of Margaery and her cousins on the Tour de Nesle Affair as depicted in The Accursed Kings - specifically the first novel of the series, The Iron King. To very briefly summarize, the Tour de Nesle affair centers on the three daughters-in-law of King Philip IV of France: Marguerite of Burgundy, wife of Philip’s eldest son, Louis (and Queen of Navarre, since Louis is King of Navarre in his own right); Marguerite’s cousin Jeanne of Burgundy, wife of the king’s second son, Philip; and Jeanne’s sister (and, naturally, Marguerite’s cousin) Blanche, wife of the king’s third son, Charles. Marguerite and Blanche engage in extramarital sexual affairs with two courtiers, the brothers Philippe and Gautier d’Aunay, with Jeanne acting as facilitator and messenger for their trysts; the affair takes its name from the tower of the Hôtel-de-Nesle, the manor of the King of Navarre, where Marguerite and Blanche entertain their lovers. The affair is discovered by another French prince, Robert of Artois, and he and Philip IV’s daughter, Isabella, engineer a scheme to trap the princesses and expose them. Marguerite, Blanche, and Jeanne are subsequently caught and found guilty, the former two of adultery, the latter of aiding and abetting them; Marguerite and Blanche are imprisoned (the former until she is murdered, the latter until she dies, prematurely young and apparently insane), while Jeanne is likewise initially imprisoned but eventually freed by and reunited with her husband.

With respect to parallels between this story and the plot of AFFC, the Tour de Nesle affair and the affair Cersei invents for Margaery both involve several interrelated royal (or semi-royal) ladies. I mentioned above the princesses in The Iron King, who are called the “Princesses of Burgundy”: Marguerite is the daughter of the Duke of Burgundy, while her cousins Jeanne and Blanche are referred to as the “sisters of Burgundy”, daughters of the late Count of Burgundy. (Yes, the Duchy of Burgundy and County of Burgundy were at this time two separate political entities despite sharing a name). Likewise, the sexual scandal dreamed up by Cersei centers on four Tyrell girls at court, with one a queen: Queen Margaery, of course and three of her cousins, Megga, Elinor, and Alla. None of the Tyrell girls are sisters to any of the others, but all four are part of an extended Tyrell family, grouped together as “Tyrells” much as the three princesses of The Iron King are counted together by Robert of Artois as part of the “family of Burgundy”. In turn, just as Robert of Artois seeks to reveal the scandal specifically so that “[t]he whole family of Burgundy will be plunged up to the neck in the midden … [and] their inheritance will no longer be within reach of the Crown” - leaving that disputed inheritance open to Robert himself - so Cersei, furious at being “awash in roses”, dreams of framing Margaery for a crime of treason so serious that “even her own lord father must condemn her, or her shame becomes his own”.

Moreover, the parallel between these plots in The Iron King and AFFC is strengthened by the identities of the respective plotters. As I noted, one of the two chief architects of the plot against the princesses of Burgundy is Queen Isabella - daughter of King Philip IV of France, sister-in-law to the three princesses, and Queen of England as the wife of King Edward II. Just as Cersei is considered one of the most beautiful women in the Seven Kingdoms, inheriting the golden good looks of any number of Lannister antecedents, Isabella is often compared to her famously handsome father, Philip the Fair, sharing what Druon calls the king’s “legendary personal beauty”; a courtier of her father’s, Hughes de Bouville, even goes on to compliment Isabella in a later novel, The She-Wolf of France, by saying that Isabella had inherited “all [King Philip’s] beauty which was so impervious to time”. Yet The Iron King opens on Isabella by calling her “the loveless queen”, and it’s a description as fitting to Cersei as it is to the daughter of Philip IV. Just as Isabella is trapped in a miserable marriage to Edward II, so Cersei was trapped in a terrible marriage to King Robert Baratheon - marriages made by their respective fathers, for the political gains of their paternal families. Indeed, King Philip’s retort to Isabella’s complaints about her bad treatment at the hands of her husband - “I did not marry you to a man … but to a King. I did not sacrifice you by mistake” - seems like the sort of reply Tywin would have given to Cersei, having chosen to make his daughter queen and secure a future royal grandson despite privately dismissing Robert as a stupid oaf (to say nothing of Robert's years of abusing Cersei).

Likewise, both queens seek solace in their eldest sons, as well as their birth dynasties. Isabella is first shown approving that her baby son Edward’s first word was “want”, which Isabella calls “the speech of a king”; she also teaches her son that “he belongs to France as much as to England” and insists that he “get accustomed to the names of his relatives” and learn “that his grandfather, Philip the Fair, is King of France”. Isabella also surrounds herself with reminders of her French past: The Iron King opens with Isabella listening to a French poem, her most trusted lady-in-waiting is the French Jeanne de Joinville, and in a later novel, The She-Wolf of France, Isabella loses to her husband’s favorite a book of poetry by Marie of France. For her part, Cersei has made sure - or at least tried to make sure - that Joffrey was raised as a Lannister with no love for his Baratheon “father”; indeed, Cersei even likes to think of conceiving Joffrey with Jaime as an act of revenge against Robert while trapped at the home of Robert’s maternal family. Joffrey’s surcoat when he duels Robb at Winterfell shows the Lannister lion equal to the Baratheon stag, imagery he later makes his official standard when he becomes king, and he famously has in the first book a sword he proudly calls Lion’s Tooth; too, when he is married, the Lannister banners are displayed as equal to the Baratheon and Tyrell banners, underlining the Lannister importance in Joffrey’s reign.

Too, neither queen has much love for the eventual objects of their respective plotting. When Robert of Artois informs Isabella that the princesses of Burgundy “hate you”, Isabella replies that “[t]hough I don’t know why, it is true that as far as I am concerned, I never liked them from the start”; Robert then adds his opinion, that Isabella “didn’t like them because they’re false, because they think of nothing but pleasure and have no sense of duty”. Indeed, Isabella’s longstanding dislike and distrust of her sisters-in-law seems reflected in her suspicions, apparently established before the beginning of The Iron King, that the princesses were already deceiving their husbands with extramarital lovers, seemingly heightened by the contrast to her own faithful (for her part) but loveless marriage - Isabella later tells Robert that “when I think of what I am denying myself, what I am giving up, then I know how lucky they are to have husbands who love them”, declaring “[t]hey must be punished, properly punished!”. Cersei’s distrust of Margaery, of course, can hardly be overstated, though in her case the origins of her hatred stem not from Margaery herself but rather Cersei’s paranoia about her, Cersei’s, own prophesied downfall at the hands of a younger and more beautiful queen. Convinced - probably at her ultimate cost - that her son’s (or sons’) eventual wife would fulfill the prophecy Maggy gave so many years prior, Cersei was predisposed to dislike, distrust, and deeply fear such a woman from the first

So both queens set out to denounce and bring down their royal in-laws through the revelation of a sexual scandal - the bombshell news that a queen and her aristocratic cousins have taken lovers in the persons of a few highborn courtiers. Both plots begin at their outset with the queens appointing spies in the households of the targets of the plots. Robert of Artois advises Isabella to request one of his allies be placed in Marguerite’s household as what he terms “a spy within the walls” - a successful move for Robert and Isabella's conspiracy, as not only does Marguerite (correctly) suspect Madame de Comminges for “always trailing about in her widow’s weeds”, but Robert also reveals that “[s]ince entering Marguerite’s service, Madame de Comminges sent him a report every day”. Cersei herself recruits Taena Merryweather from Margaery’s own household, blithely confirming Jaime’s suspicion that “[s]he’s informing on you to the little queen by saying that “Taena tells me everything Maid Margaery is doing”. Taena, for her part, tells Cersei what Cersei wants to hear, often dropping sexually suggestive hints supposedly about Margaery and her court, which encourage Cersei in her plot against Margaery.

Additionally, each queen faces the difficulty in singling out the rival queen in question given the presence of those rivals’ respective ladies. Robert of Artois complains that the princesses of Burgundy are “[c]lever wenches” because while Jeanne or Blanche often go to “pray” with Marguerite at the Tour de Nesle, each acts as an alibi for the other; as Robert concludes, “[o]ne woman at fault finds it difficult to defend herself”, but “[t]hree wicked harlots are a fortress”. Indeed, Taena Merryweather borrows almost the exact same castellated metaphor from Robert, claiming that Margaery’s “women are her castle walls”, as “[w]henever men are about, her septa will be with her, or her cousins”. This commentary from Taena inspires Cersei to ponder whether “[Margaery’s] ladies are part of it as well … [sic] not all of them, perhaps, but some” and then manipulate the confession of the Blue Bard to implicate Elinor, Megga, and Alla in the invented affair.

So in both cases, the groups of royal ladies are accused of fornication, with one lady from each excepted for a charge of what we might call criminal knowledge instead. In the case of the princesses of Burgundy, it is Jeanne who is deemed “guilty of complicity and culpable complacence”, while in the case of the Tyrells it is young Alla who is “charged with witnessing their shame [i.e. the supposed sexual relationships of Megga, Elinor, and Margaery] and helping them conceal it”. The distinction in charges notwithstanding, all the ladies are thereafter imprisoned, with both the Burgundy princesses and the Tyrell ladies stripped of their finery: at their judgment, the princesses of Burgundy kneel before the king “shaven and clothed in rough fustian” (so humbled that Jeanne and Blanche’s mother mistakes them for “three young monks”), and when Cersei visits the imprisoned Margaery, the young queen is dressed in “the roughspun shift of a novice sister”, with “[h]er locks … all a tangle”.

(It’s probably going too far to suggest that the planned roles for two courtier brothers in Cersei’s plot echoes the involvement of the d’Aunay brothers in the Tour de Nesle affair. After all, only Osney of the three Kettleblacks was supposed to have had sex with Margaery, and only Osney did have sex with Cersei, whatever Cersei would later claim to the High Septon.)

(I would be amused if GRRM named Margaery after Marguerite of Burgundy, knowing perhaps he would use her in an Accursed Kings-like plot in the future. However, I’m not saying this was necessarily or even likely the case: Margaery had been named since AGOT, after all long before the writing and publication of AFFC, and while GRRM’s affection for Maurice Druon and The Accursed Kings predates ASOIAF, there is no evidence that he planned this sort of parallel all the way back in 1996. The similarity of names may be simply an amusing coincidence, or even a retroactive realization by GRRM that he could use a similarly named character to star in a plot directly inspired by Marguerite of Burgundy’s story.)

Now, does this mean GRRM limited himself to The Iron King in creating this plot point for AFFC? Absolutely not, I would say. Indeed, I think it is very clear that GRRM also looked to the popular conception of the downfall of, and all but certainly false accusations leveled against, Anne Boleyn for further inspiration. Here, as in the popular imagination of Anne’s undoing, is a queen accused of sexual affairs with several male courtiers, who are imprisoned along with her (though note that according); here, as in the trial of Anne Boleyn, is a singer, supposedly among those accused lovers, tortured into a presumably false confession (and being the only accused lover to confess); here, as with Anne and George Boleyn, is a charge of incest against a queen and her brother, so obviously ludicrous in both cases that no contemporary takes it seriously; here, as with the arrests and subsequent release of Thomas Wyatt and Richard Page, are two courtiers seemingly accused of the same crime, but expected to be freed in order to demonstrate the guilt of the others. It’s an obvious but important point that GRRM does not need to borrow only to one point of inspiration, fictional or historical (or, rather, what he imagines as historical), for any given narrative he wants to write. Drawing connections between The Iron King and the plot against Margaery and her cousins no more invalidates connections between that same plot and the popular conception of Anne Boleyn’s downfall than comparing, say, Baelor to Louis IX of France (including the latter’s depiction in The Accursed Kings) invalidates comparisons between Baelor and Henry VI of England.

This last point extends to Cersei herself as well. While I definitely believe GRRM borrowed elements from Isabella of France for Cersei, I have also argued, and still believe, that Cersei also shared elements of her character and story with Marguerite of Burgundy herself. Parallels between Cersei and Marguerite should not nullify or undermine parallels between Margaery and Marguerite (specifically in this context of affairs/supposed affairs), any more than parallels between, say, Edward IV of England and Robert Baratheon should nullify or undermine parallels between that same King Edward and Robb Stark (specifically in the context of a secret marriage with no apparent political benefit). GRRM is not required to neatly match one for one a character in his universe to a historical or fictional figure, nor would I think we as readers would want him to; it would be a pretty boring story if he simply copy pasted figures from extant works or history and swapped their names for those he created.

Plus, I think Margaery and her cousins are pretty likely to come out of their trials much better than the princesses of Burgundy did with theirs. Most obviously, as even the High Septon admitted, the case against the queen and her cousins is weak - as indeed it might be, given that Cersei invented the affair in the first place. Far from the d’Aunay boasting about their royal lovers by wearing the infamous purses given them by the princesses (and gifted to them by Queen Isabella, to catch the lovers with them), all of the supposed lovers of the Tyrell girls save the Blue Bard have denied the affair, and his testimony is denounced as “half-mad”. On a practical level, the High Septon surely knows the danger for him, and his position, of convicting Margaery, given that Osney reported on the crown of sparrows demanding Margaery’s release (news Cersei regards ruefully, since as she thinks “Margaery has been their little pet”). Add to that threat the presence of Mace at the head of his army, returned to the capital explicitly to see through his daughter’s trial, and the High Sparrow is playing with fire in truly trying to convict Margaery and her cousins.

#asoiaf meta #the accursed kings #affc #margaery tyrell #cersei lannister

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crzyimp · 3 months

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Cannonball!

Lego Monkie Kid

Arthur's note: Short drabble or snippet for the journey to the west discord summer event, almost 600 words and humor. Like before inbox is open for ideas or suggestions for Jttw/and adjacent (like lmk) for me to potentially write. Enjoy the story and tell me what you think. :3

Edit: My partner in crime for the event @breadnabreadd made this lovely art work here

Laughter,chatter, and all joyful sounds felt music to his old ears. He really need to thank Mei for inviting him and the others to her family’s home for a pool party. The heat and humidity were becoming unbearable, and he felt tempted to ‘ask’ Princess Iron Fan for her magical fan again. Thank goodness for that he got the invite first, or it would’ve been awkward with Red Son during the party; he certainly doesn’t want to repeat some chapters from a certain book or call Guanyin again (he’s still trying to repay them for all they have done for him).

Wukong let out a content sigh as his body slumped further into his inner tube, all four hairy limbs dipped into the refreshing cool water as the fiery sun beat down on him. The lounge chair was preferred if it wasn’t for all the racket around it; Pigsy tongue lashing at Tang while he cooks everyone’s lunch, Sandy in lifeguard mode with Mo as his furry whistle, and-

“Pool noodle?! Did you just call me a pool noodle?!” Golden eyes lazily turn their gaze to the owner of the voice, Mei in her swimwear and expatriate with closed fists at her sides.

“It’s only fitting,” Red Son exclaimed, pushing up his glasses as if the answer was obvious.“I don’t think I need to explain it.”

“Well, can you?!” Mei takes a step forward with her teeth bare at him.

“Learned it from my friend,” Red Son explains with arms crossed.

“Wait, you have a friend? Since when?” She asks curiously with squinted eyes.

“I talk to other people, you know.” in a matter of fact tone, his nose up in the air.

Tuning out that conversation, Wukong closes his eyes as he basks in the sun and the water below. No fights, no world ending events, no demons attacking, and certainly no Six Ear Macaque to ruin such a relaxing day. There is even a shade in the middle of the pool! Such a relaxing day it is. Wait, there shouldn’t be a shade here-

~~~

Sandy couldn’t believe his eyes. Mk full sprint to, clearly broken a rule, and jumped into the pool to do a cannonball only for a shadowy portal to swallow him up and spit him out higher than he should be, dead center to where Wukong is at. Neither of the two even notice it!? And shouldn’t the great sage hear Mk’s shout or was the old celestial monkey tuning everyone out?! Why wasn’t anyone following the rules!? It doesn’t matter now, as Sandy watched all of this in slow motion before his very eyes.

Mk landed on Wukong’s torso; before the two sank to the bottom of the pool, the splash created went everywhere. No one was safe; Pigsy and Tang toppled over each other like their college days at the beach, Mei and Red Son in the goofiest pose Sandy ever saw and not even Macaque. When the bastard popped his head in to make a snarky comment, the splash got him too and made him look like a soggy pathetic rat. The sole dry survivor was none ever than Mo, with claws deep into Sandy’s head as the cat clinged on with dear life; the water only got up to Sandy’s neck thankfully, and he was ready for it, but it really hurt and he wished Mo retracts his claws.

Finally, there at the center with a nearly empty pool was the shellshocked duo with Mk still in Wukong’s lap.

So much for a relaxing day.

#sun wukong #lego monkie kid #lego monkie king #lmk mk #lmk mei #lmk red son #lmk sandy #lmk pigsy #lmk mo #lmk macaque #lmk sun wukong #lmk fanfiction #no beta we die like macaque

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geekedoutbunny · 10 months

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Redson x Human Female Reader

Chapter 1.., , 2 , 3 NFSW , 4.. 5.., 6.. , 7.. ,

MASTER LIST | NSFW CONTENT

You, Princess Iron Fan, and Redson all stood before the chest. The chains on it glowed blue and the eye sockets glowed the same color. In the center was a lock but the keyhole was strange-looking. You stood on Redson's right side, your hands in the pockets of your sweatpants, a worried look on your face as you stared at the ominous chest. The ground vibrated when Demon Bull King stepped up from behind you all. You watched as he approached the chest, an evil yet cocky smirk on his face as he looked down at it. He reached forward, his sharp nail barely making contact with the lock as he spoke in pride. "Finally." He said before a shining light shined and he was pushed back with a confused grunt.

You looked over at him in confusion and shock before you looked back over at the chest and you saw a blue seal appear for a second before it vanished once more. You blinked in question as you thought over the symbols but the sudden shout of demon bull king made you jump. He shouted in rage his eyes blank in blind rage as he punched the chest, the blue seal appearing once more allowing you to get a good look at it. You, Redson, and Princess Iron Fan watched silently as DBK's punches picked up speed before he began slashing at the seal with frustration. "ANOTHER INFERNAL OBSTICAL KEEPING ME FROM MY DESTINY!!" He shouted as he continued his angry punches. He landed one more punch on the seal before everything went quite.

You watched closely waiting for something to happen, but in the blink of an eye, Redson wrapped his arms around you and he held you tight to his chest as he shielded your body with his right before an explosion of DBK's power pushed out making all of his minions go flying as they screamed. Your eyes closed tight as you held onto Red tightly, you could feel the hot wind blowing past you making you hold on tighter to Redson. It was soon over, the winds settled down and the green light vanished. You didn't open your eyes until you felt Redson pulling back from you, you looked around seeing dust floating past you. You looked over at the chest seeing the blue seal still glowing before it vanished once more.

"Patients, My Love." Princess Iron Fan whispered, her voice still loud enough for you all to hear. You silently agreed with her, because you honestly didn't want that chest to get open. If the seal is that powerful, shouldn't whatever is inside stay there? But DBK didn't take her words in kind as he turned towards her quickly, his large fist balled up as he glared down at her in raw anger. "I'VE BEEN PAITCENT LONG ENOUGH!!" I NEED THAT POWER!!" He shouted as he stepped closer to her. She gasped at his sudden outburst, and you felt Redson tense up next to you, he hated watching his parents fight, and watching his father get all aggressive with his mother so suddenly must've made him get into a slight defensive mode. You rubbed his arm and shoulder in comfort as you both watched her cautiously eyed him as she walked around him and towards the chest.

She placed her hand on the lock, the blue seal appearing naturally, she stood there a little longer before she grunted in frustration. "The power that crafted this tomb, is beyond my skill." She spoke with a grunt as she poured power into the seal only to have it repaled. "Without an artifact of equal strength, there's nothing we can do." She said as she turned her back to the chest, a determined yet angry glare in her eyes as she looked up at DBK. "We're locked out." She finished. You stared at her with a worried look before you relaxed with relief. 'Thank goodness, now maybe they'll bury it and forget all about it.' You thought. You looked around, suddenly realizing that Redson wasn't next to you anymore. "NOT FOR LONG!!" Came his confident voice. You looked over at PIF and you sighed when you saw Red. 'Dammit Red.' You thought in annoyance. PIF stared at him with an unamused face and you honestly couldn't blame her.

You watched as he swiped his hand through the air, 'dramatically of course' making holograms of several screens appear. You'll never get over seeing it, it'll always be so cool when they do that. "All we need is a key." He explained, like it was the most simplest and most logical thing in the world, and apparently, it was just that simple. "And look what I found." He said, his voice laced with pride. You watched as several smaller yet visible pictures appeared showing off a location before the key appeared. You walked closer to the group, stepping past DBK as you stood next to Red. You eyed the strange key, seeing the strange shape of it. The skull at the bottom of it made you feel uneasy as you looked up at the chest, the skull's eye sockets glowed a brighter blue and the sound of whispering sounded through.

You sighed in boredom for the thousandth time, scrolling through your phone, liking photos, laughing at videos, making funny short posts, reacting to weird videos and even reading some fanfiction. Your feet were up on the dashboard, your seat leaning back so you could be comfortable. You turned off your phone and you laid it down on your stomach. If you knew you were going to be this bored you would've taken your chance and stayed at the Bull Family home, cooped up in your room and trying to sleep. You rolled your eyes as you looked up at the building in front of you. "The Delivery Boy's apartment is honestly so depressing looking." You said aloud to yourself as you made idle observations of it for the hundredth time. You perked up when you saw an explosion. "Finally, looks like he finally got home." You said as you watched what little action you could see.

However, it didn't last long as you saw fire shoot up into the sky and the sound of Redson's laughter sounded out making you sit properly in your seat, adjusting it back to an upright position as you put your seatbelt on. By the time you got your seatbelt on, the truck heated up to an ungodly temperature as an orange glow lit up the truck. You looked up and you squinted at the bright orange flames of Redson as he came in through the diver's window. The flames morphed into his body and he flopped on the seat taking away the bright light and the heat with it. You sighed as the truck began cooling down watching Redson shift the truck into gear, his foot hitting the gas and he was off. He hummed a cute little tune, looking proud of himself as his other arm hung out the window. You watched in worry as the cars were pushed and spun out of the way as Redson plowed through the traffic.

You used to fuss him out about it and he isn't so prone to running others over as much as he used to, but he was in a rush this time around so you allowed him to get away with it this time. You looked out your side mirror and your eyes widened when you saw green lightning. You looked over at Redson, seeing that he hadn't noticed it yet. You gulped as you tightened your seatbelt, sticking your phone in your pocket as you readied yourself for the chaos that was sure to break out. "I should've stayed home." You muttered. Redson hummed at your words as he kept his eyes on the road. "Hmm, what was that darli- HUUG!!" He stopped mid-sentence as he just happened to look out his side mirror, doing a double take as he gasped dramatically at the scene behind him. You dared to look out your own side mirror, seeing the same motorcyclist from the race hovering in the air, her helmet gleaming in determination.

Redson leaned further out the window to look back at her so that he could rant to her. Your hand shot out and you instinctually grabbed the steering wheel to keep the truck stable. "CAN'T YOU AND YOUR LITTLE PEASANT FRIENDS LET ME PLOT IN PEACE, JUST ONE TIME!!?" He ranted, halfway threw he let go of the steering wheel, his anger clouding his judgment and you honestly couldn't blame him, it wasn't often that he took you with him on one of his little 'plans to dominate the world.' He could take these types of risks when he was alone, he was guaranteed survival since he was a demon, but you were just human, one mistake and it was all over. You kept a tight grip on the wheel before he turned back around and took back over the wheel. You pulled your hand away as you grabbed onto your seatbelt with an iron grip, flames shot from his eye sockets, making you nervous as you watched him press buttons on a yellow screen, shifting gears once more before his foot slammed down on the gas giving it more speed.

The speed of the truck made you sink back into your seat further as you watched the scene before you became a blurry mess. You screamed when the truck suddenly spun around, making you both drive backward. Your heart hammered away in your chest as you saw the motorcyclist before you, your eyes wide with fear as you looked into her dark helmet. She seemed to perk up at the sight of you, you waved but it didn't last long before you were distracted by Redson. "Take off your seatbelt, trust me you don't want to be in that seat for this." He said. You didn't question it as you took off your seat belt and you were immediately pulled into his lap. You didn't understand what was happening but you didn't question it as you got comfortable in his lap your arms locked around his neck. You looked back at your seat and you stared in confusion when it went above your head.

You looked up, seeing a hole where Redson's seat was before your seat pulled over closing the hole. You watched on in confusion your eyes shifting all around you as you heard metal shifting and unhending. Suddenly you both spun once more and you felt the truck bounce some before the entire truck suddenly went flying. You looked back over Redson's shoulder seeing the shell of the truck spin as it flew before it landed. You saw the motorcycle jerk out of the way and you sighed in relief. You didn't want to be in the area of a death, especially behind some old key. You looked around yourself and your brown arched. 'Isn't this... Redson's race car?' You thought. You looked over at Redson seeing him with his helmet on. 'Yup, it is.' You thought. He suddenly chuckled as he looked over his shoulder, he kept a hand over the steering wheel but it was still enough to make you nervous as you grabbed the steering wheel just in case.

"So long, Dragon... Horse girl... Hehehe, here's a tip, next time pick one animal in- OOF!!" "AHHHH!!" You screamed as a giant pole suddenly landed in front of the car causing you both to crash into it. You both went flying into the air still moving forward as you were lunched from the car. Fear gripped you at your throat as you watched the ground travel at a high speed below you. "I SHOULD'VE STAYED HOME!!!" You screamed as you neared the ground, but the feeling of strong arms wrapping around you snapped you from your fears as red covered your vision. Redson held you in his arms tightly trying to cover you as much as he could with his body as he skied and bounced along the ground. The sound of his breath huffing from his lungs made you cringe in worry as you clung to his coat, you grunted as you felt you both bounce off the ground, his body took the brunt of the force but it was still enough to give you aches and pains.

You and Redson finally landed with a harsh ski on the ground making him grunt as his grip on you tightened, the sound of metal clinging to the ground caught your attention and you looked up from his chest seeing the cursed key bounce a few feet in front of you. You glared at the cursed item, blaming it for all this mayhem. You flinched some in shock when two black shoes suddenly landed before you and a hand swiped the key up. "SO!! Looks like you've reached the end of the line, Redson." He said, you looked up at him, seeing the same guy from the race. "Delivery Boy." You muttered relief filling you as you watched him toss the key in his palm. You looked behind him and you saw the girl take her helmet off a frown on her face as she glared at Redson. She seemed to notice you, the look of relief on your face as you saw MK with the key made her arch her brow but she said nothing.

MK suddenly stopped tossing the key as he looked down at it curiously. "What were you even going to do with this thing anyway?" He asked. The blue chest came to your mind and you shuddered at the thought of it. There was a short silence among you all when a woman's voice sounded through suddenly. "Why spoil the surprise?" She said, you all jumped in surprise as you all looked over, seeing PIF standing on a small building. She seemed pleased as she gave a small smile as she pointed at the key.

"Now hand the key over, and quit wasting my time." She said, you all stared at her for a moment but it wasn't long before you heard the sound of the ground cracking under pressure before MK and Mei shot off over your and Redson's heads. PIF was quick to summon her fan, deflecting MK's attack from his pole. Mei jumped on the wall behind her, using MK as a distraction to try and get PIF from behind but she narrowly missed when PIF pushed MK back while also dodging her. They both pulled back for a moment before they both began attacking her, their movements like a blur before they suddenly stopped, the sound of a gong sounded out when their weapons clashed with the fan, and with a good swing, PIF was able to knock them both back into the building behind you and Redson making the key fall from MK's pocket.

The key bounced on the ground, landing in front of you and Redson, you stared at it in horror while Redson stared in glee as he hurriedly sat up, pushing you off with enough force to make you roll off of him as he scrambled for the key. You rolled on the ground for a second before you stood up, but it wasn't long before Redson grabbed your hand and rushed off with you toward his mother. PIF floated down gracefully, the winds surrounding her making her garments float. "Come Redson, we have things to do." She said as she stabbed her fan into the ground. Redson spun around letting your hand go in the process as you stubbled back behind him placing you between him and his mother. You and PIF watched him do a ridiculous pose as he shouted in victory. " THANKS FOR THE KEY, LOSERS!!" You gave him a sheepish smile while PIF shook her head before her winds picked up teleporting you all back to the lair.

You stood next to Redson as the lair appeared around you all, the winds dissipated, and you looked around and saw DBK getting up from his throne an expectant glare on his face as he approached you all. You watched silently as PIF held her hand out to Redson and he gave her the key which she then gave to DBK. It was silent as he turned toward the ominous chest the key gleaming in his hand as he held it up for a moment before he placed it in front of the keyhole. You all watched as the key suddenly changed shape and it floated into the lock unlocking the chest. You all stared with bated breaths, You reached over and you grabbed Redson's arm, your fingers digging into the cloth of his sleeve. The blue seal appeared once more but this time it dissipated, but it wasn't long before the lock shattered and a bright light shone through as a powerful wind blasted out. You clung onto Redson tightly but it was pretty fruitless as he began to get pushed back.

He grunted as he clung to you tightly while he tried to fight against the wind but it was useless as he continued to slide back getting picked up by the wind, you both shouted in panic as you both went flying back. Just like before he tried to shield your body as much as he could with his as he bounced along the ground, luckily was wasn't such a long drop as he was able to get a grip on the stone below him. He held you close to him for a while until the wind calmed down, he loosened his grip on you allowing you to lay on your stomach while under him allowing you both to watch from a distance. The doors to the chest slid open and Redson stood up in curiosity to see what was inside, you lay there a little longer before you sat up on your knees. "Red... Be careful." You cautioned as you watched in wonder and worry. He continued to step towards the chest until he was next to it.

"B-bones?" He gasped out. You held your breath your hand coming up to your heart. 'It made sense now why Lady Iron Fan called it a 'Tomb'.' You thought. But Redson didn't seem to be bothered with it as he sounded rather upset. "I-it's just... bones!?" He said irritation laced in his voice as he spoke. You sat there for a moment, calming yourself down as you looked down at your lap. 'Guess I was worried about nothing.' You thought as you smiled tiredly, you were snapped from your thoughts when Redson suddenly shouted. "AHH!!" He shouted you looked up in worry as you watched him grunt in annoyance and disgust as he waved his foot around trying to get a blue light off his foot. You watched in curiosity as he fought with the blue blob. 'It looks like a soul kind of.' You thought as you watched it and Redson.

Redson stopped to take a breather as he gasped for air but he paused when he noticed his mother. You looked over at her, seeing her stare up into the air with a slightly worried stare. It made your heart skip a beat as you followed her gaze. You stared on in shock and confusion as you saw chunks of the chest floating in the air, blue markings all over the pieces. There was a sudden gust of wind but instead of pushing you back, it felt like it was sucking you in. You braced yourself on the rocks as you looked around for the source, your eyes widened when you saw it was DBK. He laughed evilly as the blue source was adsorbed into his power bank, the sight of the bull clones suddenly standing up with an unnatural movement caught your attention, you watched as their eyes turned blue almost soulless. You shivered in fear as you hugged yourself, backing up as you watched the scene unfold before you. "Aww man, I knew opening that box was a bad idea." You muttered.

You, Redson, and PIF watched as DBK Lost himself to glee in his newfound powers. The pieces of the chest floating around him, seemed to create a symbol but you couldn't make sense of it. You all watched as the bull clones all got up one by one, their blue soulless eyes staring you all down. The sound of his laughter could be faintly heard mixed with a whisper as it ran out around the caves.

"Freedom."

MASTER LIST | NSFW CONTENT

#lmk x y/n #lmk fanfiction #lmk x reader #lmk #lmk red son #lego monkie king x reader #lego monkie kid x reader #lego monkie kid fanfiction #lego monkie kid #lego monkie kid red son #lmk redson #redson #redson x reader #redson x y/n #redson fanfiction

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pruneunfair · 12 days

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" My feelings on" part 3, today's episode: For my derelict favorite and how it fails at being a feminist empowerment story.

So this OI had an interesting title and a ML that didn't have the same cold Duke of the north look, some characters named after Greek gods, and it sounded relatable at first since I'm sure all of us had a fictional crush we obsessed over.

Dear God how this one flopped. Put some respect on the true Hestia, the actual goddess of the hearth in Greek mythology mostly known for staying out of conflict as one of the kindest goddesses because this version of Hestia is the absolute opposite.

The plot is basically Hestia is a rich woman possessed by another transmigrated soul who was a big fan of the story she read in her first life, she is obsessed with the 2nd male lead Caelus and fangirls over him whenever she can but Cael is going through severe depression after the og fl Diana rejected him even after he gave her so much including murdering 2 people for her, he's so distraught by this that he kills himself and Hestia places the blame on Diana and her fiance Helios for not doing enough and makes it her goal to ruin them for Cael.

So first of all, Hestia goes from a little funny to flat out grating to follow as the lead. She's basically a manhwa insert of those OI commenter's who shit on every woman who is too feminine or emotional and thinks they can do better by being a badass or the white lotus villainess who purposely provokes the lead and damage her reputation by acting like Diana was the aggressor. A flawed protagonist would be amazing but it becomes clear that the narrative claims Hestia in the right for all the times she purposely provokes Diana for numerous sins but it mostly centers around not getting with Caelus.

Here are some examples of Hestia being a dream girl for an Andrew Tate fan.

Honestly can't tell if she was written by a pick me girl or by a loser who's butthurt that he got rejected and Hestia is just his ideal girlfriend.

Caelus is not nearly as terrible but the way they try to make him sympathetic just feels like an ass pull you'd see in a 2018 depressing gacha life video

I like his design since we really need more long haired male leads but ehh.. that's it. As I said above Cael gives up a lot for Diana including land for a temple and killing 2 former villains for her even though she never asked. Naturally Diana did not fall for him just because he did great things for her especially after he killed 2 people. Not knowing what to do without her he falls into depression and kills himself in one timeline. Despite the common agreement that suicide is no one's fault, The blame is shifted onto his ex and her fiancé for cutting him off. While Helios and Diana are no angels Cael is treated like he can do wrong and while that it is the point since Hestia is his biggest fan, the narrative plays into this as well, mostly in shitting on Diana for "leading him on." And playing him for not becoming his bride. Feels straight out of a nice guy subreddit. His suicidal arc also just feels so weird.. it's there for sympathetic points and it's immediately solved when Hestia blows money on a title so she can marry him, no real work, just the good ol power of the boss babe to cure depression and suicidal thoughts. Frankly if I were him, I'd be extremely uncomfortable and upset if my current partner made it their entire personality to attack my ex, I feel like most people would rather continue their journey with their new partner if they want to go on a healthier path, and your ex constantly being brought up by the current partner for petty revenge would make that harder.

Diana is honestly more suited to be the protagonist then Hestia, ironic considering she was og fl

Shes everything the average "baddass babe" would hate, feminine, graceful, and dainty. She's a saintess who used to heal the common folk before she gets engaged to Helios and becomes the crown princess, from there she stops helping the commoners and works to be a noble. That would honestly be a better reason to call her out instead of "You didn't throw yourself to my baby boy Cael!!" Regardless she isn't as evil as described by Hestia. She's definitely not a perfect sweetheart but rejecting a man is not on her. Imagine if she stayed the protagonist and she had an arc dedicated to her betraying the people to be a perfect noblewoman where she is called out and learns to find a balance or make things a little more fair. Diana needed to be called out on a lot of things but shitting on her for not accepting a man's feelings is just stupid. Diana barely even knew Hestia and already this woman who married an ex friend of hers is making her entire life into being a dick to her.

I can't really see how I'm supposed to hate her when Hestia is just as much of a hypocrite. Here she judges Diana for wearing a fancier dress at a ball

Hestia aren't you throwing money everywhere you go to satisfy your own superficial goals? You seem more concerned about using that money to buy a title and marry a man you fanboy over instead of being the saintess you think you are. The pot calling the kettle black indeed.

they do try to explain why Hestia hates Diana so much aside from Cael but even then.. it's not really Diana's fault, just the rude priest who kicked her out, for all we know Diana was busy or never even told that Hestia showed up to be healed

That sounds more like a problem with the kingdom and not a single woman.

But ofc, the comments are dumb and see everything through the lense of what they would consider a "trashta" as the one true gospel, here's one comment that really got me.

Damn, I guess that means secret Santa or donations must be canceled since you don't share feelings for those random people who give you gifts.

I feel like if this one was surrounded about the biases we feel about the characters we like and how to actually move on and grow, you need to work on yourself instead of focusing on shifting the blame, this could be a great story on how all the characters better themselves with their own arcs.

Conclusion: For my derelict favorite claims to be a feminist alternative of a typical story when it's basically just taking the usual two faced obsessive villainess, not bothering to add some nuance to said character to make her likeable, putting her in the protagonist seat, and pushing the narrative that her pathetic revenge is totally right, with the plot basically being a self insert fanfiction you'd find on wattpad.

#for my derelict favorite #Hestia manhwa #caelus #Diana #manhwa #webtoon #historical fiction #my derelict favorite

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fantasygerard2000 · 5 days

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Fandom's Rigid Standards

In my previous post about issues I have towards the Starboy craze, I briefly discussed about how most human Star designs tend to just stick with the Jack Frost "inspired" design over creating their own original designs for him.

Most fan designs try to stay loyal to the rather infamous piece of concept art.

While they made changes based on their own preferences, they kept major core elements like the glowing gold hair, floating, cape, and being white. However, what they neglected, or rather leave out is that this early version of Star can also shapeshift like Genie and Maui. Also, another factor is that this version Star was her grandfather's spirit as an early version of the story has him passing away instead of her father.

The reason why most people didn't know about these early ideas was because they only heard about the Starboy and Villain Couple ones from the more vocally outraged fangirls who cried about "being robbed".

This tweet in particular only adding fuel to the dying fire as most people would just express disappointment to the film, but this only give them an excuse to dislike it even more. Majority of people are so anti-Disney that they would even fact check from official sources from the people who made the film and only listened to the ones who have seen it and have totally not biased opinions on it.

Anyway, even with info about the actual early version of the film being out, most of them just stick with the love story idea. An idea that was the result from the lack of context and spite from said lack of context.

Coming back to the topic of human Star just being Jack Frost but yellow, that also brought up about how fandom has this awful habit of only caring about characters if they are attractive and white. We literally see this behavior with Magnifico and that this is also happening towards a character that doesn't exist says a lot. The fact that most human Star designs just colored Jack Frost yellow is proof of this.

Hell, back then, Disney themselves considered making a non conventionally looking love interest back when Tangled was in early production. Bastion was made to be your non standard prince.

Heck, an even early version of Tangled had the "prince" look like this.

There are people who genuinely like non conventionally looking characters for their looks. Beast is literally known for making people prefer his animal form than human form for crying out loud. You literally have zero restrictions to design a human or even monster Star. But instead, y'all ironically did this meme.

Y'all accuse Disney for not going with this early alternative design for Asha for "not being conventionally Disney".

But y'all also thought this ain't too pretty so you "borrowed' from the most conventionally good looking character from a different film.

Now, this is the part where I focus on the issue regarding Asha and her "romance". Well, lack there of.

Someone once said that people only like a work for the tropes they like being present over how they were executed, comparing how ads are recommending you to buy a book that lists off tropes you're into. L To fandom, the presence of tropes only matter.

When you think of Disney romances, you might thought of the princesses. And ONLY the princesses because their films have romance as a major factor. However, romances in Disney is notoriously bad, especially in their older films. It's not until in the later films that we got a more proper romance with Naveen and Flynn/Eugene. Romance requires both characters to be equally treated. In regards to the "potential" romance he has with Asha, there's this underlying feeling that Asha is treated like a vector for the reader/writer to insert themselves as.

Most romances, especially ones made for women, always centered on the main lead with the "protagonist" being in situations to ensure they get together. Majority of romances are made to be like a dating sim. There's nothing bad about going on fictional dates with a fictional partner but the issue here is that how the protagonist is barely a character of their own right. They are made to be relatable so the reader can insert themselves into, with any personality they have being treated as traits and quirks. Even with examples where both the protagonist and the love interest are both main leads, there's likely more emphasis is put onto the love interest.

And Asha is being somewhat unintentionally treated like this, especially in fiction where Starboy is the focal character is really upsetting. I get that Asha wasn't a great character but she shouldn't be treated like this. Or any character at all.

Asha being rewritten to be a completely different character to the point of being given a different name is just so jarring. That isn't Asha anymore. Just like the concept art above, she's small core traces of what was her there, but it's mostly all fan interpretation.

And this, to me at least, are the vibes I'm getting from. Wish being "remade" into something that it isn't. Being made to cater to a niche demographic whose tastes are just plain bad. I'm not one to judge people's preferences but disregarding the concept of a deceased family member who became magical shapeshifting creature from space for a more generic love story where you could self insert yourself into?

This isn't to say to giving Asha a love interest or making Star a human aren't bad ideas. I do in fact find the early concept interesting and I was initially neutral towards Starboy until that's what most of this "fandom" consists of.

This isn't the Wish fandom. This is the Starboy fandom.

#disney wish #wish 2023 #wish movie #wish #asha #star

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quitealotofsodapop · 1 year

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Tw for uncomfy topics;

Yup, TIC really dug himself a grave trying to keep the Demon Bull royal family's power centered on himself. And since the Celestial and Demonic court culture is very similar to the one once practiced on earth (the former more so) - this kinda stuff would happen, although not as commonly in the modern day.

DBK himself was once considered kinda weird as a king for only having one wife (at least in the LMK verse) and not having a large harem. DBK was so appalled that the demonic courts thought so little of his perfect wife Princess Iron Fan, that he got himself kicked out of his parents palace in the Underworld. When TIC got his ass beat by SWK, he dragged himself home to find out that he owned all the Demon Bull Family's Underworld property by default.

TIC in the Journey to the West is mentioned to have at least one dedicated follower/servant (human mind you), so loyal as to attempt to fight Sha Wujing to stop him from getting the spring water. It wouldn't be hard for TIC to have a loyal subject inserted amongst DBK and PIF's entourage for "pruning" purposes. But yes, the second PIF identifies which servant was in cahoots with TIC; she literally rips them apart with her wind powers, crying the whole time.

These incidents and realizations come about the same time PIF is tackling her own jealously towards Xiaotian's luck in pregnancy. After a bunch of loose ends have to be cleaned up (TIC now being well... dead complicates Underworld stuff), DBK and PIF decide that a long visit to their son and his future spouse is needed.

Xiaotian and Red are happy to let them stay and talk for the night. One or two details are let loose about how TIC had been interferring with their lives long before the pilgrimage days. Red almost breaks the glass in his hands from anger before him and Xiaotian drop everything to embrace PIF and DBK in a hug. Lots of tears are shed.

Note: Ironbull may attempt for more children after this incident, despite the still-active curse upon PIF from her mother.

Paramita and his four younger brothers say hi.

#the monkey king and the infant #the monkey king and the infant au #pregnancy tw #spicynoodles being parents #spicynoodlesshipping #spicynoodles #lmk ironbull #lmk princess iron fan #lmk pif #lmk dbk #lmk demon bull family #lmk demon bull king #lmk true immortal compliant #lmk tic #lmk character ideas

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the-monkey-ruler · 1 year

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The Flaming Mountain (1962) 火燄山

Director: Mok Kang Shi

Screenwriter: Tu Guangqi

Starring: Kim Hee Gap / Cui Wulong / Ding Ying / Yang Xixun / Xu Yingxiu / Zhang Yi / Luo Lan / Lin Jiao / Tang Jia / Liu Jialiang / Xīguā páo / Zhu Yougao / Xu Xiaoming / Wu Jingli / Guan Ren

Genre: Drama / Fantasy / Costume

Country/Region of Production: Hong Kong, China / South Korea

Language: Korean / Cantonese

Date: 1962-07-25 (Hong Kong, China)

Duration: 100 minutes

Also known as: Son Oh-kong

IMDb: tt2351247

Type: Retelling

Summary:

Samjang, a Buddhist monk of Tang, now China, starts his journey to study Buddha's teachings. When he visits the palace in heaven, the King of Heaven tells him to take Son Ogong as his guide who's been living in Ohaeng Mountain. Samjang and Son Ogong experience a lot of mythic adventures on their journey. A film based on a classic Chinese story.

Source: https://chinesemov.com/1962/The-Flaming-Mountain

Link: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Cx47do_Ljwo&ab_channel=%E4%B8%AD%E5%9B%BD%E7%94%B5%E5%BD%B1%E9%A2%91%E9%81%93CHINAMOVIEOFFICIALCHANNEL

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loyaltykask · 3 months

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Sun Upaya!

This is Upaya, the second born, out of the five Supplement children. I based her off highly on the Havoc in Heaven 1961 Wukong in her design, being very kind to children but also being highly saturated in Peking Opera aesthetic.

Upaya is water-based with her colors being blue and black. I based her crybaby tendencies off Wujing from the 1996 series though physically she looks the most like Princess Iron Fan with dark silky black fur she keeps in a bun on her head for the most part. She is more of a healer than a fighter, taking great pleasure in making songs and music in her free time rather than training for battle. But she does have a great appreciation for the arts and cultivation, having great power just never wishing to abuse it.

As a child, she loved her Uncle Wujing the most and wanted to be as pretty as he is! While she is very shy as a child she does grow into herself to be very confident in her abilities. She is very emotional as she cries a lot out of happiness, fear, confusion, or sadness. Rarely gets angry. Almost never but when she does, you can see more of her father in her.

As an adult, she's a very dramatic girl who loves the limelight and being center stage but while she can come off as vain she's just very confident in herself. She is always cheering people and can still be insecure about their place in her family as she knows she is not the strongest power-wise or the smartest and doesn't feel like she's helping enough. Kinda pushes her to try to make it up for being the kindest.

#jttw #journey to the west #supplement to the journey to the west #sjttw #supplement journey to the west #upaya #paramita

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2n2n · 1 year

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Since JSHK has some fairytale influences, do you think Iro-sensei inspired themselves from Peter Pan, by J.M. Barrie? Sometimes I wonder if there’s just a similar concept leading to similarities, but maybe there’s really a conscious inspiration… I dunno (I’d like to honestly because it’s my favorite fairytale)

Iro-sensei seems to like princess fairytales the most, so we touch on Cinderella and Little Mermaid … though we do touch on Alice in Wonderland which isn't princess and Wizard of Oz now which isn't really fairytale lol… so no holds barred here. Anything goes

I suppose Nene's caretaking traits and fussiness are a kind of Wendyish trait…? Not personally a fan of Pan and its author (though ironically I did do a dive into it + the person behind it for a DIFFERNT fandom that DOES definitively center on Peter Pan references) … but I get why you would wonder like, "well there is a forever child boy" because this is central…. but I dunno!! Peter Pan is a lot about adulthood VS childhood, Peter's permanent inability to have deeper emotions and refusal to have responsibilities (which is where caretaker/momish Wendy comes in), and Hanako is absolutely ruled by his responsibilities and a great, grave sense of devotion and dedication…. While one could think something like, "Amane (Pan) couldn't feel value or much until Nene (Wendy) became important to him" I think that'd be a misnomer, since his entire life's purpose is protecting and loving Tsukasa, and always has been; not a new virtue, Nene-chan is only reminding him of it. I think making a 'Pan' a caretaker himself would really break everything…. before he is a 'kid', Amane is 'big brother'. Tsukasa's ward, Tsukasa's captor. He takes care of Nene-chan, too.

Amane has intense resolve and commitment... bound by strictures and head down about following them... very non-Pan traits... his playfulness is a facade.

But ehhh its not like we always pay attention to the BONES of a fairytale in Iro-sensei land, we really subvert Snow White in their VN (but that subversion IS very intentional, and it's also diegetic stuff since she's READING the story IN the VN and processing how she analyzes it & compares it to her own life…)… we really just playfully reference most things in JSHK, its like a big cooking pot. I'd imagine at any day we could suddenly see a rando oneoff shishiki or something of any fairytale, like how we'll get,,, Red Riding Hood images suddenly. Personally right now, I think Little Mermaid & Cinderella have much more thematically going into JSHK … while ah, Alice in Wonderland & Wizard of Oz be essentially like, that simple concept of a girl wishing for a more interesting life being subjected to things so much worse than what she was dealing with before that she can only desperately wish for the normalcy she once complained about, which is very Nene-chan (AND YET destined to be subverted here, as she'd die to stay in our little Wonderland…)

For my own perspective I don't see it, Pan. But I also don't like Peter Pan or the author keerl;jgkl;htk;rhjfkl I'm just like sorry I incidentally do not like this particular tale you like

#avvy's JSHK

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bugs-in-the-dirt · 1 year

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season one completed, last two episodes has me in so much pain

a few notes to start off:

1) bye i think i kin Macaque

s1e9: *about to start*

brain: omg finally its me

me: ...oh no

2) oh theres DEFINITELY gay tension i am a certified shadowpeach stan now

3) oh boi i can SMELL betrayal in Mac's choice of words oh no cant wait to see that backstory with creamy angst center <3

4) i was right shadowpeach and catradora DO reflect each other, hi welcome to my ted talk-

5) RED SON MY BABY MY BOYYYY 😭 NOT THE DADDY ISSUES, im so sorry you didnt deserve that treatment 😭 i love you and will protect you always cant wait to get your introject whoopie

sidenote SPEAKING OF INTROJECTS OH GOD istg Sun Wukong has been waiting to be recognized and im not ready- ANYWAYS

6) *directed @ Princess Iron Fan* GO QUEEN GO i already thought you were cool but this seals the deal also go off being married to Demon Bull King love that for you

7) storyboard and animators did an amazing job on Lady Bone Demon's setup, shes perfectly scary im so happy about that

8) LBD if you ever attack and/or traumatize Red Son through DBK again i will end you where you stand do you hear me

#bug reacts to lmk #lmk #monkie kid #lego monkie kid

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groovysarity · 2 years

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Watch "I'm That Jew" on YouTube

youtube

I’m that always writing Jew. That footnote-citing Jew. That academic Jew. Scholar Jew. That thinking Jew, and let me tell you something Jew.

Worker Jew. White collar Jew. That tend the flock and herder Jew. That calloused foot and hand Jew. That roam the barren sands Jew, that tills and works the land Jew. That old Jew. New Jew. That makes the desert grow Jew.

That always trying to make things just a little better Jew. At the same time don’t mind if I’m a self-centered Jew. I’m that persistent, sweat it out Jew.

That I made it big because I earned it Jew.

That give me what I want because I know that I deserve it Jew. That arrogant Jew. That humble Jew. That whatever Jew I’m in the mood to be Jew, just like you. That oh yes, I’m just getting started Jew.

I’m that Israeli Jew. That Caribbean Jew. That English, Indian, Sephardic Jew. That Ashkenazi blonde-and-blue-eyed no I’m not a shiksa Jew. New York Jew. LA Jew. Australia and Ukraine Jew. That Russian, South African, Ethiopian, and French #jesuisjuif Jew.

That proud of being Jewish Jew. That Jesus Jew. Judas Jew. That don’t know why I’m still being persecuted Jew. Scapegoat Jew. That whenever we’re murdered you probably think we had it coming Jew. But still, not afraid to wear my Star of David Am Israel Chai Jew.

I’m that feeling the world has gone mad and damn it I want to get off Jew. That way too much horror in the news everywhere I turn Jew. That fed up with ISIS beheading christians, knife-wielding, suicide bombing lunatics Jew.

That disgusted by Boko Haram Boston Marathon Lindt Cafe Pakistani school children killers and I’ve had enough of radical Islam to last me a lifetime Jew. That they’re killing so many of their own but somehow we’re blamed for that too Jew.

That wake-up world, Jew.

I’m that you don’t want to hear this but I don’t give a damn what you think Jew. That you’re just gonna have to deal with it Jew. That bullied in high school because I was rocking a yarmulke Jew. That standing up to you Jew. That talk to the hand Jew.

I’m that iron dome cheering fan club where were you when the missiles were raining down on Tel Aviv Jew. That just shalom motherf***ered you off my Facebook page Jew. That sick of your double standards Jew. That UN today equals Useless Nations to me Jew. That will fight it out if you have a problem with me Jew. And yet – that desperately want to live side by side in peace with you Jew.

That get to know me and you’ll see we’re not so bad like they make us out to be Jew. Bingo. I’m that “who knew?” Jew.

I’m that needing to explain Jew. That let’s figure it out together Jew. That questioning Jew. The never, ever just one answer Jew. That contemplative Jew. That wild-haired genius Jew. That psychoanalytical and let me tell you something about you and your mother Jew.

That never claimed to be perfect Jew. I’m that shelf sagging with Nobel prizes Jew. That brilliant scientist Jew. That astronaut Jew. That inventor of something that’s part of your everyday life but you don’t even know it Jew.

But I’m also that let’s laugh it up Jew. That I’m on a boat it’s good to be the king Jew. Not that there’s anything wrong with that, but I’m that new rules-in-your-face, butt-kicking, sassy, sexy smart Wonder Woman Jew. That Harvard actress director and Princess Leia’s mother all rolled into one Jew. That Fiddler on the Roof, always performing but damn – I’m gone to soon Jew.

I’m that lox and bagel-noshing Jew. That falafel and hummus-eating Jew. That couscous, schnitzel, latkes and matzah ball soup Jew. I’m that only liberal democracy in the Middle East Jew. I’m that became a refugee when my ancestors were kicked out of Arab lands Jew.

I’m that political Jew. That activist Jew. That gay Jew and female Rabbi Jew. That eat a Big Mac but won’t touch bacon Jew. That looking for the truth forever wandering Jew. That just want to be married under a chuppah and break a glass under my heel Jew.

I’m that Merry Christmas, Ramadan Kareem, have a good whatever you’re celebrating Jew. I’m that Hindu high-fiving, Sikh fist-bumping, Christian-loving, Muslim friend-having, Buddhist and Baha’i love to get to know you better Jew.

I’m that religious Jew. That secular loving my heritage Jew. That brother in arms Jew. Hero Jew. Soldier turned olive branch holding Jew. That put three bullets in my back but you won’t kill my dream Jew. That yearning for peace and I’ve never been to Israel but I’ll get there someday because it’s my homeland Jew. That almost 6000 years and I’m still standing Jew. That Hatikva singing with a tear in my eye Jew.

I’m that won’t apologise for surviving Jew. That fighting for my rights Jew. That number one and number six million and every number in between Jew. That learned from what happened to us in the Holocaust Jew. That never, ever again Jew.

I’m that wish there were more of us Jew. That creative Jew, business, funk and folk Jew. That dancer Jew. Painter Jew. That tailor, baker, wedding singer Jew. That neurotic Jew, part Jew, let love rule and wannabe honorary Jew.

I’m that lucky father Jew. That husband to a wonderful woman Jew. That son to loving parents who worked hard so I would be happy Jew. That grandson to those who suffered so we would just make it Jew. That thanks to them, I’ve got my whole life ahead of me Jew.

I’m that everything’s got a reason for being and I’ll keep looking for the answer Jew. That writing this to all my Jewish brothers and sisters Jew. And to those who aren’t Jewish but get this and show me love - I’m that writing this to you too with utmost respect Jew.

I’m that believer that we’re going to be okay because there’s no other choice Jew. That hang in there and keep your head up Jew. That human dignity will prevail and the world is made up of decent people Jew. And that believer that the decent people will win in the end Jew.

Not a wishful-thinking Jew.

Just true, Jew.

- Eitan Chitayat

#Youtube

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sunwukongssuccessor · 2 years

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After you trim the fat off your fanfic like a juicy steak, would you be cool with uploading what didn't make the cut on tumblr?

This is the fucking funniest ask I got in a while

Legitimately though, roughly two thousands words were focused on the food competition (dialogue included) and that felt like a huge waste of the reader's time so that's why I trimmed it down.

But I guess it's kind of nice that it doesn't have to completely deleted

It was painful watching the first round, MK thrown off and practically run over by an army of Speedy Panda drivers then left in a crater with his ingredients scattered about. You hated being grateful that you had finished eating your meal because you were certain it would leave a bad taste in your mouth. Speedy Panda's victory might have felt sweet to them, but this was disgusting to you.

Round 2 started much sooner than you would have guessed, not even a commercial break for anyone to get their bearings but maybe that was the point.

The actual cooking part of the competition was a nice change of pace, even with the demon brothers obviously tampering with the recipe, MK's boss rolled with it and looked pleased by the extra ingredient for the broth. Was this gonna go in his favor?

The gong sounded that they were out of time, the two teams standing at the ready with each carrying a red plate and a cover with a cloud-like design and a gold trimming for a fancy touch.

In front of them was a long table of solid oak and brilliant gold, three tall chairs of what looked like ivory and even more gold.

Okay, what was with this place's budget?

"Both competitors must now present their culinary creations to our panel of judges," the announcer carried on. A spotlight focused on the first seat while more lights danced over to a pair of red curtains, a blast of wind pulled them apart to reveal an elegant woman in vermillion and gold accents, the black armor on her shoulders matched her onyx hair, only some of it was held in a top knot and an updo that resembled bull horns. "Introducing our first judge: Princess Iron Fan!"

The demoness looked down at the camera, and even though she held a smile with those red lips, her stare made it clear that everyone was below her.

As she took her seat, already looking bored despite not giving anything a chance to be worthy of her attention, MK spoke up with a confident tone and pointed an accusatory finger. "Ah, you've come to tussle with the champ?"

"Oh, please. Like I have energy to waste on you, Noodle Boy," Princess Iron Fan dismissed. "I'm here to settle a debt and that's all."

MK was flat on his back from that remark as she gave an open-handed gesture to Jin and Yin, who in turn gave her double thumbs-up and blindingly bright smiles.

"Knew I shouldn't have made that blood-oath," she muttered while rubbing at her temple.

Yeah, you weren't going to waste your time wondering about that.

The next spotlight was on the seat in the center of the table as the announcer resumed. "Judge Number 2 is none other than the Monkey King!"

Your eyes widened in surprise while red smoke appeared then just as quickly cleared to show this surprising guest. The smile was undeniably Wukong's but it was off, flat really.

Then you realized what was off as MK called out the Monkey King's name in pure delight, this was a cardboard cutout.

"I, Monkey King, fully endorse this product or sports event," the cutout spoke with a professional tone while Princess Iron Fan gave an absolutely befuddled expression towards her "co-judge" of all things.

MK's arms that he once had up in his excitement simply fell to his sides with the same expression you were making at the screen.

"And Judge Number 3, and apparently a fan favorite," the announcer simply went on, spotlights dancing over the curtain again then settling over the final chair, a bespectacled man with a bold red scarf and a wide smile appeared, "this guy!"

"Thanks for having me! Great to be here!" the man greeted to the audience with a wave.

It took a moment for his voice to register, your mind trying to remember where you had seen him before realizing this was Wukong's "fan boy" you had met at the museum to see that mural that MK had destroyed.

"You're the man, Tang! The Tang, man!" MK cheered which removed any doubts.

The eponymous owner of Pigsy's Noodles seemed to be trembling in his boots at the sight of what you thought was an ally.

MK was quick to notice Pigsy's fearful look while Mr. Tang properly took his seat and glared at the pig demon. The lights reflected back in the man's glasses, an ominous light staring down at what you thought was his friend as his hands clasped over one another in a menacing display.

MK was soon back at his boss's side, talking to him about something about how he acts or treats his friend but it wasn't quite caught on the mic so the specifics were beyond you.

The Gold and Silver Demons made their way to the Judges' table, obscenely confident that this competition would go in their favor while the announcer continued to report. "First up, is Speedy Panda with what looks like an assortment of mushy dim sum filled with..."

"Mystery Meat," Jin the Gold Demon answered with a smile as you were pretty certain a fly buzzed away the second the cover was taken off the plate.

"With a side of deep-fried spring rolls topped with whatever sauce was in this packet," Yin added in while giving a bow and gesture at the meal, his hand soon up to reveal a limp plastic packet then toss it over his shoulder. "It's edible... enough."

Princess Iron Fan picked and flipped at the mushy meal with a disgusted expression. "I'll take your word for it."

Mr. Tang was doubled over behind the table, definitely not liking what he ate.

"Thank you for your interest in the Monkey King and the Monkey King branded items," the cardboard cutout "spoke" but didn't touch his plate for obvious reasons.

Next was Pigsy's Noodles.

"Family recipe: Xinjiang pulled noodle soup! Qin man yong," the pig demon introduced his dish.

It looked heavenly with how the steam billowed out from the bronze colored broth, scallions and bok choy swimming with daikon radish and dark slices of meat, the noodles peeking out just a bit to show it was supporting the whole dish.

You may have felt a drop of drool form at the corner of your mouth, maybe you missed eating from Pigsy's Noodles more than you thought.

Mr. Tang pulled up and slurped a noodle with a fairly serious expression while Princess Iron Fan picked at the tiniest bit of noodle but her face became one of shock after a bite.

The softest gasp was heard as a tear ran down her face, a smile undeniable to see with each chew. Then her euphoria came to an end with a scoff. "There's no way I'm voting for your restaurant. My vote's for Speedy Panda."

A neon teal sign with the Speedy Panda logo swung down with a loud ding to highlight her vote.

You shared the same shocked expression as MK and Pigsy while Jin and Yin high-fived.

The only human judge then pushed away the bowl of noodles, still very much full as he stared down at the contestants with bright lenses. "Well, well, well. I've been waiting a long time to say this to you, /Pigsy./ My vote goes to..."

You leaned forward on the couch, holding a pillow close so you'd have something to give a full body squeeze. (And the monkey king plushie definitely wasn't big enough for that task.) It's almost funny how menacing a foodie could look when having all the power to ruin a man's (demon's?) career.

"Pigsy's Noodles!" he announced as he pointed at the bright pink sign that had the logo for the restaurant. Mr. Tang even stood up from his seat then placed his foot on top of the table as he continued on with what he had to say. "Of course it does! His food is a work of genius!"

The owners of Speedy Panda were none too pleased with how they complained against the crowd's cheering in agreement with Mr. Tang. This man definitely had a lot of passion for cuisine.

"That's one vote for Speedy Panda and one vote for Pigsy's!" The announcer's voice bellowed. "It all comes down to judge number 3!"

The cardboard cutout of your boyfriend the legendary Monkey King stood in front of the plate of dim sum and the bowl of noodles, a strange and serious silence brushed over the arena over what "he" would choose. The weight of the speaker taped to the back began to push it forward while it spoke again. "I, Monkey King, fully endorse this product-" The speaker crackled upon impact with the soup.

You, and probably a lot of other people too, were confused at what to make of that.

"He endorsed Pigsy's!" MK shouted. "He endorsed it!"

You think you may have seen a more than smug expression across MK's face.

As the camera was focused on the fake Monkey King face first in the noodles, a familiar voice made the decision. "Winner of round 2: Pigsy's Noodles!"

Another right pink sign overhead to add to the fact.

Pigsy's Noodles won the food portion of the competition with how the owner and MK were cheering over their victory and that should have been what really mattered since that was the selling point in restaurants and such. You figured that was the end of it until the words "Mascot Combat" were announced and the demon brothers brought out a death machine with a panda aesthetic to match.

The food truck for Pigsy's Noodles wasn't looking like a worthy opponent considering it literally fell apart from the stress of what was to come.

"Okay, so... we might have a little problem," MK's voice was heard on your TV.

"I can't believe it. I dedicated my life to that shop but now I'm gonna lose it to a couple of Demons because I was too arrogant to stand down," Pigsy spoke in shock, sadness coming up from the base of his throat and tears soon to follow.

The camera operator was really trying to get an award winning shot and preference despite this being a cooking show of all things.

"You were right, MK. No one cares about tradition or centuries-old recipes," he kept on, tears welling up to the point he tried to wipe them away but only fell to his knees in defeat and let the tears flow. "They're being forgotten and replaced by instant microwavable junk."

Okay, now you were feeling /really/ bad for ordering off from Speedy Panda.

"No way! I may not understand your irrational love for noodles," MK said in a bold and confident tone with a classic hero pose to match, "or working hard," his boss looked a bit confused from that, maybe even angry, "or being angry all the time, but you are always there when I need you!" MK's motivational pointing poked Pigsy's directly in the cheek before getting to his side and squishing his face to absolutely cement in his words. "So it's time for me to return the favor, because Pigsy's Noodles are noodles worth fighting for!"

Was there a practical effects budget for this show? Because clouds of golden smoke erupted from behind the two as MK pointed at the food truck and added to the atmosphere. (You might end up asking MK how staged this was if you got the chance to talk to him again.)

MK then tossed his boss up into the air, soon jumping up to follow him with the staff spinning behind him. "Here... comes..."

You don't think you've ever seen any of MK's fights except for the Great Wall Race which was also televised and when he had trained with Wukong, hearing his battle cry was definitely a first.

"Monkie Pig!" both MK and his boss shouted to the top of their lungs, the staff soon coming into contact with the truck and bright flames spiraling around it. You were pretty certain that /that/ wasn't MK's usual catch phrase but your mind was focused on other stuff like how the everyday vehicle turned into a noodle bowl shaped tank with pig-shaped cannon for one arm and wok-like shield on the other. It even came with giant chopsticks and a front fender akin to a rake.

Whatever conversation was going on after was lost on you but from the looks of it, Mr. Tang's loyalties were undoubtedly on Pigsy's, and by obvious extension MK's.

It didn't take long for lines of Speedy Panda employees to slide in ready for the fight. Once they were ordered to throw themselves in, Pigsy revved the mech, MK had his staff at the ready, and Mr. Tang and the Monkey King cutout were about to tussle with the employee in the panda mascot costume. It was gonna be an all out war.

"Hang on!" a young demon in a headset called out and was on the screen with a rottweiler behind her. Purple skin with mauve hair tied in a bun, red and yellow cheongsam for some traditional flare and burgundy leggings for comfortable mobility. "We ain't got the budget for this!"

She appeared between demons and humans alike, blasts of wind disrupting everything and everyone around to a halt with the weight definitely shifting off balance then fall back down with the lack of preparation.

A vermillion clipboard flew into her hand as the Gold and Silver demons slammed into the dirt. A complaint about the attack was obviously heard with how she brought the paper to their faces.

"Well, you spent all of your profits on that Panda Mech!" she answered while the folded papers practically burst the board and smacked the demons. "We ain't got enough money to pay our drivers! Speedy Panda is bankrupt."

Even though her way of speaking was different, her going straight to the point and being no-nonsense about it reminded you of Wukong's lawyer.

"What?! Give me that!" Jin exclaimed as he grabbed the clipboard and with it the ribbons of debt.

"Oh, yeah. Must have been the hydraulics, yeah?" Jin spoke up, hand under his chin in thought. "I told you 'bout that."

"We're not getting paid?" One of the Speedy Panda drivers questioned with a horrifying tone as a dark, menacing aura grew behind him.

"Okay, yeah, so traditionally, people expect money when they do work," the gold demon started off.

"But it's like the Pig Man said: No one cares about traditions anymore, right?" Yin added on with a smile that knew trouble was brewing.

The now former employees of Speedy Panda swarmed the demon brothers, only a few hits were shown on the screen before the program cut to an ad as a weak form of censorship.

#Fic Asks #Hattie Fics

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