#the main difference this makes in my life is that i will now drink oat milk in my coffee and have less cheese … heartbreaking | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

moondustaeil · 3 years

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𝐫𝐞:𝐦𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐞.

↳ Ambrosia's not-so-happy life update.

trigger warning, this post includes: weight loss, food, calorie counting, disordered eating habits, suicide, insecurities, fears.

𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟏: 𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐢𝐭, 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐢𝐭?

As I contemplate whether I should make an earnest post look as aesthetic as possible, my eyes are tearing up to Lee Chansub's "Gone". Therefore, this chapter gets named after his lyrics.

Since when was it? It's a question that crosses my mind after deciding on the chapter name, even though I'm well aware of the number of days that have passed. Each day I write that significant number in my journal, but there must be more than the pen can write. Beyond my awareness: there must have been a certain amount of time spent on a prologue to pen down the event that ultimately led to this chapter.

Since where was it? There could be multiple meanings behind the question, but I can only formulate a limited answer despite the openness. As far as I'm in charge of this story, there is no why or where. Yes, I quite literally woke up one day and decided to go on a diet, simple as that. Before that day, dieting never crossed my mind: I never saw my body as too much or myself as too little compared to others. Can you understand now why I think a prologue was written for me and not by me?

Anyhow, let's have a look at how I think I experienced my life before the diet. Sometimes I think I don't even remember how I experienced the last moments of it, but that doesn't mean I don't know how it went. My life before the diet was pretty plain: I didn't engage in any social or physical activities and spent most of my time behind my laptop to write or lurk around on YouTube. Eating-habit-wise, I never ate much: three meals a day with occasional snacks, those snacks probably covering more calories than my meals did. Despite eating calorie-covering snacks, I would have given my all for fruit and vegetables, especially frozen fruit. Back then, I already had significant eating habits: I'd eat nuts when I was stressed, drink smoothies while studying for exams, eat sour sweets when I was bored. My body before the diet wasn't that noteworthy: I maintained the same weight for around three years and only ditched my tight jeans because covid had me feeling too lazy to wear them. A youth like this might sound boring to you, but I gladly lived my life like this and, I don't regret the way I spent it.

I can still recall up to two days before it began: I can tell the contents of those days like I was the supporting cast instead of the main character, simply because I can't remember the emotions. The two last days were spent behind my laptop, waiting for the exam results while eating spicy nuts (to keep the stress level low). When the exam results came, and I realised I passed them all, I must have felt relieved. But in my memory, I didn't and don't feel anything at all concerning my exams. And that's where it stops. I don't even know where it starts again.

𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟐: 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐈 𝐰𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐮𝐩 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐧𝐨 𝐦𝐞𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐲

It quite literally feels like I woke up with no memories of the first days of the diet: I can recall what I ate, but not what I did or felt.

On the first day, I drank a strawberry oat smoothie for breakfast. It was my first self-made smoothie which was convincingly delicious compared to the bought smoothies I used to have. That same day, I stopped eating snacks: unknowingly, I restricted them and wouldn't allow them for the months after.

That paragraph is all I remember from the first day, and if I were to write one about every day of that week, it would be less each day. Maybe those days just weren't memory-worthy enough as I don't want to search for a reason behind every single thing.

For approximately twenty-eight days after the first one, I have no recollections. The only way I can reflect on those days is by checking my calorie intake and physical activity. Though, it doesn't feel like I was the one who tracked it.

The first proper recollection I have is of a day I ate 180 calories for the first time: a number I can only wonder about now. Though it was my first time having such a low intake, it wasn't the last or lowest. The number 180 seemed to attract me as in the days that followed, 180 would be the maximum amount of calories I'd consume. Back then, I had no idea what TDEE or BMR (of any of the other terms) were, so I can't tell you what my deficit was. But I would burn around 1200 calories a day by exercising, and that should be enough to raise red flags.

From that point on, even though I was probably slowly killing myself, I felt alive. A growing obsession with food, weight loss and exercise was fueling my mind. While my body was left behind, trying to catch up with the pace. If I didn't lose more than 1 gram overnight, I'd starve myself the next day. If I felt too lazy to exercise, I'd punish myself for being lazy by doing more. My weight dropped a lot, up to the point where the scale sometimes seemed to skip numbers.

Then a parent swap came: I would be staying with my dad for two weeks. In advance, I had already figured out everything I thought I needed to know: how I would skip meals without him finding out, at what times I could exercise without him knowing, where I could throw away the food he thought I would eat. The day I packed my bag and left for his house, my plans turned into action.

The two weeks there went as smooth as I planned them to go. Even with bonuses: he worked up to three days a week and did not question it when I didn't eat. In those two weeks, I would replace kpop videos with programs I used to despise: supersize versus superskinny and mukbangs. The videos would satisfy my hunger in some way, even though they caused me to start nailbiting. I wouldn't eat: I would only watch as others fed themselves.

Since I lost the initial subject I wanted to discuss in this chapter (I'm so sorry), I shall be moving on to the next chapter.

𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟑: 𝐡𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐨? 𝐃𝐢𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐞𝐚𝐭?

It was at this point that people were starting to notice things that I hadn't. Sometimes those things were appearance-related and, other times it was personality-related or even habit-related.

It started with a compliment from my aunt, and I felt like I was glowing when she mentioned my visible jawline and thin face. Maybe I was slightly disappointed that she noticed the facial changes before my body but, at the same time, she noticed a difference!

After her, people started commenting on my body, and I worked more to achieve those comments. I saw them as comments rather than compliments: I didn't tire myself out starting from 5:20 am every day just to receive a meaningless compliment. I wanted people to take notice.

And, they did. People that directly surrounded me were starting to notice things that I failed to see. Mostly stuff that changed about my personality while my body was changing. My mother told me that I became the opposite of easy-going and friendly when others were around. My sister told me that my facial expressions had gone even further than my usual resting bitch face. My nephew said that all I would do was try to end up in arguments with others and that he didn't like being around me anymore. It hurt to have all of those things said, but at the same time, I was too in denial to care. The only thing I cared about was food, exercise and losing weight.

On rare occasions, I became aware of the person I became. Mostly when others would try to reach me by calling or coming over but I was too busy to talk to them, and if I did, I would talk about food-related things only. So, I shut everyone out.

I no longer talked to my friends daily, wouldn't reply to my parents sending me messages, didn't go on social media unless it was to look at food or triggering images.

The world consisted of me and was ruled by my obsession.

𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟒: 𝐈 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐧𝐞𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐞 𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐯𝐞

There is an unknown amount of time that settles itself between the previous chapter and this chapter. During this time, I once again feel like I'm just a supporting character: my habits develop and my obsession rules over everything I do.

Many of the things I did (which already wasn't a lot, to begin with), were based on stuff I said already. Though even more refined and obsessive.

When I closed my eyes, sleep would take me to dreams about food and weight loss. Approximately three times a night, I would open my eyes, assume it was morning and get ready for another day of exhaustion and starvation. Those nightly hours are still engraved in my mind and current habits: 12:00 am, 3:20 am, 5:28 am.

It is in this chapter that a slow awareness creeps up on me. The side effects are what wakens me when everything else consumes me: constant thoughts about food, the inability to sleep, not being able to think or focus, drifting from reality, always feeling cold, tingling headaches, not leaving the house for days unless it's for shopping (because I would look at food I couldn't eat).

"I need to stop," I told myself while I wrote in my journal how much better I would be if I lost some more weight because the scale is tempting me.

I didn't want to stop. I just wanted it to stop.

Though in reality, I had no control to stop myself or it. I had lost control long ago, and to this day, I still have no idea at which chapter I left it behind. Some days I thought of how to stop, but the exit sign was more like a full-stop as it led me to think of killing myself: it would make my family stop commenting on my condition and could give me a sense of freedom even though I would be dead.

It surely wasn't the first time I passed that exit sign in life, but it was the first time I felt determined to pass it by. All I wanted was to be able to sleep peacefully without thinking of food. *Snort*, such high standards.

𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟓: 𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐦𝐬 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧 𝐦𝐲 𝐝𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐦𝐬

Unexpectedly, a good dream did cloud over my bedroom. Even though it was simple, it's one of the dreams that I hope to keep in my memory forever. And for laughs, I'll share it.

TO1-member Donggeon was standing near my garage but, my mother's car wasn't in the driveway because she wasn't home. I was standing outside with him while he talked with Wei's Donghan (who was invisible to me). They were having a casual conversation in Korean. Then, he wanted to lean against the car that wasn't in the driveway, causing him to fall on all fours. He laughed at his stupidity and, at the same time, his ears were getting red from embarrassment.

That pretty much sums up the first not-food-related dream I had during my entire journey. And I still remember waking up at 3:20 am, laughing: it was stupid and silly but left such a big impression on me. And that's when I told myself: "I need to recover".

It sounds silly but I still, to this day, think that this dream set me off into recovery mode. Even though I felt like I had no control, I tried to take control: calculated a number of calories that I surely had to eat each day, planned Thursday to be my active rest-day, found less intense workouts to do in the morning, tried to replace the mukbangs in my watch later list by relaxing videos or recovery videos, scheduled to journal every day. Though I told myself I would do those things, it wasn't easy to put my words into action.

Yet, I fucking did it.

𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟔: 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐤 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐚𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐦𝐲 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐧

Not going to lie: I spent all night wondering how I was going to write this and all morning putting it into proper words. Hence, the reason why I'm feeling exhausted: too exhausted to continue writing it even though the blooming period is so close. So instead of giving a lecture on recovery: I will try to give my opinion on recovering and how I'm doing these days.

Each day, I still question whether I'm truly in a recovery of something. I never went to see a professional or verbally admitted to my problems, so I never learned whether I'm recovering from something or just making progress after a downfall. I might be familiar with the use of DSM-4 and DSM-5 but, that doesn't mean I'm qualified to judge on whether I had/have a disorder or not. Yet, I opt to use the terms disordered eating and recovery until I'm sure of what it was that I went through.

Some days it feels like I was faking all of it, but then I realise, how was I faking it while I was going through it and experiencing it? Perhaps some of you reading even think I am faking all of the above, but that's your opinion. I don't need to defend myself for feeling things.

Now, I'll update you on where I'm standing today because I guess I wrote six chapters in order to get to this point. We all know I like to write more than necessary.

⋅ My disordered eating habits and calorie intake: I have made quite some progress (even if I say so myself). Each week, I challenge myself to increase my calorie intake by 100 until I reach my maintenance calories. It isn't as easy as it sounds because by the time I actually dared to increase by ten calories, the week is over, and I have to adjust my goal because I wasn't even able to reach close to where I planned to be. This week my goal is to eat 800 calories a day: a number that unexpectedly is paired with a lot of guilt and fear, so I haven't been able to eat that amount yet. The maximum I've eaten is 641 calories a day. Together with that, I also promised myself to eat one fear food or not-eaten food a week: that way, I hope to stop restricting myself and learn to enjoy them again. Some lasting habits I developed: I fear eating too early and will try to push back eating as late as I can because it gives me the feeling that I can enjoy it for longer but I do have strict hours, I cut everything into mini pieces because it gives me the feeling that I have more to nibble on and more to enjoy, I read every single nutrition label multiple times (in the store and at home) because I fear that it might include too many calories or fat, I don't eat anything that I didn't plan and nothing that I can't track calorie-wise, I eat the same thing for breakfast every day because I feel like it's the only food I can trust. The urge to skip meals or lie about them is getting smaller, but the thought always remains in the back of my mind.

⋅ My weight: I'm at a weight that is still considered healthy according to whoever feels qualified to judge. However, I fear gaining weight every single day, which stops me from eating my weekly allowance. Despite eating more than at the start of this: I still lose weight. The weight loss fuels the bad habits once more, but I try to tell myself that my weight is only to indicate whether I'm close to my maintenance calories or not.

⋅ My body: my body kept most of its side effects inside until I started to recover aside from the ones that I've stated before. Yesterday was the first day that I didn't feel cold despite wearing a shirt only, so that was a win for my body. However, I do have constant headaches, get blackouts often and, I easily feel my energy draining whenever I do a little bit too much (which I didn't always feel when I was actively doing it). That being said, my abilities have definitely decreased: you can read what kind of exercise I do in the next paragraph, but it has decreased a lot because I will feel weak sooner than before.

⋅ Exercise: I am between struggling and not struggling with it. The reason why I started to exercise was to burn more calories than I ate. But back then, I had no knowledge of BMR and whatnot. These days I do a lot less impactful exercise than I did before, but I still exercise each day: I do 96 minutes of stationary cycling a day, go on daily walks and have the obsession to take steps whenever I'm standing still. As you might be able to tell, I feel like I'm on the line of having control here.

⋅ My personality/social life/hobbies: even though I was in denial about my changing personality for a long while, I eventually realised that people were right when they said I changed. The realisation came during recovery, mostly because I noticed how I was in a better mood than when I was at my lowest point. My social life is building up slowly and doesn't always include me having to talk about my weight loss or food, though people always mention it so, I do always end up having to talk about it without wanting to. As for hobbies, I found my interest in kpop and writing again but, it's still at a somewhat moderate level. I still find myself lurking at food-related posts or triggering things, but I can control myself better and watch some positive videos instead. Aside from that, I journal every day: I write down what I ate, my physical activity, what I saw as memorable in my day, and more.

𝐞𝐧𝐝 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞

That's pretty much all for the life update. I still left out a lot that I failed to remember while writing or felt too tired to write about, and I bet not a lot of you are interested in any of this anyway. I just felt like I owed everyone an explanation of where I've been and why I haven't been reblogging much or writing.

As I've stated a few times before, I don't know yet when I will get back into writing or posting content. And the past months made me realise that it might be good for myself if I take some time away from Tumblr: I won't be able to look for triggering content, won't be able to trigger anyone else on accident and can focus on working towards my goals.

I hate the word hiatus but I think this means that I will be going on semi-hiatus. On good days, I might still come here to talk to my mutuals or reblog some kpop content that I enjoy. But other times, I probably won't respond or interact much as I'm logged out.

For now, my semi-hiatus will continue until mid to end September. This might be shortened or extended depending on my progress and my personal needs.

Have a lovely day, moonflowers! 💌

#ambrosia's life #was this the tag i used to use for stuff like this?

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nerianasims · 3 years

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Billboard #1s 1984

Under the cut.

Yes -- "Owner of a Lonely Heart" -- January 21, 1984

The full version of this song is way too long. Not surprising from a former prog rock band. The music is good and interesting, but it loses me before the end even in the shorter single version. There's too much stuff. As for the lyrics, maybe that prog rock gloss made people think they were profound, but they look like self-help. Some incredibly 80s Reagan-era individualism, better to be alone than to be hurt, you're the only one you can count on, blah blah blah. Not for me. 'Tis better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all.

Culture Club -- "Karma Chameleon" -- February 4, 1984

The video to this song has nothing to do with it, unless there's supposed to be a connection between the con artist on the fantasy world 19th century steamboat and the guy who keeps coming and going whom Boy George is singing to. And I didn't fully realize the "you come and go" double entendre until just now. I like the video, anyway. And I like the song quite a bit. It's a very cheerful-sounding song about being strung along by some asshole.

Van Halen -- "Jump" -- February 25, 1984

Van Halen was something boys were into. It's weird how we delineate these things. At least back in 1984, if it got coded as a boy thing, then if you were a girl and also found it interesting, you'd damn well better hide it or certain other more socially powerful kids would tear you to shreds. That was my experience, anyway. (And if other girls were into it and you were not, you were also in serious trouble.) So though when I heard Van Halen songs I thought, "hm, I'm intrigued," I did not dare pursue that interest. Except for this song. This one was allowed. It's fun.

Kenny Loggins -- "Footloose" -- March 31, 1984

Footloose is a pretty good movie. At least I remember it being so when I eventually saw it in college in the 90s. Anything that stands against censorship, and for art and people having fun, already has an in with me. Also Kevin Bacon's great. The song isn't about the movie particularly; it's just about how dancing is wonderful. Though there is a hint at the movie: "You're playing so cool/ Obeying every rule/ Deep way down in your heart/ You're burning yearning for some/ Somebody to tell you/ That life ain't passing you by/ I'm trying to tell you/ It will if you don't even try." Yeah. Agatha Christie at one point lamented that young people in the 1950s were far too serious and self-righteous, and really needed to go dance in fountains. I feel the same now as she did then. Though wait until after the covid vaccine's been widely taken. Anyway, this is a good dance song.

Phil Collins -- "Against All Odds (Take A Look At Me Now)" -- April 21, 1984

It's a lament about being dumped. Apparently, Collins wrote it about his wife leaving him out of the blue, taking the kids and the dog with her. Ouch. There's a great drum part, which keeps the song from being too boring, but I still don't like it. Phil Collins' serious love/heartbreak songs don't do it for me. I find this one depressing without being cathartic.

Lionel Richie -- "Hello" -- May 12, 1984

I remember this video from when it was on the air. Mostly because of the Lionel Richie clay head. But also because I was like... is she his student? Isn't that a bad thing? Even though she's an adult in college, I still thought you weren't supposed to do that? I've had a major squick against teacher/student relationships, even in fiction, since I was a kid. Possibly this is because I come from a family of professors. (I didn't get a PhD and am therefore the black sheep.) Without reference to the video, the song is terrible. The lyrics are just repetitive cheese, whatever, but the song is so slow and blah and I don't like Lionel Richie's singing.

Deniece Williams -- "Let's Hear It For the Boy" -- May 26, 1984

I keep being surprised that there are people who think someone is worthless if they don't have a lot of money and don't dress fashionably. In this song, the titular boy also can't dance, but is that a thing that people get dinged for in reality? I don't know, maybe. This song was in Footloose, and it's the same sentiment as "My Guy"; her boy isn't some smooth-talking rich brat, but "he's my lovin' one-man show." He's like Edward Ferrars, not Willoughby. It's a fun song.

Cyndi Lauper -- "Time After Time" -- June 9, 1984

This is one of the greatest songs ever. Not just pop songs. Any song, of any type.

Duran Duran -- "The Reflex" -- June 23, 1984

These lyrics make no sense. That doesn't matter for this song much, which is all about the music. Which is not the best of Duran Duran's music. For all the many, many, MANY different musical ideas in it, it's actually kinda boring. They'd have done better to simplify. I imagine this sounds something like cocaine feels, though drinking way too many Mountain Dews to pull an all-nighter's my only comparison. Duran Duran were never my favorite, but I do enjoy many of their songs. This one, meh.

Prince -- "When Doves Cry" -- July 7, 1984

Prince only two songs after Cyndi Lauper? Is it my birthday? The song's lyrics start out being about the amazing chemistry between the narrator and "you." That establishes why they're together. Then Prince moves on to how they "scream at each other," and it's what it sounds like "when doves cry." He's accusatory -- "How could you just leave me standing/ Alone in a world so cold?" But then he goes right into thinking maybe it's his fault: "Maybe I'm just too demanding" etc. It's a sexy, thoughtful, and anguished song about a relationship in trouble. I like to think they'll overcome their problems and stop screaming at each other. Trust me, it's very possible. Also the music is great.

Ray Parker Jr. -- "Ghostbusters" -- August 11, 1984

Um. I have no idea how to evaluate this one. I heard it first in the theatre when I saw the movie, but I heard it years after every week when I watched the cartoon. It just... is.

Tina Turner -- "What's Love Got To Do With It" -- September 1, 1984

I have an overwhelming memory of hearing this song when I was alone in the grocery store as a teenager. I have no idea why the memory's so strong. Maybe it was the first time I went to the grocery store by myself? Maybe I ran into a guy I had a huge crush on, though I don't remember that? (If I was 16, that could have been one of any three guys... Romance is my secondary aspiration, after all.) In any case, it's a good song. The attempt to pretend love is a bunch of chemicals and doesn't truly matter is a pretty common one for the broken-hearted. And Tina Turner's great as always.

John Waite -- "Missing You" -- September 22, 1984

Two songs in a row about being in denial over matters of love. Interesting. This isn't the most fascinating song ever, but it's a good solid song about heartbreak that isn't gloopy at all. In the main vocals, Waite keeps insisting "I ain't missing you," but in the background is a soft voice that sings "missing you" over and over. That's a smart artistic move.

Prince and the Revolution -- "Let's Go Crazy" -- September 29, 1984

I liked a lot of pop music when I was 7, but I didn't get Prince. His songs sort of slid out of my brain as a "thing for grownups," and who could understand grownups? He was short and wore fancy outfits, and that's about all that registered. When I hit puberty, though... yeah. This song is more adult than that, though, and I don't mean sexually, though there is plenty of sex in this song. "You better live now/ Before the grim reaper come knocking on your door." The song is about sex, partying, and death. Also Prince was an astonishing guitarist, along with everything else. It's not one of my favorite Prince songs, because the lyrics are pretty depressing and it's super loud, but it's still great.

Stevie Wonder -- "I Just Called To Say I Love You" -- October 13, 1984

I never really listened to the background beep-de-boops in this song before. I've wondered before why this song, with its simple lyrics and melody, didn't bore me. It's the beep-de-boops. They, along with Stevie Wonder's perfect delivery, make this song musically complex. And the simple lyrics, with the more complex musical counterpoints, absolutely work. It helps that this is the kind of thing people really do.

Billy Ocean -- "Caribbean Queen" -- November 3, 1984

That heavy breathing after the line "I get so excited just from her perfume" is unfortunate. Otherwise, it's a song about how he met this "Caribbean Queen" on vacation and she "tamed" him so he's no longer looking for "love on the run." Sure, why not. I'd like a little more story to it, but that's me. It's got a good beat though, and is enjoyable enough as-is.

Wham! -- "Wake Me Up Before You Go-Go" -- November 17, 1984

I just realized I don't like this song. The beat and hook are sort of irresistible, and as a dance song the music absolutely works. But there's too much nostalgia about stuff that George Michael actually wasn't old enough to be nostalgic about. He was only 21 at the time, born in 1963, and yet he was singing about Doris Day. You can homage anything at any age, but... meh. And speaking of age, it's kind of a childish song and George Michael's voice was always more on the mature end, even if he was young at the time. For me, it hits a jarring note.

Daryl Hall & John Oates -- "Out of Touch" -- December 8, 1984

The beginning makes it sound like this is gonna be a relatively hard rock song, but that ends after a pretty short time. It's still really loud, with huge drums, and Hall pretty much shouts the song. Hall & Oates were great when they stripped stuff down. All this noise doesn't work for them. There are neat parts when all the noise suddenly stops and there's total silence, but then it goes right back to the rather uninteresting loudness. Not for me.

Madonna -- "Like A Virgin" -- December 22, 1984

And so it begins. Backstory: Madonna went to the same high school as my mother. She was friends (maybe more? he won't talk) with one of my uncles. When my grandmother saw the Like A Virgin album on the rack at the store, she said, "I'm so glad [he] didn't marry that girl." When my mother told me that, my reaction was "Are you kidding? We'd be rich!" But my family cares about PhDs and not money. My uncle ran wild in high school, but eventually became a successful career diplomat (and stopped being a jackass) after the woman he was in love with told him he'd better shape up or else. Also he looks a lot like Guy Ritchie, so that was weird for a while. I'd be in the grocery store and for a second think, "Why's my uncle on The Enquirer with Madonna?"

So anyway, the song. The way Madonna sang it in later iterations, I like it. I can't stand the version that became a #1 hit. The Betty Boop voice is just ugh. I love a lot of Madonna's music, and she would be something of an inspiration to me in later days, with her unapologetic persona as a woman who liked and wanted sex -- and enjoyed shocking the censorious -- but I was 8 at the time. I didn't get any of it, I just knew she sounded squeaky in this song and it bugged me.

BEST OF 1984: "Time After Time" by Cyndi Lauper. WORST OF 1984: "Hello" by Lionel Richie

#billboard number ones

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purplesurveys · 3 years

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1010

survey from diggitydoo

Have you ever felt a baby kick? Yes, when my mom was pregnant with my brother. What color pants/shorts are you wearing? I’m only wearing a duster gown; no shorts underneath. I just got it last night, actually - my mom wanted to donate clothes to victims of a recent fire incident in Manila and so she asked my sister and I to sort through our closets for clothes we were willing to give away. My sister ended up giving away a comfy-looking duster gown that she never even wore and even smelled brand new to boot. It ended up in my hands, ha. But apart from that we gave away a lot of stuff that aren’t old uniforms or costumes (which is what most people tend to ‘donate’, ugh), so we just hope they end up with people who really need them. When is the last time you did something truly fun, and what was it? Last night I went on our org’s Discord server and we played Jackbox games for around an hour or so. It was my first time to socialize again after around two months and I really, really needed that moment. I even met the org’s newest roster of applicants for this semester, which was neat. :) What was the scariest moment of your life? Men terrorizing me or near-car crashes I’ve had.

Have you ever heard of Leonard Cohen? The name is familiar, but that’s the most I know.

Pancakes or flapjacks? I guess pancakes, since I don’t even know what flapjacks are. What kind of computer are you on? It’s a laptop. Do you eat Chinese food? If so, what's your favorite dish? For sure. Pork buns or minced pork with eggplant. With century egg on the side, yum. What are you usually doing at midnight? Either passed out or desperately trying to sleep because I don’t want to lose any more hours of sleep and risk being cranky for the whole of the next day. Have you ever developed feelings for a friend, but you were already with someone? No. The worst thing that’s happened was being someone’s ball date (and unbeknownst to me, they apparently had feelings for me at the time) while I was already with someone. If so, how did it turn out? He figured it out by himself, which I still feel bad about. But the timing was super off and I just couldn’t find a moment to sit him down and set the record straight...ah well. It was just super complicated at the time. Give me your brief definition of love. My favorite love-related quote is “Love never says ‘I have done enough’” and for the longest time, that has been my guiding principle when it comes to it. Definitely a tad bit cheesy, but telling myself that over and over makes it easier to continue loving the people I care for and be patient with them when they’re being asses. Gab included, then and now. What is the most beautiful part of the human body, male or female? It differs for everyone but I’m a thigh girl through and through. What kind of shoes do you wear? Uh...various ones? I have sneakers, flats, heels, flip-flops, probably a couple more kinds that I can’t place at the moment. What is the worst thing you've ever done when you were really angry? Resorting to physical violence. I was a kid constantly exposed to violence in my old home, and at the time I genuinely thought that’s how most things were settled or pacified. I still feel like shit about it to this day, and my backstory isn’t an excuse at all; but the past is the past and I’ve been trying to make up for it by being a much more gentle angry person in the last few years. Are there any pills you take on a daily basis? If so, what? Nope. Do you like the smell of coconuts? For some reason I can’t stand anything coconut (which is a damn shame considering I’m Filipino) but I love dishes with heaps of coconut milk in them, like curry. That’s the one coconut-related thing I enjoy, but otherwise I’ve never learned to appreciate the taste and smell of buko juice, coconut shavings, coconut pies, and everything else coconut. What is the heaviest you think you can lift? From what my old PE class showed me, around 70 to 80 lbs. Do you take Tums? Idk what that is so I guess I don’t. Have you ever walked on a pier at the beach? I’m not sure if I’ve been to a pier before. I bet it feels wonderful and freeing and I’d love to visit one; but I also can’t keep myself from associating piers with the recurring image of Jennifer Connelly’s character standing on one from Requiem for a Dream. How about under one? No. At what age do you first remember feeling butterflies in your stomach around someone? Not sure if it was 11 or 12, but it was definitely one of those years. Do you feel that way around anyone now? Yeah, if they allowed me to see them. But I’m shut out now so I haven’t had that sensation in a while.

Do you ever talk to yourself or think deep thoughts while on the toilet? No. Do you ever sing to yourself? Sure. I’m sure most people do every once in a while. What is a sound that relaxes you? Ocean waves have never failed. How hard has it been to reach your main goal in life? ‘Main goal’ sounds so overwhelming; I make it a point to avoid one overarching goal and instead make little goals and plans here and there depending on where I am in life. Do you remember the song about hoes in different area codes? Never heard of it. What is your main heritage? Filipino. What kind of pickles do you prefer, if you like pickles? I hate pickles. What kind of cheese do you prefer, if you like cheese? Mozzarella and feta are my faves, but I love cheese and am willing to be adventurous when it comes to it. If you could have a sea creature as a pet, what would you want? Eh, they can stay in the sea where they can actually survive. I don’t exactly have the best track record when it comes to keeping fish as pets. How about a farm animal? Probably pig. So, do you have hoes in different area codes? No, and ew. What is the most annoying song you can think of that came out recently? Haven’t been exposed to a lot of new music lately and the songs I do get to hear on the radio whenever I drive are actually pretty good. This totally doesn’t answer your question but my favorites so far have been Birthday by Disclosure, Kehlani, and Syd; and Plain by Benee, Lily Allen, and Flo Milli. What is a song that you hate to admit you like? Any Kanye song I like. What inspires you to get off your bum and do something productive? Not wanting to go into another downward spiral. Do you ever use Urban Dictionary? Extremely rarely. I only do when there’s a new slang I’m completely unfamiliar with. Do you find the definitions on there to be generally funny or stupid? Stupid for the most part. I find them too immature or vulgar, but that’s one of the points of the website so I guess I’m just not in their target audience lol. What comes to your mind when you hear the word 'transformation'? Uh, the Transformer robots.

What was something you regularly played with as a child? My cousins’ toy soldiers.

Have you ever given in to peer pressure? Eh, a few times. If so, what did you do? I’ve been pulled to drinking sessions here and there when I really shouldn’t be drinking because I had an important test tomorrow or something else was happening the next day that was just as significant. What part of your body have you had the most problems with in your life? Teeth, I’m pretty sure. I’ve had braces, needed a tooth extracted, gotten a cavity, and gone through a severe toothache.

Do a lot of people check you out when you're in public? Idk I never look around because being aware of it would just freak me out and make me feel like I’m naked. What is a good name for a turtle? Would depend on their personality. And this applies to all kinds of pets, at least for me. I don’t decide on their names until I have a good grasp of their attitude. Can you imitate any accents well? If so, which one(s)? Stereotypical Filipino mom and valley girl. Do you like having your ear nibbled on? Sure. What makes a good kisser a good kisser? I’ve only kissed one person so I’m not the best judge for this; but I always like it when my lower lip is tugged or grazed on. How many times a year do you have a family thing? This is a little vague for me. Do you mean get-togethers? Giant-ass reunions? Movie nights? Game nights? What are the best things to put in a smoothie? I only like one kind of smoothie and it’s sold by a local joint – and I think I’ve already shared this before but that smoothie of theirs that I like has “apple, banana, cinnamon, oats, coco sugar, chia seeds, greens, and soy milk,” according to their menu. So I guess those are the best ingredients for me, ha. Do you ever eat with your eyes closed and just focus on the taste? When I find something extremely delicious, yeah. What do you dislike most about where you live right now? For the most part I can’t wait to get out of suburban residential villages. I’d love to finally experience living in a condo in a super busy and active city. Has anyone ever given you a rose/roses? Yes.

Are you watching your weight? Not really. I’m trying to gain pounds though, if anything. I haven’t eaten much in the last two months. Have you ever become really good friends with someone you found online? I trust y’all with my life, so that’s one. Apart from Tumblr, the best friends I made were probably the people in the AJ/Punk fandom, back when I had a stan account on Twitter. I don’t remember most of their names now and we fizzled out pretty quickly when both parts of the ship left WWE, but I look back on that period with fondness. Those people made high school a lot easier for me. What makes your best friend your best friend? She doesn’t care whether I’m on top of the world with happiness or completely self-destructive and crying my eyes out; she has always been present. Do you have a drunk uncle? *rolls eyes* We don’t wanna open up that can of worms... Do you hear weird noises in your house at night? Nope. What is something you do that is generally more like something the opposite sex does? Based on personal experience and not to come off as sexist, but it’s liking wrestling. I have never met a girl in real life who has even the most remote interest in pro wrestling or can tell me who Hulk Hogan is. And the ones I’ve had discussions with - from shallow/casual to in-depth - have all been guys. Seeing girls who are into wrestling is like finding a rare Pokemon, at least in real life. What is the girliest thing you do, if you're a girl? Idk. What is the coolest tattoo you've ever seen? Probably the spork tattoo of Josh, a crew member from Good Mythical Morning. It’s just a line tattoo. Of a spork. On his arm. But he managed to make it so goddamn fascinating lmao; and apparently, as I learned just now, it has a pretty touching backstory to it too, which makes it a million times cooler. Have you ever created anything artistic that you're proud of? If so, what? I’ve never finished any of the crafts I bought. Never finished a coloring book page much less an entire coloring book, a painting, a gem painting...it’s something I’ll have to bring my butt to do one of these days. I can’t imagine how fulfilling it would feel. Do you only eat the middle of the oreo, if you eat oreos? I eat the whole thing but I honestly find Oreos too sweet and I’ve always much rather preferred Oreo-flavored stuff instead of the actual cookies.

Do you know anyone with a huge ego? My mom. If so, is there anything else about them you actually like? She’s fed me for 22 years and gave me an education, I guess. Though it’s something I appreciate more so than like. Have you ever used a racial slur, even jokingly? Probably as a dumb kid, when historical context wasn’t a thing to me yet. I still wince thinking about it, but I suppose what matters is being better and more responsible moving forward. Do you have any friends who are more like siblings to you? Angela and to some extent Andi.

If so, what about them do you like most? They are both understanding when it comes to me - almost to a fault. What do you like on your hotdogs, if you eat hotdogs? When you say ‘hotdogs’ here, it refers to the sausages itself. The sandwich kind of hotdog isn’t super popular here. What is everyone else in your house doing right now? My siblings are still resting in their rooms; my dad is preparing for work, I think. What is the most money you've ever had at one time? Something like P10,000 or P15,000 when my mom needed me to pay for something in cash. How long do you think it would take you to run a mile? Idk, maybe 10 minutes. I won’t be fast, that’s for sure. Look down. What do you see? My legs and the pillow I’m sitting on. What is a subject that makes you uncomfortable? Right now, probably my failed relationship. I haven’t gotten to the sharing stage yet and remotely thinking about it gets my voice all shaky. What is a subject you can talk on and on about and not get sick of it? Paramore. What kind of mood were you in most of today? It’s only 7:52 AM. My only mood so far is just woke up. Has anyone ever walked in on you naked? Yeah. Because people in this damn house never knock. Tell me an inside joke you have with someone. The word ‘ariba.’ What is the worst thing someone could do to you emotionally? Break my trust. So simple but it packs a punch. What is the worst thing you've ever done to someone emotionally? Idk if I’ve ever been that aggressive. When I want to do something destructive towards someone I always end up asking what it would feel like if the action was done to me, and it’s always been enough to sway me away from doing the thing. How do you feel now about the first person you ever dated? Sad. How about the last person (your last ex)? Same person. What is the best invention ever invented? Air conditioners.

What is something that needs to be invented? Portable air conditioners. What always makes you burp? My burps come randomly. What are you doing tomorrow? It’s my last weekend before my new job, soooooooo...I’ll be bumming around for my last two days of freedom.

#survey #surveys

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uzumaki-rebellion · 4 years

Text

“Wet Sugar” [Part 26 of 30]

Summary: Erik and Yani’s time comes to an end...

NSFW. Mature. Smut.

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"Every morning, every evening

Oh love, love, love, love, loving you

I can hear you when you're calling

Oh, c'mon, c'mon, c'mon, c'mon

Take me with you

You'll break my heart and soul

If you left me behind

Take me with you

Don't want to stay around when you're gone…"

Blundetto Meets Booker Gee—"Take Me With You"

Yani dropped Erik off at the compound after ten in the morning. He stood in front of the compound gate and allowed the retina scan to gain him access onto the property. Meandering down the walkway to the main house, he ran into Jerome who dangled precariously close to the end of a tree branch hanging over the middle house roof. The iguana's eyes were shut tight in a peaceful looking pose, and Erik took a moment to watch the creature snooze in the sunlight.

To think his woman adored that overgrown lizard.

"Jerome."

Erik called the reptile's name and Jerome opened one eye.

"Lazy ass," Erik said.

Jerome closed his eye again and ignored him.

Erik thought about taking a swim in the cove but decided to sit and meditate on the balcony overlooking the sea. Climbing the stairs, he saw Linda sitting on a lounger holding a mug of coffee up to her lips. Dressed in a beach robe with her wet hair jumbled about her head, she turned to look at Erik.

He gave a deep sigh. He was not prepared to see her again.

Their conversation the night before was uncomfortable for him. When Yani told Erik that Linda was in love with him, he scoffed at the idea. Linda? In love with him? She was a woman with a sex drive as high as his, and she often stayed out late sowing her wild oats like him. He knew she liked him, respected him, trusted him…but love?

Thinking on it, he knew she still had the hots for him, but that was because he put that thang on her so long ago and it was only natural that she'd want to have sex with him again if she could. He did enjoy it…for what it was. Just sex. He had no deep affection for her because his heart had already made a connection to Yani.

He should've been stronger, more discerning with where he laid his pipe. Hooking up with Linda had been a flippant mistake on his part. He assumed that she was a confident woman who played the field too. She had fucked him while she had a man and didn't regret it. Allowed Erik to humiliate her boyfriend in another country. He had no clue that her wanting to sleep with him on different occasions was her way of showing love for him. He thought it was just lust and horniness. Boredom from the other mercs and not having access to other men while they were stuck in various places doing the bidding of Klaue. If Yani hadn't been in the picture, he and Linda would probably be fuck buddies as well as colleagues. But love? Nah.

Perhaps her drinking too much all the time was a way for her to cope with his lack of interest in her. She could be hard to read. Perhaps her overconfidence and need to one-up the other mercs was her way of trying to impress him. Make him notice her more. She acted like Yani was beneath her and made fun of him when he came back from trysts with his woman.

To see her so upset in the kitchen of the middle house, her eyes blazing with anger and jealousy, was a sight to behold. It was a complete crack in her façade.

He knew what Yani said was true when he went to get his overnight bag and he found Linda crying on the balcony, her chest heaving and her eyes shiny with tears. He had never seen that woman emotional like that before. Didn't even know her powerful aura could even shed tears. She held her own with the deadly male company, her brilliant mind a joy for him to tangle with during their free time together. Nothing about her was ever soft with him and so he treated her like one of the guys at all times. To see her weeping because of Yani threw him.

"I wish you looked at me the way you look at her."

That's what she said when he tried to slip away with Yani.

He took the plunge and sat next to her.

"I tried to play it cool with you, Killmonger. I thought that's what you liked about me. I thought…I thought we had so much in common. I thought you would see me as something more…"

He let her talk. Tried to be a good listener.

"I didn't know," he finally said.

"You know how to read people so well, but you couldn't see how I felt about you?"

"We work for Klaue. He takes so much energy to keep up with. Maybe I just didn't want to see that. Or even deal with that. I don't feel that way about you. I'm not looking for that right now."

"I'm just one of the guys…"

"Yeah."

"I tried to play it that way for a long time. But those nights together in South Africa…before the raid…shit. As wild as it sounds, those were some of the best nights of my life. Talking under the stars all night. Arguing about shit in front of the fireplace and drinking so much together. Laughing so hard with you. Watching bad movies together. I thought of us as friends and then I just…wanted more. I should've told you then, but I thought we'd have time here to relive that magic like we had in South Africa. But once I got here, I realized that you wouldn't be with me like that. And then when Neal said you were fucking her…"

She wept and Erik could only sit and listen to her. No words of comfort came to him except sincere apologies for not loving her.

Staring at her on the lounger in the morning light, her eyes looked better. Less red and less puffy.

"Hey," he said. He sat next to her again.

She sipped from her mug.

"Back early," she whispered.

"A lot to do today before y'all head out."

"Yeah. I'm not sure if the Sweden adventure is a good fit for me."

"You quitting the team?"

"Doesn't seem to be a good idea since our misunderstanding."

Her head bowed down and she stared at her coffee mug.

"I acted a fool last night. None of the guys will take me seriously again. They'll look at us like a soap opera."

"It's a four-unit team now. Limbano and Klaue don't care—"

"But I do."

Her eyes regarded him with deadly seriousness.

"I love you. I can't change that, Killmonger. Yani saw through me like an open book and I was so pissed at her. She apologized for the fact that you didn't love me. Ain't that some shit? Apologized to me. That's fucking rich…"

"You're a big girl, Linda. You can work around feelings—"

"I can't. Not when it comes to you. Best to leave the team. Keep the drama at bay."

Erik felt the itch of panic in his belly. They needed Linda. It was too late to vet a new hacker or even a new team member. Tahir wasn't available. None of the other mercs were trustworthy.

"Yani is just a distraction for me."

"Liar."

"I made a mistake mixing business and pleasure with you. That's on me. I've had other women on this island too. You ain't the only one out there getting it in."

"Don't play me, Killmonger. You love that girl—"

"I love fucking her. Pussy too good to turn down. It's there when I want it. Think I'm gonna pass that up? She was just showing off yesterday. Tryna get a rise outta you because you always dog her out. And you fell for it. I got a million things to deal with that are far more important. Like getting this C.I.A. money. Getting into Wakanda so I can ghost this life."

Erik prayed that his words would get through to her.

Linda gazed out at the water.

"You don't see yourself when you're around her."

"The fuck that mean?"

"You glow—"

"Girl, please—"

"You do. Look like a big ole puppy—"

"Shut up."

She laughed.

"You're not a good liar. So stop trying to convince me otherwise."

"When we get to Sweden, you'll see how ridiculous you sound right now. Good pussy will make any nigga glow. You didn't see me shining with you after I hit it?"

Linda stood up.

"Good luck with Wakanda—"

Erik grabbed her arm and pulled her back down next to him. Klaue would rake him over the coals if this woman left them.

"You never said anything to me, Linda. How am I supposed to know your true feelings when you don't say shit? We gotta keep focused on the job at hand. We need you. Don't fuck up a fortune. You smarter than that."

"It's not easy for me. I'm not this person. But here I am."

"Do the job. Make these coins, Ma."

"I can't—"

"Please."

He pulled her into his chest and let his lips nuzzle her neck. Her body shuddered against him.

"I can't even look at you without wanting to cry. And I hate it. Fucking hate it. I'm better than this."

"I know you are."

She pushed back from him and he pulled her even closer.

"I can't force myself to be where you are. Don't hold that against me. It's not fair. I need you. I need your skills. You'll love being a multi-millionaire more than you love me, I promise."

She laughed into his neck.

"Come with me," he pleaded.

He stressed the word "me". Not "us" or "the team". He had to make it about them. Corral her into his control. She was making it hard. Linda had pride and she was so damn stubborn.

He ran his fingers up and down her back. Her robe loosened up and he stuck his hand inside the material so that his hand touched her side. She was naked underneath and her sighs from his touch danced in his ears.

"Killmonger…don't…."

His hand dipped lower and rubbed her hip.

"Don't be stupid girl. I'm 'bout that work. Always have been."

His fingers rested in the cleft of her thigh and hip, dangerously close to dipping down…

Linda pressed her face into his chest, her breath hot on his shirt.

"Okay," she whispered.

Erik's eyes closed with relief.

"We'll have fun in Sweden like we did in South Africa. Maybe you'll open your mouth and talk to me honestly for a change?"

"Whatever," she said pulling her robe tighter together.

He walked a fine line of manipulation. Gave her enough to draw her in, but not enough to commit to anything with her.

"I'm so embarrassed about everything."

"Who cares? Forget it. It's done. We'll be gone from here and it won't matter."

"My feelings won't change."

"That's all you, Ma. I told you my position. You packed up?"

"Yep. Bags in the S.U.V. Separate flight times and airline carriers confirmed."

"Cool."

He stood up.

"I'ma take a nap. See you at departure?"

"Yeah."

She sank back into the lounger and curled her legs under herself. She looked a whole lot better. Relieved.

Erik strolled into his room and after he locked the door he jumped on his bed and covered his face with a pillow. Fuck. So close to losing her over some bullshit. He texted Yani with his cell.

Will contact you soon when everyone is gone.

###

"Dat's mi fuckin' friend, we is trouble!"

Yani was loud and grabbing onto her friend Lesonne's arm as she screeched out words to a group of women who tried to provoke a fight with Yani's other friend Milah. She spilled a little of her rum drink on her white pants as she swayed against her other girlfriends Aisha and Caypri. From the side of her eye, she saw Erik at the bar stirring his glass of brown liquor as he spoke to the male bartender leaning over to listen to him.

Since she didn't have to drive, Yani decided to drink to her heart's content. She was so ready to hear Kendall perform live. The audience was bigger, the venue was bigger, and his popularity had grown to greater heights since his travels to Florida and New York. He had quit his gardening job with Klaue and moved into an apartment with two other rappers, finally getting his very own bed to sleep in. He no longer rode his motorcycle since he now had a new car to tool around in. Nothing too flashy, a two-year-old red Honda S2000. It was enough to make Kendall feel like he had arrived.

The boisterous women who had the nerve to accost Milah for looking at one of them a little too hard peeped Yani's whole crew, including Twyla who arrived on the scene late with her newest boyfriend. They hesitated to go any further with their backchat. Flouncing away with her girls, Yani tossed her empty drink and headed out to the dance floor and joined her cousin Dulan in swinging hips and throwing up party hands. She kept an eye on the bar as Erik was approached by different women. He was engaging but focused on his liquor and his view of the stage where Kendall would perform.

Yani danced with her friends among a group of men who tried to show off for them. Two were from St. Croix and Yani was stuck with a Trini who wanted to talk her ear off asking questions about Kendall. She eased off the floor and stood to the side to watch the action. Tapping her left heel with her arms folded across her chest, she enjoyed the gyrating bodies.

"Booty out here jiggling."

She felt Erik ease behind her, his right hand caressing her waist and pulling her back against him.

"I'm not even dancing, hush."

"It don't take much to make them yams bounce, Ma."

He kissed the side of her face and she reached up and stroked his new locs. She thrust her backside against him and he eased back.

"Nah, you not getting me in trouble right now."

She grabbed his hand and pulled him onto the floor with her and he held his drink above her head with his left hand.

Yani felt up his chest while enjoying the stares of others as Erik let her nails rake up and down his pecs that strained against a white cotton shirt. They both agreed to wear all white and her own form-fitting pants and shirt complemented his outfit. The lights of the club made them glow on the dance floor.

Erik sipped on his drink and watched her bring back old dancehall moves, her butterfly a bit raunchy for the crowd. Her friends swarmed around them making the affair more hyped. The energy in the room was high octane and so ready for good live music. Erik finished his drink, tossed the cup, and moved them deeper into the dance mix.

Her eyes took in Erik's face and the happiness she saw there made her spirit burst. The man could dance his ass off and entwining her fingers with his made her feel possessive of him. When dub mixes came on, she usually left the dance floor, but Erik made her appreciate dancing to the dank sounds, especially when she rubbed up against him and he matched her move for move. Winding on him, he gripped her hips and let the room see how he handled all of her. She noticed a lot of women watching him work her body over with dreamy expressions on their faces. There were a lot of stone faces from the men though.

They touched one another openly as they danced, and several times she threw her arms around his neck and kissed him while they swayed.

"Having fun?" he asked after releasing her lips.

"Mmmhmm."

She shook her hips and he slapped her butt playfully before pulling her close again and lifting her off of her feet to swing her around in another direction.

She couldn't keep her eyes off of him, nor could she stop touching him. His hands rested on her lower back as she gazed up at his face. His eyes darted about taking in the couples on the floor and his dimples flashed whenever she squeezed on his ass. He smelled so good that she constantly nuzzled her face into his neck so that her nose could take in his scent.

"Why you keep licking on me?" he asked.

Her tongue flicked along his neck and he leaned back from her.

"Tickles…" he whispered.

He lowered his mouth to hers and they kissed for the thousandth time that night.

"Hey, Killmonger…"

The woman's breathy voice caught Yani's ear as Erik released his mouth from hers and swiveled his neck to see who was talking to him on the dance floor.

"Still around I see," the woman said.

Yani sized her up.

She was only a few inches taller than Yani, a yellow-brown gyal with cat eyes and wanton lips. The woman danced with her man, but her moves were for Erik. Big titties… way bigger than Yani's…were thrust out for the world to see and her hips were made for men like him. Yani didn't like the way the woman licked her lips at Erik before her eyes fluttered to see what he had on his arm. She recognized Yani but chose to act like she wasn't there.

"Harlee," Erik said.

His tone made Yani's lips scrunch up with annoyance.

He had fucked that woman and it had been good to him.

"Tend to yuh man," Yani said to her with some attitude.

Harlee smiled and Erik pulled Yani closer into him.

"No disrespect, Black Mermaid," Harlee said.

Yani sucked her teeth and Erik slapped her butt.

"Stop being mean," he said.

Harlee moved with her partner further behind some other dancers.

"Her meant disrespect. She didn't have to say one word while I'm here."

"Chill—"

"Waving her titties in yuh face. She letting me know she fucked my man to get mi vex."

"Girl, stop."

"For true, man. But me nuh vex. For real. She rude. Yuh rude! Frog face, bitch!"

Yani felt spittle fly from her lips. Erik only smirked and twirled her around.

"Thought you had taste," she teased.

"She not ugly. Don't tell that lie."

"She not cute."

"You trippin."

"Step your game up. Yuh suck them titties good?"

Dimples. Big pearly white teeth flashed at her.

"Yuh did. That's the only thing cute on her."

Yani was amazed that she could joke about a woman he had sex with, but the way Erik held her let her know it was so long ago and probably a one and done hook up. She just wanted to be petty and he let her.

"You were still being mean to me when I got with her."

She caressed his chest again and he ran his fingers up and down her spine.

The movement on stage let the patrons know it was about to be showtime. Erik clasped Yani's hand and led her back to the bar where the best view was while Yani's friends headed to the left of the stage.

Posted up against the bar counter, Yani leaned into Erik, his hard body supporting her frame. She turned around to hug him a bit and his right hand drifted down to grip her right butt cheek. He rubbed it knowing people were watching, thirsty locals wishing they were in his place and squeezing soft handfuls of the Black mermaid. She tilted her head up and puckered her lips. Erik lowered his head and their lips touched. Yani slipped her tongue in his mouth and felt dizzy tasting cognac. His fingers rested on the cleft of her ass. She tried to keep her tongue in his mouth but his lips traveled up her neck and he nibbled on her earlobe.

"You 'gon take care of Daddy tonight?" he whispered.

"All night," she sighed.

"You 'gon sit that fat pussy on my dick all night?"

Yani's lips quirked and she felt her eyes water. His words were hot in her ear making the nerves tingle from his breath. Erik's hand dropped down and cupped her mound. He didn't care who saw him do it. The tips of his pointer and index finger tapped against the outline of her opening.

"…get you all wet wet. Let Daddy fuck you in your ass?"

"Oomph…Killmonger…"

His fingertips pressed a little too deep into her slit and she felt like she was about to cum in front of everyone. His soft taps along her pussy lips had her wiggling on his hand.

She could feel her clit thumping with his tongue dipping into her ear.

The lights on the stage flashed and the music switched to Kendall's "Fiyahbun". Yani's voice filled the entire club as they heard her sing the chorus. A big grin spread across her lips as she saw Erik giving serious appreciative stank face to the thunderous bass carrying her voice all around everyone. A few patrons stared at her as they sang along with her vocals. Yani twisted around to face the stage as she listened to the new remixed version of the song.

"Baby, you sound wavy as fuck," Erik shouted above the music.

"Queen Mary, ah where you 'gon burn? Queen Mary, ah, where you 'gon burn?"

Yani moved her neck in time to her own voice, impressed with the new version.

"Queens don't vibe, hear me now? With no fuck niggas!"

She felt Erik moving his hips dancing to the song. He gripped her waist and rocked into her as she let her ass cheeks rub against him in time to the music.

"Shit is dope," Erik whispered into her ear.

There was something epic about swaying with her man to her own song. The heat from his mouth on her ear had her turned on all the way. She wanted him to drag her to the car and fuck her in the backseat while listening to her voice in surround sound crooning to him.

The speed of her voice was slowed down in reverb creating a haunting sound as Kendall took to the stage. So much swag. So much confidence. So much command of the stage. Yani felt like his first performance over a year ago where he had an anxiety attack and almost vomited on himself was a fuzzy memory. The young man controlling the stage and audience now was acting like a seasoned professional while her voice backed him.

"Queen Mary…fiyahbun…fiyahbun…fiyahbun…"

Her voice seduced the audience and Yani stood still watching the crowd react to her singing as Kendall rapped a few bars on top of her lyrics. Kendall had asked her to perform live with him, but she wanted this night to be about him.

The last echoes of her voice faded as the live band behind him fired up and played the intro to his latest track. A mash-up of all the sounds they grew up with as children. There was nothing like live musicians feeding into the energy of their vocalist, and Kendall gave them all a taste of his true vocal prowess. He sang the chorus himself and his backup singers, top-shelf beauties who swayed in sync behind him, backed him up smoothly as the funky sounds reached a crescendo.

"Your cousin done come up!" Erik shouted.

"Mmmhmmm, him choice. He ah star now!"

Kendall's set was a glorious triumph and Yani felt so proud of her cousin. She hooted and hollered for him along with everyone else and when he finished, Yani knew for certain he was going to make it big. The charisma and talent and star power were right there in front of everyone.

A new performer took to the stage and Yani clung to Erik's arm as it wrapped around her chest holding her close. The seductive female vocalist put everyone into a sexy state of mind after Kendall's fiery intro and Yani arched her back and thrust her backside against Erik once more.

"Stop teasing'…" he whispered trying to ignore her ass by being still.

The crowd around them was busy holding up cell phones to capture the performers on stage and Yani felt bold bouncing her thickness on him openly.

"Yani—"

His left arm pulled her tighter against him.

Her mouth formed a tight "Oh" expression when his right hand slipped down into her pants, bypassing her panties. She gripped his arm in a panic as his fingers dipped into her slick opening.

"That's what you get for teasing me. I'ma play in this pussy now…"

Yani tried to squirm away from his hold, but he clutched her in a solid embrace, his fingers wiggling against her walls.

"People can see…"

"Think I care?"

Yani's eyes swept to her left. One man around Erik's age was the only person not watching the stage, his horny eyes glued to Erik's fingers turning her out.

Erik's teeth gripped the sensitive tip of her ear. Yani panted, her eyes darting about. Only the stranger to her left was paying attention to their public debauchery.

"A man is watching—"

"Let him."

Her eyes tracked back over to her left and the stranger's lips were pursed, his eyes fully taking in all the pleasure she was receiving. When Erik's fingers flicked her clit, Yani's body jerked back and her mouth flew open again. Her eyes latched onto the stranger's and the illicit connection made her pussy pulse around Erik's fingers. She widened her thighs and Erik went deeper and she moaned much to the stranger's own pleasure at watching her. The man's right hand held a drink, and he let it drop down in front of the clear bulge that poked out in front of his pants. He tried to be sly about it, but Yani could tell he was rubbing himself while watching her get fingered.

Tight circles teased her hard clit and when she felt the uncontrollable release of her orgasm clutching Erik's fingers when he inserted them once more into her gushy slit, the stranger's eyes closed tight.

"Jesus, man…yuh killing me…" she hissed.

Erik pulled his sticky fingers from her pants and grabbed her hand. She straggled behind him as he guided her out of the venue and to Klaue's S.U.V.

Erik opened the back-passenger door of the car and helped her get in. He jumped in after her.

Pulling down his pants and boxers to his ankles, she could see his rock-hard erection waiting for her. She kicked off her heels, pulled off her pants and panties for him and crawled onto his lap.

"Ride this dick."

He held her up by her waist and she lined her wet opening with his tip.

"Fuck yes!" he shouted when she slid down to his balls.

They had the car bouncing with their fucking and Yani couldn't stop squealing when held her still and pounded his dick up into her hard and fast.

"Lemme cum in your pussy—"

"No—"

"Why not…oh shit…pussy wet as fuck…fuck…Yani…I wanna cum in this pussy—"

"Cum in my mouth. Mi wahn see the rest of the show…yuh fill mi pussy up too much…ooh love…right there…I feel it deep…shit…yuh soak my panties up and I'll be a mess all night."

Erik grabbed her throat.

"I'ma bust in this fat pussy—"

Yani pushed on his chest.

"Killmonger…don't—"

"Pussy too good baby…"

He choked her tighter.

"Don't… mi nuh wahn walk around with soggy pants."

Erik burst out laughing and released her throat. She lifted off of his dick while he kept laughing.

"For real, man. Yuh like ah volcano. Cum heavy…then it flows back down."

"You don't like it?"

"I love it… at home."

He kissed her and she stroked his length.

"Too much," she whispered.

His eyes regarded her with humor until her thumb circled around the fat head of his glans.

"Let's go home," he said.

She rolled her eyes.

"Open your mouth."

Yani shifted next to him and put her face down by his tip. She let him tap his dick on her lips before she separated them for him.

He had her slurping on his dick while he cradled her head. She moved to her knees in front of him, head steady bobbing. He hit the back of throat roughly and she released his length to catch her breath and rest her mouth.

"I make too much cum?"

His thumb toyed with her wet lips and Yani nibbled the tips of his fingers before dropping her head back down to his lap.

His eyes burned into hers as she sucked around his frenulum. The tip of her tongue teased his slit. Playing with her nipples through her shirt, Erik closed his eyes.

"You should let me soak them panties…"

She groaned on his dick and he let the back of his head fall on the headrest.

"You know how to take all my cum…lick my balls…"

Her face lowered further and she suckled each nut sack for him.

"Yeah…put those balls all in your mouth…"

She sucked, licked, kissed, and fisted his erection until he lifted her back up and made her ride his dick in reverse. He squeezed her breasts and thrust up into her.

"I just want to hit it a little bit more…fuck this pussy right…get you ready for more later…"

The loud sound of him slapping his body into hers filled the car. She threw her head back and took it, the build-up of a new orgasm tightening the nerves in her clit that was feeling the strong tugs from his pounding. She loved what he was doing to her. She loved the liquor still coursing through her. She loved it so much that it made her mouth reckless.

"You fuck Linda like this?"

He slowed down.

"What…why would you ask…"

Her mind thought of her and Erik on the dance floor together, all the eyes of the other women watching him, watching his tight body rub against her front and back. She liked the longing she saw. All that desire. It was the same look Linda had on her face, and Yani wanted him to remember her pussy that had him begging to cum in it. Linda wanted what she had, and Yani wanted Linda's sex with Killmonger wiped from his mind.

"Answer me."

"Nah."

"Whose pussy yuh wahn cum in?"

His moans thrilled her ears and the hard needy gasps he emitted every few seconds let her know he was desperate to spurt inside of her.

"Yours girl…yours…," he grunted.

She leaned forward and shifted her weight. Erik shouted and slapped her rump.

"Godammit! Bounce on that dick!"

"She nuh give it to yuh like this?"

She slowed down and flexed her walls around him, doing her best to hold his erection as tight as she could.

"Fuck her, Yani…stop talking 'bout—"

"This be yuh pussy forever, hear me? No one love mi like yuh do, man. No one…"

"Yani…"

Erik stroked the back of her neck. She turned around to bounce on him face to face. Her wrists draped around the back of his neck.

"Love me always, Killmonger?"

"Yes."

Wet kisses joined them together even more and she leaned her face against his as he held her tight giving her everything he could in the backseat of the vehicle.

"I'ma cum…lemme cum in you, baby."

Yani sat still and just let her pussy muscles work Erik's thickness.

"I told you I wahn see the show."

"You betta lift up then cuz my balls are tight and I'ma—"

"Hold it—"

"Girl…the fuck…I can't just—"

"I wahn feel your dick all thick and juicy in this pussy—"

"Yani…I'm fuckin' serious…you betta—"

"Big dick…all in your fat pussy—"

Erik's eyes rolled back and he lifted Yani up from his dick. Her labia rested on his length as a hot lava flow of cum shot all over his chest and dripped down to her mound drenching them both.

Erik fell back against the seat gasping and stared down at the semen overflow. He touched his shirt.

"Damn, I messed up my shirt," he said.

Yani glanced down at his lap and lifted up. She felt his semen pooling under her ass. She gave a big sigh and stared back at him.

"Hey, I didn't cum inside you, so don't blame me for what happens outside your pussy."

The smirk on his face made her giggle and slap his chest.

"Guess we're going home after all," he said reaching for his pants.

###

They picked up Sydette from her parents.

Since they had left the club so early, there was no point waiting until morning to get her. Yani held her sleeping daughter in her arms as Erik drove them to the compound. She took a deep breath when they walked into Klaue's main house.

"You alright?" he asked.

She nodded.

They were back in their home again.

It was Klaue's property, but only the three of them made the house a real home.

Erik showered first and while he dressed in clean loungers, Sydette woke up and walked out of her room looking for Yani. Erik watched her while Yani showered, and instead of the nasty sex he thought he would have with Yani again, the three of them piled onto the bed together.

Sydette slept between them and Erik just stared at Yani's face as they watched one another. It felt good to have them both back with him.

He had food prepared for their last two days together. The next day would be a cove day and swimming with sunbathing. The following day had even more chill around the house time until he had to fly out. He planned a surprise birthday party for the three of them. He would miss both their birthdays again, so he wanted to have a celebration to end his time there.

Yani's eyes watched him so intensely that he reached out and stroked her cheek. She didn't want to sleep. So afraid he would suddenly disappear probably. They held hands on the bed until Sydette half woke up and crawled onto his chest, her head resting under his neck. Yani tried to pull her back between them but Sweet Pea whined until Erik made Yani leave her alone. Yani stroked her daughter's shoulder until she dozed off herself.

He listened to both of his girls' breathing and tried to stay awake for a long time so he could remember that sound.

He woke up in the middle of the night with Sydette shaking his face.

"I have tuh go bathroom, Baba," she said.

He helped her down from the bed and walked her into her room's bathroom where her potty seat was. The bright lights in the room woke him up fully as he waited for Sydette to finish.

"Make sure you wipe yourself."

She reached for the toilet paper next to the adult toilet and he had to keep himself from chuckling when she did her best to clean herself.

"Throw it in the big toilet," he said.

He helped her wash her hands after flushing the toilet.

"I wahn juice."

He walked with Sydette into the kitchen and found an unopened bottle of apple juice waiting. He poured a little inside a plastic cup and handed it to her.

"More, please," she said holding the cup up to him.

"It'll make you pee again."

"No—"

"Yes, it will."

"I hold it."

"No don't do that. Just a little bit."

He poured just enough for her to get three good sips.

"Thank you," she said handing him the cup.

"You hungry?"

"No."

His eyes took in her small form. He felt a small lump in his throat as he thought about the exact moment he first saw her on his bed fast asleep. No teeth. Tiny curls plastered to her scalp. Chubby belly making her shirt ride up. She could only babble and point back then, but now…

"We all good now?" he said swallowing hard.

Sydette nodded.

He wanted the best for her. If Yani ever married or formed a new relationship with someone, Erik wanted this little girl to know she was loved and would never want for anything. He didn't want Sydette to forget him, but she was so young. Erik tried to think of the many people from his past that his own parents knew and sometimes there were blanks when he tried to go back to when he was two.

Two.

Damn.

Sydette was just nine months when he first stepped on the island. She would be two so soon.

Her face stared up at him, probably wondering why they were still standing in the kitchen.

"Back to bed, Sweet Pea."

Erik guided her to the master bedroom. She fell back to sleep quickly against Yani's arm and Erik got up to go stand out on the bedroom balcony. The roar of the surf sounded loud and he stood there until dawn broke. The hours were winding down too fast for him.

When sunlight struck the room, he turned to see his love wide awake and watching him. Sydette was still asleep. Yani held out her hand to him and he walked back inside. Spooning around her he gave her kisses for over an hour until they both slipped away into the other bedroom to make love. He held her legs with his arms as he balanced her on the edge of the bed. Plunging into her, the only sound they released were soft sighs and the wet suction of her walls gripping and releasing him. She slathered his morning wood with so much frothy slickness that he had to bite his own lips to keep from yelling and waking Sydette. He didn't spill into Yani until they were under the covers spooned together once more, his hips rocking into her backside as he fondled her breasts. He bit her neck during his release and the new mark was deep enough to stay for a few days. A harsh shout escaped Yani's lips when he sank deeper to drown her with all of his seed.

A loud "Fuck!" jumped from his mouth and he pushed his face into her shoulder to laugh. He could never be totally quiet with her. It was impossible.

Sydette came looking for them and luckily, they were under the covers and already finished when she found them huddled together.

"Waffles?" Sydette asked.

"I guess I'm making waffles for breakfast," he said.

###

He had gumbo simmering on the stove early in a large crockpot and made them cranberry chicken sandwiches and salads for their time spent on the beach at the cove. Yani was relaxed on a beach chair and deep into a new medical journal on global pandemics while Erik built sandcastles with Sydette and dipped in and out of the water when the mood struck him.

They ate at their leisure until the sun was high overhead.

"I'm so full," Yani said rubbing her belly, "I won't have room for gumbo."

Sydette was tipped over on a blanket fast asleep, her fingers still clutching a pink plastic shovel.

"Here, put this over her."

Yani unwrapped a rayon beach cover she wore over her waist and Erik draped it over Sydette to keep her skin from burning.

"I should move her to the shade—"

"She's fine. It's not too hot right now. Give yourself a break."

Yani stood up and stretched. Her eyes surveyed the water and Erik watched her take off her blue bikini and wade in. She dove under a lazy wave and floated on her back. Her deep brown body drifted away from shore. He felt that automatic pull to go to her. Eyes checking for Sydette, Erik stood from the blanket they shared and followed Yani out into the water. He circled her and she tread in place.

"Sneaky face," she said.

He splashed water on her and she splashed back.

He ducked under and grabbed her legs pulling her down.

Rising back to the surface together, Yani wiped droplets from her face. They moved closer to shore until he could feel sand under his feet. The aura around her face had him entranced. Without make-up she was a natural beauty, her youth so apparent to him. A decade older he wondered how he would've been with her had he been in his twenties again. That time in his life was wild. Certain women from his past came to his mind and he was so glad that this woman swimming before him came at a time when he could really appreciate her. He broke a lot of hearts, but he could always say that he was honest with the women he hurt. So many tried to scoop him up. Lock him down. Domesticate him. He was a dog. A good dog. But still a dog. He may have run all through Yani and felt no guilt when he stepped. That's just how it was. His Uncle Bakari told him he had his father's nature. His Aunt Serah concurred whole-heartedly.

Maturity brought reflection. Wisdom.

He was old enough finally to have someone like Yani for the short time he did. And it was worth it. She made him remember his heart again. Made him feel once more. He was losing that side of himself through anxiety. Depression. Killing. All the anger he held deep inside.

"I like it when you smile at me," he said.

"I always smile at you."

"Not that first time I came here. You yelled at me."

"This is all my territory. Can't have some strange man out here."

He imitated her voice in a teasing high-pitched whine.

"Hey! You out there! What are you doin' here?"

Yani splashed water on him.

"I didn't say it like that!"

"Yes, you did! Gave me stank face and everything! Hand on your hip. Sucking your teeth. Pointing your finger at me—"

"Yuh lie, man!"

Her soft laughter warmed his spirit.

His Black mermaid.

Yemanja.

"The second time I saw you…you were naked and the water fell from you like… jewels. I walked away from you…"

Yani wiped seawater from his cheeks. He kissed her hand.

"My father…my Baba…he said the first time he saw my mother he knew she was his life…"

He lifted her up and she wrapped her legs around his waist. He held her and floated for them.

"Thank you," he said.

"For what?

Erik looked away from her bright eyes.

"This chance…"

A wave pushed them and Yani let go of him. They tumbled closer to shore. Water splashed in her eyes and she turned away. Wrapping his arms around her waist, Erik kissed the back of her neck. Tracing his fingers down her shoulders, he cupped her breasts and circled her tips with his index fingers. Yani turned suddenly and jumped on him, knocking him back into the water. He felt the drag of the tide sucking sand back under his feet and he reached out for her. Lifting her high in the air, he tossed her out toward the sea and the big splash blew back on his face.

"Mama! I wahn play!"

Erik saw Sydette bouncing on her feet, the water licking her toes at the shore.

"Come out here, Sweet Pea," he said.

"Cold!"

"It's not that cold," Yani yelled.

Sydette hopped on one foot and then the other. She was so cute in her little blue bikini.

"Come get me!"

"Swim out here," Yani called.

Sydette hopped up and down.

"Baba! Get me!"

Yani grabbed his arm when she saw Erik moving toward her.

"Let her swim," Yani cajoled.

"Baba…"

Erik was torn. Sydette's hands were spread out toward him. They heard the whine in her voice and watched her stomp her feet with annoyance.

"Baby girl, swim to us. I'll meet you halfway, okay?"

Erik waved her toward him.

Sydette took a tentative step forward and tested the water again with her right foot.

"Cold…"

"Be a big girl, Sweet Pea. Show me you can do it."

It was obvious to her that no one was coming, so Sydette ran really fast toward them.

"Ow…ow…ow!" she huffed out as if the cool water was really hurting her.

A small wave pushed her back and she went under only to pop back up dog-paddling toward them. Erik stepped toward her, keeping his promise and moving halfway to her. Her body was buoyed up by a new wave and he reached out his right hand.

"A little further, Sweet Pea," he encouraged.

The closer she got, the more determined her face was until she reached out to grab his hand.

"There ya go! Big girl!"

Erik held her against his chest as she wiped her face.

"I did it, Mama!"

"Yeah yuh did!"

Yani kissed her forehead and Sydette jumped from Erik's arms to hers.

They played in the water together until rain fell upon them. Sydette looked up toward the sky and stuck out her tongue to taste the rainwater.

"Well, at least we were able to get a few hours down here," Yani said as she gathered up her bikini.

They packed up their lunch basket and towels. Erik carried their beach chairs and once more found himself trailing Yani and Sydette. Yani bent down to adjust the bikini top that Sydette wore that matched her own.

"Queen Mary what yuh bun…" Sydette sang.

Yani glanced back at Erik with a big grin on her face.

"Who taught you that, Sweet Pea?" Erik asked.

"Auntie Twyla."

"No bad words I hope," Yani said to him.

Taking shelter from the rain in the main house, Erik made tea while Yani cleaned up Sydette.

"Are you yawning?" Erik asked when Yani padded into the living room wearing an orange baby doll dress.

"Water made us sleepy. I'm going to lay down with her. Want to come?"

"Y'all rest. I'm gonna chill a minute. Check on this gumbo. Take a nap with the baby. I'll wake you up later. Okay?"

"Not too late," she said.

Yani kissed his nose with a loud smooch and sashayed back to the master bedroom.

Erik checked their food and debated about making cornbread. He baked a small cake for their birthday celebration and let it cool on the island counter.

His personal cell rang and he saw Marisol's avatar. Padding back into the living room, he closed the hallway door that led to the bedrooms. He accepted Marisol's call on the viewscreen and lowered the volume.

"Yo, what it do cuz?"

Marisol's eyes didn't look playful like they normally did. In fact, they looked tense.

"JaJa."

The Portuguese accent on his family nickname let him know no English was going to be used.

"What is it?"

"Change your mind," she said.

Marisol's face loomed large on the screen. She was in her apartment alone.

"Don't start—"

"I'm begging you—"

"I'll call you when I get to my next spot—"

"You make me carry this burden. I don't want to do this anymore. I don't want you out there doing that shit anymore."

"Lower your voice."

"Don't tell me to lower my voice, JaJa."

She burst into tears and Erik stood up from the couch and moved in front of the viewscreen.

"Marisol—"

"Grandpa Dante told me that you are planning visits to everyone soon. That some kind of Tour of Duty?"

"I visited you and Aunt Serah back in December—"

"He said everyone, JaJa. Like a farewell tour. You're going there now, aren't you?"

"I'll talk to you later—"

"Don't you hang up on me!"

Her shriek was more explosive with her face so large in front of him.

"Killmonger…"

Yani stood in the open hallway door. Her eyes were wide staring up at Marisol's crying face.

"Go back to bed, baby. I'll get you in a few minutes. I need some privacy right now—"

"You're Yani, right?"

Marisol's English was good, but when she was stressed or excited, her accent came out thick.

"Yes."

Yani stepped further into the room.

Marisol's eyes gazed at Yani with compassion.

"Yani, I said go back into the bedroom—"

The rumble in his voice made Marisol's eyes focus hard on Yani.

"Yani, talk to him. Convince him to stay there…with you. Please! He's about to —"

Erik shut down the viewscreen.

He kept his back to Yani.

"Killmonger. What was she talking about? Who was that?"

"My cousin. She is upset with me because…"

The words wouldn't come the way he wanted.

"Finish. Why is she so angry? Scared?"

He heard the fear in her voice now too.

"We've had a disagreement for the last six months and it makes her upset to talk about it. It's personal Yani. Nothing to do with you."

"She knows my name. Looked at me like she knows me well—"

"I was with her and my Aunt. Before Sydette was sick. I told her about you. Us. Just forget it!"

"Why are you so angry right now?"

"I'm not angry Yani. Just irritated. That's all. You know family shit gets people agitated. Give me some space right now and I'll come in the room in a minute—"

Her arms went around his waist.

"She's scared for you. She was crying over you. Yuh going off to do something bad. Like before…"

She touched his keloids. He rested his hands on top of hers.

"Don't go," she whispered into his back.

It was the thing he didn't need to hear. The thing he dreaded coming from her. It was bad enough to see Marisol crying over him. He didn't need Yani falling apart too. Not now.

Twisting around in her arms he held her against his chest.

"Let's go lay down."

She shook her head furiously.

"C'mon."

He eased her backward and she went along with him.

###

"Happy birthday, baby."

Yani couldn't help but grin ear to ear when she saw Erik walk into the dining room with a blue and white frosted cake. Three light blue candles flickered on top. Sydette sat on Yani's lap and clapped her hands when she saw the birthday treat. He placed the cake in front of them on the table.

"Make a wish," he said.

Yani's eyes held his gentle gaze and she looked away before she said something to make herself start crying again. She closed her eyes and made a bargain instead. Something she would keep to herself.

When her eyes went back to his, he was watching Sydette touch a tiny corner of icing and taste the sweetness.

"Happy birthday to you…" he sang, and Sydette joined him.

"Blow?" her daughter said looking at Erik with excited eyes.

"Go ahead," he said.

Yani blew the candles out with her and Erik clapped his hands.

He didn't bother to bring out plates, just three forks. They dug into the cake and watched Sydette smear frosting on her cheeks trying to eat a forkful that was bigger than her mouth. Chocolate was their favorite and the small cake was gone in a matter of minutes.

"Dang, I forgot the ice cream," he said jumping up and running back into the kitchen. He returned with small bowls of vanilla ice cream and they ate that quietly together.

They watched a little television, Animal Planet, and Sydette sat wide-eyed watching giraffes run wild in a pack until she yawned and sprawled out on Yani's lap. An hour later Erik lifted her daughter from her lap and carried her into her room.

Yani stretched, took a moment to use the restroom, then waited for Erik to return. She was still rattled from Marisol's call. Couldn't get that woman's face out of her mind.

Erik sprawled out on her lap in Sydette's place and she stroked his hair. His eyes eased shut and his body relaxed on her. His bare chest enticed her to touch it and his warmth was nice to feel.

"Where are you going, Killmonger?"

He ignored her at first, turned his head toward her stomach and tried to pretend he didn't hear her.

"I have the right to know this time. Yuh never come back…I have the right to know…"

"Let us have this last night in peace, Yani. Please."

"You gave us so much. I don't want to spend the rest of my life…"

She felt his body tense.

"I don't want to start a fight or upset you—"

"Then leave it be."

"I want to…for you…but…"

He rolled over and looked up at her face.

"Don't make me hurt more than I already do. Don't hurt yourself more by asking. You're right about me. I'm a killer. That bad man. I just want to be a good man for these last few hours. Be a good man for you…"

He stroked her cheek and she held his hand against her chest.

"You can be a good man for always, love…please…"

He turned away from her and watched the tv.

"I'm sorry…I'm sorry…"

She touched his temple and smoothed back a few of his locs. His eyes shut tight and he reached back to touch her cheek.

"I'm the one that's sorry, Yani. I can't give you what you want. There ain't no promises I can give that can make you feel good or make you think we have a future. I have nothing—"

"You have me."

"I have you," he whispered.

She bent down and rested her plump lips on his fuller ones and let the skin there lightly touch before she opened her mouth to let her tongue taste his.

He fondled her nipples through her dress as they kissed.

"Take this off," he said tugging on her dress.

She did what he asked and he rested back on the wide couch.

"Sit on my face."

Always direct. Demanding.

She crawled above him and sat her vulva on his lips.

The heat from his mouth had her sighing before he even licked up and down her folds. She felt her labia plumping up fully, and when the tip of his tongue flicked her clit, she was already dripping onto his lips.

He flattened his tongue and Yani wiggled her waist to get the full lavish flourishes of his wet mouth. Leaning forward, Yani exhaled hard into the couch. He ate her pussy like it was a fine art to be mastered. His hands reached up and held her ass cheeks as he plunged his tongue into her opening. Hot puffs of breath from his mouth excited her more as deep groans had him stop every few seconds to gather himself. She lifted up and gazed down at his face as she writhed above him. She felt his hands release her ass as he pulled down his loose sweatpants and freed his erection. His right hand gripped his length and tugged hard.

She dropped her ass onto his face and he moaned into her pussy.

"Shit…Yani…"

His tongue traced patterns into her folds and her keening above him spurned the movement of his hand jerking off his dick. That wide tongue of his, interchanged with his big lips rubbing all over her labia, made her cry out his name. She pressed her pussy hard on his mouth.

"I'm cumming!" she yelled.

Erik groaned so loud and his body went stiff under her.

When she looked behind her, she watched him ejaculate all over his hand.

"Fuck! I want to cum in your ass Yani."

She crawled off of his face and sauntered into the master bedroom. When she returned to him on the couch, she handed him a bottle of lube and some tissue to wipe up his semen.

Lying next to him, she allowed his hands to roam all over her body before he squeezed a generous amount of lube onto his fingers. He kissed her with slow deliberation as his fingers took their time inserting into her anus, massaging her there. He slickened up his new erection with even more lubrication. Yani leaned forward while gripping the couch cushion and lifted up her leg a bit so he could get his tip pressed into her anal opening. She held her breath and relaxed with a deep exhale as he inserted three inches into her.

"You okay?" he asked.

Rubbing her waist, he waited for her consent before he pressed in further. She could only handle about four inches at that moment and he eased back out to use more lubricant. When she was ready, he pushed back in until she was comfortable with more from him.

He gave short thrusts that she liked and inserted his fingers into her pussy. Stroked from both openings, the tightness pulling her close to the edge of another explosive release, Yani endured the nasty words spilling from his mouth and into her ear as he fucked her good and long.

"…just letting me fuck you in your ass like this…"

"…yes…"

"…nasty…I'ma put cum in you like this…"

"…please…"

"…'gon nut all up in you like this…deep in this ass…fuck girl…letting me do this shit…"

She chewed on the sensitive skin of her lips.

"Who else you fuck like this?"

"Just you…and Chez…"

"Goddamn, I'm in there deep!"

His head fell forward onto her shoulder and she knew he was done whenever he couldn't speak anymore. His fingers had her pussy sticky. His dick had her anus stretched with pleasure. Slow. Deep. Gentle. Just how she liked it with him and only him. "I feel your balls, Killmonger…"

"All in this ass…tight…ah fuckkk—"

His orgasm rendered him speechless and he jerked against her as he spurt hot jizz.

"…nasty bitch…cumming in your fat ass…"

Yani felt tears of sexual release drip from her lids as her pussy spasmed around his fingers. When he removed his slick digits from her, he held her tight and kissed the back of her neck and shoulders. They were both covered in sweat.

"You can bring a nigga to his knees, swear to God."

Yani grinned and held onto him as he brushed his lips over her clavicle. She felt his penis soften and he pulled out from her.

They watched tv a bit longer until Erik removed himself from her and took a long shower. She took one after him and when she finished, all he wanted to do was lay in bed with her for the rest of the night. She asked him no more questions about his destination.

She focused on the now.

###

"What are you two doing?"

Erik sat still on the floor with his back against the vanity mirror drawer. Sweet Pea stood in front of him with her left hand on his forehead and her right hand smearing bronze lipstick on his lips. Yani clutched her stomach and laughed hard when she saw his entire face when Sydette stepped back from her handiwork.

Bronzer, cinnamon eyeshadow, false eyelashes, and liquid foundation rounded out Erik's features.

"Makin Baba pretty Mama, see?"

Sydette returned to her work tracing the lipstick outside the lines of his mouth.

"How I look?" he asked.

"A hot mess," Yani said.

Erik stood up and looked in the mirror. Sydette crawled onto the vanity chair and patted his arm.

"I have tuh finish your lips. Put more on…"

She held up the lipstick and he bent down so she could add a little more.

"There," Sydette said.

"All done?" he asked.

She nodded.

"Clown face—"

"Hush, baby girl worked hard to perfect this look. You just jealous cuz you can't get your face like this."

"Tuh."

Erik ran his fingers through his hair to fluff out his locs.

"I look good, don't know what you hatin' on. Jealous."

He walked into the living room and grabbed his sandals by the door.

"Please tell me you not wearing that face—"

"We're going for a walk. Join us if you want."

Sydette still held the lipstick in her hand and rolled it along her mouth. Yani took it from her.

"Fifty-dollar lipstick…for playtime," Yani said.

"You can afford it. Let's go Sweet Pea."

"We pretty, Mama."

"I see."

Sydette held Erik's hand and they walked around the compound.

They visited Jerome and watched him chase off another iguana from the pool. Moving through Klaue's prized flowers, they observed butterflies resting easy and caught a gentle breeze on their faces as they walked down to the cove.

Yani trailed behind them, still laughing at his overly made face, and Erik just acted like it was normal to have a face beat to the two-year-old Gods of cosmetics. He picked up seashells with Sydette and dipped his toes in the water with her. She chased him when they returned to the house for lunch.

"You are really going to keep that look?"

Yani served them leftover gumbo and cornbread. She kept shaking her head each time she looked at him.

"Hater," he teased.

They napped together on the couch until it started raining again, the soft patter of water striking the roof. They played with Sydette's toys until Yani couldn't take it anymore and made Erik clean off his face. He could hear Yani's snarky laughter while he did it.

Yani cooked their last dinner together, made him all the island foods he loved, and Erik ate until he was stuffed.

As the sun made the journey down from the sky, Erik grew somber.

They put Sydette to bed early and Erik read her a book and stayed with her until the little girl fell asleep.

"Here."

Yani handed him a glass of white wine and they sat outside on the lounger to watch the stars pop out across the dark velvet sky.

Yani crawled onto his lap and he held her close, nuzzling his nose into her neck. A dragonfly drone flew past the balcony, its movement a little off-kilter. The battery was probably running down.

Yani wiggled on his lap, hungry for him once more, and he stripped out of his loungers for her and gave her the dick she craved. In his favorite spot. In his favorite position with her.

"Fuck, I don't want nobody else in this pussy…." he chuffed into her neck.

Lifting her up, Erik stood with her legs slung over his biceps. His eyes watched the water far down below as he thrust. The mewling from her throat had him on edge and he locked his legs in position to hold her up while his length pumped up into her. He needed to work his back into it and carried her on his dick back into the house and into their bedroom.

Her legs spread wide and her toes pointing toward the wall, Erik pressed his muscular thighs into her thick ones as they both watched his dick plunge in and out of her gripping folds.

"I'ma be in this pussy all night. You know that, right?"

She nodded vigorously, her lips pressed tight as they heard the sloppy noise coming from their engorged lower parts.

"You want all of Daddy's cum now, huh girl?"

"Hmmmph…"

"Want me to fuck you in your ass again?"

Her head fell back onto the pillow with her mouth dropping open and when his dick slid out, he saw more sticky wetness spilling from her slit. He sank back in again hitting the side of her walls. The bed was bouncing with his thrusts. Yani's eyes went back to watch their joining.

"Oh shit…Yani…ah fuck girl…I love you…"

"Erik…"

"Say my name again."

"Erik."

He groaned as he slammed into her hard to punctuate the pleasure he received hearing his real name drip from her lips like honey.

"Erik…love…you feel so good. Making my pussy feel so good…God!"

"I see you squirtin' baby. I see it!"

Yani's legs shook even as Erik pressed down on her thighs to keep them flat on the bed.

"You tryna make me nut right now? Huh?"

He dug in her deeper and she took it like he knew she could.

Forcing her onto her hands and knees, he made her face the wall mirror so he could enjoy hitting it from the back and watching her face while he did it.

"All night, baby," he whispered.

All night indeed.

Every position.

Every nasty word he could think of in six languages.

Yani was panting, screaming into the sheets, squirting and cumming from every angle he could twist her into. Front. Back. Side. Diagonal. He held off from ejaculating, wanting to marinate in her juices for as long as he could, trying to savor and remember every moment of that night with her in their bed.

"Ah…baby…'bout to make a big mess…"

"Please!"

She held her breasts, her fingers circling her areolas.

"Wish I could suck milk out them titties again."

His head dropped forward and his right hand clutched her left breast and held it.

"These big titties…"

"Cum in my pussy, Erik."

His eyes narrowed looking down at her face.

"Want me to cum in your pussy, baby?"

"Yes."

He moved slow, so slow that her legs wrapped around his waist to get more friction from him.

"Tell me you love me again," he begged.

Yani clutched onto his back, her harsh pants tingling his ears. He knew that look and reaction from her. She was at the tip of her orgasm. A large one.

Her big eyes looked up at him as she clung to him, the look on her face taking him back to the first time they ever made love.

"Erik!"

"Yes, baby. I'm here."

"Erik…God…!"

Her voice hitched and Erik froze with her as her vaginal walls quivered against his length.

He couldn't breathe.

Tears slipped down her face.

"I love you, Erik. I want you here with me forever—"

Her head fell back as her pussy spasmed tight.

"Erik! Erik!"

"I'm cumming with you! Goddamit I'm cumming so fucking hard!"

There was no shame in his yelling out loud. Every hard spurt into her pussy made him yell out her name and how much he loved her. She only clung to his body as all of her softness pressed into the hardness of his body. When he felt the last of his semen leaving him, he bit into her shoulder and squeezed her tight. His toes cramped up and didn't want to let her go.

Their bodies cooled with the hot sweat evaporating from their skin.

Pulling her on top of him, Erik cradled Yani in his arms until she needed to go pee. He listened to her take a quick shower before she returned to his embrace.

"All night, remember?" she whispered to him.

"I remember. But a quick respite."

He shifted down until his head was on her stomach.

Yani whispered how much she loved and needed him until he fell asleep cradled in her arms.

###

Sydette's crying woke him up.

"She's probably having a bad dream," Yani said.

Erik shifted and Yani pushed him back on the bed.

"I'll take care of her. I get back and yuh give me some more."

Her eyes twinkled.

Jumping off the bed, she pulled on her panties and threw on one of his t-shirts.

"Big nipples poking through," he said grabbing his dick.

She kissed his lips and bounded out of the room.

It was late. If Sydette was up, she'd want to get into bed with them unless Yani could get her back to sleep fast.

He rubbed his belly then scratched his balls waiting for her.

His mind wandered to trivial things until he noticed things were too quiet.

"Yani. Everything okay?"

His hand swiped the security cam feed and he immediately sat upright. There was nothing there, which was impossible because he should see an image of Yani and Sydette…

Erik slid his hand to his bedstand drawer and pulled out his Glock. He slipped his loungers on and crept to the door.

The hallway was empty.

He checked Sydette's room. It was empty. He checked the hall bathroom and Klaue's bedroom on the far end of the house.

Easing toward the living room, Erik noticed a light pop on. He stepped into that light and saw Huntsman sitting on the couch with Sydette on his lap, his own Glock pressed into her little chest, his other free hand covering her mouth. Across from him standing near Klaue's wall of African masks was Shipley strong-arming Yani with his weapon pressed into her temple. His left hand fondled Yani's nipple.

Neal stepped into view with an AK-15 pointed at Erik.

"Now see, you shouldn't have been here, Killmonger," Huntsman said.

"Let them go," Erik hissed, keeping his eyes on Sweet Pea who had big shiny tears in her scared eyes.

"No. We can't do that. It's too bad though. Now they get to die with you."

Chapter 27 Here

###

Tag List:

@fd-writes @soufcakmistress @cherrystainedlipsbaby @tclaybon @thadelightfulone

@allhailqueennel @bartierbakarimobisson @cpwtwot @shookmcgookqueen @yoyolovesbucky

@raysunshine78 @the-illllest @terrablaze514 @l-auteuse @amirra88 @jimizwidow @janelledarling

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@scrumptiouslytenaciouscrusade @bugngiz @stariamrry @honeytoffee @meilintheempressofdreams

@tyees @eye-raq @writerbee-ffs @chocolatedream30

#wet sugar #killmonger #killmonger fanfiction #erik stevens #n'jadaka #klaue #black panther fanfiction #uzumaki rebellion's pantherverse

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artificialqueens · 5 years

Text

Elastic Heart Part 10/10 (Branjie) - Mia Ugly

Heyyyy. So even though this says Part 10/10 there is actually going to be an Epilogue. It is pure fluff and not as long as this chapter but it will be up in the next couple days or so. Pure, endless and sequin-covered gratitude to artificialmeggie who is not only a brilliant writer but also incredibly generous with her time, energy and kindness. Thanks to all the awesome people on the Branjie discord, and everyone who has been commenting/liking this story so far. Come scream at me about Drag Race feelings any time. I am literally interested in nothing else right now.

The gravel path crunches beneath Brock’s runners as he makes his way through the forest. Everything is layers of green on green here, moss growing on ferns growing up the side of leafy oak trees. It’s a bit overwhelming but also Brock is three days without a cigarette so everything is overwhelming at the moment.

He’s back on the West Coast of Canada for a show on the island, killing time before he has to get ready. If he sits still he’s going to end up convincing himself to buy cigarettes, so a hike in the middle of a fucking rainforest seemed like a a good idea at the time.

There are wildflowers pushing through the soil (daisies and violets and bleeding hearts), another long winter behind them. Brock’s been thinking that maybe he’ll go home after Drag Con. Just for a couple days. Maybe he’ll go to Ontario, see his mom and sister. Unplug for a bit before the tour, if his manager will allow it (his manager is still pissed about Brock’s lack of communication around the lip sync with Vanjie. It’s understandable, but Brock is 100% firm on this. He’s not saying anything until he talks to Jose. If that means he never comments on it, fine. If that means he needs to get himself new representation, then - okay.)

There is an incline on the path, and Brock climbs, winding his way through pine trees. He breathes in damp air that would taste better if it was full of nicotine and tar, but - he can’t have everything.

When his phone rings, he’s almost expecting it. It feels inevitable that this call happens now, alone in the silent forest, overrun by moss and flowers.

“This a bad time?” Jose asks, and it’s never a bad time when he gets to hear Jose’s voice, no matter the reason.

“No.” Brock slows his pace, stands at the foot of a maple tree that seems to go on forever. “Hi.”

“Sorry I took my time gettin’ back to you. I had to get my head right, and I been traveling so much -”

“It’s completely fine. I get it.”

“Nah, girl, it ain’t fine. And shit, that was a ride hey? Watching it all go down. Thought I was at Disneyland.”

“That’s scarily accurate.”

“None of those fun rides neither. I’m talking like that rollercoaster in space shit.” He’s half-laughing as he says it, but his tone is brittle. It makes Brock take a couple of deep breaths, steeling himself for whatever happens next. “And that - what you said. You know, at the end –”

Brock waits, waits. Holds on.

“I don’t - know what to do with that.”

Brock stays in the moment, fragile and still, where there are chickadees calling and bleeding heart wildflowers and Jose’s voice on the other line for now, just now.

“Yeah,” he says at last, because moments are lovely only while they last, and they never last long. “No. Of course. I was all messed up then, and I just - it was the show. You know.”

He’s playing it down and he doesn’t know why. He wasn’t in any sort of headspace to be making grand declarations, but the denial tastes bitter in his mouth.

“Huh,” Jose says softly. “Okay.”

“I’m sorry you had to hear it that way. On television, fuck. That must have been – something.”

“It was sure as hell something.” There’s a silence on his end, and then Jose sighs. “I – that call the other night. That was not –”

“It happens,” Brock interrupts quickly because - because the alternative is to say how much he wanted it, how much he needed Jose’s voice on the phone telling him all the ways Brock could touch him, all the ways he wanted him. “You were drinking and - it doesn’t mean anything. It’s fine.”

“Ye-ah.” The word is unsteady, broken in halves. “Course. So. Where are you now?”

“Canada again. You?”

“Berlin! Crazy, right? Taking my ass international.”

“America can’t tie you down.”

“Damn right. I gotta spread my oats around or whatever. That what they say? Spread oats around?”

“I - um.”

“Bitch, don’t laugh! Whatever, I been up for twenty-two hours, I get to say whatever the fuck I want.”

There are birds singing as Brock laughs. In the trees, under his skin. He feels the melody in each beat of his heart.

“At the reunion.” There’s a slight hiccup in Jose’s voice, and Brock breathes into the ground beneath his feet. “I’m sorry for losin’ it at you like that. Everyone’s been – good about what went down. A couple comments but nothin’ serious. I’ve had worse, you know? So – I shouldn’t have come for you then. I was just – feelin’ a lot of ways.”

His voice is like a song that Brock just remembers parts of.

“You didn’t do nothing to me, Brock. You were – we were good. When I see it now, it looks good.”

Good doesn’t do it justice, can’t possibly describe Vanjie’s laugh across the werkroom, the rush of adrenaline on the main stage, the thrill of victory and loss and desire. Good is like a raindrop in the ocean.

“We were good,” Brock says anyway.

“But it wasn’t real life. I keep forgettin’ - like it was a month, right? That’s nothing.”

He’s right, of course, but the words don’t feel truthful. Brock knows that they’re different people, knows that they were together for too short a time to feel things this deeply. But there was something about Drag Race that moved differently, an intensity to every day that made their connection somehow sharper, stronger, the bite of lime after tequila. Brock sometimes feels like he knows Jose better than he knows some of his oldest friends. You don’t go through an experience like that, share all the vulnerability and self-doubt and pride and passion, without it changing you. Without it leaving its mark scored all over your bones.

“It wasn’t real life,” Jose says again.

Brock wants to tell him he’s wrong. He also wants ten cigarettes and Jose’s tongue in his mouth. Want, want, want - it overwhelms him, a desperation he hasn’t felt since he was much younger (living on nicotine and ballet and adrenaline, with a heart that had never been broken. The superior vena cava scar-free, ventricles pumping steadily, never imagining what would come.)

“It got all fucked up. And it’s my fault –”

“No, absolutely fucking not,” Brock cuts him off.

“Well it ain’t yours. It was just –”

“It wasn’t either of us.” There are birds singing. Their voices are all the words Brock wishes he could say. “It was everything. The competition and the job and – the timing. Everything.”

“Yeah. Yeah. Couldn’t get it right.”

“But –” (Fucking say it, say something.) “I would have liked to. Gotten it right.” His heart is pounding in his chest. Is this what being vulnerable feels like? He hates it. “I wish we had.”

“You don’t gotta say those things to me. I can’t –”

“I know.” Brock swallows. “I get it. Yvie told me you were dating someone and I think that’s –“

“Did she? Fucking Yvie, course she did. Dating someone, Jesus. That’s – it’s not like that.”

“I don’t need to hear about it.” Brock will be sick in the middle of the fucking forest if he has to hear about Jose’s new boyfriend.

“I wasn’t going to share no details or anything. Just – nah, I ain’t dating no one. Single dollar bill, right?” Jose gives a sad little laugh. “So – what are you gonna say, girl? About that lip sync? That I got you all dickmatized and made you act a fool?

Brock smiles despite himself. It’s always like this when he talks to Jose, aching affection shot through with threads of pain, like precious metals. “Yes, that’s basically it. Verbatim.”

“What’s that?”

“It’s like – word for word.”

“Huh. Okay, I’ll get ready for it.”

The wind picks up, and leaves are rustling. The whole world smells like rain. “Are you going to say something?” he asks, not sure he’s ready to hear it. “About how it ended? How things are?”

“Yeah. I'ma say that -” Jose hums to himself, thinking it over. “That Brooke Lynn and I worked it out. That we are very good friends.”

(Tibial stress fracture. Labral tear of the hip.)

“Okay.” It’s fine. Really, it was more than he expected. They can be friends. Brock can be a professional about this, he’s been a professional his whole life. “So I’ll see you in a bit for the tour.”

“Yes you will, sis. I’m not there for the first week but I’ll catch you after that.”

“I’m away for the second week, I’ve got some bookings in New York.”

“Oh. Okay. Well, I guess I’ll – see you around. On the big screen, right?” They’re less than two weeks from the finale, the ending of which even Jose doesn’t know. “I’ll be watchin’ it live with my girls in NYC. You doing a show?”

“Maybe.” (Nina’s asked him but Brock hasn’t responded yet.) “Can’t wait to see you win.”

“Girl, you as crazy as you are fine. You think I’m gonna be the first queen in history with no challenge wins to get a crown?”

“You were the first queen to go viral for her exit line.”

“You’re wrong as shit, but I’ll take it.” There’s silence. “Brock, I -”

Brock’s heart stutters like he was punched in the chest. He forgets to breathe for a moment (Jose has that effect on him.)

“I -” Jose starts, and then laughs quietly. “Nothin’. I just like saying your name.”

I like hearing you say it. He doesn’t say it, even though it’s true, even though hearing his name in Jose’s singular voice feels like falling through space, cliff-diving, hanging in the air before hitting the cold water.

“See you around, boo,” Jose says.

“Yeah. See you around.” The pleasantries feel like stones.

Jose hangs up and Brock holds onto the phone for a moment, getting used to the silence once again.

“I miss you so fucking much.” The words are out of his mouth before he can stop himself. He wishes he could breathe them back in, but he can’t, it’s done. So he leaves them there. Leaves them for the forest to find.

He hikes for another hour, and when he reaches the crest of the hill he finds himself in a cluster of cherry blossom trees. The wind is blowing gently, and petals fill the air, falling slow and pink to the mossy ground.

Brock can remember Vanjie scattering handfuls of flower petals on the runway; it was the first night they kissed and he walked away from that moment tasting roses between his teeth.

He bends to pick up a few blossoms from the path, holds them loosely in his hand.

Then he lets them go.

Two days later, his manager sends him a video.

It’s from Jose’s instagram, just posted that night. He’s in a hotel room, eyes slightly unfocused with exhaustion, shirt off. He’s beautiful (and Brock tells himself he’s allowed to think that because it’s objectively, inarguably true, has nothing to do with Brock’s feelings or their past.)

“So I’m here to set the record straight ‘bout me and Brooke Lynn. You know a lot of shit went down in the last few episodes and I just want everyone to know that we’re good now. We good. Brooke Lynn and I are friends, and -” Jose holds the palm of his hand to the corner of his eye, blinking brightly.

He holds his palm there, and he blinks, and he smiles. When he finally drops his hand, his palm is wet.

“It’s good,” Jose says, smile white and eyes shining. “So good. So you know, you don’t got to worry none about me or Brooke. I ain’t mad at her, she ain’t mad at me. What happened, happened. But that’s in the past and now we both gotta live our lives.”

Jose laughs, turns away from the camera for a moment. “I don’t know why I’m all -” he says under his breath, and then turns back. “Okay, that’s it. I don’t know what else I gotta say. Bye.”

Then Jose waves (Brock pushes all his longing into his stomach, like an ulcer. Something painful but isolated, something that will heal in time.) He waits until he’s moved onto to the next show, the next hotel room, before he posts a response.

He hasn’t been drinking and it’s been six days without a cigarette (only six? Jesus, it feels longer.) At first he’s going to do the video as Brooke Lynn because he feels less vulnerable that way, but then he decides it’s cheating.

Brooke Lynn is like armour. She’s like - brick walls.

”Okay,” Brock breathes, ruffling his hair. “Okay, okay. A lot of people are talking about Vanessa and talking about me and everything that went down. And I wanted to say something, officially, and then I’m going to stop talking about it. Because my fuck up isn’t the biggest story on Drag Race this season. It’s not.”

He should have maybe written this down or something. Planned it out. But it’s too late now and he’s not going backwards; he forces himself to keep talking (say something, something.)

“Remember my sickening runway reveal if you’re going to remember anything about me. Or remember Yvie dressed like a fucking jellyfish or Silky as Oprah or the return of Vanessa Vanjie Mateo –“ (covered in red roses, petals sliding between her fingers) “or A’Keria, just - everyday, doing anything while looking that gorgeous. The Top 4 is the Top 4 for a reason. They got there and they deserve to be there. So.”

Brock can do this. He can be honest without completely falling apart, people do it all the time.

“My whole life I worked hard and I – I had goals and I got it done. I wanted to dance ballet so I did. I wanted to be Miss Continental so I was. I wanted to make it on RuPaul’s Drag Race and I got there. I was – it was all very by the numbers. Calculated. And then –“

He has to stop for a moment because it’s harder than he thought it would be. He takes a few unsteady breaths, thinks about cherry blossoms. Pictures his cats.

“You can probably tell from the show that I’m an over-thinker. In my head. I don’t do anything without planning it first, thinking about everything that could go wrong. But there was a moment on that stage with Vanessa when my head wasn’t in charge. I made one decision and – it fucked some things up and maybe I shouldn’t have done it. But it happened. I’ve explained and apologized to Vanjie and uh – I’ll apologize again now: I’m sorry she didn’t get the chance to kick my ass on her own terms. I’m sorry that I took over her story. That’s the worst thing you could ever get from this because that girl – damn, she’s got stories to tell. She is a fucking story, and I’m so, so lucky that I got to be a part of it.”

Brock swallows.

“But – and this isn’t very Canadian of me - now I’m done. I’m done apologizing. I’m not sorry Vanessa made the Top 4. And I’m not sorry I met her on the set of this crazy, amazing competition, and I’m not sorry we went through it together. I’m not sorry I listened to my heart for maybe the first time in my life.”

His throat is so tight that speech is becoming difficult. Fuck it, get it done.

“So I’m not apologizing anymore. It’s a show for you, an important show, a phenomenon, but - it was real for me.”

The words are true, which is absolutely the fucking worst. Whatever Jose says or thinks now, it was real. Saying it out loud is like a weight being lifted.

“This was – real for me,” Brock repeats, a bit staggered by the knowledge. “So. Thanks for watching.”

He posts the video without looking at it. Then he paces a hole in the carpet of his hotel room before grabbing his hoodie and hating himself as he walks to the nearest convenience store.

He’s at the register with the cigarettes in his goddamn hand when he changes his mind (six fucking days, almost a week, that’s got to mean something.) He buys gummy candies instead, and cream soda, and is going to crash hard into a sugar coma but at least his mouth will taste like Vanessa’s as he dies.

That night, he doesn’t dream.

* * *

(Now.)

Brooke Lynn Hytes takes the stage. As she moves toward the audience in a glittery nude body suit, she is fierce and she is fine. She is untouchable. She is slowly dying of internal bleeding but that’s below the surface, where no one can see, so it doesn’t matter.

She’s in Boston for the next two days, Machine tonight, and a different club tomorrow. The reunion episode just aired, and people have been talking to her about it all evening, mostly with concern. No one’s thrown any shade at her or Vanessa, and Brooke hopes that it stays that way (even as she knows that the fans can be cruel and vicious as well as loving and supportive in equal measure. It’ll probably break all kinds of ways before the finale, but that’s the nature of the job.)

“In my head,” Lorde comes through the speakers, “I play a supercut of us.”

Brooke lifts her hands, runs them over her neck.

“All the magic we gave off.

All the love we had and lost.”

The rhythm of the song picks up, and Brooke starts to dance. This is what she does, this is what she was born to do. There are cheers from the crowd, but this time she barely hears them. Her mind is too full of Vanjie, an imperfect memory (neon lights, rose petals, saltwater). Brooke imagines that Vanjie’s there in front of the stage, the only person in the room, watching.

Brooke lets her heart fall, bleeding, from her hands. Then she crushes it under her heels, spinning and twisting, seeing Vanjie’s face every time she closes her eyes.

People are waving tips, and Brooke takes far fewer than she normally would, too caught up in the lyrics of the song (Vanessa is in the sand beside her, smiling sweet and shy.) Brooke thinks about the first time they kissed, the taste of cigarettes in her mouth and stars in her eyes. She thinks about the whole twisted mess of it, Jose’s voice on the phone, the silk of his skin against her tongue.

They had moments, that was what they had. A whole love story’s worth of moments (edited neatly, pieced together for public consumption.)

That will have to be enough.

As the music ends, a wistful fading beat (“In my head I do everything right”) Brooke smiles for the audience, bowing slightly and waving back at the applause.

That’s when she hears - something.

A low, growly shout from the back of the bar, a “yeaaah girl” in a voice that she would recognize anywhere.

Her eyes frantically scan the room but she can’t see anything in the bright lights. She nods dumbly as the host is saying something that she can’t hear. She has to get off stage. She has to go. She has to -

Backstage a couple of other performers try to approach her, but Brooke just rushes past them, (coming off like a total bitch probably but she doesn’t care. That much.) She hurries out into the crowd, where people are pushing close to her, trying to touch her, trying to talk to her. Brooke apologizes to them over and over again, Canadian to the core, but doesn’t let them stop her.

She doesn’t see him. He’s not by the bar - the dance floor is packed, he could be anywhere. She turns helplessly on the spot. She can’t find him. Maybe she heard his voice wrong. Maybe she should - she should -

“You okay, Brooke?” one of the staff asks her, and she nods.

“Was there like -” she begins weakly, not really knowing what to say, “a guy -”

“Um There were a lot of guys,” the staff member says and Brooke turns away from him.

She could have been hearing things. Or - it could have been wishful fucking thinking. Or -

She should call him! That’s what she should do. Maybe she’s losing her mind but if there’s even a chance that he’s around -

She walks quickly back to the dressing room, ignoring anyone who tries to stop her, aware that she’s probably looking frantic and ridiculous. Her hands are shaking, heart beating fast enough to make her feel light-headed.

When she gets her phone out of her jacket pocket, she has a missed call from one minute ago, and two new text messages.

From Silky Ganache of all people.

“Pick up yr damn phone bitch dont make me call 911. this an emergency!!!”

“me and AK47 got sick of lookin at her sad ass face. Vanjs there but bitch is running away go catch her!!!!”

Brooke almost drops her phone. She rushes to the doorway of the dressing room. As she touches the handle, though, she freezes.

Wait.

If Jose wants to leave - it’s his choice. Right? If he’s ‘running away,’ if he’s made his mind up, Brooke’s not the kind of person to chase him down. To beg someone to want her. She’s got walls around her heart and -

- you know what, fuck you, walls, and fuck you heart and fuck this shit FUCK it -

Brooke is out of the dressing room, pushing her way across the dance floor, heading toward the front door. Beneath her ribs, bricks are shifting and falling and smashing onto the pavement. She runs past the bouncer and the clusters of people smoking on the sidewalks, runs into the street (nearly avoids getting hit by a cab) and cranes her head around. Panic is thick as syrup in her veins, everything feels simultaneously slowed down and sped up.

Oh God, what if she’s missed him. What if she’s too late. What if -

At the end of the block, about to cross the street, Brooke sees a slender, gorgeous man walking away. There are streetlights and moonlight on his skin, as if even inanimate forces feel the need to touch him.

“Jose!”

He doesn’t hear her so she runs, platform stilettos sliding on the damp pavement, ignoring the stares she gets from strangers.

He’s on the phone, she can hear him talking softly, “Nah, I told you I’m not goin’ to -“

Brooke keeps running, calls his name again. And - like a bullet to the chest – he turns around.

He stares at her (there is a crease between his eyebrows, the one that makes Brooke forget what her banking passwords are, what money means, or that she’s ever been lonely.)

“Tell Silk that she’s a meddlin’ ho,” Jose says into the phone. “I’m gonna call you later.“

Brooke comes to a halt a few feet in front of him barely avoiding sliding and twisting her ankle. She can’t breathe right, something’s wrong with her chest, with her lungs. They feel heavy and tight, full of rose petals.

“Hey. Hi,” Brook manages between gasps of air. “What are you doing here?"

Jose twists his fingers, tugs at his cuffs. "I was just - you know, around. Had a couple days off, thought maybe I’d - I dunno. Come by.”

He’s wearing a fitted blue shirt underneath a leather jacket - and a fucking tie? A thin black tie that shines like it might also be made of leather. Brooke wants to touch it. Wants to touch him. He’s the most handsome person she’s ever seen in her goddamn life - but he doesn’t look entirely comfortable. Doesn’t look like himself.

“You’re wearing a tie,” Brooke says because she’s a brilliant conversationalist. Dynamite at parties.

“Yeah.” Jose glances down at it. “Silky gave it to me. Feel like I look like a lawyer or somethin’.”

“Silky gave it to you?” The thought of Silky in a tie is about as bizarre as Jose in one.

“Yeah, she said that I should try to look - it don’t matter.” The tie gives Jose something new to mess with. He presses it flat to his chest, scrapes his thumb over the edge. “You were good out there.”

Brooke tries desperately to remember how to speak. She could do it once, she swears to God.

“You should have come backstage.” (God, it’s good to see you, how have you been, why are you here, why were you leaving, why -) “I thought you were booked until the tour?”

“I - canceled a couple shows. It was getting to be - a lot. And I had to -” There is a silver ring on Jose’s thumb and he fidgets with it, spinning it around. "Did Silky call you?"

"Yeah.”

“Girl’s got to start mindin’ her business.”

“I’m glad she called me. Where were you going?”

“You seemed - I didn’t know if you’d want to see me. After that episode.”

“Didn’t know if I’d want to see you,” Brooke repeats, like - like that could be a reality in any dimension. “How could - no. Yes. I want to see you. I was in Orlando. At Southern Nights, when you were - but you looked so - happy, I couldn’t -“

“I looked happy?” Jose fusses with his bangs, then smoothes them out. “That’s some bullshit nonsense. Anyway, Silky told me. Said she sent you packin’. I think she feelin’ some kinda way about it. She pretty much threatened my life until I got on the plane this morning.”

Brooke mentally notes to have an edible arrangement delivered to Silky in the near future. She takes a step closer, gently pushing at the barrier set up between them.

“I saw your video on Instagram.”

Jose blinks at her from underneath long dark lashes, as pretty out of drag as in it. “Saw yours too.”

Cars are moving past them, headlights shining on the slick-black streets. The same headlights catch Jose’s cheekbones, the shine of his lips where he’s been biting them. Brooke fights the urge to dissolve into seafoam like a princess in a fairytale.

“Are you in town for awhile or - just tonight?”

“It’s - I’m figuring it out.” Jose shakes his head, looks away for a moment. He keeps twisting that ring around his thumb. “You know that thing you said. Before the lip sync. About like if we met somewhere else, or at a club or something.”

Brooke stares at him.

“I thought - if you wanted -” Jose won’t look at her. “Maybe we could try that.”

There is something intolerable in Brooke’s chest.

Something that feels unbearably like hope.

“What do you think about it?” Jose asks.

Brooke can’t say a word. All the blood in her body is concentrating on keeping her upright. She can’t be hearing this, there’s got to be some mistake. This sort of thing, this sort of offer, doesn’t happen in real life.

“You gotta tell me what you’re thinkin’, Brooke,” Jose says quietly.

Say something. Say something.

“Yes.”

They stare at each other. Or Brooke stares at Jose while he stares at his hands.

“Yes,” she says again. “I mean, okay. We could try that.”

Jose lifts his eyes at last and they are beautiful (and soft and scared and hungry.) “So like if you met me tonight, at this club or whatever, what’d we do now? What’d you say to me?”

Brooke takes a step forward. Then another. She looms over him in her heels, but she moves slowly, giving him no doubt about what she’s going to do next. When she’s right up in his space, she touches his chin (she did that once in the backstage lounge and it feels like years ago and it feels like yesterday) tilting his head back.

Then she kisses him.

As kisses go, it’s in the Top Three of her life.

(Number Three: Vanessa Vanjie Mateo, night of the “What’s Your Sign” runway, tasting like mint and still glittery. The kiss that started a war, sunk a battleship, peeled away all the layers of Brooke’s dried up onion heart. A mistake and a reckoning and a miracle all at the same time.

Number Two: first kiss with a boy. Whatever, he’s straight and has kids now and they were both too drunk to function. Still. It was a good one.

Number One: remember that blank space at the beginning? Here we are children: Jose on the sidewalk, hands on her face, mouth open. Finally where he’s supposed to be, close enough to touch, lighting Brooke up like birthday candles. There a faint trace of stubble on Jose’s upper lip and she licks it, wants to taste it, wants to touch everything. Her hands slide into Jose’s hair, cradling his head as they kiss. Brooke’s starving, wants everything all at once and the soft little murmuring noises Jose is making against her mouth make Brooke Lynn fucking shine.)

“I’d say,” Brooke breathes, pulling back, “that I’m in love with you, and then I’d ask you to come home with me.”

Jose doesn’t move. Doesn’t say a word for a moment. There’s a little crease of pain between his eyebrows and his lips shine with Brooke’s lipgloss.

Then he smiles.

“Girl, we just met. You move fast.” And then, softer, “Okay. We can try that.”

“My wallet’s in the club,” Brooke says stupidly because her heart is racing and this cannot possibly be real. “I have to - will you wait here? Don’t -”

“I’ll get us a cab.”

“Okay. Don’t go, though, you’ll -”

“Yeah right, you think I’m going anywhere now? Now that I get to take you home? Come on, mama, you know me.”

I do, Brooke thinks, even though - really - she only knows parts of him. But se wants to know the rest. And she’s going to know the rest, she decides, every question that she has, every stupid thought Jose has had in his beautiful weird brain.

She gets changed in the dressing room, back into boy clothes. Fuck you if she’s going to sit next to the sexiest man in the world on a cab ride across Boston while tucked. No thank you, Mary.

When the last makeup wipe hits the trash can, Brock looks up and sees himself in the mirror. Still in desperate need of a shower, grey toque pulled low on his head, but himself. No armour.

He looks happy, and that’s fucking terrifying. His face is doing that thing it does around Vanjie, the thing he’s only seen on television.

Jose is waiting for him when he gets back outside. Brock feels his face pull into that expression, helplessly.

They barely make it to the hotel room (they don’t make it to the bed.)

“Get your fucking shirt off,” Brock gasps against Jose’s neck, the two of them grinding on the floor against each other. How the fuck did they end up on the floor, last thing Brock knew they were pressed against the wall.

The hotel carpet is rough on Brock’s knees, and will probably be rougher on Jose’s back, but he doesn’t seem to mind. He pulls his shirt up over his head, doesn’t bother with the rest of the buttons, and makes a moan of frustration when it means they can’t kiss for a second. He throws it off, pushes it aside. His mouth on Brock’s is wet and sharp, his fingers on the zipper of Brock’s hoodie.

“I want you in me,” he says against Brock’s teeth, “Okay? Been waiting too long for you. I can’t -”

“Jesus Christ.” Brock has his fingers on the buttons of Jose’s pants, pulls them off his hips along with his underwear, pressing biting kisses to his hipbones, his stomach.

“You don’t gotta -” Jose starts and then Brock is sucking his cock, swallowing him down and it’s familiar and unfamiliar and so fucking hot he might die. “Oh my God, yes -

Too soon, Jose is pulling on his hair. “I’m going to come if you - get up here, please -”

Brock pulls off slowly, kisses his way up Jose’s body, feverish and dizzy with all the promise of a night alone together. He licks into Jose’s mouth, and he’s trying to go slow but it’s impossible to take his time when their skin feels this electric, when Brock’s been basically half-hard for him since he was dressed like a sparkly Mountie and trying not to stare at the most beautiful girl in the room.

“My jacket,” Jose waves an elegant hand toward the sofa where he’s thrown it over an arm. “There’s -”

Brock speaks the same language, and he forces himself to his feet so he can grab the leather jacket, rummage in its pockets until he finds what he’s looking for.

“Someone came prepared,” he says, crawling back over to Jose, condoms and lube packet in hand.

“No one’s come at all, ho. If you don’t hurry up about fixing that -”

“Pushy,” Brock mumbles. He slicks his fingers and spreads Jose’s thighs; he can’t stop moving or he’ll start thinking and this will be over too quickly.

“You love - oh.” Jose’s voice shatters and his head drops back at the first touch of Brock’s hand. Brock fingers him slowly, letting the pads of his fingertips drag inside Jose’s body, watching his cock twitch slightly every time Brock hits the right place. He could do this all night. He rests his head on Jose’s thigh, watching for every reaction he makes, every time his chest flutters, ever gasp that breaks from his mouth. Two fingers become three, Brock twisting his wrist until Jose’s legs are spread as far as they can go, one hand covering his face and the other making small, clenching movements on the shitty hotel carpet.

“Oh, fuck you,” Jose bites out, back arching. “I can’t - you gotta - Brock, please -”

“I will.” But it’s too delicious to watch Jose writhe like this, and Brock takes his time, kissing the inside of one knee and then the other before sliding his fingers free. He licks the pre-come off Jose’s stomach and then sits back on his knees, opening the condom and rolling it on (biting his lip to give himself edges, to haul himself back from this cliff.)

“You okay like this?” Brock leans over Jose for a kiss, and Jose immediately wraps his legs around Brock’s waist, pulling him closer.

“Yes, damn it, If you don’t hurry the fuck up I’m going back to that club to find a bitch who -”

His sentence ends in a bitten-off moan, as Brock pushes into him, a slow hot glide that makes Brock slam his eyes shut. It’s too good. Too much. This is the worst possible decision Brock could have made because being inside Jose is better than anything and Brock has an addictive personality. He’s already aching from it - so, so utterly fucked.

“Okay?” he asks with another thrust, and Jose just nods, mouth open and eyes blown black. Brock leans down to kiss him, and then Jose’s nails are scraping down his back, and his hips are rising to meet Brock’s, and everything is speeding up, turning hungry and vicious with wanting.

“Jesus, Jesus,” Brock hisses and he’s had sex before but it wasn’t like this, nothing’s ever been like this. “You’re -”

Jose tightens his legs, drawing him in closer, and making the sexiest sounds Brock’s ever heard in his life.

“Come on baby, get me there,” Jose leans up to whisper in his ear. “Know you can, know you got it -”

Brock pulls back slightly to change angles, pulling one of Jose’s legs up over his shoulder before thrusting back inside. Jose smacks the ground, shouts, swears - it’s a bit like fucking a tornado, or a hurricane.

“Come on,” Jose begs, “You have to just - there, baby, there -”

Brock tries to repeat the movement that’s making Jose throw his head back like that, and he’s close, he’s fucking close, and then they’re grabbing at each other and Jose is moaning and coming between their bodies (“Yeah, fuck my - oh Jesus Brock I can’t - oh GOD -”.) Brock’s suddenly there, suddenly gone, and he fucks Jose through it, shaking, sweat rolling down his neck. Then he swoons down on top of the smaller man, kissing his mouth and his eyes, licking the come off his chest, dragging his tongue down and down and down Jose’s stomach until he can’t stop, he’s fucking lost again.

They end up in the bed at some point. Brock sleeps like he hasn’t in years, a black and weightless sleep, only waking at the sensation of slow patterns being traced down his spine (words in Spanish that Jose will translate for him someday, but not now). He rolls over to see Jose’s face only inches from his own, and thanks the God of his distant religious childhood that this is still happening. Still real.

Their lips find each other in the half-darkness, hands moving soft over ribs and hips, between legs. Jose nudges Brock on to his back, rolls a condom on him before riding him excruciatingly slowly, still loose and open from their first time.

“Had to get you up. Was dreamin’ about this.”

Jose pins Brock’s hands to the bed-frame above him, moving his hips like a dancer.

“Open your eyes,” Jose says, and Brock didn’t even realize he had closed them. “Want you lookin‘ at me. Don’t need you thinking about no other ho.”

Brock opens them briefly before squeezing them shut again. The feeling is too intense for him to get distracted by something as unnecessary as sight and the way Jose’s body moves over him might make him go blind. He’s too close, it’s too much -

“You’re here,” Jose whispers, pressing his mouth to Brock’s temple. “Open your eyes.”

Brock does.

They don’t leave the hotel room until the next evening - well, basically they don’t leave the bed. Except for the couch. And once, the shower.

Jose comes to the club, watches as Brooke performs “God is a Woman” and throws dollar bills at her like they’re confetti. Afterwards they make out like teenagers in the dressing room, pressed up against the mirrors until Jose has lipstick and powder smeared all over his face. Jose grabs at Brooke’s hips like they’re real, sucks her fingers and bites her palm, whispers all sorts of filthy promises to the lines on her hands (lifeline, loveline, Mount of Venus.)

When they finally break apart, Jose’s eyes are wild and unfocused. Brooke holds his face between her hands, presses their foreheads together, wondering whether it’s possible to feel this much and survive.

“Come to New York with me,” Jose says quietly. “For the finale. I want you there.”

“I -”

“Don’t get all in your feelings about it. You don’t got nothing lined up yet. Come with me.” Jose licks his lips and then smiles. “Love the taste of your gloss, baby. Look at your face - you know you’re gonna say yes.”

Brooke is. She is.

She does.s

#rpdr fanfiction #brooke lynn hytes #vanessa vanjie mateo #branjie #smut #angst #eventual happy ending #canon compliant #elastic heart #mia ugly #tw addiction #concrit welcome #submission #s11

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boringsundays · 5 years

Text

I’m high so this may sound dramatic lol

But I decided to return to veganism.

It’s been over 2 years since I stopped being vegan.

Honestly, the main reason was because of social pressure. I was in my senior year of college. My friends and I were constantly drinking and wanting to eat late-night snacks. Or people would have to choose different restaurants for me. At orientation for my job at the time, I felt annoying for having to have a “special dietary request” because I felt like I wasn’t entitled to that as someone who is making a moral/health choice rather than someone who has a genuine food allergy or intolerance.

So finally after a while I gave in. I can’t really remember what I ate that day. But at the time I really felt so happy and “free” that I could hang out with my friends again and not have any obstacles about food restrictions. I know that sounds super annoying/shallow and privileged....but I was rly in my head like “wow ok I can live my life fully again”

It was really good for a while. But eventually I started feeling like there was something missing in my life. Part of that was just normal post-college anxiety, but part of it was also the structure and purpose that veganism gave me every day.

I’ve been honest before about how I was never really a “doer”. I never did sports or took risks. I never practiced committing to anything. I really regret that for myself because it’s something I have to unlearn. I’m extremely hesitant to commit to anything or fully discipline myself to do something. It’s not a good trait.

I realized that I felt that trait amplify once I quit veganism. I didn’t have anything that felt like a “purpose” every day anymore. When i was vegan, I was doing something little every day to support my beliefs that animals should not be exploited for food (mass produced food - those in cultures that hunt for food are obviously an exception), fashion, etc. I felt more confident and self-assured because i was finally holding myself accountable for something. I was challenging myself out of my comfort zone.

Just even that little bit of change was soooo mentally and physically rewarding for me.

I’ve been lazy and “putting off” committing to veganism for fear of that social pressure again. People asking me “why” and “ew what do you even eat?”, etc. Also, selfishly, I was afraid I would miss so much how certain foods tasted.

But I finally made the decision yesterday. I went out and bought all my old vegan staples that I used to get several years ago. I even made a Daiya grilled cheese sandwich with Earth Balance butter. (This is significant because i *love* all kinds of dairy-based cheese; it is the hardest thing for me to have to substitute.)

I ate the sandwich. I ate an oat milk yogurt. I ate an apple with peanut butter.

And it all tasted amazing. I instantly didn’t feel like I’d miss any animal products. I also realized that it’s veganism that makes me conscious of my food intake. I’ve always been someone who eats way too much junk food (especially for my age, I’m almost 25 and need to be an adult lol). I didn’t care what I bought and put in my body. All the chemicals, etc. I was like “whatever I’m gonna die eventually anyway”

Going to Whole Foods and shopping for vegan food was actually like a mindfulness exercise almost. I felt present and purposeful in considering what I wanted to put in my body. I hadn’t felt that in YEARS.

Then coming home to my kitties, I felt so good to be able to do something that detracts from the dairy and meat industry. And hopefully gets us to a time when animals are not tortured for mass produced products.

I really feel whole again. Between taking my antidepressants again and now this....I feel like I’m on the right track and fully out of the wave of depression I was experiencing for a few months.

I always struggle with thinking in black and white. Which is why every time my depression comes back for a few months (or more), I think it’s the end. I think I’m never going to feel better again.

But I need to learn to just take care of myself and be responsible when those bad times come and it’s not going to be forever at all.

Anyway, sorry this is so long lol. I’m just happy.

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equalstrashflavoredtrash · 5 years

Text

Left to the Wolves - 2

a/n: The long awaited second part! now ubbe has some alone time with her and they talk... I hope you enjoy, please leave your thoughts and comments. Is there anything specific you want to see out of this story in the future? I have a loose plot outline but I’m open to suggestions

warnings: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, smut, slight bondage-just wrists tied, and vaginal penetration, some breeding talk

FF.net // Ao3 // Masterlist

Ubbe X Reader // Vikings

word count: 3,506

PART 1

You had a leisurely morning, taking your time to rise and eat the breakfast of fruit and oats left out for you. Your body felt rejuvenated, like your skin was glowing and all was well with the world. There was a light twinge of pain when you sat that came from Hvitserk’s rough treatment, but you paid it no mind. That morning you woke in bed alone, and though disappointed, you were not surprised he’d taken his leave in the early hours.

After knotting the leather thong that fastened your boots, you finally entered the main hall, planning for a walk along the fjord in the sun, but it appeared the Gods had other plans. Almost immediately after stepping outside you crossed paths with Ubbe.

“Good to see you this morning, or should I say afternoon?” he greeted with a sly smirk.

“Good day, Ubbe,” you replied, ignoring the chiding comment. “What are you up to?” Leaning to the left, you looked past his shoulder at the chestnut-colored horse behind him.

“I was planning on going to set traps, but I would much rather take you for a picnic instead.” He bowed his chin as he spoke. With a subtle grin, his eyes connected with yours in a hold you couldn’t shake. Though his offer seemed innocent enough, with his gaze you felt the all too familiar pang between your thighs. That ache you’d thought you had satiated the night before was back and the blatant smell flooded Ubbe’s nostrils.

You hesitated, checking over your shoulder—though you weren’t sure who it was that you expected to be watching—then with a shy nod, you agreed. Ubbe offered to let you ride on the horse, giving you a helping lift into the saddle. His fingers lingered low on your hip a little longer than needed before he reached for the reins to guide as he walked on foot.

Riding through the woods was pleasant with the large trees shading you from the afternoon sun. The pair of you took your time traveling, occasionally stopping so Ubbe could set a trap when he saw fit, until you came upon a small clearing in the wood.

“We should pause to eat here,” Ubbe offered as he tethered the horse’s reins to a branch. Holding out one hand to aid in your dismount, the other found it way to your waist as you slid off the saddle. Undoing the fastener that kept his cloak around his shoulders, Ubbe shed the garment and handed it to you suggesting, “Lay this down, we can use it as a blanket,” before turning to gather the lunch he had packed. You couldn’t help but sniff at the cloak, taking in the musky scent of Ubbe which stoked the warmth in the base of you belly.

Clouds began to move in, hiding the sun as you settled next to Ubbe. He had laid out a variety of fresh bread, cheese and fruits. You picked at the foods idly while chatting with the eldest Ragnarsson.

“My brothers and I will be leaving for a few days to hunt,” he mentioned as he handed you a waterskin filled with wine.

“Oh? All four of you?” Lifting the bladder to your lips, you tipped your head back and took a drink.

“Not Ivar. Hvitserk and I want it to be a short trip so he offered to stay home,” Ubbe explained, flubbing the details to hide the true nature of Ivar’s words as he reached for the small basket of black raspberries.

Gently brandishing an overripe berry, Ubbe brought the morsel to your mouth. You bit down, feeling the fruit explode and flood your tongue with juice. As you chewed, savoring the taste, Ubbe let the pad of his thumb dance across your stained lips, just barely brushing at your skin.

“Is it sweet?” he questioned in a low voice close to your ear. You gave an affirmative hum before he continued, “May I have a taste?”

Slightly confused, your eyes darted to the full basket—there was more than enough to share, so why had he asked?

Smiling inwardly at your perplexed expression, he cautiously nudged your chin to face him. With a bit more force, he swiped at your lip again before connecting his mouth with yours. Initially shocked by the contact, you let out a soft gasp, granting his tongue entry so that he could lave at your own, taking in the sweet juice that coated the walls of your mouth while also urging you to respond to the kiss.

With a sigh you melted into him, the rekindled heat flooding through your limbs and blinding your thoughts. His hand covered the expanse of your cheek to neck as your tongues twined together.

Breaking away, you caught your breath while Ubbe stayed close, running his nose along your cheek when he spoke in a soft voice, “I could curse Hvitserk for getting to you first.”

“What do you mean?” His statement caught you off guard—the last thing you expected him to mention at this moment was his brother. Pulling back, you searched his eyes, hoping for an answer.

“Well, I am the oldest and next in line for the throne. Imagine the respect I’d garner with an Omega as beautiful as you on my arm.” Though his words seemed so confident and matter-of-fact, you still reeled at how he spoke—like an entitled Alpha. Of all the Ragnarssons, Ubbe had struck you as the one least interested in social status.

Pivoting in you seat, you shifted out of his grasp, sliding his palm from where it rested under your hair. “An Omega is not a trophy. I am not a prize to be had and put on display,” you began, trying to keep a firm tone as you picked at invisible pieces of lint from your skirt in attempt to avoid eye contact. You could feel his intense gaze watching you and although you were not sure if it was in shock or admiration, you kept your chin held high. “I have spent my life having to follow orders from my father and other Alphas. I hope that my mate would be different, that he will treat me with respect—as an equal. I do not wish to spend my life just making babies, I want to raise fierce warriors alongside my partner—whoever that maybe.”

Ubbe said nothing as you finally rose to your feet. Though he did not strike you as the vindictive type who would punish you for such insolence—speaking out of turn the way you had—you were still well aware of the fact that you were alone in the woods with a young Alpha who you had willingly joined. If anything happened now, nobody would question his actions. Hoping to diffuse the tension of the moment, you looked skyward. “They clouds are getting quite dark, I fear it will rain soon. It is probably best for us to return to Kattegat.”

Silently moving in tandem, the pair of you worked to gather what was left of the food. Once everything was secured, Ubbe climbed onto the horse’s back and held his hand out to you. “It’ll be faster if we ride together.”

Keeping your eyes low and averted, you accepted the gesture and situated yourself in the front of the saddle. The positioning kept both of you close. He brought the edges of his cloak to wrap around your shoulders, presumably for protection from the impending weather and chill. You couldn’t ignore the way his chest pressed inline with your spine as you rode, his body swaying with the horse’s gait. His legs cradled yours as his arms circled your waist, forearms resting on his thighs as he held the reins.

The journey was silent—save for his clicks and commands to the steed along with the noises of the forest around you. You had grown comfortable with the quiet, no longer fearing Ubbe’s ire when he gave a slight cough to clear his throat.

“When I spoke before about you as my queen, I did not mean to offend, but now—reflecting on your comments—I see how I misspoke.” You chose not to respond. Keeping your head forward you suddenly found yourself fascinated with the small twitches of the horse’s ears, each moving independently to perceive its surroundings while simultaneously staying focused on the path ahead. With a tense sigh, Ubbe carried on, “The dream you describe of raising a family together is all I could ever ask for. If I was lucky enough to do so with you; I would be a happy man. I cannot promise to be perfect, but I hope that you will correct me when I make mistakes.”

It was not visible to Ubbe, but a small smile tugged at your cheeks as you listened to his apology.

Riding back to Kattegat, all was quite between you and Ubbe, each enjoying listening to the sound of nature that surrounded the pair of you—the sound of the rain hitting the sprouting leaves with a light pitter-patter.

It seemed the moment Ubbe’s horse crossed the threshold into the barn it began to pour—as if the clouds had held back, waiting for you to find shelter before releasing their deluge.

The eldest prince dismounted first before helping you to settle on your feet. Stepping away you found a nearby post to lean against as you watched Ubbe undressed his horse, brushing the sweat off her back before leading his mare to her designated stall so she could eat her dinner of oats. There was something about watching him care for another creature so intently—listening to him coo to the horse, murmuring how she was such a good girl, having done well all day and deserving to rest—that made your insides twist into knots. His words about starting a family together rang through your head while you watched the way his tunic stretched, taught across his shoulder blades as he reached to secure the pen.

Pivoting on his heel he approached where you rested. He raised his hand to scratch at the short hairs on the back of his scalp, looking anywhere but directly at you. He motioned, opening his mouth as if he was going to speak before snapping his jaw shut and turning away. He grabbed his cloak from the hook and held it open at the shoulders. “It doesn’t look like this rain will let up soon. I think it’d be best if you head back to the hall. You can take my cloak and stay dry, I’ll wait out the storm here in the barn,” Ubbe explained, swinging the wool and fur to wrap around your shoulders before you could disagree. Once the ties at the collar were fastened he dropped his hand to rest on the middle of your back, leading you to the exit of the barn.

The rain seemed to come down in sheets and you hesitated at stepping out into the storm—even with the added layer. The inclement weather wasn’t the only thing that drew you stay put. Shifting away from his touch you faced Ubbe and bit you lip.

“I don’t have to leave,” you suggested, cautiously looking up at him through your lashes as you raised your hand to meet his, lacing your fingers together. “I could stay here with you.” Hesitating for a moment, you wondered if you should finish your thought, but then choose to do it anyway. “I could stay here and help you keep warm.”

A grin grew on Ubbe’s face as he watched your eyes and took in the meaning of your words. Cautiously he raised his open hand to cup your flushed cheek but you dipped away, releasing your fingers from his just before he made contact.

Spinning out of his reach you gave a flourish to the cape, guiding the the hem to swing out. You shot him a teasing glance over your shoulder before moving aside. Ubbe’s hands tried to catch your waist but you were a step ahead, keeping close but still far enough away. You couldn’t help giggling every time his fingers barely missed the wool of the cloak. The chase kept up but it soon turned when you were too focused on your pursuer and not the path ahead. Unexpectedly, you found yourself in a corner, pressing your back against wooden boards while watching Ubbe’s hungry approach.

You could smell the desire on him. It had spiked the moment you suggested staying the night in the barn, and it was obvious what thoughts were flooding his mind. His eyes burned into yours as you nervously reached to fiddle with the fastener near your throat, worried about the beast you may have provoked with your teasing.

Once he was near his hands clamped around your middle, easily dragging you against his chest. “Did you plan on keeping me warm by making me chase you?” Ubbe questioned, pinching your chin between his thumb and index finger, forcing you to look at him.

Simpering at his accusation you tried to feign innocence but he wasn’t fooled. Jerking your face forward, he held your gaze. “Maybe I did,” you teased, watching the way his mouth twitched as he listened. “Was there something else you had in mind?”

“If you are going to behave like a brat, then I should treat you as such.” His voice was low with warning, a scratchy grow that made your stomach jump. You stood flush against the wall, pinned by his chest as he held your jaw, his thumb sliding to brush along your bottom lip. “Is that what you want? To be punished?”

Taking a shaky breath you watch the dark gleam in his eye. “How would you punish me?”

“I could keep you in my bed, forcing you to orgasm until you beg for me to stop.” His tongue danced across his lip, enjoying the wide-eyed expression you wore, hanging on his every word. “Then I’d fuck you until you can’t walk without thinking of me. I’d fill you with my seed until it takes and you bear my children.”

His words stunned you—freezing you inplace, overwhelmed but the thoughts his implication brought forth. Ubbe took advantage of your shocked reaction to wrap his arms around your waist, easily lifting you off your feet. The sudden action rocked you back to reality as you yelped and clutched the wool of his tunic. After two long strides, he pivoted to deposit you on top of the bale of hay. You let out an ‘oof’ on impact as his hands moved to brace next to your head.

He lowered himself slowly, bring his lips to capture yours. You met his kiss, eagerly pressing against him. Shifting, Ubbe rested on one elbow, freeing his other hand to blindly fiddle with the fasteners on your clothes. First he released the cloak, letting it fall flat to serve as a blanket again. He made fast work of the rest of your garments, yanking your long dress over your head without fully removing your apron and adornments. Pulling back, he took a moment to admire your figure, taking in the soft curve of your hips and belly as his calloused hand ran down your side.

His touch tickled, causing you try wriggle away from him but still his eyes burned as he watched the way you moved. His gaze made you anxious—in attempt to take the attention off of your own body, you reached for his vest fumbling with the buckles. As you raised your hands, Ubbe seemed to realize that he was still fully dressed. He aided your advances, eagerly peeling off his layers before returning to kiss you.

There was an energy coursing through your limbs every time he touched your skin that was all too familiar. You were in heat and with every second you spent near Ubbe the urge increased exponentially. Pawing at his shoulders you attempted to draw him further against yourself. Your nails dragged across his trapezius, leaving a score of red on his skin in their wake.

This only encouraged the prince, biting at your collarbone as he drew your arm upwards, pinning your wrists next to your ears. The smell of Ubbe’s arousal flooded your senses, drowning out any logical thought. The closer he pressed the weaker you felt under him.

Easily manipulating your body, he twisted your torso to roll over. Resting on your belly you were still reeling at what was happening when Ubbe fisted the kerchief you wore to keep your hair back. He ripped the fabric from your head, letting your hair fall loose as he twirled it up. He gathered your arms behind your back before you could resist and secured it around your wrists.

Giving the tails two hard tugs, he ensured your wrists were immobile before leaning in. His chest lined with your spine as he moved to speak in your ear, “Don’t think I’ve forgotten about punishing you.” His breath fanned the side of your face as he pulled the knot tight with a final hard tug.

Ubbe moved away to kneel behind you, keeping one hand flat across your shoulder blades—forcing you to remain bent over, cheek resting against his cloak’s fur trim. Having your nose buried in his scent only stoked the fire in you, urging on your heat as Ubbe grabbed at your hips, lifting you to rest on your knees.

You let out a mindless, wanton moan as his palm smoothed over the expanse of your ass, edging close to your center. Just as his thumb began to brush your outer lips his hand lifted away.

Without warning Ubbe dropped his open hand to slap your ass. Skin cracked against skin as his palm made contact. You couldn’t hold back the yelp that passed your lips, nor the following one as he spanked your other cheek. By the third you had turned your head into the fur, trying to muffle your sound. The effort was proven futile when Ubbe wove his fingers into your hair, drawing your head back, craning your neck so you couldn’t hide your gasps.

“Do you want me to stop?” Ubbe teased, rubbing his nose against your temple as he kept you in such a vulnerable position. “Will you be my good girl now?”

“Please,” you gasped, trying to push your ass against his erection. Shifting your hips, you slid against his shaft until Ubbe finally released your hair. With a bruising grip, he shifted your hips into place, holding himself as he lined up with your center. Your pussy welcomed him as he pressed forward, sinking into your warmth. Biting your lip you tried to stay quiet until his hips hit yours.

Before you could fully adjust to his girth, Ubbe was pulling back and slamming back in. His hips cracked against your ass over and over in hard thrusts. With each impact you were driven further into the soft hay, a moaning mess that cared only about receiving what the prince had to give. He carried on at a hard pace, pounding into you with such force you could do nothing but take the brutal treatment.

You whimpered when he found his end—begging for him as he released, cumming inside of you. Ubbe seemed to collapse immediately, curling around your back before drawing you to lay on your side, spooning with him. His limp prick slid from your pussy as you shifted, feeling the warm trickle of his cum following it.

Wiggling slightly you cuddled back against him, almost forgetting about your arms before he undid the knot, releasing your hands. Shaking out the square of raw fabric, he flattened the kerchief against his hand before bring it to swipe between your legs. With a hard press he drew the fabric forward, gliding his covered fingers between your labia to best mop up the wet.

You laid halfway on your back, one arm looped backwards around Ubbe’s neck as he brought the square of his fabric to his nose. He gave a deep grunt as he inhaled the scent of your heat smeared across the wool.

“The perfect way to think of your while I’m hunting,” Ubbe growled after depositing the kerchief with his clothes. Returning his attention to you, he wrapped his arm tight around your shoulders, holding you firm against his chest.

Nuzzling your cheek against his chest hair you made yourself comfortable, sinking into the warmth of his body and as you drifted off to sleep.

Than you for reading! please tell me what you thought! and if you have any ideas or suggestions of where this should go tell me, im open

@beautifulramblingbrains @ariwolf14 @titty-teetee @whenimaunicorn @sweetvengeancee @ivarinleatherpants @tiyetiye@romanchronicles @oddsnendsfanfics@murmelinchen @buckybarnesisalittleshit@laketaj24 @ivarslittlebadgirl @readsalot73@imgoldielikehawn @ivarsshieldmadien@ceridwenofwales @grungyblonde @honestsycrets @lisinfleur @athroatfullofglass @westcoastselkie [[if you want to be tagged for vikings stuff in the future, leave a reply]]

#ubbe imagine #ubbe x reader #ubbe's wolfpack #ubbe smut #alpha!ubbe #a/b/o dynamics #ubbe ragnarsson #my writing

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omgnsfwisnsfw-blog · 5 years

Text

8: So Be It

“Church.” They. We. John had for so long only been responsible for his actions. Wake up, brush his teeth, eat breakfast, read, eat lunch, read, ignore the voice through the vent, read, dinner, read, lights out, staring out into the darkness until he finally drifted away, wake up, brush his … “Church.” And everyday she pulled him out of that routine. That first week John resented Mike McGuire for it. He wanted to curse her for her ignorance. This morning he had just finished a bowl of oats. He knew Mike was still doing some wrap up getting her number two up to speed to run her business. He knew that he’d be able to dig into another … That’s another thing that perplexed him. He woke up one morning last week to see a box of assorted books in front of the door of the guest room. It was never brought up. But every dinner was over a different movie on the television. Every training session was in tandem and was always accompanied by strategy. What was the future of their tag team? What does he think of his opponents? What does he need to do to succeed? But that Saturday morning, John had just cracked open a book about the life and death of Nikola Teslawhen she said it was time to go. They could make a trip of it towards Baton Rouge and then catch a flight back back North to Boston after the Friday event. “Church!” His blank stare out of the passenger’s side window was startled by a sharp yet ultimately harmless jab. He turned away from the endless farm fields and turned to the driver. “Yeah?” “You with me, buddy? You looked a million miles away just then.” The reverberations of the powerful engine of her muscle car, a gaudy yellow late model Mustang, certainly aided in that distance. The red leather seats creaked softly as John adjusted his seat and sat straight back up. “I’m okay.” “Good,” she smiled, looking almost at peace behind the wheel, the sun on her face, “You got any ideas? Tons of stuff to do on the way there. Pick something. Anything you want.” “I don’t know,” John looked back out the window and saw the handwritten sign about the man with no vocal chords, “I always lived out west. Even when I traveled,” John paused, perhaps considering his words,“when I traveled it was the same loop. The hotel, the gym, and the arena.” “I did that stuff too. Livened it up a bit though, used to go bar hopping a lot. Man, some of the crawls I did were fuckin’ eeeepic,” she snickered to herself a bit, “You wanna do something like that? I know all the best places.” “I don’t drink. Never have,” John had started to understand that some of his social interactions were unintentionally blunt, “but …but don’t let that stop you.” “Okay, fair enough. Well, there’s a travel guide in the glove compartment there. Should have some stuff of interest en route. Leaf through it an’ see if there’s anything that catches your eye.” “Surprise me,” John had almost tried to stop himself from saying that. He hated surprises. He liked his routine. He hated his routine, too. It was too familiar and was born of a sense of minimization. Mike responded with that wide grin and accelerated past a semi truck. Some more time past and John could feel himself getting lulled into the sights as the farm plains transitioned into the rocky corridors of West Virginia, “Fine. This time. But sometime between now’n Baton Rouge you’re pickin’ something. We’re doing this together, y’know,” she drove a bit longer, eyes flicking to the exit signs and the flow of traffic, before speaking up again, her cadence that of a person watching their words when unused to doing so, “Hey. Sorry to bring this up again, but it’s kinda been buggin’ me. That thing a while back. With Emma. What was it about? You like her or somethin’?” He’d almost forgotten. The woman certainly had, “I, uh, would consider it a Freudian slip,” he felt that Mike sometimes walked on eggshells around him about these subjects and she most likely did not want a repeat of what could be the catalyst of this whole ordeal. He had heard and read what people thought of him. Amongst all of the requests to end his own life, people had legitimate questions and concerns. He was artful in his ability to dodge the questions about his past and his even more surreal present. John cleared his throat, “Look, I’m not sure. She, I mean, you know …” He danced around it for so long and in the eyes of the public, they painted him as dull or even some masterful sociopath disassociated with the act and its victim. “Mike, I, I’m just not sure. The dispositions were nothing alike but the shine of her eyes, her hair — they were a reminder. So to answer your question: I don’t like her. I mean, I don’t dislike her. She’s just a competitor,” he continued to struggle as Mike listened with her eyes intently on the road, “I don’t know why I’m back. I’d been forgotten and now, I’m here talking with you and now doing what I always wanted to do. I don’t talk about it because I don’t know what to say. I can barely remember what happened. I’d been grilled and grilled over details that I just didn’t know. I had finished a show and it was called it Beware the Ides of March. It was in reference to whatever the main event was. I’d opened the show and was the first person out because Reno was my hometown. The promoters like that sort of thing, you know? It was twenty minutes away from the apartment. I was alone which was the usual at this stage. I was woken up from my bed the next morning with a loud knock,” John sighed, “and well, there’s been plenty of discussion about it. It’s been in print, on the TV, so it doesn’t bear repeating. I was where I was at and now I’m not. I don’t think… I, I, I belonged there.”   “Okay. S’ all I wanted to know,” she let it go at that. She didn’t want to dwell on that particular subject, she supposed, any more than he did. Her fingers drummed on the crimson leather cover of the steering wheel. Letting a pause linger for a bit, she smiles over at him, artfully letting the subject pass for a new one, “Mind if I turn the radio on?” “Okay.”   “Master conversationalist as always, my man.”   Chuckling softly, she turned the dial on the radio- what would be considered an old-school affair, no Sirius or even a cassette deck. She kept it true to the rest of the vehicle on her rebuild, even though she was well aware she could’ve put in something more modern.   “Lessee… gospel… country, ugh… fuckin’ disco… goin’ to hell, yeah yeah… HERE we go,”   she landed on a rock/metal station, by lucky happenstance at the tail end of a commercial break. The band was a classic and it pleased her. TNT, it’s dyno-mite, “FUCK. YEAH. … This cool with you? You an AC/DC person?” John looked into the rear view mirror and they were all alone in this stretch of road as it cut and curved throughout the high walled rock landscape, “It’s not really something to have an affinity for but if you’re going to put me on the spot, alternative current based equipment just have better life expectancies.” She paused for a moment, blinked, and laughed, “The band, Church. The one on the radio. Right now.” John looked at her blankly then at the radio and then back at her, “I know. I was just playing around. This is fine.” “A’ight, cool. Lemme know if you get sick of it, I’ll find somethin’ else,” she drove on, the road spreading out like a ribbon of asphalt before them. John didn’t. He just listened. Eventually this one faded out into static and Mike had to keep turning the dial past all of the sludge. He almost objected a few times but he also remembered the old adage that the driver is the master of the radio. An hour or so passed and finally Mike finally just turned off the radio for the mean time. The mountainous terrain eventually gave out to a thick wooded view. “Hey. Just so y’know, I believe in you. I know how fuckin’ corny that sounds, but I do. I like t’ think I have an eye for these things and I really think I’m lookin’ at the next TV champ,” she paused, maybe placing her words, maybe for effect, “Something you said really stuck with me. I think you figured out a question I’ve been askin’ myself for years without me even askin’ you, in a conversation that wasn’t even about me. Weird’s that sounds.” Earlier that week, the company had arranged for another sit down interview. By virtue of defeating the former champion, Bishop Church had earned the #1 contendership for the Television Championship. What stood before him was his greatest challenge and the company wanted some face time from both their champion and challenger. So once again, John sat in the hot seat. Despite Mike being there, that tense feeling did not dissipate. John fiddled with the microphone clipped to the collar of his t-shirt while Ace Heart flipped through a stapled packet of papers held steady with a clipboard. “Careful with that. The audio technicians hear every time you touch the clip.” John stopped and sat up straight in his director’s style chair, “Okay.” “So here we are again. Before we start, you gotta tell me, why did you delete your Facebook account?” “I don’t trust Zuckerberg. You ever get the feeling that he’s not giving straight answers.” Ace scoffed at that, “Look, Bishop, we set that up for you as a way for you to speak to your fans. You had 150,000 followers and then all of a sudden, you 86’d it.” “I just … didn’t want it. I’m here for this, isn’t that what you wanted?” Ace raised his hands perhaps feigning indignation, “Yeah, that’s right. You’re here. For this. Whatever this will be.” Ace signaled to the camera man and crew to start filming. “Dr. Pepper presents an Extreme Wrestling Corporation live interview on Facebook Watch. I’m Ace Heart and this is Bishop Church.” John nodded. Ace sighed, “Splendid. So since we last talked it seems like your circumstances have made a 180 degree turn. You’ve managed to dispatch Emma Louise, Chris Chambers, and most recently former Television Champion Kendrick Kross one after another. Most notably this is the same Kendrick Kross who unthroned Ruthless Aggression at Stranglemania. Now three days after you face Malice at Friday Night Rampage, you get your first shot at gold against Ruthless Aggression at Monday Night Brawl. Most recently, she impressively defeated a man twice her size in Grizzly Duggan and retained the TV title. Now she stands before you - your biggest match to date, what say you?” “She-“ “Swear to God, if you say she seems nice, this is over.” John’s eyes narrowed at the interruption but just seconds later, his expression relaxed. He turned to face the camera. “Ahhh, women. Women, women, women, women, women.” Ace’s reaction is one of abject horror but he was helpless to stop as John continued. “What are women like? What do women want? How should I treat a woman? Sometimes the hardest thing to do is to find a woman at all. I’ve been staking out for hours looking for one and the closest I got was this fellow.” The camera shot cut to Mike, unknown at this to all viewers, chowing down on a ham and cheddar sandwich at the catering table. Back to John, the camera shot tightens in on him, “Where are all the women?” He then turned back to the interviewer, still frozen, “Is it all perhaps an elaborate fraud?” Finally, “CUT!” Ace exploded right after the cameras turned off, “What the FUCK was that? What are you even talking about? Your opponent is a woman. Half of the roster are women. Why can’t you just answer my questions?” He then shouted to the assistant off screen, “Where’s his goddamn handler? Saint assured me that I wouldn’t have to put up with this shit anymore.” As if on cue, Mike stepped into the interview set and stood in face to face with Ace while seemingly shielding Church from him, “Partner, okay? Not handler. Partner. Got it?” “Okay Bishop’s partner, can you explain why every interview with this guy turns out to be a waking disaster? In my nearly twenty years of thousands, literally thousands of interactions, I’ve interviewed them all. Every hall of fame inductee, every champion, every one that mattered in this industry has had the decency to answer my questions and yet talking to this guy is like squeezing blood from a stone.” “I’m still here,” John mumbled. “Ignore him, Church. Your right-hand man’s got your back. Just forget about that guy for a sec. It’s not his fault he ain’t got no class or sense of professionalism.” “Why I never!” “Go trim the ‘stache or something. And you there, sweetcheeks, gimme that camera,” there was a bit of a jitter on the picture as the camera was either handed over or taken forcefully, and adjusted by its new operator. Ace Heart shrugged his shoulders and there was an exodus of company crew from the set, “Just like before.” John nodded. The shot came back to life. John stood behind the right director’s chair and looked deep in thought. The camera zoomed out as the new cameraperson struggled with the controls. After a moment, Mike managed to follow his movements. “I’m starting to understand it,” John gestured, “you know, the necessity of all of this. This sport is fueled on the idea of conflict and the reasons for those conflicts vary. Sometimes it is simple. Two people not liking each other. Sometimes there is something at stake. Bragging rights, money, or in the present case: championship gold. And this is a business after all so it’s not just the contest itself. It’s also the circumstances that led up to and surround the bout. That’s why there is all of this pomp and circumstance. Does it really matter what I say here? Will these words truly have an affect on what happens in that squared circle? Actually, yes. And that is what is expected of me.” John took a seat, although he tilted the chair facing forward. “Expectations, right? There are certain expectations on how I should conduct myself. Smile for the camera. Talk to the people. Tell them why I’m the best. Or don’t. Be absolutely abhorrent. Be a disgusting caricature of humanity. Also them why I’m the best. That’s not me. Reevaluate your expectations. I talked a little bit about what people have seen in me thus far and I expect that afterwards, they perhaps had to reconsider. That’s how we got here. I was asked a question on how this stage was set. If you’re watching this, you probably saw just how that happened.” He paused. John so much wanted to keep this internalized. He felt nervous talking about himself but he didn’t feel the need to deflect. He wasn’t so naive to know that she wasn’t the only one listening but just the hypothetical idea of it allowed him to continue. “The former champion stated that he needed this. Essentially he believed that a victory over me would be a turning point. He didn’t see me as viable. He didn’t think of me as a peer. He concluded that I was just here to collect a paycheck. He misjudged me. He underestimated my passion for the sport of professional wrestling. And so he learned in this cruel world that needs aren’t always fulfilled. His story has to carry on with the knowledge that all of the accolades and comeback aspirations evaporated in the space of three seconds. Thus is the cycle of life. That cycle brings us to the idea that I am a contender now.” He shifted in his seat and sat forward. “This is my very first championship opportunity. Never before have I had to chance to compete with stakes so high. Some could say that I need this but that would be oversimplifying it. Think about it. Think about who I am. Not what you see and read but who I am right now. Do I need to be champion like I need air to breathe? Do I need it for financial security? I guess it would be nice but as the camera shakes to and fro, I’m not just here for material objects. What about for love?” John chuckled softly. “As ridiculous as that sounds, the history books are filled with pages of men and women who take advantage their standing for their romantic desires. How about just to make myself feel better? That journey isn’t so trivial that gold plates screwed into a leather strap will clear the path. And so what it comes down to that what a man can be, he must be. So that addresses the match itself. If I can become champion, I must become champion. But that isn’t the end of it, is it, Ruthann Hunter?" For this whole time, he waxed hypothetical to the masses but his meandering questioning tone changed to a more direct one as he began to address his opposition. “If it was, you would have ridden off into the sunset long ago.” The genesis of Mike prodding John into the proverbial sunlight will most likely never meet the air. She had went to check in on him early his stay and she discovered notepads filled with amended notes of his opponents. Who they are. What they do. How John could neutralize their abilities and come out on top. And most noticeably notes on what they said about him. Real statements and all he could manage was nonsense. It wasn’t until his exchange with Ace here that she noticed that it was very intentional. “This is where I would go into that tired song and dance about who you are. You are a living legend and I’ll be the exception. I could say that I would stand fast against the ruthless aggression and persevere. Let me stand up here and I could raise my voice and snort and chortle about my destiny.” John shook his head. “But none of us know what the future holds for us. I can’t make that promise. I want what you have. That’s human nature. We always want what we don’t have. This sport is like a microcosm of life. Look no further than the former champion. Look at the desperation in his words even when he was proud and boastful against you. Due to this being a competition, we usually absolve ourselves of what affect we have on the vanquished. Think about that, won’t you? Someone somewhere in an office gets a promotion over someone else. Maybe that person that failed needed the money more. Maybe they have a crippling disease. In our world - who cares? So the former champion was right on one thing, we all see each other as stepping stones. We all see each other as that obstacle to self-actualization.” He stands up and moves closer to the camera. “And so we go about and we both say this to each other solemnly. I don’t care about your legacy. I don’t care about your family. I don’t care what you have done in the past. I don’t care about what losing could do to your ego. All of that does not matter in the confines of the ring. In that moment, we are two demigods engaged in a struggle that could ravage the earth. The ground could fall to pieces all around us as we were locked together and all that would matter is our musculature straining as we resisted each other’s powers. Our bodies would be intimate in ways no mere mortal could comprehend.” And for this, he did raise his voice. “That is what matters.” And back to a low conversational tone. “This isn’t about redemption. I’m here to take what is mine. And if that has to be on the backs of the broken and beaten…” Closer. “So be it.” Mike’s epiphany was punctuated as the car hit a pothole. They rattled about, “What do you mean?” “Ooof! Shit. Sorry. What I mean is… I kept hittin’ fucking walls. I got a bit of momentum here an’ there but I never got no place because I kept hittin’ walls and I could never think of what the hell was wrong with me. And I never HAVE been able to figure it out until you said it. I didn’t have enough… I dunno. Killer instinct seems really fuckin’ cliche but that thing you were talking about. Having t’ not worry about other people, what they were like or what their dreams an’ motivations might be, long’s you’re in between those bells,”   her eyes, no, her entire expression was alight, as if she’d just seen the writing of God or heard the prophecies of Mohammed or gotten the truth of the universe from benevolent space aliens , “I kept holding back, I think. Not… consciously, but on some level I cared too damn much about the other guy when I shouldn’t have.” “Mike, the battlefield is the only place where those virtues that the good covet become a weakness. I’m glad you understand. It’s ignoring that very distinction that creates the overabundance of negativity that permeates the landscape of the company,” John reached over and put his left hand over the middle space and on gently on her right forearm, “We can be that change. I mean, a real change. Let’s not kid ourselves - what we do in the ring will be for selfish reasons but outside we can discover who we are - who we are meant to be.” Mike gave a small gasp inward while trying not to look like she was gasping inward. This was huge. She was a physical person, her affection for a person was accompanied by a shower of hair ruffles, noogies, playful jabs, and other forms of fond roughhousing. She’d held back with this somewhat as it had become apparent to her that John wasn’t exactly the touchy feely sort. So for him for once to initiate physical contact with her… it was so overwhelming almost that she— “Look out!” “Oh FUCK!” Mike suddenly swerved away from a brown blur in their line of site. They could hear a loud thud as something smashed against the right headlight of the car and then into the side mirror on the passenger side. As Mike, rather expertly regained control, John turned his head and could see the tail end of the culprit dart into the woods. Mike put the car to stop in the breakdown lane free and clear. She cut off the engine, “You alright?” “Yeah.” “Good. Okay. We’re okay. Shit,” she closed her eyes, taking a few deep breaths and willing her heart not to burst through her ribcage and slow the hell down already, “I’m gonna go check out the damage. Fuck. Hopefully nothin’ I can’t fix,”   carefully scanning the traffic, Mike exited the Mustang and took a look at what’s been done to her labor of three years. Thankfully, nothing much. The passenger side mirror was torn loose, there were some significant but not horrific dents, but probably the worst were the liberal traces of blood and fur all over the affected area. It was going to be a bitch to clean up. Still, it could have been much, much worse. Meanwhile, John faced the trees, “You hear that?”   “No… hear what?” Admittedly, she was a little preoccupied with the state of her vehicle. John could hear a pained yowl. He started towards the source of the noise. “H-hey, hold up!” Reaching in through the passenger door and pulling her 8-ball keychain out of the ignition, Mike followed her counterpart away from the car and off to wherever he was heading to. John hurried through the first rows of large trees until he reached a small clearing. He could see it. A young female deer laid out in the leaves, twigs, and debris of the forest. It’s eyes were wide in the realization of its situation. Blood seeped out large gash on its neck and it also trickled out of the corner of its mouth. It gasped and fought for every breath. John’s shadows loomed over its dying body. Mike finally caught up to him. “Oh. Oh, geez. Poor thing. Shit. What do you do in this situation, I know this… okay. You call the cops for the accident, the park service or some shit to take care of the deer… goddamnit. I’m sorry, Church. This was supposed to be fucking fun,”   sighing, she fished in her pocket for her phone. “I hope it goes without saying that any interaction with the police may not be beneficial to me,” John knelt down next to the animal. “Oh. Fuck, sorry,” she wasn’t in the mood to argue the point, and shakily dropped the phone back into her pocket, “Hey… what’re you doing? I don’t think there’s much you can do for her at this point.” “Give me your knife.” She closed her hand around the four-inch object in her pocket- a utility Swiss Army knife, mostly used for the screwdrivers and bottle opener, “What do y’want my knife fo… no. Church, nuh-uh. We can’t.” A little more assertive, “Give me your knife,” without facing her, he put his hand out with the palm up and he grasped for the knife to be placed there. “Fuck. Shit,” biting her lip and with obvious hesitation, she took the knife out of her pocket and placed it in his hand. Hers trembled in a manner very unlike her. John looked down at the multi-tool and used his thumbnail to flick open the blade. He stared down into his reflection in the sharp sliver of steel. The deer flailed its once strong legs in a helpless fashion unable to control its motor functions. The smell of urine and feces wafted throughout the air and its blood began to pool and carpet the foliage under its neck. “I’m sorry it had to be this way,” the blade pressed against its throat. “So be it.”

#archive

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spacetimeconundrum · 5 years

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Okay! The main one I can remember was Werewolf vs. Vampire. Little known werewolf habits/symptoms. Did Campion being a werewolf affect his relationship with the woman in Dancers in Mourning? I can't remember if you address that, clearly I need to reread. Also I'm just feeling Christmassy and wondered if you've thought about Campion At Christmas. I realized I'm not sure how they celebrated back then.

You’ve given me a lot of different things to think about here, so bear with me while I ramble on for a bit…

In the (stupidly long) time since I’ve updated my werewolf!Campion series, I’ve actually done quite a lot of writing (I know, I know, where’s the proof?) and spent even more time ruminating on various aspects of werewolfiness with respect toCampion’s canon-adventures: what’s changed for him, and what bits of werewolf lore am I keeping for his story. A few of these happen to be VERY plot relevant for Mr. Campion’s War, so I won’tnecessarily go into them in great detail here, but a few tidbits:

- Real wolves are pack animals and large percentage of their communication is physical in nature or scent-based; humans are social creatures that also need a certain amount of touch/physicality in their interactions to thrive; werewolves tend to be much more tactile than youraverage repressed English gentleman of the early 20th century and considerably more invested in how things smell. Albert Campion is no exception, though he has a great deal of upper class socialization telling him that no, he can’t just grab people and / or sniff them, no matter what his instincts are screaming at him.

Before being cursed, Campion dealt with his insecurities / social discomfort via inane chatter - make people laugh and they’ll underestimate him or look for another target. (He spent a lot of time at school being bullied before he learned this trick.) After, he’s not much different, though large crowds tend to make him more anxious and prone to make himself politely invisible. But if you’re one of the few people he considers part of his inner circle, he’s much less physically reserved than before. (This was actually the aspect of Campion’s transformation that Lugg found the strangest. People, least of all Albert bloomin’ Campion, do not tend to hug Magersfontaine Lugg. Not unless one or both of them is dying. It’s weird for both of them, but it gets less so over time.)

- As far asCampion’s inner wolf is concerned, Lugg, Amanda, Oates, Guffy &Mary Randall, Hal Fitton, Val, Uncle Avril and later Charlie Luke and Rupert are part of his pack.

- Alcohol has almost no effect on him. The super high metabolism that allows Campion to heal rapidly and shape shift also means his body tends to process alcohol before he feels any intoxicating effects. Helpful when he’s trying to drink a suspect under the table, less helpful when certain poisons actually effect him faster than they ordinarily would. (Thank goodness for his fast healing.) This makes the events near the end of Death of a Ghost rather more harrowing when he discovers the mad combination of spirits the villain plies him with are having a deleterious effect on him almost too late.

- Speaking of that high metabolism - rationing for WWII actually makes things rather uncomfortable for Mr. Campion, as he can’t exactly explain to anybody with authority that he really needs to be issued enough coupons for two people. He ends up sort of solving this problem by supplementing his diet by shifting on non-full moon nights when he can and going hunting in the countryside as a wolf. It gets a bit tricky though, as every shift is a massive calorie expenditure, meaning he risks creating a net loss for himself if his hunting isn’t successful enough. (Not to mention he’s not always stationed somewhere safe enough to venture out in wolf-form or the risk of being caught ‘poaching’ afterwards.) Campion spends most of the war irritable, hungry, and underweight.

- That said, there are absolutely advantages to being a spy who can shape shift.

- Cats and horses hate Campion now, to the extent that some of his friends (who don’t know why these animals have taken an instant dislike to him) tease him about it. Dogs are either extremely wary of him or instantly his best friend, with very little in between.

- Campion had to falsify paperwork to avoid a government physical. Fortunately, he knows more than a few people in the right professions who owe him a favour or two. He’s avoided eye exams and medical check ups entirely since becoming a werewolf, mostly out of an overabundance of caution. He’s never sick and orders replacement spectacles from a theatre supplier.

- His eyes shine green instead of red in photographs taken with a heavy flash, but this really isn’t a problem until later in his life when colour photography becomes more commonplace.

- His normal body temperature runs hotter than most people’s, which is handy when waking up naked outdoors on a chilly English winter morning, miserable when riding the tube during a sweltering London heat wave.

- Is Campion’s lycanthropy contagious? If say, he were to bite someone, would they then become a werewolf too? Ahahaha. Stay tuned on this one, as it will be addressed in Mr. Campion’s War. Minor spoilers, it is inheritable, as Rupert Campion discovers to his dismay upon reaching puberty.

- Are there other supernatural creatures in Mr. Campion’s world? Other werewolves maybe? Yep. More than you’d think. Not gonna say who just yet. ;)

- His relationship with Linda Sutane (the woman in Dancers in Mourning) is largely unchanged by him being a werewolf, other than his enhanced senses making it much more obvious to him how mutual their attraction was (very). He still didn’t act on it, though he very much wanted to, and they parted as friends in the end. (The scene in Dancers in Mourning where he goes for a long walk through London to try to suppress his feelings for her very nearly ends in him stripping off his clothes and going wolf for a while until he manages to get a hold of himself.) This isn’t directly addressed in any of my stories, but it gets alluded to a little in Mr. Campion’s Secret and Mr. Campion’s Snarl.

- Christmas wasn’t celebrated all that differently then than today I think - dinners with family, presents, etc. The holiday actually only gets a couple brief mentions in the novels - first in The Tiger in the Smoke, which takes place in late November 1950, and then The Mind Readers, which seems to take place in December 1965. The short stories are another matter: The Case is Altered takes place at a Christmas party Campion attends in, presumably, 1938, wherein he has an opportunity to play Santa. The Man With the Sack is set on Christmas Eve, 1936? The Snapdragon and the CID is explicitly set on Christmas day, but various bits of it are so wildly anachronistic to the established timeline, I have no idea what year it’s meant to be; it’s blatant holiday fluff though so who cares. If you haven’t already read them, I highly recommend the short stories. Campion works really well in that format and they’re quick reads.

Merry Christmas!

#STC answers questions #Anonymous #werewolf!campion #thinky thoughts #my writing #I'm currently trying desperately to fling words at ch3 of campion's war #otherwise I probably would have thrown together some sort of minific related to this #you'll have to make do with a headcanon info dump sorry

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jbeverywhere · 5 years

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Polish Christmas

Exactly Christmas in my family, in my home. Because each polish family has some own traditions, each city, each region, etc. So I’ll try to explain what’s going on in my home during Christmas :D So what’s going on? A LOT! Christmas have a loooot of traditions. I tried to focus as much as possible to remember what I want to describe and I noticed that there are some small things which we do and I even didn’t think about them like a tradition. Strange, no? :D OK. Let me try to write it. It will be so long.

Before Christmas

We don’t start that early like the rest of the world. I mean, I just came to Spain (October), on my way to the beach I saw in the shops so many christmas decorations. NOPE. Come on. Of course there are some crazy people who want to follow “american” style and decorate everything asap (like shopping centres) but houses we decorate just few days before Christmas. Also we don’t sing carols before 24.12, you can hear on the radio songs, christmas songs, but not carols. I hope you know the difference.

So in my home we decorate the christmas tree one/two days before Christmas Eve or that day in the morning. Depends how much time do we have. Normally it was me decorating with my younger brother, this year I arrived home too late so my mum did it with him. For many years we have a true, real tree. It’s getting more and more popular, for me it looks much better and I hate plastic. What do we put on it? Of course christmas balls, tinsels, lights aaaaand SWEETS! My father brings from Austria so many christmas sweets. And because during communism time there weren't many options, it was famous to put “long sweets”, my father still, every year, buys pack of them to keep his “childhood” traditions. The thing is, that we can’t eat them before the priest visit (about it later). But yeah... nobody will notice that there is one sweet less.. (or more). Even Bruno likes to go to christmas tree and enjoy ;)

For last years, my mum has learnt how to do those decorations from floss and here you have new tradition.

My father is responsible for house decorations. He is crazy. Maybe you know that movie, where one man wanted to have so much lights on his house to make it visible from the cosmos. My father is going crazy in the same way... xD At least it looks nice, just look:

Of course you have so much time to buy gifts, but like always one week before everyone is going crazy. EVERY YEAR. ehh In my home christmas gifts are quite valuable. We don’t give gifts on 6th Dec, in other families they do 2 times. We prefer once but good XD

24th December

With my father we use to go to the city to buy last things. One of them are those long sweets, another mistletoe (again, my father HAS TO have it during Christmas). I think you know the tradition - if you kiss under the mistletoe, it means love forever and more rainbow...

My father goes also to his brother house, where the aunt makes a homemade bread (traditional way in the masonry oven). It’s one of the thing on the christmas table. My mum cooks all day. It’s better to not try to help her, you know, she does it better, bla bla bla. With my brother we prepare the living room for the dinner. It’s like preparing for a biiiig party. Cleaning, cooking, decorating, taking showers like never, etc.

Jaka Wigilia, taki cały rok One of the traditions says, what you do during that day, you will do the whole year. So it’s better not to stress, not to scream, not to be sad, etc. This year my father was cleaning all the time, and during sweeping he was “angry” that all 2019 he will have to do it. To be honest I don’t remember the next day what I was doing so if there is any true - no idea.

Also strange superstition is that, the first guest on 24th Dec can’t be a woman. If the woman will pass your door first it means bad luck for the coming year for all people in the house. So in my village men are visiting each other to spread a good luck... ehh

And remember to give back all your debts before! Also means bad luck if you won’t do it. Don’t borrow things, don’t get sick, have your perfect life that one day because the coming year depends on that.

Table The table should be prepared for 1 person more than you expect. It’s for a lost tramp - it’s to show how welcoming we are or it’s for a family member who we remember about, who we want to be with us. Others say that is for Jesus Baby. Under the tablecloth we put hay. On the table we put some oats. It symbolizes poverty - you know, Jesus was born in the stable. Also on the table should be a wreath. With mum we used to create our own but now we like this one (or maybe we are too lazy xD )

The wreath is based on pine twigs. Then you should put a candle (which you can buy during the Advent in the church from Caritas) which means the giving life light (or the eternal life), the ribbons and the bows symbolize the bond in the family. This is basic, but you can make it as you want, there are many beautiful possibilities! This one is from my aunt:

You can notice there also oats and a lot of food (it’s the second day of Christmas).

Food The tradition say: 12 dishes! And I know families where they do it. In my home we have 6. I think that when are you going to spend that dinner with a big group, like more than 20, then 12 dishes is ok, everyone can prepare something and it’s easier to eat it. For 6 people in my home, 12 is too much, definitely. There is some superstition that we should eat 12 or at least odd number of dishes (like 9 or 7). But in my home we don’t care. You should try each of the dish. This is my nightmare because I don’t like most of the christmas dishes, they are based on sauerkraut which I hate. So for me it’s like enjoy one pea etc xD And when “normal” people are overfull after the dinner, I may be hungry xD

Step by step

The dinner we can start when we notice the first star on the sky. And because in Poland during the winter the sunset is really early (between 15-16:00) so the dinner is also early. In my home we start more or less around 17:00. In some families the time depends also on working hours of a family member (like policeman, nurse, doctor, etc). First we pray, there is like a list of prayers. In my home is: Our Father, The creed, The Angelus. Then one of us reads part about Jesus born from the Gospel according to Luke. Then is time for wishes. This tradition is very important. We do it also during christmas dinners with friends or following days with all people who we meet and we want to wish them something. In the past we used to send a lot of Christmas postcards with wishes to the families which are far away or friends. Now it’s time of online wishes. We send them from 24th till 26th Dec. I like wishes only when I say them to people who I know very well and I know what I want to wish them for the coming year. And yes, it’s time to hear “I wish you a boyfriend/fiance/husband”. KAWALER TIME. Ehhh. On youTube you can find many guides how to skip (or answer) those questions xD But let’s come back. So it’s wishes time, we use the Christmas wafer to share and wish. Also the next day you take it with you when you go to visit anyone.

When this step is done we can eat! When you sit finally, you can’t leave the table till the end. Only person who brings dishes can leave the table. In my home we try to do it but also we help our mother with bringing new dish and cleaning previous one. In the past there was tradition that the all family ate from the same bowl. My fathers remembers that. We have never done it. Let’s write about those dishes finally. So we start with borscht with ravioli - barszcz z uszkami (beetroot soup). Symbolizes beauty and longevity.

Then is time for pea soup with dried plums. Luck, wealth and health.

Third soup is a mushroom soup. The same, wealth, health and luck.

Then is sauerkraut with pea or pea with sauerkraut. Meaning the same like above.

Then my favorite: pierogi! Normally should be with sauerkraut and mushrooms, for me and my brothers we have with apples xDDDD

And the main and last dish: fish! And again, in my family we have fish with chips xDD Just because us small children we didn’t like fish so at least we could eat chips. In “normal” families” they just have boiled potatoes - boring :P Fish - it should be carp. My parents prefer trout. For us, we have fillets, this year of a codfish. Why? Because I don’t like when food looks at me (that has eyes. That why I don’t eat sea food...).

And of course with sauerkraut. It’s very healthy, I know, my father loves to eat it a lot! He is crazy with sauerkraut and always says that I get sick because I don’t eat it...

For drinking we have kompot. Because this dinner is a special one, also there is special kompot made from dried plums. There are 2 groups of people, who hate it or love it. Guess which group I’m in XD

Because for the dessert there is another “stomach”, you still can eat. Christmas sweets: poppy seed cake and gingerbread.

Of course the best after that heavy dinner is red WINE. This year we had a white one, because my parents got this bottle from us for their 25th wedding anniversary and we couldn’t drink it before because I’m in Valencia.

And now is the best time for all children. It’s presents time! In my home gifts bring Santa Claus. In the past in some regions it was Ded Moroz - Dziadek Mróz (russians...). The youngest goes to Christmas tree and take and share gift by gift with others. If you were naughty during the year you will get a rod - rózga. Bruno is always a good boy :D

After everything you can sing carols, lay down, visit others orrrrrrrrrrr watch Kevin! That’s also very polish tradition. Every year on the TV on 24th Dec there is Home Alone. Always. Once they didn’t want to play it, but people were going crazy and finally Kevin appeared. We know this movie by heart. I don’t remember Christmas without that movie xD

Also we say that after the dinner you should listen to animals, because they will speak that time with a human voice and they will tell you what they think. For girls, they should go outside and listen to the dogs barking. It’s important from which side they bark, because from there their future husband will come - kawaler xD

At midnight we should go to the church for a special mass. It’s called Midnight Mass - Pasterka. I’ve never been 🙈 I’m sleeping already xD It’s a mass where 80% of people in the church are drunk... after wine and classical polish alcohol - vodka. But my cousins and neighbors go every year, by foot, 2km, drinking % during the way to warm up xD It’s nice when is snowing, then we say that we have a true Christmas.

That’s all about first day. Let’s go on more! Are you still fascinated? ;)

25th December

We start a day with a mass, some people with hangover. Pasterka was a first mass with carols, this one is the second one. After the mass we usually go to the cemetery to visit our grandfather. Then at 12:00 we go to the sister of my mum to eat lunch together (2 families, ~12 people, depends on the year). Ester lunch we eat together too but in our house. The lunch is very typical polish, with chicken broth - rosół, and then some potatoes with what my aunt wanted to prepare but always there is a chicken chop to choose. And of course kompot and sauerkraut. After that, dessert - some special cake. Then we clean the table and we put another food, like salads, cakes, fruits, meats, etc. You know, eat eat eat repeat. And on the table appears of course polish treasure - vodka! :D I know, for you polish people may drink a lot, but it’s kind of roots, for us it’s nothing special, we just enjoy it in that way. This year we tasted a homemade vodka of my uncle based on quince. Tasty!

We can stay in that aunt house till night or change, visit others, wait for others, depends on the moods and it’s more spontaneous.

This day we start also caroling! It’s my favorite tradition! Mostly children are going from house to house, with some costumes, singing carols, doing some performance, people give them some sweets, cakes and money! You can be Maria, Joseph, shepherd, king, Death, etc, etc.

Long time ago my grandpa made a Nativity with some figures. My cousins (I was ~10) were doing the performance with some rhymes and carols, they could earn a lot of money because it was really well prepared.

Hahaha XD me on the right xD We still have that Nativity and I hope my brother with the youngest cousins will go next year, because it was really nice! 2 years ago, my cousins and friends (16-18 years old) decided to walk and sing. 1 year ago I joined them and we made some costumes, prepared some rhymes and carols. And we walked from house to house in our village and we performed. Of course in every house they give you money and they make you drink vodka... so imagine how we looked like at the end 🙈 Guess who I was XD Of course a devil XD

youtube

This year we went only to our families or people who told us to visit them, we spent more time in their house (yes, drinking) and we just were singing, without any rhymes and costumes. Just to keep the tradition but in a basic way.

I love it ! :D

26th December

Second day of celebration. Of course we start with a mass. This day you take to the church oats from the table, to make them saint and then you spread them in the house you visit. My father’s favorite tradition XD He always goes to my cousin Kinga and spread around her room, bed, kitchen, in her clothes, everywhere. For girls it’s kind of luck, but yeah... clean it later.

Then just lunch. and then we wait for guests. Because grandma lives with us, second day we spend at home because their children with families are visiting her and us. So party in our house. And oats spread in our house as a revenge. Clean it... Again eating and drinking, also singing carols. In my family we love to drink, sing and dance :D

You know what is also connected with Christmas? Oranges and mandarins! We eat tones of them during Christmas :D Of course they are not polish, I think it’s because in communism time it was a luxury and to make Christmas a special time.

We can also go second time for caroling to the house which we haven’t visited yet but this year we didn’t.

Young wild freeeeee :D

Uffff this is how we do it! It’s all about family, to spend time together, to be a little bit lazy, to enjoy, spread luck and many nice wishes around. I hope I didn’t forget about all suspicious in my family. And I hope you know better now polish Christmas and maybe one year you will have a chance to spend Christmas in snowy Poland :)

#christmas #poland #traditions #winter

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freakflagbyiana · 5 years

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Why “David Bowie is god”

As my site turns one year old today, which is also David Bowie’s birthday, I thought I’d try to begin to explain the importance David Bowie has in my personal life and the effect he had, continues to have, on my career.

Childhood influence

My parents had fairly different musical tastes but the one major thing that overlapped was they were both David Bowie fans. My mom was also a Jim Henson fan so I grew up watching Labyrinth with her. I remember it was out of print for a long time and I was the only kid in the neighborhood with a copy that had been taped off of HBO. As a kid I remember being in love with Jareth’s hair itself, asking Mom if I could make my hair do that one day. She replied “Sweetie, that’s a wig, not his real hair” and it was the dream-shattering equivalent of learning that there was no Santa Claus, Easter Bunny, and Tooth Fairy all rolled up into one. As a goth teenager I really got into his freaky Ziggy era, finding the idea of being an alien heavily relatable. And when I discovered BowieNet when I was 17, to my surprise my parents agreed to pay my annual subscription... It was $70. I think most parents would be like “Your message board fanclub costs how much? HAH! No.” I won’t go into grave detail of my BowieNet life here, because I could write an entire book, but I’ll summarize it. It began in 1996, and behind the pay wall was lots of exclusive bonus content, access to concert presales and bnet-only events, exclusive chatroom Q&As, and a very active message board. This was before Twitter, before Instagram, before Myspace, definitely before Facebook. David Bowie basically created social media as the everyday form we recognize today. He didn’t post all the time but I would still consider him very active on the message board, for a busy top tier celebrity. His username was “sailor” although there were always whispers about his other secret accounts that he used for trolling. So he basically invented trolling, too. The community itself was close, there were always local meetups and many members would travel internationally to see their closest bnet friends, eventually including myself. I joined this community when I was still in high school and 17 years later I am still close to the friends I made back then. These people are my family, and they vary from all nations, all walks of life, all classes, all ages... The first time I met any of them was at my first ever Bowie concert and that itself was a bnet members-only show to launch the Reality tour, which was eventually known as his last tour. This pivotal moment in my life occurred on August 19th 2003 at the The Chance Theater in Poughkeepsie NY. It was a small general admission venue, arguably a dive compared to the arenas he would play on the rest of the Reality tour. I was 18 years old and was in the process of moving to Chicago for art school. It was surreal to be seeing my first Bowie concert in a GA venue, and yet I knew 80% of the audience. David Bowie himself knew 100% of the audience, and you can hear him speaking to specific people in the bootlegs. I knew more people in the audience than I knew in my high school of 60 kids. A bunch of us were waiting at the venue early enough to catch him coming out to say hello while they were doing soundcheck. I didn’t get anything signed because all the members he knew by name were up in the very front of the group, as it should be. But I could still observe him from afar. He was dressed simply in a crisp white tshirt and white jeans, so the bright summer sunshine gave him a literally radiant, angelic glow. I’ll never forget his slinky catlike walk, and I’ve since never witnessed a creature with more grace.

Lessons I learned from Him

Freakflag began when my last salon closed, suddenly, due to #Austinproblems. As a fantasy color specialist, what I do is so specialized that not many places are going to do it well. The most stable environment for it, on short notice, is a mini salon. As a hairstylist, this makes sense. As an artist, this was (still is) terrifying. I have literally painted myself into a corner where I am my own microcosm, a terrarium of rare creatures emerging covered in sunset locks and lavender hairdust... None of this would have been possible without David Bowie. I very sincerely celebrate him as a god of my profession. For I am a witch and my profession is transformation magic. In many ways it is the magic of one’s true form, their true Identity. For example, I have many transgender clients who visit me in the early stages of their personal transformation. Sometimes they know what they want but a lot of times they don’t. I accept this task with great reverence for the importance of what I’m being asked to do. If they are not completely comfortable with the hair I’ve given them, it’s more than “a bad haircut will grow out if you don’t like it” - it can shape their confidence and that shapes the way people treat them. David Bowie is the Patron Saint of No Labels & Don’t Tell Me What To Do. The Patron Saint of the Gender Fluid & the Non-Binary. His iconic Ziggy Stardust mullet is the perfect example as to why I don’t attribute gender to my haircuts. Tell me, is a Ziggy mullet a men’s haircut or a women’s haircut? The answer is Yes. He taught me you can walk around with no eyebrows, a pale skeletal alien, and still feel your oats. It doesn’t matter if people “get it” because you “get it.” And you are the only person that really needs to “get it.” This is the lesson of aesthetic integrity. He taught me the importance of artistic integrity. At times he was a starving artist that created beautiful, profound things that no one quite understood or appreciated. But eventually he had a period of being a sellout that pandered to the crowd; it made him so sick of China Girl that he didn’t play it live for years after. I think it’s the period after this, from the 90s onward, where he found his true creative power. He knew he could achieve either end of the spectrum and balanced on that line thereafter. Blackstar being his best achievement in this regard. He taught me you can find your truest love later in life. Many goths say they aspire to a love like Morticia & Gomez, but I aspire to a love like Iman & David. Theirs is a real life love story that endured, and it didn’t happen overnight, she made him work for it! This is the big one... He saved me from flirting with suicide. I could write a lot about this too but I won’t right now. Here are the broadest strokes: As a sensitive, emotionally neglected, eccentric teenager I listened to a lot of angry music; Punk, Goth, Industrial, etc. The summer of age 16 was a tough one, I had been kicked out of one parent’s house and the other one completely left me to my own devices... So when I began flirting with self harm, the only person that noticed and snapped me out of it was a close school friend whom I will always consider a brother. This was about the time I discovered Bowie’s glamorous Ziggy era and it was the first thing that showed me “Truth, Goodness & Beauty” in my darkest hour. He showed me that being a great artist took time to cultivate your skills and not only would suicide mean I was achieving nothing, but self harm was a weakness that would eventually fester and I had to nip it in the bud. Bowie’s brother suffered from schizophrenia and eventually committed suicide so many of his works touch on the theme of your own worst enemy coming from within. A lot of goth music discusses it too, warning against rather than encouraging, but no one can make something relatable quite like Bowie. (For the record, a lot of that angry music is still my favorite! It has its place in the world) A lot of rock stars drank and drugged their way into an early grave but David Bowie was the one that survived and still managed to stay artistically and culturally relevant in the end. This is the main reason I celebrate him as a role model and a god amongst men. If he survived the 70s, made a clear decision to sober up, and could maintain sobriety throughout the 80s, he could achieve anything.

“Just a mortal with the potential of a superman” David Bowie, Quicksand

How I celebrate Him

For the last four years, I’ve been a DJ at Elysium’s New Year’s Eve party, a Labyrinth-themed Goblin King’s ball. And for the last three, I’ve co-hosted as Jareth himself... which means I’ve achieved my childhood dream of wanting to be Jareth with that fabulous hair and bedazzled tailcoat! This prepares me perfectly for celebrating his life a week later. There are a few “Bowie Weekend” events here in town. Drinks Lounge always has a Bowie Birthday Bash and Elysium usually has an 80’s night tribute or some other event in his honor. Then on the day itself I will take the time to clean my Bowie Shrine and think about all the times he helped me get out of a bad place in my life. Here you can see Instagram highlights of my Bowie Shrine. A few months ago, I got to work on a truly special project that is still super secret. But I can say that it involved recreating a famous David Bowie image and it was a great honor to be asked to do the makeup and hairstyling for this. It took all day, longer than expected, and we got about 300 shots... This weekend we got together again to edit them and in the end only 3 shots were picked. I can only imagine the process for the original shoot! I thought I was just invited along to edit because I was a Bowie nerd that wanted to be there and was ridiculously stoked on this project. But I was grateful to witness us work together as group on this tribute in its entirety, the three of us are perfectionists and we all had high standards but we also had methods of editing our standards for the sake of being practical. Unlike the shoot itself, this time a lot of discussion was had on the different elements that composed the original image and all three of us paid great attention to those details in the recreation. None of us expect to profit from it, this was hours of work that we each volunteered out of love of the art form, and reverence for David Bowie himself. The role I played in this image is a minor one compared to the other two people involved, but I am so terribly proud of us. I think He would be, too. Since I can’t post that image, I will instead leave you with my Aladdin Sane selfie tribute from this weekend:

★

#freakflagbyiana #davidbowie #hair #beauty #happy birthday David Bowie #Bowie Birthday #religious beliefs #Bowie #autobiographical #transgender #nonbinary #genderfluid #tansformation #witchcraft

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honeywithblueberries · 6 years

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Idol Chp 2 Journey to the Sahara

A/N: A special thanks to kt_valmiri for editing (and adding the bunnies!) and ScaraMedn for beta reading! Thanks for helping me every step of the way, my friends :)

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It seemed as though Judy had barely closed her eyes before morning arrived. Rena undid the rope that attached her to the support beam and helped her to once again clean herself. Through this she held vague wisps of her dream, but really all she remembered was the color green.

A bowl of oats and berries was placed in her paws and fresh water was given to her. Once her hunger was sated, Judy was lead to an open wagon pulled by a wolf several times larger than his kin. She said not a word as Rhea lifted her up next to supplies for the long journey.

Dorian brought the cushions she had slept on and set them to the floor. The bunny followed the wolf’s motions, barely listening as he described the journey to Sahara Kingdom.

“We will be passing through the borders of the Savanna. King Adrian Bogo is attaching his gift to the prince with our convoy. His majordomo, Lionheart, will be escorting us to the palace.” Dorian reached over the side of the wagon to adjust the cushions.

With a paw, he patted one invitingly. Judy, having stood at the edge of the cart, stared blankly at them. Were it not for the she wolf’s paws on her shoulders, she would have bolted.

“Will it be a long journey?” Her voice was still hoarse with tears, the bunny sank once again to her knees onto the soft cushions. Dorian gently placed a paw upon her ears to sooth the still distressed rabbit.

“About three days. Two if the weather holds. I have meet King Adrian and Lionheart. They are both kind, Lionheart especially, if a bit loud. He may bring his assistant Benji.” The wolf smiled at the thought, though his friend did not smile back. “He will make the journey much more enjoyable.”

When she didn’t respond, Dorian lifted his paw away and joined Rena at the back of the convoy with a small defeated sigh. The cart jerked, it’s wheels giving a light groan as the wolf began to pull. With the motion of the cart, Judy’s eyes grew heavy and very soon she drifted off once more.

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Judy slept most of the way through the Savanna, her dreams more vivid this time. She sat atop the grassy hills not far from the royal burrow. With smell the sea on the wind, her hilltop granting her a beautiful view of it, her mind grew peaceful as she took it in.

The canine whom had visited her previously, came once more. Still and silent, he merely sat with the homesick bunny and observed the comings and goings of the distant tide and birds. After a time, the stranger, with his green eyes and fiery fur, turned to her and smiled.

And to her surprise, she smiled back.

It was then that her body began to ache with the need to move, her consciousness drawing her into the waking world. The… whomever he was, faded as her eyes blinked open. Under a small awning that had been placed over her, she sat up and stretched. Her tired mind registered the voice of another and the stillness of the cart.

Perking her ears up to catch snippets of the conversation, she peeked her head out of her make shift shelter. A large cheetah was telling an animated story to a group of young wolves, their muzzles hanging open as they watched him act out his story.

Lips curled up as she watched the cat make faces and mannerisms for each different character of the story he was telling. The main character of the story was drawing his bow, only to have the string snap. One chubby paw when to his eye in mock hurt, while the other flailed the broken weapon at whomever he was aiming at.

Before she could stop herself, she giggled. Six sets of ears stood straight and flicked in her direction. The cheetah, his arms now raised over his head, turned his big brown eyes to her.

They grew wider the longer they stared at the bunny who stood frozen in front of the crowd of predators. Paws dropping to his chubby cheeks, his expression went from shock to a beaming smile of complete adoration.

“AWWWWWW!”

Scampering to the side of the cart, he gripped the edge to haul himself half way over the side. Judy had ducked back under her awning in alarm, starting at the paw jutted out to her.

“Oh. Em. Goodness…” He squealed in delight again as she overcame her trepidation and crept closer to cautiously shake his paw. “They really did find a bunny. Oohhh! You’re even cuter than I imagined!”

As she had grown up in a kingdom whose population was almost completely bunny, the term ‘cute’ was used to describe only the most desirable. Beautiful, handsome, and gorgeous were used, as well, but to be called cute was for another to admit attraction beyond the physical. Someone being called ‘cute’ was a high compliment.

It was something she had never been called.

Having a mammal who was most likely ignorant to the meaning bunnies had for it only made her feel patronized. She wanted to correct him, but how could she, knowing that he meant no harm by the statement? The silent debate she held in her head did not get far before the cheetah’s face dropped in horror.

“Oh, that’s right!” His other paw lifted to trap hers. She was suddenly pulled forward into a tight embrace, the air being crushed from her lungs as he squeezed.

“I am such a ditz! Everyone knows you can’t call a bunny cute! And here I go, insulting the guest of honor. Me, Benji, whom everyone thinks is just a flabby, court jester.”

The doe extracted herself, taking in a deep gulp of air once free.

“It’s quite all right,” she gasped out, rubbing her ribs. Looking around at the dusty land, she turned back to the cheetah. “Where are we?”

“The Savannah!” another booming voice called out. “At least, within the outskirts of it!”

Judy felt her eyes go wide at the sight of the mammal approaching. She had never seen a lion before and found herself unprepared for it. Towering over the little bunny in her cart, he stood proud as he beamed at her. One paw, easily the size of her whole body, stretched down, though it hesitated when he realized just how small she was.

Deciding just finger would have to do, the lion’s grin grew when she accepted it.

“Welcome to the convoy, my long-eared friend!” He laid his paw flat, allowing her to cautiously climb onto of it. Raising it eye level, he winked at her before turning his attention to everything around them. Her gaze followed his, a little gasp escaping her at the sight.

Giraffes as tall as trees carried large baskets and picked ripened fruit from the trees surrounding them. Rhinos carried spears that they brandished at each other, always prepared to protect the travelers, while graceful gazelles and antelope practiced intricate dances with their long limbs and mesmerizing sways of their hips.

And, of course, the wolves.

The pack rested amongst the travelers, exchanging stories of past glories and feasts. Even a few young ones who were making their first trek towards the Sahara were allowed to challenge the rhino guards to spar. Others played music for the dancers, helped prepare food or challenged each other to spirited games of tug of war using only their muzzles. It was quite humorous to watch a grown wolf become frustrated when their opponent refused to concede.

“Are they all here for-” Judy’s words were cut off as the lion navigated the crowd.

“For Prince Nicholas’ birthday?” His laugh was more roar as he threw his head back at her nod. “But of course, my dear! The whole of the Zootopian Market comes together for moments like this. It is an honor to representing King Bogo. Oh! You would love the king! Fine male, he is!”

“Why are we stopped here?”

“This is the Watering Hole!” Came the voice of Benji. The friendly cheetah grinned up at her as he pointed towards the small body of water not far from them. “Not the main one, mind you. But traders who head towards the Market stop here.”

“Indeed!” The mighty lion came upon the water, lowering himself to allow her to hop off his paw. “Here, we shall await Emperor Big and his entourage. When they arrive, we carry on to the Sahara.”

“And how long until we arrive?” Judy stepped into the cool water, paws dipping down to scoop up a healthy drink of it. Her body relaxed at the sensation of it trickling down her throat and refreshing her body. Already she felt more alive.

“This time tomorrow.”

“Lionheart!” Turning their heads, the trio looked to see Liam striding towards them, a large smile on his muzzle. “My wolves spotted the emperor. They estimate his approach to be over the pass, within the hour. Have your mammals refreshed and ready to move!”

“Aye, Liam, you old dog!” Lionheart reached back down and scooped Judy up once more. He turned them both towards the alpha who gave a polite nod to the young doe. “Benjamin and I were just enjoying the company of your bunny. A fine gift for the prince, I must say!”

At his words, her ears dropped as she was carried back to the waiting cart. Liam’s expression went slightly dark, though he did not comment, instead leaving to ensure everyone else was ready to move out. Benji seemed to understand the sting she felt as the oblivious lion lowered her once more. He gave the fur on her head ruffle before heading off to gather his group. The chubby cheetah stood beside her just outside the cart.

“I apologize for Lionheart,” he said nervously. “He’s a good mammal, really. He just doesn’t think before speaking.”

“He’s right though.”

Judy crawled back under the bit of canvas that had shaded her thus far. Curling up in misery, she buried her nose into the cushions, paws over her head to hide herself further.

“I am to be nothing more than a glorified pet,” she mumbled.

“No!” Exclaimed Benji pulling the canvas back to let the sunlight shine down. “No, no, no, no, no.”

He gently took her paws and tugged her to her feet.

“I’m guessing you were brave before this. Back in your homeland.” He smiled at the nod she gave. “But what I know of rabbit clans, your life was never your own. Had you been born a buck, you would be a prize amongst your family. As a doe, you are a burden.”

Her eyes rose to meet his, silently conveying the truth of the matter.

“And now!” The cheetah huffed and quite suddenly tossed her into the air, pulling an undignified squeal of surprise from her. Catching her with skill, she was twirled around as her happy new friend brought her away from her cart once more.

“Now! You are on an adventure! The sights you shall see, the new foods you shall try, mammals of every species, coming together in harmony! And you shall meet them all! Just look at what this world has to offer you!”

They paused by a giraffe, who smiled down at them before leaning over slowly to present them with a basket of figs. Judy accepted one and groaned in delight as she took a big bite. She smiled her thanks at the strange creature, who beamed back.

“Figs for a bountiful harvest and healthy future,” the giraffe explained. With a final nod, the tall creature passed the basket a group of meerkats waiting for them.

Benji pulled her away towards the rhinos, eyes wide as they wielded their weapons and readied themselves to march once more. One paused mid-stretch and made eye contact with her. His resting scowl made her ears drop with nerves as he tugged his helmet off and strode towards the pair.

Judy was placed on the ground in front of him, the large mammal considering the doe for a moment before plopping the head piece on her. It completely covered her small form, much to everyone’s amusement, though Judy felt flushed she was given a chance to try it on.

Amidst the chuckling, the rhino leaned down to peek at her through the opening.

“A fierce warrior needs a fierce war face,” he explained, showing off his own with deep growl. “Show me what you got.”

Trying to swallow her nerves, she scrunched up her face and gave a timid growl. The others watching only laughed harder. Even Benji couldn’t resist the squeal of delight.

“Oh, I think my bunny slippers just ran for cover.” The rabbit scowled at that, only for the rhino scoff. “Show me your real face!”

She took a deep breath and jumped forward, teeth bared and eyes narrowed.

“RAWR!”

“That’s a little better.”

With a grunt, the helmet was picked back up and put into place, the rhino’s expression never changing. Though she could have sworn he gave her wink before rejoining his team. Her half smile was more genuine as she was pulled and tugged from mammal to mammal, each gifting her with a warm smile.

With shy eyes, she paused in front of the group moving in such beautiful ways to the music. She watched their hips shake, hooves and sashes moving as one, while they smiled at their diminutive audience. One young gazelle bent over to grasp Judy’s paw, pulling her in line with them. Tentative at first, the dancers taught her their steps, applauding as she mastered them quickly. The rabbit doe grinned as she followed their lead, until she eventually misstepped and landed in a laughing heap on the sidelines.

“The wee rabbit can dance!” Cried a wolf with a loud, barking laugh. “So let’s see if she can play! My mandolin, Gari!”

To her astonishment, the instrument was plopped into her lap. It was far to large for her, but the wolf guided her through a few simple chords. Liam himself applauded her performance, stating what a pity it was Garrett would not be able to learn from her. And, as she was placed back in her cart and they started moving again, Benji told her stories of how their world was formed.

At the dawn of time, greats gods and goddesses, in their fury and pride, each tried to outdo the others in their creations. A powerful god pulled the earth up by its roots in anger at his daughter’s elopement, creating the mountains that framed their view. A little goddess, proud of the tiny pond she made, cried the oceans into being when the others tormented her for it. The stars were fire arrows, shot up by the first wolf alpha when he lost his way in a snow storm. And the winds were those who lived before them, reminding those still living of their presence.

Judy felt her sadness melt away for the time being as Benji told her story after story. So different they were from the ones she grew up with. And stories of the goddess Serendipity were what really held her attention the most. She had heard whispers about her; the goddess of fortune and random occurrence. Stories of her painted the rabbit goddess as playful and influential.

Her clan, when it was first formed, had celebrated the goddess. Does especially had followed her example, being spirited, headstrong and ready to take chances. From her sprouted Easter, who brought fertility and life to the land they called home.

But the bucks feared the strength their does found in the powerful goddesses and, in their fear, had toppled the statues and destroyed the shrines devoted to their matrons.

Texts were burned from the meager collections the clan had gathered…

But they were not forgotten. Whispered was the correct word for how the stories were now told. Judy had listened as she grew from a little toddling kit to potential pawn within her kingdom. It was to Serendipity that Judy spoke her prayers. And it was she who received the best offerings the doe had.

The messenger god may had been called upon for council the night before, but she was a servant of Serendipity. Although, the canid who had been visiting her dreams was cause for curiosity.

“Benji,” she called softly. The cat had fallen into silence as his brown eyes focused on the still approaching entourage of the emperor. “Do you know of a dog or wolf god or goddess?”

He actually shuddered slightly at the question. “Several, actually. A few of them the wolves hold dear. But the foxes of the Sahara prefer Karma, Goddess of Balance.”

“Karma?”

With an absent nod, Benji kept his eyes on the on the large polar bears approaching. They were due to join paths and carry on to their destination.

“Indeed.” Once again, the cheetah shuddered. “I’m not too fond of the canine gods. They always make me nervous.”

“You get on quiet well with Pack Wolford.”

“That is only because I have known them all my life.” He leaned over to her as he walked, paw held up to keep his words a secret. “And usually Lionheart or King Bogo is around, so I know they won’t try anything.”

Judy giggled at his expression.

“His imperial majesty, Emperor Big!”

The call brought their attention to the polar bears they were now marching next to. The two largest carried a litter between them, a heavy looking thing that the pair bore without a single hint of fatigue. Pausing, another stepped forward to swing the door open, revealing a small, plump shrew.

Finely dressed in lighter layers, he allowed the bear to lift him up. The marching was paused, allowing the heavily dressed bears to shed their winter clothing. Lionheart and Liam were both greeted as the crowed fell into low bows.

“Oh…” Said Judy in low voice.

Benji looked up from his bow towards her. “What?”

“I was expecting someone….” She paused on the next word. “Well, bigger.”

He grinned at her while straightening as the three leaders conversed quietly. Before he could respond, however, a low nasally voice was raised.

“Bring the rabbit to me,” was all she heard before her vision was swallowed by the polar bear in front of her. In her surprise, she scrambled back only to be scooped up by the scruff of her neck and carried over to the minute emperor.

An uncertain glance was cast towards Liam, who gave the shrew a disapproving look at the way she was being handled. With a small wave of his paw, she was set before them, Lionheart beaming down as Emperor Big regarded her.

“My child,” he began, obviously still appraising her. “You are a creature of beauty. A fine prize for the prince. I feel you shall bring much fortune to my godson.”

He beckoned her closer, reaching out his paw for her own. She cautiously accepted, her ears blushing as he pressed a kiss to the back hers. The emperor simply smiled as he released her.

“I have a daughter your age,” he continued. “She rests in our litter. Once the princess awakens, she shall keep you company for the remainder of the journey. I feel you will get on well with her.

“Go now my child,” he gave a regal nod as Dorian stepped forward to escort her back to her spot.

Casting a glance back, she met the hooded eyes of the Emperor one last time. He gave her a nod before gesturing the lion and wolf closer to him. The awning was replaced and the wagon began to move once more. Benji went back to walking and talking as she laid back and observed the clouds moving over head.

All the while, she pondered the life she being brought to.

“I recognize her…” Emperor Big had been moved to Liam’s shoulder. The alpha kept his head high and ears straight as his companion mused out loud. “There’s something you’re not telling me and it makes me nervous. Why do I feel she is not some random rabbit found as all the others were? I shall organize my mammals after the celebrations, on the off chance the Sahara needs them. Should the need arise, we march beside King Taiem. Remain alert when you and your wolves return to the meadow lands.”

“Already done, your imperial Majesty.” Liam cast his eyes towards the shrew as he walked.

The group marched well into evening, torches lit to guide the way. Most of the predators stayed in the lead, using their night vision to best advantage. It was late when they stopped to make camp, the emperor’s daughter having woken up hours before.

She and Judy had spent the time dancing in the back of the bunny’s cart, the music having played nonstop during the march. As Big had predicted, the two got along beautifully. And as Francesca had never traveled to the Sahara either, they speculated on what they would see.

Princess Francesca jabbered away with the chubby cheetah while Judy lay half listening in her cart. Once more, she was secured to her sleeping spot, with a wolf standing guard to keep her from sneaking away. Though they needn’t have bothered.

The Savanna was long gone. Daunting sand stretched for miles making the doe positive she would not get far. No matter how tempted she was. Instead, in an attempt to draw her thoughts from escaping, she allowed her eyes to close and her mind to be consumed with green eyes and red fur.

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A ragged creature pulled himself out of the cave he had taken shelter in. When the sudden storm had released it’s fury, the miserable little thing had been battered by it. The winds blew leaves, dust and tree branches into his face. The latter caught him sharply on his long ears with their jagged ends.

He was left with only a shallow scratch and mild pain, but in the darkness such a thing only heightened his confusion. Pure luck had him stumbling into the cave, effectively sheltering him from the heavy rain and deafening thunder. After a day and a half of sleep, he stepped out into the sun and scanned his surroundings.

Days had passed since he and seven others had left the Burrows in separate directions, each in search of the missing princess. All had expected to find her within hours of departing. She was, after all, just a doe. Pampered and spoiled and raised to be obscenely obedient. The buck was entertaining the thought of the price she would have to pay for putting him through this. He was a male with needs and, for her disobedience, she would satisfy them.

The thought becoming more and more appealing, he traveled over the cragged landscape, ears up and listening for signs of his prize. Having never ventured far from home himself, he figured that he was in the outskirts of the Savanna. The old Pride Lands they had been called, before the lions that ruled it were conquered by the cape buffalo.

Sounds of loud, jovial voices, jumbled though they were, bounced off the dry ground and rocky terrain. Angling his ears towards the noise, the scout dropped to a crouch, creeping along the ground until he came to rest upon a steep incline. Peeking over the edge, his wide eyes watched a curious procession of mammals.

Several carts, all pulled by strong mammals that would easily tower over the bunny, were dragged across the Savannah. Three were loaded with casks and barrels, no doubt filled with liquors, while others were filled with baskets of fresh produce and others foods to sustain the travelers.

What looked to be a full pack of wolves pulled a cart at the end of the line, this one smaller, as an enormous cheetah walked by its side. His animated voice and laughter echoed up to the unknown observer, who was unwilling charmed in spite of the creature’s species. But the sight of a familiar face poking out from the back of the cart in response to the predator’s antics, caused the feeling to evaporate.

Brown eyes narrowed greedily upon Judy, watching as she smiled and laughed back at whatever was said to her. A voice called out to both, causing her to straighten and look towards the speaker. Taking in her small curvy form, the hidden bunny cursed the group that found her before he did. His pleasure would have to wait to be sated until he returned to the king.

Knowing there was no way to sneak in and take the princess back while surrounded by all those noses, he turned and left in the direction of the Burrows.

“Gotcha,” he muttered with a grin.

#zootopia #wildehopps #judy hopps #benjamin clawhauser #nick wilde #alternate universe

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