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tkc-info · 2 years

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The Birth of a Dynasty

Day 4 - youth

@wagner-fell @chibi-tsukiko @littleturtle95

1347

“You know your way to the Sultan’s mother’s rooms?” Musa asked.

“Of course I do, I’ve been there before,” Leonila grinned “Where do you think I got our new tea set from?”

“Do you have any weapons with you?”

As a way of answering, Leonila took his hand and settled it on her hips, where he could feel the dagger strapped to her body. It was a little souvenir she’d stolen from the Aboveground Crown of Aragon last time she’d visited.

“You’re not wearing the noisy shoes, right?”

“I’m going barefoot.”

Musa made a sound of distaste. “Every lady around here wears sarbil.”

“I don’t like them. They’re uncomfortable and so carefully crafted you can’t walk without worrying that you’re ruining them.”

“It’ll be harder to blend in if you don’t follow—”

“Don’t worry,” Leonila arched a brow at her husband “I’ve done this multiple times. And way before meeting you.”

“I know, but,” Musa posed a hand on her belly, giving her a tiny, shy smile “It’s somewhat different now, is it?”

Leonila returned his smile. “No.”

Musa sighed. He didn’t argue with her —he knew Leonila too well to do so— and instead switched his gaze from his wife’s eyes to their surroundings: a half-hidden corridor in the Sultan’s palace. They weren’t doing anything that would garner their executions (yet), but he searched around the empty corridor as if looking for someone who’d inevitably read their impending commitment of a crime in their stance.

“Trust me,” lovingly, Leonila put a finger beneath her chin and veered his face back to hers. Then, she stood on her tiptoes and pressed a light kiss on his lips.

When she drew back, she found Musa staring at her with an odd expression. He was the most handsome man she’d ever laid her eyes on —and not because she was the only man she’d ever fully laid her eyes on. His skin was tanned and muscled from days doing nothing but training under the unyielding sun. His hair, a dark shade of brown, curled around his ears, and Leonila had memories of threading her fingers through it as they kissed breathlessly. His lips were the softest she had ever tasted and his skin the smoothest she had ever grazed; their embraces were only roughened by his body hair and beard, which all in all Leonila had come to enjoy. There was nothing of Musa she didn’t love, and there were times wherein the prospect of waiting seven more months to see the child he’d fathered —their child— felt torturous.

“I should go,” Leonila pressed “Ayala expects me at her home before the sun sets.”

She made to step away, but Musa closed a hand around her wrist, stopping her. “Wait a moment. Don’t stay too long at the Alsheikhs’s. Come back as soon as I finish today’s work. I think we need to talk.”

“About what?” Leonila asked. Automatically, her back tensed. She didn’t like his tone; too clipped and fast and wrong, altogether “Musa, is something wrong?”

“You know I’ve been feeling a bit sick, lately. It’s fine, don’t worry about me. It’s only that,” he looked left and right to confirm that there was still no one eavesdropping on them “Early this morning I overheard something you should know. It’s about the Sultan.”

Musa worked as a covert palace guard, and as such, part of his job implied learning secrets from other, human guards. Oftentimes, these secrets were nothing more than harmless gossip they laughed about together at night. But this time the information he’d acquired must be…

Leonila refused to dwell on it. She would cross that bridge when she got to it.

“I‘ll be waiting for you at home,” she promised, imbuing her voice with mirth “Until then, try to take a nap somewhere you won’t get caught. You do look quite sick —do you have a fever?”

There were dark marks under his eyes. “No,” he lied “I’m fine,” he smiled slightly, tired eyes reflecting warmth and fondness “Be swift as a lynx, silent as a shadow, and invisible as the very air we breathe. I love you.”

Musa used the hand he had on her waist to pull Leonila in. He pried her mouth open and kissed her deeply, then kneeled to press his lips to her flat belly, and as he did, Leonila couldn’t help noticing how odd his kiss had tasted. Like a dying man’s.

“Begone now,” he urged, rising to his feet, before Leonila could comment on it “And remember—”

“I know,” she cut him off. Silently, she reasoned that her concerns were unfounded; that Musa had caught a simple ailment and that he only stunk as a result of having been awake for hours on end. Tomorrow, she’ll persuade him to rest and all will be fine again “By the time you’re home, I’ll have prepared you dinner like a good, serviceable wife. Oh, even better: I’ll be wearing that robe I fished among Lalla Mesraya’s clothes, the one you like so much, so that you would perhaps feel elicited to give our child a little sibling.”

Musa huffed a contained laugh. He murmured something eerily similar to ‘stop jesting’ and nudged her out of their hiding spot. “I have work to do, and so do you,” he cited as the reason behind his actions.

“Very well. I love you,” she finally conceded.

Leonila turned around before Musa could voice a reply, a grin painting her face with mischief. She adjusted the vibrant-green miqna’a on her head so that it veiled her face to anyone who wasn’t walking straight up to her. A voice at the back of her mind that sounded annoyingly like her mother chastised her that she should’ve also worn a jimar, which would fully cover everything but her eyes —but Leonila promptly dismissed her. It was too warm, and she wasn’t fond of sweat she couldn’t wipe off easily. The miqna’a was enough.

She didn’t encounter any people as she treaded the corridors of the Sultan’s palace. Nay a single guard nor politician nor, Leonila chuckled, Yusuf I himself were there. All the better for her, she supposed. A heist was always easier when there were no possibilities of witnesses.

The marble floor was cool under her naked feet. One of her hands caressed the wall absently as she walked and inspected the grandeur of the Sultan’s palace. Leonila wished Ayala were here with her. Al-Qalʻat al-Ḥamrā had always been something her best friend admired. When they were younger girls and chanced upon the far-off sight of it, a sigh would always escape from Ayala’s lips, accompanied always by the same ‘would you imagine living there?’

The first time Leonila had snuck into the Sultan’s abode at fifteen, she’d been at awe at the interior. She’d already thought its facade —which was coloured a magnificent reddish hue— and the million gardens at the royal family’s disposal dreamlike, but the heart of the palaces were something else altogether. Corridors abuzz with the sound of ‘proper’ Arabic —the sultanate’s official language— instead of the more informal dialect the common people spoke; rooms as massive as oceans and ornate as a peacock’s tail; artwork on display at every corner as if it were the easiest to come by; expensive drapery hiding away the splendid rooms from the rustic outside; a myriad of important persons strolling around like they owned the place, looking so foreign, for they run the Sultanate of Girnatah and watching them walk and breathe and even smile felt unnatural.

And most importantly: the riches —so many riches in all the possible ways— to be found ensconced within its walls made Yusuf I’s home the most wonderful place Leonila had ever known.

“Upon further consideration,” Leonila murmured, eyeing a particularly alluring vase that would look perfect as olive storage “If Ayala were here, she wouldn’t let me get anything. That—”

Her words were halted to a stop by the sound of approaching footsteps coming off faintly from her right. Quickly, she scouted for a hiding spot, but the only one she saw was the ceiling, where the newcomers were unlikely to turn to. That would be it, then. The stone walls in the palace were rugged enough to climb, and the ceiling had been carved rather like a flower —a distant part of her wondered for the umpteenth time how it had come to be— thus she could fit in between the narrow spaces from petal to petal to conceal her presence. Leonila was gratified to note that the motion took no effort from her in spite of her pregnancy. Her feet secured themselves on the non-uniform stone, her hands settled on the petal before her, and she waited for the newcomers to pass.

They were two men in their early forties, with long beards and the self-absorbed countenance of human politicians. Leonila wasn’t quite sure, but she supposed they were Arab —not Berbers or muladites, and certainly not Christian or Jewish, otherwise they wouldn’t be there in the first place. The man on the right, taller, wore a blue gilala; while his companion’s tunic was an ugly shade of green. Both had swords strapped to their sides.

“What was the Sultan thinking?” Blue gilala man was saying in furious ‘proper’ Arabic. His words were slurred in such a way that Leonila had trouble deciphering them.

“Nothing. He’s too preoccupied fearing that Castilian king and favouring the wrong men,” Green gilala replied. He sounded equably as angry, although thankfully he knew how to enunciate properly.

Feeling curious, Leonila decided to eavesdrop on them until she got an explanation for their ire. It turned out, Blue and Green played important roles in the army, and they were fresh out of a reunion with less war-crazed politicians on a prospective betrayal of their peace treaty with the Kingdom of Castile, up north. Leonila felt strangely grateful that their proposal had come to nothing and that the worst they could do was badmouth the Sultan’s decisions, for she liked the sultanate as it was. She was Saz —and as such lacked any religious affiliation— however, to human eyes she presented as a Christian, a minority whose ‘brothers’ in Castile were trying to conquer the sultanate’s territories. Before the signing of the peace treaty, she had been subjected more frequently to hostile stares, had to pay higher taxes, etcetera. If the treaty was broken and Castile continued annexing their territory, perhaps Leonila’s living situation would become so bad she’d have to permanently move to Mirror, and she liked Aboveground Girnatah and Ayala too much for that.

A sudden question crossed her mind: was Blue and Green’s desire to break the peace treaty what Musa wanted to tell her about?

Can’t be, Leonila thought He can’t have known about this. He’s just a normal spy, only members of the Archaic Army could have access to that information.

Yes, that must be it.

Willing herself to slow down her thumping heart, she waited for Green and Blue to leave the corridor before getting back down to the floor. She straightened up, remembered why she was there, and resumed her task.

The Sultan’s mother was an umm walad —a slave freed after the former Sultan’s death on account of her birthing a son, the current Sultan— and her name was Bahar. That was just about everything most knew about her. Leonila didn’t have much information on her, either, but she did know she owned a well of gorgeous dresses she cared nothing about. Bahar was seldom in her large personal apartments, and rumour had it that she hadn’t been in the palaces altogether for close to a month —it was the perfect moment for Leonila to claim some of the woman’s garments.

A door was closed noiselessly, a lock was sealed even more silently, and Leonila finally was in Bahar’s bedroom. She took the place in for a second: jasmine scent wafting through the air from the tree that peeked inside the room from a sole open window; a grand, made bed pushed to the left corner; a tea set sitting on a table as if frozen in time; furniture —tables and chests and doors to other rooms— carved out of the highest-quality wood in the sultanate; colourfully-embroidered cushions on top of the rug-covered floor and around the tables serving as seats.

Leonila took a deep breath, lips curving into an excited smile. “Time to get to work.”

She searched the chests for trinkets —rings, bracelets, earrings— that would easily fit inside a pocket, and once she had lined the jewellery she’d take against a wall, she moved on to the clothes. All the while acting soundlessly and keeping the proverbial eye out for any nearing persons.

Later, she stripped off her clothing and put on several of Bahar’s: three pairs of sarawil, the long, loose pants all wore irrespective of gender; a tikka so that they wouldn’t fall off her waist; two ziharas —white tunics—; an orange gilala and a red gilala; an embroidered mitraf to cover the already-over-covered upper part of her body; a miqna’a; and even a jimar. For a brief second, she contemplated taking a bundle of several jimar and disguising it as a swollen belly, but decided against it. Being swaddled in so many layers of clothing was almost too much, she didn’t need extra warmth pressing against her stomach.

Leonila folded her former attire —luxurious in its own way— and gently placed it inside the chest she’d left the emptiest to somewhat disguise her thievery. Then she took a contented breath, and snuck out the window.

Her posture changed immediately to fit in among the sea of people, going on about their mundane business, she found when she arrived at her town, the sultanate’s capital. Leonila had dressed herself in such a manner that she didn’t appear like a clown, but merely a wealthy woman on the heavier side.

She only dropped her disguise when she arrived to the portal station, where she began peeling off layer after layer in front of several amused-looking Saz, and a small group of old men sporting disapproving frowns.

“Have a little bit of compassion,” Leonila told them, grinning “I need to make a living somehow. I have a baby in the way.”

“You’re playing with fire,” one of the men chastised. He gestured at the yellow hat he was holding “Don’t forget how humans see you.”

“I’m not Jewish, I’m Christian,” having reached the absolutely necessary clothes to maintain her dignity, she gathered the rest in her arms and stood up.

“Regardless,” another man pushed “Aboveground isn’t like Mirror. If you’re Christian, you should know—”

“Have a nice day!”

Leonila made haste to leave the portal station. Already it was obvious what the man was going to say: if you’re Christian, you should know that you’re at the bottom of the social hierarchy Aboveground, you should know that if they catch you stealing, they’ll cut off your hands and perhaps they’ll even enslave you since you’re young and Christian, you should know that blah, blah, blah… All of that she knew about, she just couldn’t bring herself to care. After all, she would never get caught.

“Never let strangers meddle in your business, my darling child,” Leonila whispered “They’ll only give you a headache.”

A part of her wished she were further along in her pregnancy, so that there would be a possibility of receiving a kick as a response. But, alas, Leonila had only found out about her state yesterday night. That’s why Ayala didn’t know it yet. That’s why Leonila had to inform her at once.

Musa and Leonila lived in a small house of a pre-roman style, she wasn’t sure which. It was decidedly small, but cosy like no other and decorated with little things here and there she’d stolen mostly from the realms of the peninsula.

“We can’t wait to have you here with us,” she told the child forming within her “You’ll have the best parents, the best grandparents, and obviously, the best extended family you could have ever wished for,” she dropped the clothes on the entrance’s floor and made to leave the house “Although your favourite aunt doesn’t know of you yet. I’m telling her now.”

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Ayala Alsheikh lived in the sole Jewish neighbourhood of Aboveground Girnatah, somewhat isolated from the heart of the city and its goings on. As a younger girl, she’d been quite annoyed by her home’s unfortunate location, but time and several discriminatory episodes on behalf of her religion had led her to appreciate her small bubble of peace. Her community offered an unparalleled support, everyone knew each other and treated each other like family, they joined forces to maintain their house-turned-synagogue and look after the elderly rabbi who presided it, they celebrated every achievement, no matter how grand or small —in Leonila’s eyes, they’d built the best place in the whole of Aboveground.

She didn’t quite fit in there, nor, frankly, had she ever had any desire to, as she had her own paradise in Mirror (or the places she looted). But the members of Ayala’s community were fond of her. Although that hadn’t always been the case: historically, Jewish-Christian relations hadn’t been the best, and, historically, too, Jews had had good reason to distrust strangers. Leonila had been both Christian and a stranger. It had taken her several visits to Ayala’s neighbourhood for her community to understand that she was harmless.

“Come to see Ayala?” Perla, a grandmotherly of sorts woman asked. She was leaning against the facade of her home like she owned the empty street.

Leonila smiled. “I’ve something to tell her,” she suppressed the urge to bring a hand to her belly. For once, Ayala had to be the first human who learned of her pregnancy, not to say that Leonila hadn’t got married through a recognisable institution. A child out of wedlock was frowned upon by Jews, Christians and Muslims alike.

“Then go,” Perla waved her away “I’ll continue to keep watch.”

In the past, Leonila would’ve asked what she was keeping watch for, but now she was acquainted with Perla’s ways. Ever since she’d began eating those weird mushrooms, Perla saw trees dancing, giants fornicating, and many other bizarre scenarios.

“Your service to your community is commendable,” Leonila said instead.

Perla’s eyes softened. “You’re so lovely, if you weren’t always in trouble, you would be married by now.”

Leonila laughed. “You don’t know half of it,” she turned to Ayala’s house and knocked on the door.

There was some shuffling inside, and two minutes later, Ayala opened the door. “Get inside,” she snapped. Leonila obliged, and Ayala kicked the door shut “You usually arrive earlier, I thought you wouldn’t come today.”

Her friend looked stressed out of her mind: long, brown hair in a complete disarray; clothes stained with mud; eyes tired. Two red blotches coloured her cheeks with indignation. Leonila couldn’t help but laugh.

“I’ll kill you,” Ayala threatened, bending down to take off her shoe. When Leonila wouldn’t cease shaking with laughter, she used it to smack her shoulder as she belaboured incomprehensibly in Spanish.

“Ay, stop it,” Leonila laughed “I don’t even understand what you’re telling me.”

Slowly, she regained her composure, flashing her friend a grin as both a peace offer and a means of apology.

“You’re a cruel woman,” Ayala told her, though by her tone, it was obvious that she was unable to keep a facade of anger “I’m sure your people don’t condone enjoying the suffering of others.”

Leonila shrugged. “I don’t know what my people condone or don’t condone,” and she was speaking truthfully. Her knowledge on Christianity was minimal, she’d only chosen that as ‘her religion’ because her great grandmother hailed from the Kingdom of Castile, where most were Christian “Besides, I’m happy today.”

“Because I have to deal with that—” Ayala flailed her arms wildly “Beast?”

“Oh, Rodrigo’s certainly not a beast,” Leonila objected.

Ayala huffed and muttered something for which she didn’t need a translation. The Alsheikhs’s new pet was a big, energetic dog Ayala’s father loved, but she hated. It had only been with them for a fortnight, and so far had managed to destroy her favourite veil, feast on the dishes she’d so diligently cooked for Shabbat minutes before Shabbat commenced, left paw-shaped mud stains on her bed, and peed on two pots. However, Rodrigo was an effective guard for Mr. Alsheikh’s herd of goats, thus he would stay with them.

“Where is Rodrigo, anyways?” Leonila continued.

“With my father, thankfully. They left minutes ago.”

Leonila hummed.

“Why are you smiling like a madwoman?” Ayala asked. Then her face darkened “You’ve stolen something.”

“As I always do.”

“Leonila!” Ayala made to bring her hands to her face, but remembered they were dirty mid-motion and huffed, annoyed “I’ve told you this many times, it’s—”

“Not the reason I’m so happy,” Leonila cut her off “Here, give me a hand.”

She didn’t wait for Ayala’s consent. Leonila closed her fingers around her friend’s wrist and pressed her palm against her belly.

For a very, very long moment, nothing happened. Ayala switched her eyes from Leonila’s to her stomach, blinked several times, frowned, cocked her head to one side and the other. And —finally— she jumped back in shock, gesticulating with her hands as if that was the only way to let out her surprise.

“How?” Ayala asked “Just how?”

“Oh, you see, I was cooking dinner when suddenly an angel materialised before me and entrusted me with birthing the best man to ever exist.”

Ayala didn’t look surprised. “You sin more than talk,” she frowned “You’re happy—”

“Extremely.”

“—So this child can’t have been forced onto you. That means it’s legitimate,” Ayala’s face twisted into a hurt expression “If the child is legitimate, you must have married. Why didn’t you invite me to your wedding? Why haven’t I even heard of your husband?”

Leonila’s eyes widened. “Oh,” she bit back a curse in Sazla “No, you’re misunderstanding me.”

She scrambled for an answer that would alleviate her friend’s pain. Until recently, Leonila and Musa’s relationship had been constricted to the confines of Mirror. Ayala had been told nothing of it, because Leonila couldn’t tell her: do you remember the Tower of Babel, whose fall is the cause of the different languages and destroyed a paradise? I hail from below-ground, where our tower stands tall to this day, and society is devoid of religion and personhood has fragmented into imliumhood and humanity. By the way, humans in my Shinar, Mirror, wield ‘powers’ you could have never fathomed. And now that your whole perception of reality has been upturned, let me tell you how I met my Musa, and we conceived the child growing in my wound on a drunk night in my realm’s equivalent of the Al-Hubabs’s estate, which is but a lodge for desperate youths to make love. We got married only two weeks ago, but it was in Mirror, following Saz tradition, and you simply must be kept in the dark about the Saz and our traditions. But I wish you could’ve attended.

Ayala would think her crazy.

“Musa and I aren’t married,” Leonila said instead “We’ve only seen each other twice. I didn’t tell you about him because I knew you’d disapprove.”

“Of course I disapprove!” Ayala snapped “If he doesn’t marry you, you’ll be his mistress. Your child a bastard. Did you not think of that before engaging in—” her face grew very red.

Leonila shook her head. “You don’t understand. Musa is a good man, there’s just no church we can marry at,” she lied “They were all gone decades ago.”

Ayala blinked once, slowly. “Ah. I’m sorry, then,” she didn’t add anything more; she had probably been reminded of how her community couldn’t have a proper synagogue due to their dwindling numbers and the amount of money they had to destine to paying the jizya —the tax imposed on Jews and Christians.

“You can meet him soon.”

That brought Ayala back from her shock. “I want to meet him now.”

Leonila laughed. “You can’t. He’s expecting me at home,” she threw her best friend A Look “He wants to have a talk.”

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When Leonila entered her house in Mirror, she found Musa laying on the ground. He was barely breathing, his skin was drenched in sweat —his hair stuck to his forehead— his face had acquired a sick undertone, and the stench oozing through the room… Leonila had never smelled anything like it. Whatever foul illness he’d been incubating had risen to the surface.

“Musa?” she asked, a hand over her nose, as she went to kneel by his side. She pressed her free hand against his brow “By Roxia, you’re burning.”

Musa groaned. “I’m fine,” he exhaled near-inaudibly.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” she ripped off his shirt “I’m going to draw a bath for you.”

That was the plan: take off his clothes, help him to his feet, get him into the pool at their yard to cool him down. But her plan was forgotten as soon as she’d undressed him fully. A line of bulbous tumours protruded on his inner thigh, one of them almost as big as her eyes.

“My head hurts,” Musa murmured, snapping Leonila out of her shock.

“A bath will help,” she said. She tried to imbue confidence into her tone, but her words came out shaky.

Taking Musa to the pool was an arduous task. He groaned in pain with every step, and once, they had to stop so that he could vomit, which resulted in streaks of dark-red sickness shooting to the walls and floor. Blood. Musa had vomited blood.

Musa’s knees gave out, and Leonila had to carry him the rest of the way to the pool. There, she ripped off her undergarments —the only cloth she had at hand— soaked it in the water, and washed the drying remnants of blood off his mouth. Then she gently lowered him to the pool. The water was freezing, and hopefully it would help with his fever.

Nausea snaked up her throat as she worked; her heart thumped so hard it might just as well break free from her rib cage. She was no doctor, but she knew this was bad. And she didn’t know how to cure Musa. The tumours on his thighs, the white-hot fever, his weakness when he’d always been so strong. Thinking that he may die, or be left heavily scathed if he survived, was terrifying in a way she’d never experienced before. Leonila was pregnant, she couldn’t—

She couldn’t do this without her husband.

“I refuse to be a widow at twenty-one,” she spoke amid Musa’s pained intakes of breath “We’ll pull through this.”

He looked up, and though his eyes were locked on hers, he seemed to see through her into nothingness. Death— no, a silly illness they would overcome together shone on them. “I’m scared.”

“You’ll be fine. I promise.”

Leonila lowered her face and kissed him. She looked past his worrying breath, how his once-soft lips were broken now, and kissed him with all her force. A thought marinated at the back of her mind, but she pushed it away.

Musa would survive. Musa would survive. Musa would survive.

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On the second day, Musa got worse.

As Leonila changed his bedsheets for the third time that afternoon, she noticed a change in his skin. Not only had his tumours spread from his thighs up his body, but there was a certain purple undertone to his fevered, pale complexion. Everything he ate climbed back up and he ended up throwing up. Every single time. He defecated without meaning to, without signalling Leonila, for speaking and moving hurt too much. He didn’t have the energy to so much as scream when she put her palm to his forehead to check if the fever —by all means the least of their problems— had receded. It never did, of course.

But Leonila insisted on being optimistic. Oftentimes you felt at the sickest before regaining your health.

Musa would survive.

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On the third day, Leonila fell sick.

Not too severely, she attempted at reassuring herself as she stood naked in front of her mirror. Two small bumps had appeared under her left arm overnight, while her head hurt a little bit. She chucked it down to not having slept for the good part of the last seventy-two hours. She was a doppelgänger, and could’ve easily put her body to rest while her anima stayed up, but she worked better with four legs and arms.

After all, taking care of Musa was trying. Her body cleaned him up at the same time as her anima cleared the sheets he’d stained with diarrhoea or prepared him food or filled a bucket with water or—

Leonila soon ached all over. It was surely inconsequential overextension, since she wasn’t used to using anima and body at the same time for long stretches of time. It had nothing to do with the bumps on her arm, her fever, her headache. Just familiar overexertion. Not the unknown devil in Musa, whose fingers were now black.

Musa would survive. Leonila would, too.

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On the fourth day, sentinels knocked on their door and took them somewhere Leonila was too dizzy to take in.

Still she was optimistic. The sentinels knew about medicine. They would survive.

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On the fifth day, Leonila came to her senses enough to understand their situation.

They were in a hospital, quarantined in the heart of Mirror Iceland. They had contracted a rare, usually-fatal plague that had originated east off the sultanate, east off her peninsula altogether, and then easter still. It had yet to spread across her home, Musa had likely caught it during on of his visits to Aboveground Constantinople to see his older sister. Hajara had died three days ago.

Leonila had caught it from Musa. By the looks of her infection so far, it seemed like that last kiss she’d given him had passed on the illness onto her.

However, she didn’t regret kissing him as she looked at his frail form laying on the bed next to hers. He was too thin, his tone was even more purple still, his feet and hands were totally black, his tumours had spread to his chest and some were coated in blood from the last time he’d vomited. Sentinels were so occupied with other patients, they hardly could wash him at the speed at which he dirtied himself. Leonila loved Musa, loved him and the life thriving in her womb despite everything. She loved that future where they’d beaten this silly plague and were happy and could laugh about it.

Slowly, she rolled off her bed. She hit the floor with a loud thump! but made no sound of protest. Her vocal cords were too swollen to produce any sound. Instead, she bit her tongue —thus causing herself a type of pain that would keep her mind off the pain of falling down— and slipped into Musa’s bed.

His eyes, for once, were open. Her love looked aware of her, and that made Leonila smile. A flick of lucidity was proof that he was improving.

She wiggled closer to him, burrowing her face into his slight chest and kissing the skin there.

Please, let us survive, she thought right before falling asleep.

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On the sixth day, Musa died.

Leonila woke up back in her bed, a sentinel hovering before her. It was slightly funny, she thought, that the tentacles lodged into their eye sockets and mouth rendered them expressionless, and still this little girl-like creature looked utterly fed up with her.

Breaking the rules, her twitching tentacles seemed to say How typical of a thief.

The beginnings of a laugh bubbled up at the back of her throat, but then she happened to look to her left. That’s when she saw Musa.

He was undeniably dead; his body limp, a gurgle of blood pooling in his open mouth. That’s how he’d died, by choking on his own, contaminated blood. He hadn’t survived. Leonila couldn’t take her eyes off him.

She watched the sentinel at the foot of his bed close one of his tentacles around her Musa’s ankle. Then she watched Musa sliding off the bed as if time had slowed down, the blood on his mouth dripping down onto the white sheets, tracing a crimson line vertically from his pillow to the bottom of the bed. And then she watched as his corpse dropped to the floor and the crimson line continued all the way to the door, at the opposite side of their room. There was so much blood, it was fascinating.

The sentinel by Leonila’s side pushed her back down to her mattress when she began rising up; it should’ve been painful, but she was too numb and so noticed only the echo of any real pain.

Your husband will be properly taken care of, the sentinel told her He’s going to be prepared for his funeral.

Leonila didn’t register her words. She could only hear one thought repeating itself over and over in her mind:

Musa hasn’t survived, now you’re a widow and will have to raise your child alone.

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On the seventh day, Leonila had an abortion.

It started with a speck of blood seeping through her sheets at her groin level, and quickly turned into a bloodbath that left her confused. She cried out for the sentinels with whatever little amount of energy she had. Never before had she seen anything like this, and she was afraid. Not at the sight of the blood, along these days it had become as common as air, but at the fact that it was pouring out of her vagina.

The sentinels that had been there when Musa died came rushing in. They grasped one of her arms each and pushed her to her feet. They held her as she bled her insides out; all that protection her body had conjured up for her child, and then the child itself. Leonila struggled against the sentinels to let her get down on her knees. She took her baby into her hands, cradled them to her chest. They were so tiny, the eyes had barely began forming, the limbs were only little things and seemed to seek her warmth. Leonila bent down until her forehead touched the bloodied floor and screamed.

Musa hadn’t survived. Neither had their child.

----------------------------------------

On the eighth day, Leonila mourned.

----------------------------------------

On the ninth, tenth and eleventh day, she continued mourning.

----------------------------------------

On the twelfth day, she felt her life slipping away. She would’ve gladly embraced death; after all, there was nothing else for her to come back to. Ayala, but her best friend would only pity her, and Leonila hated to be pitied. So she would die.

The door creaked open, and a sentinel she hadn’t seen before walked in. His skin was light brown, beautiful, and his dark hair was slightly curly —Leonila’s child might’ve looked like him in another life.

Leonila Carranza, he said. His voice hurt his ears I have a proposal for you.

She didn’t reply. Couldn’t, really. Although a distant part of her stirred up. Proposal?

You live in the Sultanate of Girnatah, the sentinel continued As does one of our patients. She’s recently survived the plague, while her parents have perished to it.

Leonila tensed. She hadn’t thought it was possible to survive.

Our patient is only four, has no living family, and ideally should continue her life in the Sultanate of Girnatah. You’re the only other patient from the Sultanate of Girnatah who is sure to survive.

Survive?

We deem it best if you take care of her, the sentinel looked her up and down Leonila Carranza, you need only consent to cryogenising your body. Your anima will live on and you will be free of the plague.

Leonila’s breath hitched. Living on with only her insignia was more terrifying than the prospect of death: she wouldn’t be able to eat, sleep, do any of the normal things she’d learned to see as a fixture in her life. Forever, or for so many decades it would seem like an eternity. What was the point of it, anyways? She’d already turned down cryogenization before, now that her Musa was gone, her child was gone, she was a ghost of the woman she’d once been, she wanted it less. And still this wasn’t because of her. Her feelings didn’t matter, did they?

The sentinel was being clear. He was offering this second chance at life so that this four-year-old girl could have the guardian she needed in the place she needed.

Leonila couldn’t turn down this offer. Her moral code kept her from it.

Of course, you can’t speak, the sentinel noted when she began struggling to voice her affirmative Blink once if you wish to turn down my offer, and twice if you wish to accept it.

Leonila blinked twice. Immediately, the sentinel sprung to action. With only a little more care than Musa’s corpse had received, Leonila was dragged through this makeshift hospital. The corridors, faces and rooms blurred together, and she had to close her eyes tightly.

Even deprived of vision, she knew when they reached the place she would be cryogenized. It was so cold.

She tried to bottle up her terror with positive thoughts. She’d be able to stand again, she’d be able to feel the sunlight on her face again, she’d be able to hoard more beautiful dresses and vases and jewels. She’d be able to help a child who needed her, maybe she would make that child smile.

Eventually, she fell asleep, and that’s when everything changed.

In a way, Leonila Carranza died that day.

----------------------------------------

She later woke up laying on top of a wooden table, in a bare, small room. The sentinel that had overseen her cryogenization was standing a few steps away from her.

How do you feel? he asked You will find that you have regained your speech.

“I—” Leonila covered her mouth with a hand. Her voice sounded normal, smooth, familiar, hers “I feel fine.”

Nothing hurts?

She looked down at her body —she was naked— and began prodding at her ribs, moving her neck, swinging her legs, cracking her knuckles. “Nothing hurts,” although she still had the marks from the plague as a reminder of what she’d been through.

The sentinel nodded. Leonila Carranza, you will be bought clothes and then directed to Khadija Al-Ru’ayni, after which he turned his back on her.

“Wait,” Leonila hopped off the table, suddenly disoriented by being up on her feet for the first time in days “What did you say her name was?”

Khadija Al-Ru’ayni, and he left the room.

Leonila repeated the name several times. It sounded familiar, and strikingly like a name Muslims in the sultanate would give their daughter. Dhimmis could have, and often had, arabised surnames, but a Saz who wanted to disguise themselves as Christian or Jewish would hardly call themselves after such a prominent figure in Islam.

Who in their right mind had thought it was good idea to leave a child who passed as Muslim in the care of Leonila, who passed as a sinful Christian?

She pondered this question while she got dressed with the simple 2nd century Roman robes an automaton had given her. Then pondered it some more as it guided her through the hospital into a nursery fit for newborns rather than a four-year-old kid. Leonila only stopped thinking about the whys of her situation when she spotted her protégée eyeing her suspiciously.

Young Khadija was without a doubt Muslim in the eyes of humans. She was probably Moorish, judging by certain aspects of her facial features here and there. Her skin was only a shade darker than Leonila’s, her black hair was so long and abundant it covered a good part of her petite figure. She wore the clothes of the daughter of a wealthy Umayyad nobleman, and looked so fragile in them. The plague hadn’t killed her, but it had left a deep scar —a scar Leonila knew all too well.

Leonila tried to smile. Khadija was pressing herself against a corner like she wanted to melt into the wall, and she wanted to gain her trust.

“Hi,” she said, quietly, in Andalusi Arabic.

Khadija’s eyes widened in recognition. Leonila felt her heart growing light: she’d done right by speaking in a language only they had in common.

“Who are you?” Khadija asked, sounding strange; Leonila supposed she was re-learning how to speak. Regardless, her voice was very sweet, and Leonila promptly told her so.

Khadija blushed. “Thank you. You also sound very pretty.”

Leonila laughed, and, to her surprise, there was some genuine joy in her laughter. “Why, thank you, Lalla Khadija. And my name is Leonila.”

She sat crosslegged on the nursery’s floor, and invited Khadija to do the same. After a moment’s hesitation, the kid joined her.

“Is that toy yours?” Leonila asked, taking notice of the stuffed doll in Khadija’s hands for the first time.

“Yes,” the girl nodded her head brusquely “Her name is Amina, she’s the only toy I have.”

Leonila got an idea. “And would you like more? I’m sure Amina is very special, but how about giving her other toys she can play with?”

Khadija’s eyes widened. “Yes.”

“I could get you other toys. A mountain of toys if you wish it.”

Leonila had never stolen from children, and she was unlikely to start to. However, she wasn’t below stealing the childhood toys of adults with a superiority complex. Mentally, she started crafting a list of possible candidates.

“I want a mountain of toys.”

Leonila’s smile widened. “Then you’ll have it, but before that,” she did her best to sound as soothing as possible “Do you know why I’m here?”

Khadija shook her head. Her posture suddenly weary.

“Do you know where your parents are?”

“Dead,” she didn’t ever hesitate.

Hearing such frankness from a child filled Leonila with sorrow. Still Khadija couldn’t notice it; Leonila had to appear strong and calm for her sake. “You and I might’ve have just met each other, but we are neighbours. I’ve also gone through the illness,” there was no need to specify which “And now it’s time I return home. It’s time you return home, too and since we live in the same place… How about you stay at my house? What do you think?”

“I think—” Khadija looked down to her feet “I don’t want you to replace Mummy and Daddy. You aren’t going to replace them.”

“No, I’m not. Of course I’m not,” gingerly, Leonila slid closer to Khadija, and the little girl allowed her “You have your history, and I have mine. To you, I will be anything you want me to be or whatever you feel like I already am, but for now, let’s just support each other,” she tucked Khadija’s hair behind her ear, and the girl looked up to meet her eyes “We’ll have lots of fun, I promise.”

That was something Leonila knew to be true. And by the way Khadija’s lips twitched upwards ever so slightly —most likely she was thinking of the toys Leonila would get for her— she knew that too.

“Okay,” Khadija said.

----------------------------------------

Khadija grew and became Leonila’s joy.

At first it had been difficult. Both of them had wounds they needed to heal from, aspects of their knew life that took time to come to terms with, and a joint future complicated to reconcile with their separate pasts. But Leonila kept optimistic, and by extension, so did Khadija.

The week before her graduation, Khadija asked Leonila to legally adopt her. “I want my graduation documents to regard you as the mother you’ve been to me since the day we met,” had been her explanation. Thus, the day before graduating, Khadija took on Leonila’s name, and became Khadija Carranza Al-Ru’ayni.

Thus, giving birth to the Carranzas: a family which, through her and her daughter’s and descants’s hard work, became known all across The Kisnhip.

And Leonila, once hesitant to accept her near-immortality, gladly took on the role of the family’s atemporal guardian the night she lost Khadija to old age. Because her daughter might have died —peacefully, holding her hand with a smile on her face— but Leonila wouldn’t allow her beautiful legacy to die with her.

#oc-tober 2022 #oc tober 2022 #oc tober #btw this story is set in medieval southern Spain which at the time was islamic

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makoodlesarchive · 4 years

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Hello, idk if your taking requests, if not just ignore this. I just saw on Insta about this new trend where if your man is playing video games and not paying attention to you, just walk in front of him butt naked. can do this with our best boi kiri with nsfw ending? Thanks love.

ok ok so i actually really loved this request ahahah it’s so cute!! i’ve been playing a lot of animal crossing lol (also i’m sorry i didn’t quite get to the nsfw ending but it’s implied i guess?)

pairing: kirishima eijirou x fem!reader

words: 1432

warnings: nudity, suggestive themes

Tip Jar! »»————-　♡　————-««

Kirishima has been playing video games for hours.

That might not bother you too much, usually. But this is the third day in a row that this has happened – he came over to your place with his Switch so that he could hook it up to your TV and play. He didn’t stop playing when you announced that you were going to walk to the shop for groceries, he didn’t stop playing when you cooked food, and he didn’t stop playing when you snuggled into him on the couch and trailed soft kisses down his neck. At most, he took a swift second to kiss your forehead before his attention diverted right back to the screen.

“Baby?” you make one last hopeful bid for his attention, calling from the doorway.

He still doesn’t look away from the screen. In fact, you’re not altogether sure if he actually heard you. He’s chattering away to his friends over his headset, laughing excitedly at whatever they’re saying. “You’re too focused on paying the home loan, man, donate them to the museum instead! Nah, seriously-!”

Right. Okay. Time to step it up a little. You beat a tactical retreat back to the bedroom to rethink your strategy. Maybe… it was time to try out that trend you had seen Instagram. You had laughed when you had first seen it but figured you would never get the chance to try it because Kirishima was usually so attentive. He had never straight up ignored you for the sake of a video game before, and honestly it was bothering you a lot.

You strip down to your underwear, then pause for a moment before thinking “Fuck it, may as well go all the way” and stripping off your underwear too. You take a deep breath, and try not to feel as desperate as this is making you look. It’s been three days, and you just want a little attention. If this is the way to get it, then fine!

When you slip out of your room and pad down the hallway, goosebumps erupt across your bare flesh and you shiver a little in the cool air. This better be worth it, because now you’re embarrassed and cold. It’s no surprise when you get back to the living room and see that Kirishima hasn’t moved.

You strike a seductive pose against the doorframe, then decide that it looks stupid and rearrange yourself in a more casual lean with your arms folded below your breasts. “Eijirou?” you call softly.

“Just a minute, babe,” he replies without turning his head, “I’m playing Animal Crossing with the boys. Hey, Denki, I’ve got oranges at the top of my island if you want some-”

You pout. How were you supposed to seduce him when he wouldn’t even look your way? You glare at the screen, where little chibi versions of Kirishima, Denki, and Sero were racing about with nets and shaking trees. How dare it look so cute and idyllic when it was the current bane of your existence?

Well, fine. This was just fine. You would just go about your normal business, stark naked, and see how long it would take him to notice. Kirishima’s hoodie has slipped off the back of the couch and fallen to the floor, so you scoop it up. Next is the mess of paperwork that you had left over the coffee table. You walk in front of Kirishima, grab your stuff, then retreat to the back of the room to hang his hoodie up.

At first, there’s no reaction. Kirishima keeps playing as though nothing had happened. It takes a moment or two, and then his little cartoon character comes to a halt on the screen. His head does a very slow turn, until he’s craning his neck right round to get a glimpse of you. He looks as though he’s not quite sure of what he’s just seen.

You hum softly to yourself and shuffle through the paperwork, pretending to be reading it. When you peek over the top of the paper, you can see Kirishima goggling at you with a slack jaw. You stubbornly show no sign of noticing his eyes on you, keeping your attention fixed on the sheets of paper in front of you. You don’t even know what you’re looking at – it might be a water bill.

“Babe…” Kirishima says, trailing off at the end and sounding a little strained. “What..?”

“Hm?” you glance up as though you’re just noticing his attention on you now. “What’s up?”

“You’re-” he begins, then seems to remember the headset. He tugs it off his head hastily, cursing softly as it gets stuck on his hair before throwing it aside. “You’re naked.”

You glance down at yourself with raised eyebrows, as if you’ve only just noticed. “I suppose I am.”

Kirishima’s gaze roves constantly over your body, as if he can’t decide which part he wants to stare at. His mouth is still slightly open. When you shift your weight on your feet he seems to snap out of it, his mouth closing as he gets to his feet and rounds the couch so quickly he nearly trips up on the rug. You watch him approach, setting aside the bills as he comes to a stop right in front of you. As his hands come to rest on your waist, you notice for the first time that he’s started to grin. “You look really good.” he rumbles, and leans in to press a soft kiss to your lips.

You smile sweetly at him when he pulls back, and sigh as he lowers his head to suckle softly at your neck. Over his shoulder though, your eyes fall on the television screen. Kirishima’s little Animal Crossing character is standing inactive, but Denki’s and Sero’s are running loops around it. Chat bubbles are popping up over their heads, though you’re too far away to read what they say. They must be confused about why Kirishima had suddenly disappeared from their voice chat. The sight of the game makes you realise something; you’re feeling pettier about how much he had ignored than you had first realised.

Kirishima sighs against the spot he had been kissing, and the sensation of his hot breath against your spit-slicked throat has you shivering. You have to stay strong though. You have to carry through with this. “Baby.” he murmurs into your neck, and then you feel his hands sliding down your back to cup your ass.

You hum gently, allowing his touch. When his fingers become exploratory though, you step back out of his embrace. His hands follow you, before he realises that you’re backing away from him. He looks confused and a little hurt as his hands fall, looking at you questioningly. “Kiri,” you say softly, rocking on your feet, “You’ve been ignoring me.”

Your boyfriend looks startled, before a look of realisation settles over his face. “I’m- you’re right, I’m so sorry. I got so caught up in the game-” He’s frowning as he reaches out to you again, but this time you capture his hand in yours.

“I’m not sure if you deserve to touch me right now, Eiji.” Your voice is light and teasing, but his face still crumples in disappointment.

His fingers twitch within your grasp, as though he’s forcibly resisting the urge to touch you. “But,” he begins, his gaze dropping to your tits; your nipples have pebbled in the cold, and he makes the most adorable little whining sound when he sees. “Princess, please!”

You pretend to consider, but really – as if you’re going to say no. You’ve been waiting for this sort of undivided attention for days. “I think you’ll have to make it up to me, baby.”

You’ve barely finished speaking before Kirishima’s hands are on your hips and you’re being hoisted into the air. A bright laugh escapes you as you wrap your legs around his waist, and then you’re being carried down the hall to the bedroom. Kirishima is kissing your forehead and the side of your head, anywhere he can reach. He’s barely even looking where he’s going, and you laugh as you field off bumping into walls with your outstretched arms. “Y/N,” he murmurs, and his eyes are so soft that they really don’t match the heat in his voice, “I’m going to make it up to you all night long.”

“Good.” you announce, rather smug as he finally manages to fumble his way into the bedroom. “You have three days worth of attention to make up for.”

#kirishima x reader #kirishima eijirou x reader #bnha kirishima #bnha x reader #bnha imagines #kirishima imagine #eijirou kirishima x reader #Anonymous

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et-lesailes · 5 years

Text

polaroid

pairing: chris evans x reader

word count: 1780

summary: you gift chris with a polaroid, and he has fun taking both cute and naughty pictures of you.

themes: fluff n nudes :)

taglist: @viarogers , @evanstush , @chibi-crazy , @chalamet-evans , @world-of-losers , @songforhema, @sebabestianstan101 , @tanyam93 , @bval-1, @wonderwinchester , @little-miss-exo, @poerebel , @bitchbabes-world , @gogomez-509 , @patzammit

note: requested by anonymous // hope yall don’t mind i didn’t put the actual smut part in this one, i’m still taking a break from writing smut for the time being!

“Come on, baby, open it!”

He looked at you with a wide grin, still somewhat disbelieving but thrilled at the same time. “You just got me a random gift? Out of nowhere?”

“Is that so hard to believe? Am I not a good girlfriend?” you asked playfully offended, and he immediately shook his head. “No, no! Of course not! Okay, okay I’m opening it.” He removed the decorative tissue paper from the bag before pulling out a box, his blue eyes immediately widening. “Oh my God. You did not. Is this a Polaroid?” His mouth was wide open as he marveled over the present, speechless for a few moments after, his entire face beaming. “Holy shit. I’m going to have so much fun with this. Babe, you’re the best.” He came over to you and wrapped you up in a bear hug, lifting your feet off the ground as he often did with his hugs. “Thank you, thank you, thank you.” You giggled happily as you hugged him back; it really wasn’t that extravagant of a gift, but one of the things you loved about Chris was that he was so genuinely appreciative of everything. Besides, he had been talking about how he’d love to play around with a Polaroid one day, and so you found this to be the perfect opportunity for a little pleasant surprise.

He set you down after a few seconds, eager to remove the camera from the box. “Alright gorgeous, you know what happens next. You’ve gotta be my very first picture.” You laughed softly, playfully wrinkling your nose. “What? Just me? How about we at least take a selfie first, of both of us?” He smiled and nodded immediately. “Good idea. Alright, let me figure this thing out.” After getting it ready, making sure it was stocked up on photo paper, he wrapped his arm around you and pulled you close. “Alright, smile, baby girl!” You flashed the camera a cute smile, laying your head playfully on his shoulder. He snapped the picture before eagerly watching the little photo begin to print, biting on his lip in anticipation. Once it was done, he took it out and waved it around a little for it to dry before looking down at it. You couldn’t help but giggle; it was cute, though a bit of the top of his head was cut off. “Whoops. Looks like I still gotta figure out selfie angles.”

“You have yet to do that with your iPhone, too,” you joked, and he blinked in mock offense, nudging you. “Excuse you! Fans love my selfies!” You hummed thoughtfully, teasingly replying, “Mmhm. I’ll just say you’re lucky you’re handsome, Evans, and leave it at that.” He playfully rolled his eyes before placing the photo on the coffee table, then stepping back. “Alright. Now you have to be my model. It’ll be easier for me to take pictures if I’m actually looking into the viewfinder. Pose for me, pretty girl!” You laughed, not uncomfortable at all by his request; perhaps when you first started dating, you would have been a little shy, but now this man was your best friend. There were no limits or boundaries before you two, and so you gladly obliged in a series of poses for him. Ironically puckered lips, exaggerated cute faces, sassy hand on hip, a flip of the hair-- he even had the idea for you to incorporate props, tossing you the teddy bear he had gotten for your first anniversary so you could hug it tightly and give its head a kiss.

And of course, you were not going to let him get away so easily. Swiping the camera from him when he wasn’t expecting it, you stepped back and gave him a challenging grin. “Alright, you’re up, babe. This should be easy for you, seeing you basically have to look good on camera for a living, so show me what you got.” You teased, holding the camera up to your eye. He blinked before laughing loudly, and although he technically wasn’t ready, you just had to take a picture of his beautiful laugh. How could you not? His happiness was always so contagious, you swore this man could make a gray sky turn blue.

As expected, he was very good at this. He gave the camera a magnified smolder, blue-green eyes practically piercing through your soul even through the viewfinder. He ran his hand through his soft hair, not so subtly displaying his well defined biceps. He scrunched up his face with an adorable smile, making you giggle as you made sure to take a perfect photo-- unlike a regular camera, you could not simply snap away and take multiples, and so you had to be precise. He was about to pose again when Dodger suddenly came into the room, having woken up from a peaceful slumber in the bedroom. “Hey, buddy! Get in on this!” Chris scooped him up into strong arms without really giving the dog time to respond, cradling him like a baby as he normally did while carrying him. You laughed and took a picture, then looked excited. “Stay like that! Let’s get a selfie of us all together!” You were a little more adjusted to how the viewfinder was centered now, and so you made your way over to your boyfriend and dog, standing as close as possible so nothing would get cut off. He easily held Dodger in one arm while putting his other one around you, lowering his head slightly to get into view. Smiling brightly at the camera, you snapped the photo, then watched as it printed. There were already several laying out on the coffee table at this point; the two of you would probably need to buy more photo paper tomorrow itself.

“Oh my God. That’s fuckin’ precious.” Chris declared, grin spread across his face as he looked at the photo. “Dodger’s even looking at the camera, it’s perfect!” He suddenly snatched it from you playfully, leaning down to kiss your cheek. “Mm I’m going to keep this in my wallet.” You blinked and stuck your tongue out, lifting the camera up again. “Fine, but I want one for mine too, so smile! Dodger, you too, look at the camera!”

___________

You yawned as you began to strip out of your clothing, tossing them one-by-one into the hamper. You normally slept in the nude, just like Chris, and you were certainly ready for bed and to snuggle up to your boyfriend after a long day.

He came out of the bathroom fresh from a shower, eyes twinkling with mischief as he watched you. “I love when you give me a strip show, babe,” he commented playfully, in the process of wrapping his towel around his waist. Suddenly, his entire face lit up. “What’s that look?” you immediately asked, arching an eyebrow. “Because that look is never good news.” He did not even respond, but instead ran out of the room, coming back a few seconds later with the Polaroid in his hand. “I just got another idea for a photoshoot.” He said with a smirk, wiggling his eyebrows. “C’mon. Pose for me.” You looked at him in shock for a few moments before biting on your lip, unable to help but slowly smile. Why not? At least you knew these had less of a chance of getting leaked than the photos you texted him when you were bored at home by yourself.

“How do you want me, Chris?” you asked sweetly, slowly turning around and giving him a perfect view of your ass, looking over your shoulder with innocent eyes. “Like this..?” He widened his own, immediately taking the picture as his teeth tugged on his lip. “Fuck. Fuck yeah.” He took the photo once it was dry, looking at it with a hungry gaze before setting it on the dresser next to him. “More, babe. Please.” You bit your lip and turned back around, tilting your head as you cupped your breasts together with your hands. He was practically drooling with each shot, and you couldn’t get enough of it. You crawled onto the bed and sat on your knees, giving him a seductive smirk. He was even getting into different positions to get better shots, practically groaning to himself from being so turned on. “God, baby, you look so perfect like that…” he muttered, and you giggled softly, turning around so that you were on your hands and knees and wiggling your butt in his direction. “Well then, maybe you should stop taking pictures and come enjoy what’s right in front of you instead.”

“Shit. You don’t have to tell me twice.” He took the last photo out of the little printer, setting it on the dresser rather carelessly before coming straight to the bed, giving your ass a rough smack before practically tackling you down to kiss you passionately.

___________

It was practically dawn when you woke up after a very hot and heavy night. You recalled falling asleep before him, but as you looked up at him now, he was sleeping peacefully-- his breaths even and his long eyelashes resting against the top of his cheeks. You smiled sleepily, stretching your body slightly underneath the weight of his arm around you, carefully turning around to get yourself in a comfier position. Staying underneath his hold so that he was now spooning you, your eyes drifted towards the dresser, amused at the thought of seeing several Polaroids scattered across the surface.

However, they were not there. You blinked, sitting up as much as you could and craning your neck trying to see if they were placed somewhere else. Still not seeing them, you felt momentarily alarmed, then paused. It was not as though someone broke into your home to take them. You felt Chris stir beside you, his mouth stretching into a yawn. “Don’t worry about the pictures, babe,” he spoke in a low, husky voice, barely coherent from having just woken up. “I had to keep them somewhere safe, after all… I’ll need them for later.”

You smiled amused, settling yourself down again still facing the wall but holding his arm around you. “Mm? For what?” you inquired softly with mock innocence, and his deep chuckle sent chills up your spine. “For when I’m bored at home while you’re busy at work, of course.” He mumbled with his lips brushing against your hair, hand playfully giving your breast a squeeze. “Now go back to sleep, baby doll, it’s still way too early.” You giggled softly, nuzzling your head in the pillow and intertwining your fingers with his as you let yourself drift back to sleep.

#chris evans x reader #chris evans fluff #chris evans imagine #chris evans fic #chris evans x you #please ignore my lack of creativity for the title #i'm so tired lmao #tumblr is still doing that weird fucking thing to my post again but #too tired to care

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nikkoleon · 5 years

Text

$10 Chibi Commissions

Yo~! So I’m looking to open up these chibi commissions for only $10 each to help earn a little extra cash since we’ve been cutting it a little close lately.

Each one is $10 and I will take up to five chibis per commission.

If interested, please either IM me or message me on Discord. Do not reply to this post. My terms and conditions are under the cut.

Commission Rules: READ ALL BEFORE COMMISSIONING ME

1) As it says above, please read ALL of my rules before commissioning me. When commissioning me, you are agreeing to all of my terms and conditions along with saying that you have read my rules.

2) I will send you the Paypal invoice once a commission is settled.

3) I do not do refunds. I will, however, do up to 2 re-do's of your commission at half the price each.

4) Please do not claim credit of the artwork/remove my watermark/anything to erase the fact that I am the artist. If you repost, I'd really prefer you ask me first, but at least post my name and a link back to the original commission.

5) I have the right to take down any commissions from my DeviantART, Tumblr, ect/use previous commissions as examples, ect as I please. The art is still mine.

6) Feel free to use your commission for whatever you wish so long as credit is always given. Reposts are ok so long as credit is given and a link is added that links back to the original commission. If not, I will ask that you either add the link/credit or to remove the picture.

7) I have the right to decline a commission for whatever reason.

8) I will accept fanart commissions so long as they are of a fandom I am familiar with. (Just ask on that one.)

9) I will not do commissions of OCs that do not belong to you unless it is for a gift/the creator agrees.

10) Be patient with me. I may not be able to work on your commission right away, especially if there are other commissions in front. If your commission takes longer than a week and I have not already messaged you on the reason, then you can ask about it politely!

______________________________ Commission Form *Must be filled when ordering a commission* Commissioner Name: *username and/or real name*

Character(s) Name(s) In Commission:

Character Reference(s): *Please provide either one detailed reference sheet or no less than three(3) artwork pieces/must be colored/written descriptions will not be accepted*

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#nikkoleon #commissions OPEN #//I'll basically take these until I can't anymore//#//also throwing this around would be great//

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myangstybullshit2018 · 4 years

Text

Fort Fartblossoms

Absinthe woke me with a knock on the floor. I rolled over and stuck my head out seeing that everyone had settled in for the night. Isabelle and I grabbed our gear and headed out. So this is a touchy point at the moment. Isabelle is mine, Micah’s... and If Kitty is the original, then I came from her. Anything not made by Kitty is a chibi, and Isabelle was much more detailed and... big to be a chibi. At her full size, she would be a 6-foot rabbit woman, dressed in cyber gear battle armor... she is part of the bunny brigade. Wow... Back story.

So awhile back, maybe a year, probably 9 months, Kitty got a one-eyed bunny from the thrift store. Her name is Margot and she is kind of badass. She has an eye patch because she had to sell her eye to a fairy to save her child and became the general of this army to go against the fairies... so anyway Margot moved in and this little group started to form. Margot started teaching Isabelle how to fight and then BunBun, then people who weren't bunny's started joining. Anyway this army was formed that was to protect the city, the castle, everything.

So kitty wanted me to create the bunny brigade in honey select and when we were piecing things together there were some new parts in the game that I didn't realize had downloaded. They were mech pieces and there were sets and one of the sets looks like a bunny. So I made these bunny mech suits for each member of the bunny brigade so now we all have a very clear idea of what they look like if human... ok getting off track. Point is I thought Isabelle should be able to come with us on our trips and Kitty thought that she should have stayed back there is some kind of "bullshit" that happened when they were on a mission together earlier IDK, they won't tell me exactly what happened. Point is I brought her without asking and when she's not a stuffie she's kinda... garish in the areas we were traveling so she would pretty much have to be a stuffie the whole time unless there was a fight so it was fair to bring her and blah blah ... I think she is just mad because I made something that came from her world more interesting... the point is there was an argument but we settled on each one would get to come out for a little bit but they would stay small most of the time.

I pulled the map out and spread in on the table. With very little discussion we had decided on going to the caves in the hope of finding a mine cart.

I thought there had to be another way to go to the mountains than to follow the same old path we take for everything. We were getting our gear together and I started looking around. It amazes me how much I can miss because as I stepped out the door of Micah's treehouse I looked behind me to see a giant tree shooting up to the sky and the roots were the more solid parts of the ground like under Boomhut. That was when I realized there was a portion of the area surrounding the treehouses I hadn't really explored.

Normally when you step out of my door it is a slightly convoluted straight shot to stonewall which is the main road for started out, everything from my treehouse to stonewall on the left side is Atminta, the memory holes. some of these are mind-boggling large, like a sublime moment of panic-and-awe large and some are the size of a rabbit hole, but the whole area is full of them. But from my treehouse back to the left had not been explored. So we got to use the climbing spats that Kitty stole from me a couple of months ago...

All of a sudden i realized that The House where the council is, in the root system of the giant tree, so there is this whole like the universe is connected moment cliche stoner moment and everything is like the bigger view I guess, like with the stars and vastness of space and stuff. Anyway, I realize that the roots are also making up a good portion of the land in the area which answered a ton of questions we had. so it was like emotionally and psychologically productive for us.

She finally made it down after her hippie moment, I did not get to experience that, and we were in this area that rose up between the giatnts roots that seemed more like mountains in certain areas. It was very lush and green, hilly, it was very peaceful. Looking around we also realize this was the view from the kitchen WIndow of the House. A creek was off to one side and for a long while we walked in silence enjjoying the beauty and the peacefulness of the place. There was a drop off ahead. She seemed to have seen it as well asn was cautiously approaching. From my backpack I hear "That's a first" and I ask Isabelle what she means. I get the usual harumph and then silence We start to follow behind and Kitty disappears. I bolt for the edge and breathe, The drop off isn't drastic, but it is far enough you could get a broken ankle. So I got irritated with her, tht's when I heard isabelle laughing "oh it's funny when it's someone else" I jump down with kitty and I sit the backpack down. I told isabelle to get out now and tell us what is going on. Kitty walks up and stops me.

That was why I didn't think she should be there, I knew she was mad at me and probably didn't want to be around me but I didn't know how to say that and just ignored it.... like I do. 👉👈

Then We hear out of the bag "I am sick of her bullshit" and we both sit back because she's gonna unleash. She jumps up to her full height, gear all neon and stuff and just lays into kitty for being dangerous and taking chances and running into things blind

I don't do plans, plans hate me, you guys know this. It's not new. I have to go with my gut and my gut saidit would be fine. *big ass sigh* ok fine. When we went on the mission I knew I wasn't gonna get hurt, I knew we weren't going to get hurt. It was a group of monsters who needed jobs and it was easy work gaurding a building but there wasn't any real loyalty or anything yet. It was fine. So I kinda just went.... not a lit of stealth or anything, and just kinda found what I was there for pretty easily. I mean in the end it was mine anyway.

What does that have to do with anything? They had Spot, they could have hurt hm

No they couldn't, he's fine. He can get out of anything. Listen, I'm sorry I don't really do things your way, but I enjoyed working with you. You are great support. I will try to be more careful.

Isabelle went back in the bag without saying anything else. I guess she used her one time to come up and yell at you.

Yeah, I guess so. Welp, lets keep going.

Turning around I saw the cutest thing I had ever seen. A group of otters, all walking on their haind legs and wearing very propoer clothes were watching us. ALl around there was small white cattages dotting the landscape, quaint gardens with bamoo fenscing flowers filling every available space. It was one oft he ebst places I had ever found. It as beautiful and peaceful and adorable. The otter people were very nice, we could stay in a cottage if we wanted, there was food and drink. The only worry was the edge of the town ran into Atminta, so with memory holes potentially close you had to be careful not to get too close to that side.

We stayed there for awhile, playing, eating fruit, walking around. we had some little cakes and tea, there wer tea parties everywhere, and everyone was dressed in these cute little suits. I thought about how funny it would be to see Isabelle in this setting. Then got sad cause she was mad at me. Then went back to being ok.

So it turned out that we didnt really cut any time off our trip, or get any closer to the mountains, we just avoided stonewall, which I know was fine with kitty. We had to exit through Atminta.The Otters gave us food for the road and a thermos of tea.

Since I was the most likely to be affected by the memory holes Micah decided to carry me on his back, and I would carry both backpacks and he ran. That area is really large so it took awhile but when we finally rounded the corner and coule see the ruins and the city and the intersection he jusy collapsed. I asked Spunky if he would come help us and he agreed. I laid my pack down and sat beside micah. Spunky came out his normal size at first then started stretching slowly chnging size. I heckled him, come on old man, what's wrong your bones ache? He just ignored me at first, at one point I started yelling different yoga poses at him. He started getting smaller again. What are you doing

I do not have to do this.

I was on a roll for pissing people off today. I told him I was sorry and we climbed on. He ran us from the dirt mountain up past the ruins, up the middle road int he five points interesction, past ma's house and the water park and straight to the mountain caves. He turnd back to me and I was certain he was gonna yell at me too then he smiled and laughed at me for being such a pansy and caring about stuff.

The next part was long and boring and exhuasting. We had to climb this carved satircase into the side of the mountain and it was long and basically vertical. It was worth it though. We did not find a mine cart but we did find something awesome. The inside of the mounatin was a infinitely clear lake. You could see to the bottom, and it looked as if you could reach in and touch it, but the bottom was so deep we couldn't reach it. On the car side of the cave sat a old rusty boat that was half buried in the side of the mountain. I dove in to swim over and Everyone screams at me.

You don't know if it's poinsoned, or hot, or cold, or anything, you just jumped in!

Yeah *shrug* it's fine I make it to the boat and it is solidly stuck I call everyone else to come over. Spunky is already climbing aboard. Kid you got to try a little harder than that.

Why the hell do I have to? I then got a lecture from spunky about the nature of freindship and people caring about each other and stuff. It took awhile but eventually everyone calmed down. The boat was really cool and had some different rooms, lots of thigns to fiddle with, and plenty of room. What is we made this our fort, like you and me our fort. We could fix it up and name it.

Lets name it first

We spent the next hour yelling random words at each other until we settled on Fort Fart Blossom and the SS Fart Blossom. We had a little 80's make over montage, that was fun. Then it just looked really nice and we had a fort.

THen I decided I wanted to go somewhere else for a bit, they asked why, and I said to be able to come back to our fort later. It made sense to me. But when I got up I realize we had never made a dry way into and out of the boat. So this led to a super interesting conversation that everyone got in on including spot who had been silent this whole time. Some said tentacle monster tthat responds to your voice, someone said rocks that rise from the water, someone else suggestedthe invisible bridge, a lot of suggestions were made but we ended up just going with a zipline and a swinging rope. Nothing too complicated.

I feel like we sang at some point

Also I feel like there was something in the lake. Merman maybe, but not sure.

But this is where it goes blac other than the "female" presence. I remember saying we wer going to leave the boat and setting up the ropes but nothing else.

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