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#queen of the night fic
saturnville · 6 months
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40 days n 40 nights.
pairing; shuri udaku x black!fem!reader (kalila)
warning; toxicity. language. emotional manipulation. allusions to smut. descriptions of smut 18+ content.
reference; 40 days n 40 nights — mariah the scientist, vory
overview; in which two exes reunite briefly after ending their toxic relationship.
tags (people who recently interacted with my shuri fics): @neeville @pocketsizedpanther @l-o-v-e-galore @cosmic-parker
Toxicity used to be as foreign concept. At one point, healthy was all she knew. Open, honest, respectful communication and treatment from her partner to herself. It was easily acceptable. It was what she needed to thrive; it was what she required.
Kalila felt like a fool when she lowered the walls that guarded her soft heart. The sweet nothings and gentle kisses that the lips of the Queen shared, altered her brain chemistry in a way she couldn’t explain.
No longer was she headstrong and adamant about what she deserved. She didn’t stand on business. No, she was weak in the knees for the Queen, the Panther, for her. Whatever to keep her majesty satisfied, she was prepared to give it all.
Naivety was her downfall.
What she failed to understand, was that the deep desire to please her at any cause, stripped her of her dignity, honor, and self-respect. Subject to mistreatment as a result, Kalila’s eyes began to open. The rose-colored glasses fell and reality sunk in. Her loyalty was taken advantage of. Her kindness was laughed at. The love she gave was not enough. She was not enough. She came to be nothing but a body to keep the bed warm while the Queen did what a Queen had the pleasure of doing; whatever she wanted.
It took months to build the courage to end the relationship. How easy could it be to remove oneself from the most intense union they’d found themselves in? The one where while the pros were numerous, the cons extended themselves past the acceptable limit.
The worst part was; she didn’t care. She had no interest in fighting to keep her, working to change. Kalila’s world crumbled. Her heart tore in two, her lungs constricted, and her mind fogged. Suddenly, substances were her lover and they fucked her good; to the point where she’d be in an orgasmic haze from the strategic stroking of her brain.
She mentally smacked herself each time she thought or her. The Queen, the Panther, Shuri. The best and worst thing to ever happen to her. Kalila wondered what she was up to. Probably living her life; on a flight to a new country where she’d serenade a woman into being her lover for the night before retreating the following morning, intrigued when the women followed her like a lost child. Kalila knew it all too well—it was once her.
The room spun. Substances and lack of sleep were a deadly combination. Kalila shook her head. 40 days and 40 nights of endless bullshit. All she had to do was let go. Could it be so hard?
Her music paused briefly at the indication of a text.
S. Udaku. Open the door.
Apparently so.
Kalila’s knees were weak as she stood in front of her. Her knees were weak, her heart pounding, and her most intimate parts jolted at the sight of her. She looked much different than she had a year ago. Her curls were much shorter—she’d cut them—now small tendrils on her head. She retired her tracksuit for a black suit with accompanying loafers. Kalila glanced at the wall clock. It was 9:41pm. Where’d she come from?
Shuri stepped into the apartment with an indescribable dominance that shifted the atmosphere. She was taller in stature, so her neck was lowered to glare into the eyes of Kalila. Both sets of brown eyes were deep and rich, but told different stories.
“What are you doing here?” Kalila’s voice was slow. The door closed behind her and and Kalila’s eyes followed Shuri as she stood in the middle of her apartment. Her long arms were crossed just underneath her belt, and her rings shone under the dim lights.
“Why’d you let me in?” Was the Queen’s response.
Because I missed you. Kalila’s eyes told it all before her mouth did. Shuri gave a humored chuckle, but the stoic look on her face didn’t change. Tight-lipped and unamused.
“Why are you here?” Kalila pressed once more. Shuri was now on the couch. Her long fingers flipped through the magazine on the coffee table. Essence. Then, they ghosted over the lit candle aside it. She didn’t flinch when the flame kissed her fingertips. Slowly, she leaned back against the couch, arm thrown over the back.
Shuri shrugged. “Was in the area. Wanted to say hello. Sit.” As if she was trained, Kalila sat beside her. This was what she wanted; to be next to her, in her presence once again. Why act shy now?
“I see you’re doing well. Business flourishing and all.”Kalila’s eyes snapped up. She started a marketing and consulting agency shortly after her college graduation. It was a rocky start, and Shuri had been there to connect her to the best in the business to assist in its development. Little did Kalila know, her efforts never ceased even once they split.
Kalila, however, was confused as to how she knew the way she was flourishing. At least on the outside. Then she had to remember, Shuri had every resource at her fingertips. Hell, she probably had someone keeping tabs on her at one point. She chose not to think about it further.
“Yeah, things are well.” Her answer was short. “Can you just…why are you here, Udaku? We are--there is no us anymore. You made it clear what you wanted five months ago, and it wasn't me. So, why are you here?" Her voice shook as she spoke, but she spoke with intention.
Shuri's chin raised and her eyebrow quipped. "I had a revelation. You didn't deserve what I put you through, and I'm aware of that. So, simply here to take accountability. That's it."
It was Kalila's turn to raise her eyebrow. It seemed too good to be true. Shuri sighed deeply and turned to face Kalila, whose distrust was written on her face.
"Do you trust me?" Shuri asked. Kalila's response was delayed. Did she? To protect her life, sure. But to protect and honor her emotions, her mental wellbeing, her heart? No, no she didn't.
"In some ways, yes. In others, no. And that's not my fault. It's yours/"
Ouch. Shuri nodded once. "Okay. Let me make it up to you." Those words were dangerous. They were the entryway back into the world of Shuri Udaku, and she wondered if she'd be able to take it.
Kalila spent time contemplating, and it did not go unseen by Shuri. So, the Queen asked her, "What are you thinking about?"
"How I don't want to be hurt by you again."
"I love you too much to hurt you again."
"That's what you said last time."
Silence.
"Let me prove it to you, yeah?" Her slender fingers danced across the roundness of Kalila's face. Fingertips grazed her lips until they fell down her neck. She gave it a soft squeeze. Kalila's eyes fluttered and she leaned into Shrui's body. Shuri took it as an opportunity to graze her lips over Kalila's, whose fell slack and a quiet whimper fell from them. Exactly where she wanted her.
Soon, clothes decorated the floor and their songs of pleasure were on repeat. High and low shifts in pitch and octave. Whistle register with voice cracks when it became too much. Sweaty bodies slipped and slid against one another. A glorious event.
"I love you," the Queen whispered breathlessly in Kalila's ear as she brought her to the edge. "I love you, I love you...it's just us. Always."
If only she stayed true to her word. Kalila woke up by herself. Every remainder of Shuri was eradicated. The only trace of her was the scent of her perfume; strong and dominant, just like her.
Her phone buzzed against the coffee table.
S. Udaku. I'll see you soon.
She knew what that meant. She'd return when she felt like it. That could be days or weeks. Kalila's eyes welled with tears. Another 40 days and 40 nights were wasted, just to start the process all over again.
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vixentheplanet · 7 months
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illicit nights | part 2
“gimme few more minutes of this feeling. for right now time don't exist.”
shuri x black!reader | 18+
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Summary: You were born and raised in Wakanda, but you chose to leave to pursue a modeling career. You've amassed global fame as an international model, gracing runway shows, featuring in luxury campaigns, and appearing in fashion magazines. You're in the spotlight, and the entire world is watching your every move. After a very public breakup, you decide to return home to reconnect with your country and the people you love.
You didn't expect to catch the attention of your sister's best friend in your attempt to get over your heartbreak, let alone end up in a private sexual relationship with said friend. The Wakandan Queen.
word count: 9k
themes: model/famous reader, queen shuri, childhood friends, hookups
warnings: very explicit sexual relations
i forgot everything… the summary. the tags. the storyline. i actually almost put up the collage that was supposed to be for part 3
i think this was the song… IDK IDK. i was supposed to re-edit it but i don’t have time. 😩🤍 y’all know how i feel about this… so DON’T 😐😒
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The breeze tickled your skin as you sat outside, waiting for the sunrise. Your body had only begun to adjust to the time shift, and you usually woke up early enough to have breakfast with your mother before she left for work. The majority of your days were spent catching up with friends, spending time with Izara when she wasn't at work, and visiting some of your favorite places in your hometown—also, Shuri.
It’s been three weeks since Aneka’s party. Since you had left Shuri’s bed with the vow never to sleep together again. The next morning, when you saw Izara, she whistled at you, "Look at Miss, I don't sleep with strangers." She was sitting at the table with a half-finished plate of food. For a second, you weren't sure what she was talking about as she fixed her gaze directly on the bite marks on your neck.
To be fair, you said that there would be no kissing. You did not mention biting, but you're paying for it now. “Oh, yeah.” You speak plainly, attempting to dismiss it as nothing significant, but you know it won't work with your sister. Shuri had spent much time with her lips attached to your neck and a few scattered on your chest. You try to push the images away before they take over your mind and become too vivid.
There’s a bowl of fruit on the counter, and you make your way over to it, examining your options. Banana. Pear. Apple.
Izara keeps pushing. “How was it? Who was it? Did you get their number?” She pressed for specifics about the previous night, and it was too early for you to come up with a sensible explanation.
Ignoring your sister, you take another look at the fruit before settling on a pear and biting into it. "You're asking too many questions, hurting my brain." You speak once you've swallowed. Izara made jokes about you moving back in, but it appears she was the one who did. Despite having her own place, she came here very frequently. You're surprised she came here so early in the morning; she was probably looking for leftovers in the fridge to help with her hangover.
“She went to the market, and you’re lying. I've seen you drunk. You didn't drink much last night." She accuses, and you sigh.
Hangover or not, it’s too early to ask all these questions. "Am I your next research subject?" You sass.
She takes the hint this time. "No, I'm only observing because this means you hooked up with them sober," Izara exclaims, clamping her hands over her mouth. "They must have said something to charm you. You should see them again.” You laughed at her suggestion. Shuri was the one in question, and it couldn't happen again because-
You groan, “That’s not the point of a one-night stand.”
"Well, I guess not, but it wouldn't matter," your sister thinks. “You’ll be leaving eventually, and if you had a good time, I don’t see the harm in having another go at it.” She says carefully before picking up her fork and continuing to eat, and that's the end of it, fortunately.
There's a good chance Izara would give you different advice if she knew who you ended up taking home from Elixir that night. Your sister's words lingered in your mind for the rest of the morning. There was no harm in you and Shuri being sexually involved, considering that you would soon leave Wakanda. It was strictly between the two of you. No one else needed to know, and you're both single consenting adults. The fact that she's your sister's best friend adds a layer of complexity, but if neither of you told her, she wouldn't know. You are not required to inform her if you do not choose to.
That's why, after taking your sister's suggestion, the promise only lasted 24 hours. The next night, you were back in Shuri's bed. You weren't shocked when Shuri accepted your proposal for a no-strings-attached relationship. The two of you hadn't been drunk enough to blame your actions on altered brain chemistry the first time you slept together. Attraction and lust fueled your acts.
Since you would see each other routinely, it was important to reiterate the three terms and conditions established on the first night.
No kissing
No intimacy
Izara (no one) can never find out
With that being said, the past three weeks were filled with friends, spending time with yourself, and lots of Shuri. It was relaxing, and you weren't planning on returning to work right away, but your IMG agency team wanted to check in with you.
You were lounging on the back patio of your childhood home, laptop open, waiting for a video chat from Gabrielle, your manager. It was after midnight in LA, but she worked for you; everything was on your schedule. Your agency was lenient with you, but you understood it was because you are vital to the industry. In only a few years, you became one of the top-earning models in the agency, in high demand. Though that meant nothing in Wakanda, it meant everything out there, and as a result, you are held to a higher standard.
Logically, you knew they weren't going to get rid of you, but your stomach was knotted with anxiety, not knowing what to anticipate. Was the press slandering you as a result of your absence? Does the demand for your campaign involvement decrease?
The laptop on the table chimes, signaling Gabrielle's call, and you immediately answer, her face filling the screen. As she sees your face, her smile broadens. Her surroundings indicate that she is in her home office. The night sky could be seen through the glass windows behind her. "There she is, my lovely lady. We miss you, you know?”
"I miss you guys too." For the most part, you worked with a good group of people. Your team ensured exposure and opportunities at every fashion house, show, and campaign. The money was the product of all the hard work that had gone into everything.
"The team and I wanted to check in and see where your head's at?" Gabrielle says as she shuffles papers off to the side.
Right now is the first time you’ve thought about returning to work since coming home. There was no definite time frame in your mind of when you would return. "I mean, I've missed being in Wakanda and am happy to be back. I know I'll have to go soon, but I'm not ready yet."
Gabrielle nods her head, taking in your words. “Okay, that’s understandable. Of course, we'll give you as much time as you need, but you should be aware that you're the most talked-about person in the world right now," She informs you with a broad grin. A twinkle in her eyes indicates she has some important news to share.
In the industry, that could be good or bad. No publicity was bad publicity, but still. "What do you mean?" you question. You figured once you decided to drop off the face of the planet, it would all quiet down, and the media would go back to focusing on something else.
She responds to your question with a question of her own. “Have you been on social media recently?”
“No, I logged out of all my accounts.” You weren’t actively posting or monitoring what was being said about you.
Keyboard sounds break the stillness before Gabrielle begins again, "Okay, the good news. They're doing fantastic. Your last post a few months ago received 7 million likes. You've had a few viral tweets, and you're always trending on Twitter. Your name on search engines has skyrocketed, and many people wonder where you are. Why haven't they seen you in public?"
Your manager turns back to focus on you. "People want to know where you are and when you’re back on the runway. The phones are ringing. We have brands worldwide competing for your participation in their shows for the upcoming season."
She continues. "This has the potential to be tremendous, a defining career moment, a historic moment in fashion history. The return of Y/N to the catwalk." Gabrielle illustrates her point by moving her hands in a sweeping motion to the side, demonstrating how massive this could be.
She looks at you, eyes still sparkling with excitement.
But you’re anything but, “I don’t know. When would this be?” you ask.
"If you were interested, next month you'd have to come out for a couple of fittings for other companies," Gabrielle reads from a document. It would be completely under the radar. We'll have everyone sign NDAs, and you'll be back in Wakanda in no time." The way she puts it indicates that she considered every issue or inquiry you may have that might convince you to say no.
"The shows wouldn't be until the season starts, but you'd get rehearsal and additional fittings closer to the shows. Think about it.” The details were nothing new to you. You've been doing it for a long time. Fashion Week preparations took a significant amount of time and effort.
You pick at your nails while biting your lower lip. "I'll think about it," you answer.
The woman on the screen looks honestly surprised at your response. You get it. The entire world is waiting for you. Major fashion corporations from all over the world are vying for your attention, but you're reluctant. You would have leaped at this offer a few months ago. Her tone of voice when she mentions your name, "Y/N," is quite defeated. “You can’t let Mya win.” It's as if she's been thinking about it for a while and finally feels like she can let it out.
The mention of your ex-girlfriend irritated you a little. "What are you talking about?" Was she attempting to persuade you to make a decision?
“I mean this in the best way possible. I understand how difficult it is, but you can't hide forever. Particularly not from a chance like this." Gabrielle explains, but her comments are still hurtful.
"This is a once-in-a-lifetime chance. Don't pass it up. That's all I'm saying. You already know I want the best for you." She looks you in the eyes, yet her words sting. Were you allowing Mya to win by hiding? Was she satisfied knowing you fled due to the chain reaction your breakup caused?
This ridiculous fucking conversation. "Thank you," you say quickly, avoiding eye contact.
Gabrielle sighs, undoubtedly aware that she has upset you. She's been your manager for a while now. She is highly aware of your moods. “I’ll email you over everything, take a look and get back to me when you can. Take care of yourself.”
Your voice had escaped you. You finish the call with a polite nod.
Gabrielle assumed she was doing you a favor by presenting this ‘great’ news with her oh-so-helpful advice, but now you were filled with dread and regret. Is that what the rest of the world saw? Mya made you run? A heartbroken coward who would rather hide her face than deal with the aftermath of a poor decision to give her heart away to the wrong person. It's the first time you've cried since your split. You weren't upset over the broken romance. It was the fact that you were completely overwhelmed by the idea that Mya had won.
Here you were, at the top of your success, trying to figure out what to do next. Gabrielle wanted to make it appear as if the decision was yours. Still, how she illustrated and spoke about it being a part of fashion history made it evident that she was attempting to sway your mind into saying yes. Yet, you didn’t know if you wanted to, but you also knew in the back of your mind you’d be an idiot to pass this up.
You thought about going to Izara. Your sister was generally your go-to person in situations like these. Even though she was supportive, you knew that telling her you could be going would make her sad. Even though she still had work, you swear she spent every waking moment with you, and you would never complain about being in your sister's company.
It was reassuring to know you had time to think about it, at least because your mind was not in the ideal place to make such important decisions right now. You were in a daze all day, but your spirits lightened when you helped your mother test new recipes for her bakery. When your mother retired, she decided to run a bakery. She spent her whole life as a culinary master and was delighted to share her food with others. You grinned and joyfully took all the sweets she placed in your mouth. You were responsible for informing her if she needed to add more sugar or if the dough required additional butter; it was a tedious job.
Around 3 o’clock, you get a text.
Be here at 10.
Shuri. After typing a short response, you put your phone aside and spent the remainder of the day with your mom. The process of trying out new recipes was time-consuming, but she needed your help, and it was keeping your mind off of other stresses.
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"You're distracted," Shuri accuses. Today was the fourth night you've been over this week; it's probably due to a lack of sex life in the months leading up to your breakup, but sex with Shuri is addictive. It's as if she passed a master class in your body, bringing forth noises you'd never heard yourself make. Reaching parts of your body you didn't know existed. Perhaps because there was no expectation of long-term dedication or closeness, which also played a role. Once the night's events were over, you dressed and went home, waiting for the next time you or Shuri sent a text arranging your subsequent encounter.
There was never any foreplay. This was supposed to be fast enough for both of you to get it out of your system and go before anyone became suspicious. That was mostly your mother and sister. Fewer people were in the halls at this time, and the queen's floor had restricted access. Except for Dora, no one was up here. Ayo always met you outside the palace to accompany you in and out as a precaution.
Shuri usually had you naked and trembling when you opened the door, but today, you were lazily sitting on top of her, rotating your hips. Zoned out. Her voice pulls your attention. "I'm not," you exhale, blinking and looking down.
Her hands come up to your waist, forcing you to stop. “You are,” Shuri argues.
Though it was a slow rhythm, the loss of it made you whine. “Stop arguing with me and get on with it.” You complain, brushing your hair away from your face. You should have tied it up. You'll have to redo it when you get home.
"You want me to get on with it?" she says, her brows furrowed. “You're on top of me."
The thought crosses your mind, "Can you take over?" you ask, sighing. She watches you with suspicion from her position below you. You can sense she wants to continue the subject, but there are other moments to start talking about everything bothering you.
Shuri is quiet for a minute before holding out her arms and saying, "Come here," You fall into her embrace, lying on her chest. The calm is only momentary as Shuri puts her arms around you, supporting her feet on the mattress, and thrusts up into you.
Surrendering to Shuri was a better idea than being in control. You lay in her grasp while she takes you apart, bringing you to that state of euphoria your body has grown accustomed to in recent weeks. That beautiful feeling you get after orgasm puts your mind at ease.
It's 2 a.m. when you're tugging your sweatpants over your hips. "It truly wounds my ego that you can walk away every time." In response to Shuri's vulgar joke, you roll your eyes.
"You know, I'm a model. I've walked away from worse circumstances." Rebalancing after an intense release was nothing if you could stroll down a runway in 120mm Louboutins. She's standing there, watching you get ready. She was waiting for you downstairs, where Ayo would meet and accompany you to your car.
You're about to tell Shuri you're ready to go when she asks, "Are you okay?"
Was she seriously going to bring this up once more? You lied when you said, "I'm alright," but you would be fine. The news from your manager was a lot to take in, and after reviewing the emails and all the details, it became clear how vast of an opportunity you had been given on a silver platter. Yet accepting this would mean being forced back into the spotlight without knowing if all of the previous gossip had finally died down. Even more so, being in Wakanda made you remember what taking a step back and breathing felt like. In Gabrielle's opinion, turning it down meant that your ex would win the prize, seeing you fragile and heartbroken.
There was too much to think about, and you couldn't unload it all on Shuri. This was not the type of interaction. You'd both gotten what you came for, and it was time to go.
Shuri must suspect you're not telling the truth. "You know," she begins. “We are still friends.” She's staring at you with seriousness, yet it's unsettling. You've never been close.
You tilt your head in reaction to her statement. You weren't friends; you spent time with Shuri when you were younger, but it was because you were stuck to your sister's hip. Izara adored you and would never push you away, even while you were in the company of her friends. However, once you gained independence, you rarely saw Izara's friends. “We are not friends. You’re my sister's friend.” You put more emphasis on it.
Shuri shakes her head, disagreeing. "That's not to say we're not friends, though." And there is a hint of disbelief in her tone.
"Name one thing we've done together," you challenged, your hands on your hips. Shuri's smirk and the way her eyes look across to the bed you've just finished in tell you exactly what's on her mind.
"When we were kids!" You exclaimed, a flush spreading across your face. She was irritable at times.
Shuri chuckles, amused by your reaction. “I’m trying to say that being Izara’s friend never meant I didn’t care about you.” Sharing your sentiments and emotions with anyone requires you to be attentive, clear, calm, and compassionate. All of these factors lead to genuine intimacy and trust. That didn't help bridge the distance you were attempting to build between you.
“I appreciate that, but I’m fine.” The tone of finality in your voice was enough to make Shuri drop the topic.
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The emails Gabrielle sent you were overwhelming once you saw just how many brands there were. Dior offered you ten million dollars to start and end their show. Mugler, Tony Ward, Zahair Murad... You had previously worked with some of these fashion houses while you had just fantasized about others, and now your fantasies were coming true.
You'd be back on the radar of all the celebrity news and gossip websites if you resurfaced in the spotlight. Though, your split with Mya was in the past. What if people continue to link you to her? Mya Hope’s Ex-girlfriend, Y/N, reemerges from the dead after her ex forced her into hiding- oh, and she’s also headlining fashion week. Will your accomplishments become an afterthought?
Despite better judgment, you enter the actress's name into a web search. The universe intervenes just as you're about to torture yourself by pressing enter. The phone rings, and your sister's picture flashes on the screen.
Izara calls to invite you to her apartment to hang out. "I'll be me, you, and Shuri," she says. Immediately, it was odd she wanted all three of you to spend time together. You could understand if it was a group outing. But the three of you together? You haven’t done that since you were kids.
“Shuri?” you repeat.
“Yes, Shuri, it was her idea.” Naturally, it was. It seemed as though she was attempting to prove you wrong. You have no idea why Shuri suddenly became interested in your acquaintance, but it was completely unwarranted. Did she not realize Izara was too observant for her own good and could quickly detect something off between you if you suddenly became too close?
As far as she’s concerned, you and Shuri haven’t seen each other since Elixir three weeks ago. You put your laptop away, feeling even more nervous and anxious. One issue at a time.
You tried to come up with an excuse. You have been doing that a lot lately. “I don’t want to interfere. I have plenty of alone time with you-”
“No!” Izara is quick to cut you off, unwilling to hear any excuse. “How often will I have my two favorite people over?” And you give in because you would do anything to make your sister happy.
That's how you end up at Izara's on a Tuesday evening. Your anxiety was high. What if you and Shuri seemed a little too at ease around each other, and your sister noticed that something had changed between you two? The days of Shuri thinking of you as "Izara's little sister" were long gone since you began hooking up.
When you arrived, Shuri was already in the kitchen, helping your sister prepare snacks. Izara ushered you into the living room, handing you a blanket and telling you to relax.
She temporarily abandoned her duties in the kitchen to get you comfortable. “Shuri and I normally try to do this every once and a while,” Izara explains, turning on the television. “But I don’t mind you crashing. I want to spend as much as possible with you before you leave.” There’s a frown on her face at the thought. A ping of guilt hits you. You can’t imagine going from seeing someone every day since birth to barely spending time with them and being constantly miles away from you.
Your sister and Shuri shared the couch while you cuddled in the armchair alone. It was probably paranoia, but you didn’t want to give away anything that would suspect anything about the rendezvous you've gotten up to these past few weeks. You couldn’t believe Shuri had gotten the two of you into the situation. The woman in question emerges from the kitchen carrying two bowls of popcorn.
She holds the smaller one out to you, “I thought it would be easier for you.”
“How thoughtful,” you say, forcing a smile as you accept the bowl.
That was the first interaction you’ve had throughout the night. You both sat in your respective seats, enjoying the movie. It was good enough that it kept your attention. Occasionally, you would steal glances over at Shuri and find her already looking at you. Could she be more obvious?
Halfway into the movie, Izara hits pause on the remote, much to Shuri’s dismay. “Seriously, Zar, you could have stopped at a worse time.”
Izara’s moving the bowl of popcorn she and Shuri had been sharing onto the table. “I know we’re almost at the end, but I have to pee!”
“Hurry up!” Shuri calls as your sister throws the blanket off her and runs out of the room. You can’t help but laugh at the exchange.
The sound catches Shuri’s attention, and the laughter in your throat dies when you realize you two are alone. Without the movie or your sister’s presence, you can freely glare at her, crossing your arms to emphasize your mood toward her. “Can you stop glaring at me?”
“You’re the one staring at me.” you accuse.
Shuri rolls her eyes, “That’s because I can feel you glaring at me. Stop.”
“No, you did this on purpose, you know? You didn’t ask me if I wanted to be here tonight. You told Izara, knowing I couldn’t tell her no.” It wasn’t an accusation, simply a fact.
Shuri would never outright admit it. Instead, she flashed you a small grin. “This is a completely normal evening.”
You roll your eyes, “I shouldn’t be here, and you know that.”
“Y/N. Do you not realize how ridiculous this is?”
"You don't think it's strange that we're now making plans to spend time together after almost a decade?" While you and Shuri were alone, there was no one else there. You didn't have to be mindful of how you interacted with each other. As you began to spend more time together, especially around your sister, you would have to be extra conscious of what you were doing.
“No, I don’t.” Shuri protested. You wanted to throw the bowl of popcorn at her but opted for flicking her off and going back to ignoring her.
Given the lack of noise, you can follow your sister's movement back into the living room as she exits the restroom. “Okay! Press play,” Izara calls, announcing her return and Shuri’s pressing resume before she even has a chance to resettle on the couch.
In all honesty, Shuri chose a good film. Several actors were unfamiliar, leading you to believe it was an indie production. The storyline was interesting enough to hold your attention, and the plot twist was unexpected, which was a plus. Even though it was interesting, you were relieved when it was over.
"This was fun," Izara said afterward. Getting the dishes ready to bring into the kitchen. "It's been a while since I've seen you two together."
You’re helping with cleaning, folding the blankets, and arranging them neatly on the couch. When the comment gets your attention, You blink a few times, unsure what to say.
Purposely, and you know it’s on purpose. Shuri says, “We should find time to do this again,”
“Yes!” your sister agrees, looking at you. You hum in agreement because you can openly oppose the idea without alerting your sister's suspicions. You believe the discussion will stop there, with the hope of you hanging together again, but there are no firm plans, so nothing is certain.
Then Izara mentions, “Oh! We’re going to the beach on Saturday. You should come with us, Shuri.” You discussed it last weekend while out to lunch with your friend Eshe. Eshe told you about her and a few other people's plans for the upcoming weekend and agreed that the more, the merrier.
You shoot a glance at Shuri, giving her a look silently, begging her to say no, as Izara awaits her answer. Shuri looks you in the eye, “I would love to.”
Right then. You decide that she must despise you.
You and Shuri then depart Izara's after the cleaning is done. When you leave her apartment and head to your respective vehicles, she tells you both to drive safely and message her when you get home.
Shuri heads for the elevator, but you take the stairs instead. You decide to take your time and assume Shuri is already gone because the elevator is faster, but as soon as you exit the building, you see her leaning against the passenger door. Her determination is sexy, but you were annoyed. You bypassed her, going directly to the driver's side.
You managed to get into the driver's seat but couldn't close the door fast enough. “Move.”
Shuri leans inside the car, sighing hard. "Are you seriously upset with me?" Her tone is stoic.
"Are you really coming on Saturday?" You make fun of her serious style.
There is complete silence as Shuri's expression tightens. "Do you want me to come?" she finally says.
Now she needs your input on something. "Clearly, it doesn't matter what I think. You can do whatever you want." You reach for the door once more, but Shuri straightens her posture and shuts it for you.
She didn't contact you again for several days after that night. You didn't think much the first day. She was probably allowing you to calm down. The longer the week went on without so much as a "you up?" text or phone call, the more concerned you became. You realized how irrational you were by the time Saturday rolled around. Mainly because everything in your life had been unpredictable and uncertain. The one sense of consistency was Shuri, and now you don't have that.
You have no idea why you were so adamant about proving to Shuri that the two of you were not close. You had no reason to treat her as you did; the regret was tearing you up inside. You thought you wanted to put as much distance between you as possible, but now that you have it, it drives you insane.
This is why, when Saturday came along, you were excited at the possibility of seeing Shuri in person.
As you arrive at the beach, you immediately notice your sister setting up and laying out a towel. There are a few people you recognize surrounding her. Two of them are your friends, Eshe and Visola. But there was no Shuri.
You put your tote bag down on the ground and asked, "Is everyone here?" since it seems less suspicious than asking for one individual in particular.
"Shuri couldn't make it," Izara replies, spreading the patterned blanket on the sand.
She’s not coming. "Did she mention why?" you question, trying not to seem too disappointed. Was she upset with you?
Your sister shakes her head. “No. She tried to keep the phone call short, but I knew her. She can’t keep anything from me.”
Want to bet?
Izara frowns. "There's a lot of pressure on her in her duties as Queen. It's hard to make everyone happy in politics." Working with Shuri, she certainly knows more about what's going on than she can say, but it's reassuring to know she wasn't avoiding you but was merely responding to more immediate issues.
You don’t say anything else, not wanting to show too much interest. Others joined you, a mix of individuals you knew and strangers. The people you were getting to know asked you many questions about your life as a model, which you gratefully answered.
Wakanda had some of the world's finest beaches, where you could decompress with the sand between your toes and the sound of the waves lapping against the shore. Your thoughts turned to Shuri. Why was she avoiding you? Was this her way of ending things? Have you overcomplicated things?
You couldn’t just outright ask forgiveness and say, “Let’s have sex,” that just seemed rude. But you needed to find a way to start a conversation.
You took a quick body selfie of yourself in the bikini and sent it to Shuri, writing, "Can't believe you're not here." That was playful enough to be true to the essence of your relationship while still acting as a check-in. If she texted you back, you could ask her why she wasn't here, hoping she'd be honest and not simply brush it off.
Shuri would reply as soon as she could; she had pressing matters to attend to. There was nothing you could do but wait, which was excruciating. Hours had passed while you swam, ate, laughed, and drank. Between it all, you couldn't help but check your phone for a single person's message. Nothing.
"You've been checking your phone all day," says Eshe as you collapse back down into your towel.
In the distance, you can see Izara building a sandcastle with some little kids who became drawn to her earlier in the day. "I have?" you say, pretending to be surprised. You knew your phone had barely left your hands today, except when you entered the water.
“Yes! Whoever that is, I hope to Bast that they respond soon." Eshe probably thought you were talking to someone. She's grinning at you, openly inviting you to divulge more details, but you're not going to do it.
“It’s not like that.” You explain leaving it at that. You felt bad, and not knowing how Shuri felt made you uneasy. This was really ironic... You felt like a dumbass.
Eshe rises to her feet, extending out a hand. "Whoever this is isn't thinking about you right now, and you shouldn't either. Give it some time." And you already know she's correct. Checking your phone was not going to speed up the response.
You reluctantly lock your phone and hand it over. Eshe grins and stuffs it inside the discarded shorts she wore over her bikini.
You squeeze every last bit of enjoyment out of the day before the sun goes down and the temperature drops. Along with the collection of selfies you took, you snapped a couple of photos of the sunset and Izara's sandcastle, which you helped find seashells to decorate it. Overall, you had a good time, and before you shower, you show your mother some of the photos you took. "Such a lovely smile. It's no surprise you choose to share it with the rest of the world." The comment warms your heart and serves as a reminder of how proud your mom is of you. She kisses you on the cheek before retiring to bed.
Shuri texts you close to midnight as if she can sense your never-ending thoughts about her.
I know it's late, but can you please come over?
After reading the text message, you feel relieved that 1. she wasn't mad with you. 2. Despite the fact that you've been a brat over the last few days, she was still interested in your arrangement.
Be there soon.
You immediately reply, changing into shorts and a hoodie, easier to take off.
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The A.I. system recognizes your face, so the doors to Shuri’s living quarters open up as soon as you arrive. “You didn’t answer my text, you know. You’re lucky I don’t hold grudges-“ the joke quickly dies as you notice Shuri pacing around the room when you enter. She's dressed in her bed attire, which tells you she probably tried to get to bed but couldn’t with whatever was running through her mind.
She clearly isn't fine. "I apologize it’s so late. I've spent the entire day working on social and other issues, and-" She sighs, cutting herself off, her shoulders slouching.
"You're not going to like hearing all of this. All I need is to get my mind off of today." You've been overthinking, and the last few days have given you mental clarity.
You see, you're the problem, and maybe you've been taking it out on Shuri, who was trying to do nothing but be there for you, but you chose to push her away. This arrangement was supposed to be fun, but you've recently caused tension by acting in ways that seem intended to demonstrate to Shuri that you were not friends and that there's nothing left between you. What the hell is the matter with you?
Shuri has had a difficult day. They are to be expected, given the amount of responsibility she carries. While you wouldn't mind if she fucked you to vent her frustration, it wouldn't help her sense of peace. It would only be a temporary relief, and as soon as you left, she’d be right back inside her head stressing. That's when you decided to prioritize her pleasure. You would apologize another time.
You make your way over to her, removing your shoes. "It's alright, just breathe," you say as you take her hand in yours. You pull her into you and begin kissing her neck, creating a safe zone. Stripping her of her clothing, you guide Shuri over to her bed. "Lay back." You speak in her ear, and she complies.
You switched positions. Shuri was the one who needed your support to forget about the stress. Her legs parting instinctively, you bring your fingers between her folds to feel her, and she’s dripping. You wanted to make sure she made the most of this opportunity to focus on herself and her comfort.
A thought occurs to you. "I'd like you to take deep breaths in and out." You tell her, caressing her on the outside but not delving into where she needs you the most. You knew deep breathing was a good activity that helped stimulate tranquility and restore stability; it always came in handy before runway shows.
"I want you to say 'In' when you feel me inside of you," you finally say, sliding one finger into her wetness and feeling her clench around you. A breath of release lips passes her lips as you watch some of the tension melt away. "And when you feel me pulling away, say 'out' and take a deep breath."
You pull your finger back for a second, swiping along the ridged pleasure point and massaging her inner walls. Shuri responds with an "In," and as you retract, moving out and stroking around the outside of her entrance, she responds with an "Out."
The two of you continued with that pattern until Shuri's voice trailed off, no longer speaking as she relaxed into sheets.
"You need and deserve this. To be able to breathe and feel happy." You tell her quietly, taking pleasure in the way her face contorts in delight.
Breathy gasps escape her lips as she concentrates on the sensation of your fingers stroking around her, unconcerned about the tension of the day.
Your fingers were drenched in her juices, and the more you felt the moisture inside her, the more you wished to taste it. You get on your stomach with your head buried in between Shuri's legs. Shuri relaxed into your touch as you massaged circles into her skin, aware that the pleasure she was experiencing had enhanced her sensitivity.
Her fingers grasped the sheets, and her abs tensed in anticipation. You slid your tongue around the inner and outside folds before beginning a gentle licking with a flat tongue around the entire surface area. The moans from her lips turned you on and left you damp.
It was nice to concentrate only on Shuri's satisfaction. You appreciated the way her hips stuttered as you took her apart. As you pushed her further and further into ecstasy, she lapped up the sensations of arousal her body provided.
She was definitely close, and you couldn't wait to taste her on your tongue. Shuri soon had her hips working in little circles as she pressed into your fingers, chasing her orgasm. Moaning became increasingly audible.
You softly coaxed her inner walls with two fingers pushed inside her. "Mmm, Y/N," Shuri says as she calls your name. Her walls are spasming around you, and you know she's coming. Her breathing is labored, and you appreciate her strength because she's still careful not to squeeze her thighs around your head even though she's breaking.
You focus on her clit, sucking in tandem with your fingers, and soon she's letting out those lovely sounds, and her body jolts as you feel her release.
"Do you feel better?" you ask, happy at the satisfaction on her face.
"Yeah," Shuri confirms as she sinks lower into the bedding. Hopefully, she'll be able to sleep soon. You get out of bed and are ready to leave when she snaps her head up. "Where are you going?"
“Home.” You answer, straightening out the wrinkles in your hoodie from lying on the bed.
“Now? I figured we were going to-," She started, but you stopped her.
"I'd love to have sex with you, but I think you should rest. You're obviously overworked," you observed, frowning.
Her tone of voice shifts. “You think I’m going to let you leave my room without coming?” She's in charge now and not interested in a debate.
“I-“ The way she keeps cutting you off indicates that there isn't much you can say to convince her.
Shuri continues, “Giving you pleasure is relaxing. I like concentrating on you,” she admits. And that breaks you. How could you deny her? It’s enough to make you stop, but you don’t proceed to the bed, waiting for her next command.
"Take off your hoodie." She gave the order. You take the ends of the hoodie and pull it over your head. “Shorts,” Her instructions are brief but effective. You're not standing there in your bra and underwear, waiting for her next command, which never comes. Shuri simply lifts her eyebrows, and her look conveys all. She need not speak a word to command your submission. She already holds it.
You reach around to release the bra clasp, allowing the fabric to fall to the floor. Shuri is biting her lower lip as she watches you take your time slipping your panties down your legs.
You climb back onto the bed, this time with your exposed body straddling Shuri's waist. You're in the same situation you were in a few days ago, but this time no other issues are distracting you. Shuri had you under her control.
“Are you happy?” Shuri seems absolutely ravenous, eyes burning with hunger. She can't get enough of you undressed, no matter how many times she's seen you. Her desire for you never dies.
"That's not where I want you," she says, biting her lower lip again. Shuri's voice is low, silky, and seductive, and you can feel yourself getting aroused at the sound of it.
“Where do you want me?” you breathe. You were unprepared for what she said next.
She points to her face, “Up here.” Shuri chuckles at the expression on your face. Completely surprised she was requesting such a thing.
You purse your lips, contemplating her request, “Shuri, that’s-“
Her hand grabs your ass, squeezing. "Don't make me tell you again. I hate repeating myself.” The hand on your backside is a warning. Knowing what would happen if she had to tell you again, you're nearly tempted to disobey.
Carefully, you climb up her body until her head is between your thighs, supporting your weight on the knees. In anticipation, you hover above her face, fingers gripping the headboard. "Mm, it's been four days, and she really misses me."
In this position, Shuri had complete access to your sensual zone and the most important spots to stimulate. She drags her mouth across your clit, as if sampling before diving in. Stretching her neck up to take the sensitive bud into her mouth and sucking, you can feel the flat of her tongue licking side to side in unison.
"S-Shuri," you gasp, already stuttering. You had to be careful not to put all your weight on her face, no matter how much you wanted to get lost in the feelings. You were intent on not harming her in the back of your mind. Both the pleasure of Shuri's actions and the effort of maintaining your balance cause a burning sensation in your core and a trembling in your thighs.
Shuri's tattooed hand reaches out from your waist and rubs across your skin. You whimper at the separation of her lips from you. "Stop thinking and ride my face," Shuri murmurs quietly beneath you. Her words make your pussy clench.
You readjust your position slightly. "I don't want to hurt you." You've had plenty of sexual interactions, but this was the first time you'd been asked to ride someone's face.
As teeth penetrate into the flesh, you feel a stinging ache on your right thigh. The ache lasts for a split second before transforming into pleasure that has you gasping. "Did you really just bite me?"
"If you did what I asked, I'd be doing something else with my mouth. Can you be a good girl?" Shuri's words are breathed directly into your heat as if she's speaking to it.
"I love watching your pussy react to my words." Although you can't see her face, you can hear her smirk in her words. Cocky. It was difficult to loosen up even when your muscles were begging for you to do so. Even if you want to, you are afraid of hurting her; there was no place for argument in the face of such a dominating tone. Shuri grabs your waist with a punishing hold and lowers you to sit on her face.
The sensation of feeling her beneath you is exhilarating. Her tongue moves slowly around your clit, igniting your pleasure in small sparks that will gradually consume your body.
Shuri's hands on your hips encourage you to rock back gently against her face. You submit. Considering Shuri's strength, you know that if you wind up injuring her, she'll quickly remove you. You rest one hand on the wall for support, slightly moving your hips as if testing. You were attempting to appreciate it, knowing that it was making you feel good as part of Shuri's relaxation. You kept rocking as she flicked her tongue on your clit, your knuckles paling as you grasped the headboard tighter.
Shuri is massaging reassuring circles into your thigh, letting you know relaxing and enjoying yourself is okay. Shuri was no longer licking into you with her tongue, allowing you complete control of your pleasure, and the fact that she was letting you use her made you increasingly wet. "Fuck," you exhaled, moving your hips and grinding against her lips.
Shuri effortlessly lifts you up to take a breath. “You’re doing so good, baby girl.” The name sends shivers up your spine. When Shuri lets you back on her face, she keeps her tongue still, allowing you to grind against it. You're thankful for this experience; it was so unique you can't imagine never feeling like this again. Hips snapping straight up and down, you find a rhythm and lose yourself.
"Shuri, I-I-" you cut yourself off with a gasp, and your mouth opens wide. The delicate, breathy sounds you used to make have vanished, replaced by loud, high-pitched moans.
Sensing you’re close, Shuri cups your breast, rubbing the sensitive bud between her fingers. The additional sensation causes your lips to falter. One of your hands lets go of the bed, clutching the wrist connected to the fingers holding your chest.
Your free hand grips the headboard, adjusting the pressure and pace. When you come, it’s with a scream of Shuri’s name you’re sure anyone on the floor could hear. Your brain whites out as your body curls in on itself. You try to move away from Shuri's face, but her grip keeps you there as she refocuses her attention on the fluids released during your climax. Her tongue laps hungrily across your pussy.
It was most undoubtedly the most intense orgasm you'd ever had. You're not even aware that tears are welling up in your eyes.
“Shuri! Fuck! Please, Shuri!" You cried, your voice rising in octaves as your stomach tightened. You will never be able to compete with Shuri's strength. She won't let you go until she's satisfied, at which point you collapse against the wall, exhausted. Your legs continue to twitch, and your body is oversensitive, yet you move lower till you're on her chest.
Shuri swiped two of her fingers inside of you as she watched you pant and struggle to come down. Your breath hitched, and your legs shook a little more. Coated in your come, Shuri brought them to her lips. She needed more, as if she wasn’t already covered in you. You lowered your gaze. Her face glistened, and you brought your mouth to her chin, sucking at the flesh and using your tongue to clean yourself off her. “Such a nasty girl.” you just moan in response, moving to the other side of her face.
You slide off her body and onto the empty side of the bed next to her. Closing your eyes. “Someone’s sleepy,” Shuri's tone is teasing.
Your eyelids are fluttering open, “How are you not tired?”
“Stamina, it’s a gift from Bast.” She moves closer to you, and the next time you open your eyes, she looks down at you.
Taking in your tiredness Shuri informs you, “You know you can stay, right? I don't kick you out or anything. You leave as soon as we're through." That is true. Shuri will never ask you to leave. You take the initiative since there was never any reason for you to stay. But your body is against the idea of standing up right now. You can't get up, so Shuri must have gotten her wish.
Instead of responding vocally, you wrap your sweaty body deeper under the covers. She should really change these.
Shuri speaks up again when she notices this. "Thank you for stopping by. I know you're upset with me."
This time you mumble, “I’m not mad at you.” Face shoved into the pillow.
“Really? Because you slammed the car door in my face the last time I saw you."
You turn to face her, and your eyes are half-closed. "Your pillow talk is awful."
There's a moment between you, and Shuri's expression is filled with uncertainty. She is hesitant to express her feelings. You're trying to appear interested, fighting against your body's exhaustion. Maybe this talk should have happened before you had sex. “Whatever is on your mind. Say it,” you encourage instead of shutting her out.
She takes another minute before saying, "I don't want you to think that all I want from you is sex. You're not some random person, Y/N. I've known you practically my entire life, so come to me if you have a problem."
“That’s why I told Zar to invite you to the movie night.” She explains. “I just don’t want you to think I see you as a body where you can’t tell me when you’re feeling down. It makes me feel shitty.”
You’re apologetic. “ I'm sorry. I didn't notice." You had no idea how Shuri was feeling. It must be difficult as well. She could not view you like a warm body and renounce her caring attitude toward you.
Since she was so honest, you told her what you failed to do many nights ago. "I received a call from my manager," you explain. "I have opportunities flying into my lap, and of course, I'm living my dream as the most in-demand model in the world right now, but I don't know what to do. I don't know what I'm doing for the first time in my life, and it stresses me out." The words flow freely off your lips, spilling out everything you've been feeling, and it feels really good. You understand how stressful it was to hold all that in and be burdened with so much anxiety and despair.
You sigh, adding, "And the only normalcy I have is sleeping with my sister's best friend." Saying it out loud puts into perspective the reason for your actions these past few days. Subconsciously, you were concerned that spending too much time with Shuri and opening up about your feelings might jeopardize what you had—realizing now how natural it is to talk to each other without awkward silences or pauses between. You may not have actively pursued a strong friendship, but you care about her well-being as much as she does about yours.
Shuri groans next to you, “Don’t say it like that.”
“It’s true,” you mumble, sinking deeper into the comfort of Shuri’s sheets. They smelled like her and sex, but mostly like her. Your body settled into relaxation post-orgasm, and you felt yourself getting sleepy again, eyes hazy.
“Whatever decision you make, you have people who care for and fully support you.” Shuri’s words are comforting and true.
You smile, eyes closing again. “And I know I said we’re not friends, but you’ve always been in my life,” you admit.
To summarize. “You’re you, and I’m me, and we’re just us.” The smile on Shuri’s face tells you she’s content with that.
“Wake me up in like an hour,” your body no longer has the strength to fight off sleep. You turn around and finally shut your eyes.
When you reopen your eyes, you're surprised by your surroundings. This room is way too large to be your own, and there's a lot of sunlight streaming in through the windows. You sit up, aware that you are still in the Citadel. Shuri isn't next to you, but you can hear noises coming from the bathroom and assume she's getting ready for the day. You adapt to the light by blinking a few times, feeling clear-headed and revitalized.
Who says you can't solve your troubles with amazing sex and a good night's sleep? You stand up and begin your usual practice of playing hide and seek with your clothes. Shuri has returned to the room by the time you're dressed, and her eyes widen as she sees you awake.
You playfully narrow your gaze on her. "I said one hour," you complain, but your words have no bite.
Shuri defends herself by raising her palms. "In my defense, I fell asleep."
You grab your car keys as you smile at her surrendering. "I think I should go." You've definitely overstayed your welcome.
"I'll have Griot direct Ayo to keep the hallway to the rear entrance clear for the next ten minutes." She is already planning your getaway, and you can’t help the laugh that manages to escape you.
“What’s so funny?” Shuri inquires, her expression questioning.
“You are using the Dora Milaje to distract people so you can get your sneaky link out of the palace undetected.” You chastise, mockingly shaking your head.
Shuri laughs and tilts her head. “You have such a colorful way of describing things.”
Before you leave, Shuri asks, “Are we good?”
"We're fine," you say.
Shuri smiles and nods.
As you walk away, your cheeks begin to hurt from smiling so much.
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artnijna · 6 months
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Marathoned Hellsing all this Halloween and I finally got to draw Alucard and Sera’s together. Like I love this ship, and I haven’t draw them since middle school
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night-wilf · 1 year
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Writing prompt 71:
Jazz is granted a ghost form as Danny is not of age for the throne. He must be 20 in human years with a lot of training from his future subjects.
Jazz becomes queen to command the undead armies through thick and thin.
Aka big pretty woman (based on Danny's ghost form being giant as king concept)
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quinn-pop · 5 months
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thinking abt to be apart again
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mumms-the-word · 1 month
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The Twenty-First Night
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A bit of 1001 Nights-inspired poetry that I wish was in The Art of the Night to make it more than just a spicy yoga manual or a spellbook. This is part of the longer scene I wrote, but I wanted to share it separately too, because I've been inspired by other BG3 poets. I'm not really a poet, but I did my best <3
~*~*~
That night, the king met his beloved once more in their chambers.
"Dearest one," said he,  "Gold I have given thee,  and jewels from my store;  chains for thy neck  and bands for thy wrists;  and still, thine eyes shine more brilliantly  than any treasure in my kingdom. 
"What gem in all the realms  can be more precious than thy gaze?  What more can I give to you,  my beloved, so that you may know  the ardent depths of my heart?  What more, when thine eyes alone  make all riches seem as dull iron?"
"Tender-hearted king," said the queen,  "I need neither gold nor gems;  my love is not so cheaply bought  nor so willingly sold.  And yet, already thou possess  that which I long for most.  Thy steady gaze, my love,  and thy faithful hand are all I ask.
"Come, take my hand,  and look beyond this simple visage. I will bare my soul to thee, this night,  and gaze boldly at thine. For more than bone and blood are we, but spirits merely housed in flesh.’"
~*~*~
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velvet-apricots · 5 months
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Marika Rebels
Marika kneeled before the Emissary of the Greater will, head bowed as she sat within the Erdtree. Her dusty face was streaked from tears shed. So many tears for her eldest child. 
For her boy that now rotted at the roots of the Erdtree.
Her back was marred with cracks from her shattering of the Elden Ring, a fit of rage against the being that destroyed her.
All she had left was Godwyn. Miquella and Malenia left her, Mohg and Morgott were lost to the sewers both.
And now Godwyn was gone.
The Greater Will demanded repentance. It demanded control.
It demanded order, for it was order itself.
It remained still, but its interest was waning. For life was chaos.
And there was no greater proof of its chaos then war.
Marika lifted her head, her grief fueled rage renewed. She would tear it all down. All for her sons to Godfrey, the only man who she loved. Godwyn, and the twins who’s memories she clung to.
Even her beautiful treacherous twins who left her. Because they were cursed by the Gods the Greater Will deemed the enemy.
She would bring a war unlike any other. For her remaining children were like her. Burning with flames of ambition.
 “I am the Queen Eternal. I shall not be thy dog. I shall not heel.”
The Beast reeled back at the defiance, brandishing a spear. Marika bared her teeth, resisting as Radagon tugged upon her body, demanding he be the one in control.
She was god upon the earth. She had power. She would not be silenced, tormented, and maimed into compliance. She would chase the Greater Will and its need for order out of the lands between. Banish the thing that shattered her to pieces.
“Hear me, Demigods. My children beloved…”
The spear came down and ripped through her chest, her body further cracking away. She spilled no blood, for the beast would never draw it.
She was stone, and stone did not bleed.
“Make of thyselves that which ye desire. Be it a Lord. Be it a God.”
Her children, her blood, all heard her words. 
Even Godwyn’s soulless husk heard, his milky eyes gazing skyward as death infected the golden roots which tried to claim him.
“But should ye fail to become aught at all, ye will be forsaken. Amounting only to sacrifices-”
Her voice caught in her throat, her own hands clasped tightly around it, squeezing as Radagon finally silenced her.
The beast loomed overhead, and she knew she would not be leaving this tree.
But she still had faith. She was the golden order. She was the god that walked upon the earth. Oh she may be strung up and tormented for an eternity, but this was her land.
It was her grace. And this was her tree. They may seal it off, prevent everyone from entering.
But nothing prevented her from reaching out.
And she had planned this. From the moment the last Giant fell and her first husband lost his grace.
She had planned to break free of her curse. If not that day, then one day.
This day. When she had nothing left.
So come ye tarnished. 
Come and return home.
Come and slay the beast that binds me.
Come and free me.
Come my one true Lord. 
Come return to mine side.
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alexandrarosa · 1 year
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Lucemond and Rhaenicent or as I like to call it the disaster gays/lesbians who lack the communication skills that could prevent a war
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qierxing · 2 years
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“I don’t hate you. I’ve never hated you.” Riddle runs a hand through his hair, deflating like a ballon. “But you do. Hate me, I mean. I…don’t know what rules I should implement so that you’ll finally reciprocate. That’s why it’s important that I keep you here as a doll.”
-Love me Not by @merakiui
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catofadifferentcolor · 6 months
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Terrible Fic Idea #66: Targaryen Restoration, but make it queer
The other day I had the crazy thought: what if Robert Baratheon tried to pass a male Jon Snow off as his second wife? So naturally today I had the complimentary thought: what if it was Jon's choice to present as female?
Or: What if Jon Snow was transgender?
Aka: The Visneya the Victorious Fic
Just imagine it:
Everything follows canon - with one exception. It's not just that Jon Snow feels out of place in Winterfell, he feels out of place in his own skin. It gets worse the older he gets, until some point shortly before Robert Baratheon is set to come North Jon has the realization: she is a woman in a man's body, and the pretty features her half-siblings tease her about are the only parts of herself that she's comfortable with.
Jon (for she still thinks of herself by this name at this point), quickly realizes there's no place for her in the North. Perhaps if she ran away, adopted a new identity, and restricted herself to traditionally female activities she might get away with it - but, for all that Jon feels like a woman, she doesn't want to restrict herself to needlepoint. She wants to be a woman and to fight. Her role model in this is Queen Visneya.
In the chaos before King Robert's arrival, Jon runs away. Her escape is helped by the fact that the few people Ned is able to send after her do not know to look for a woman.
Jon manages to make her way to Pentos shortly before Daenerys is due to marry Khal Drogo. She's recognized by Jorah Mormont - not as a Stark, but as a Northerner recently come from Westeros, and presented to Dany during her wedding as a means of learning more about the country she is exiled from. Jon - now calling herself Jenny Snow - is very much an unwilling member of Dany's court, but has little alternative.
Canon proceeds apace, with the addition that many of the Dothraki are alternately amused and disgusted by a woman who wields a sword - though she gains the respect of certain factions for cutting the cock off any man found take a woman unwilling, free or slave.
Drogo dies. Dany becomes mother of dragons...
...and Rhaegal is absolutely taken with Jenny.
At this point some of the truth comes out - that Jenny is the bastard daughter of Ned Stark, now presumed to have a Dragonseed for a mother - but the fact Jenny was born Jon Snow remains remarkably hidden considering the Dothraki live largely out of doors with minimal privacy.
Canon continues to proceed apace, with Dany and Jenny becoming friends in a way they never quite managed while Drogo was alive. They do not become lovers until they finally sail for Dragonstone, and when King Robb - heavily scarred after surviving the Red Wedding - comes to plead for aid, he doesn't see his missing half-brother in Visneya Blackfyre (as Jenny Snow is now known as).
Visneya is sent with Rhaegal and some of their allies to defeat the Others, while Dany and the remainder of her army begins solidifying their position in Westeros.
With their forces divided, neither side is willing to take stupid risks, but with their fresh soldiers and supplies from Essos they can make several important, modest gains. Dany takes the islands of Blackwater Bay and the Narrow Sea - including the Stepstones - before moving onto the Stormlands and the rest of the Crownlands. Visneya, for her part, knows Northerners and how best to fight in Northern weather, and leads her forces to several great victories - including holding the Wall after the Night King tries to destroy it with magic.
Eventually the Night King is defeated - Visneya managing to destroy him in single battle after a fall from Rhaegal separates her from her forces - and she returns south with a portion of the Northern army to start retaking the Riverlands and the Vale.
By the time they turn their attentions to the Iron Islands, the rest of Westeros has already bent the knee and Dany has been crowned Queen of the Seven Six Kingdoms - but it's there Visneya earns her epithet. Not only does she free any salt wives she comes across, but she kills many locals for raping and reaving, and turns the castles of those who refuse to concede to slag, starting with the Greyjoys. It is in many ways a second Harrenhal, writ large over an entire kingdom.
Though pressured to make a political alliance, Dany never remarries. She claims her dragon Drogon as her second husband and continues her affair with Visneya behind closed doors, stating that a dragon is the only acceptable spouse for a dragon, and produces a handful of children with the Targaryen look over the years. One of their daughters goes on to marry Robb Stark's heir. (This goes on back and forth for a handful of generations until, a la James I, the closest male heir to the North is the King of the Westeros, and the kingdoms are reunited.)
As for Visneya, no one ever gets a clear answer who she is or where she comes from. It's largely believed that her mother was a descendant of Daemon Blackfyre who married an exiled Northerner, but no one really knows. Not even Visenya, who never learns she was born the only son of Rhaegar Targaryen and his second wife, Lyanna Stark.
Bonuses include: 1) a detailed exploration of gender roles - and gendered violence - in Westeros and Essos. This should include the many ways in which gender is a performance, and that toxic Medieval masculinity is just as damaging as female repression, and what it means to want to exist outside your ordained role; 2) a detailed exploration of sexuality in Westeros and Essos and what it means to defy - or conform to - those norms ; and 3) Robb and Arya being the only ones ever to learn Visneya Blackfyre's original identity, mostly through accident rather than intention.
And that's all I've got. As always, feel free to adopt this bun, just link back if you ever do anything with it.
Other Jon Snow Headcanons: Aelor the Accursed | Aegon the Adopted | Aegon the Undying | Aegon the Unyielding | Aemon the Adventurous | Baelor the Brave | Bastard of Winterfell | Daemon the Destroyer | Daena the Dreamer | Daeron the Desired | Dyanna the Defiant | Elia the Magnificent | Jon the Fair | Jon Whitefyre | King of the Ashes | Lady Arryn | Lady Baratheon | Lady Lannister | Lady Stark | Lord of the Dance | Prince Consort | Prince of Summerhall | Queen Mother | Rhaegar the Righteous | River Queen | Shiera Snowbird | Visneya the Victorious
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I recently (ahem, yesterday-ish) started reading httyd fics, and i'm noticing there are a lot of Hiccup Runs Before The Final Exam, or he wasn't there to begin with (feral Hiccup ✨) but what if he doesn't start dragon training at all? Like, The Raid was his final opportunity to show that he isn't completely useless at Dragon Killing, and he butched it, snd he was close to dying again or smthng and Stoick stops hoping for Hiccup to be a Beefy Viking Killing Machine, and when they 'talk' on the stairs when Hiccup comes back from freeing Toothless, he tells him that Gobber needs some help in the smithy and that he might learn how to properly make the weapons or tools and that, yeah, there are enough vikings who fight dragons but there aren't enough weapons when they're used viciously on an almost daily basis against Tough Skin
TL;DR: Hiccup becomes a smith, doesn't do the dragon training at all, and he has a bit more time to spend with Toothless bc Gobber thinks he might feel bad about not getting a chance to Beef Out so he cuts him some slack for a little bit, and also the prosthetic might be better/go along faster bc now he's /supposed to/ use the forge, but also might not bc now he has an official job/apprenticeship
He falls further apart from the other teens, who half-think (mainly the twins say) that he died a brutal death or smthg bc now they barely see him, and only to give/get back their weapons/shields/armor when they need fixing; and he gets ever-closer to the Nightfury on his proverbial backyard
He gets good at Smithing, blablabla, meets the Mad Queen, blablabla, gets increasingly stressed thinking abt how to save his best friend, soul-brother, partner-in-crime, adoptive-dragon-parent from the Mad Queen, and Astrid starts noticing him bc he's smoother when he isn't paying attention to others at all and he really is better at smithing than anyone ever thought he'd be good at, well, anything
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softquietsteadylove · 17 days
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Could we get a little something something from My Kingdom for a Heart fic that’s on ao3? Idc if it’s fluff or angst I’ll literally take anything you give out bc it’s just that good!!
Sersi was spinning around the floor with Ikaris, her veil whirling around her, sparkling silver against her emerald green gown. She always had a certain joy to her, of course. But even Thena had not seen her beaming so fully in all their lives together. It was exactly the kind of free, unburdened smile she had always wished for her sister.
To marry without obligation was the best gift Thena could pass on to her sister, and that included abdicating the throne as the eldest and making Sersi the acting queen. Thena had some reservations about the marriage in question being to Ikaris, but she had to admit, he was not so villainous. Annoying, perhaps, but that was a lesser of evils.
He was her brother now, and while she felt she was truly understanding the petulance a brother could bring to her life, their families - and kingdoms - were becoming one. Unfortunately, he still liked to argue with some of the advice she had to offer (as the royal advisor). But Sersi was always quick to hear out her sister, and that usually managed to pull her new husband along with her.
"It is a beautiful ball, your Grace."
Much to her disappointment, it was not the one she was expecting, but rather some lord or another. She did not know why he was saying so to her. She had not planned it alone, nor was she truly participating in it, past being the one who had walked Sersi down the aisle to her groom. "It is."
"Congratulations, to you and to the happy couple."
"Indeed," she muttered. She was no longer the princess and regent, she was merely Sersi's second in line, and that came after her job as advisor, as far as Thena was concerned.
"You look splendid as well, of course."
He was wearing on her patience, of course.
"I should almost think it possible for you to steal the attention away from the bride herself."
"My Lord," Thena drawled, keeping her eyes on her sister, "I should think that you would rather not insult my dearest sister in the process of attempting to compliment me."
"I-I-" he stammered, "I would never-"
Thena moved away from him. She no longer held the power to send people away with the flick of her wrist--truly the only part of her position she truly mourned. The crowd cheered for the guests of honour, concluding another of many dances this evening. Thena smiled.
"Your Grace!"
Was tonight destined to be a gauntlet through which she was to battle?
"Congratulations on your sister's happy marriage, your Grace," another lord bowed to her formally at least. "The kingdom could not be happier for the Prince and his bride."
Sersi would make a wonderful queen. "I shall tell them."
"It does free you, does it not?" he continued, perhaps not catching onto her locked tight posture and cold eyes. "Without expectation to marry the Prince, you are more able to select a husband of your choosing. Perhaps even a love match?"
Thena looked at the brazen lord speaking to her without end. He was younger than she had expected, his hair sitting atop his head with as much arrogance as he exuded in his smile. "Do you have a matter that concerns you, my Lord?"
"Perhaps," he grinned at her, and it made her want to take a long step back from him. He held out his hand to her, "if you would do me the honour-"
"Forgive me, my Lord, but her Grace has other obligations."
Thena's eyes rose, and she failed to contain her pleasure at the sight of her rescuer. "Captain, if you would be so kind as to escort me."
"Of course, your Grace," he smiled back at her as a gentleman would. He even removed his leather glove before offering his hand to her. He stood between her and the man asking to dance with her, turning his back - unthinkably rude! - on him in the process.
"Thank you," Thena murmured as they made their escape, descending the steps closer to the thrones and skirting around the crowd. "I can no longer decline such invitations without good reason."
"I would think that not wanting to listen to him preen himself is reason enough."
Thena attempted to keep her laughter contained, but a faint puff of air escaped her. She held the skirt of her dress in the hand that was not perched in Gil's. "You have rescued me yet again, Captain."
"It is part of my job," he stated, although the royal advisor was not technically part of his obligations as royal guard. He winked at her, "Thena."
She smiled down at the lush carpet beneath their feet. If her hands were free they would be wringing around themselves again and again. The Captain continued to have such effect on her, and her poor, suffering heart. "I keep telling you, it is not."
"And I keep telling you: you will always be Princess, to me."
How was she to think clearly when she had such poetry over her shoulder, no less whispering in her ear?
"Would you like to?"
"To what?" she looked up at him.
He nodded his head towards where Ikaris was claiming another dance with his bride, even wrapping his arms around her and lifting her off the ground in their shared glee. "Dance?"
Her hand flinched in his, while the one holding her dress began squeezing it for her life. Her throat dried. "I'm afraid I have not nearly the grace my sister does, Captain."
"Come on," he whispered to her, even coming to a stop at a small gap in the crowd's observation of the bride and groom. "I thought we had a deal."
Thena's eyes darted up to him and then forward again. Her heart flitted and fluttered in her chest as she sighed, "Gil."
He stood straight, his hand behind his back and the other holding hers aloft. "It is a celebration, y'know. No one would think twice about you having a little fun at your own sister's wedding."
She could feel how warm he was next to her, even with his light chest plate over his formal uniform. Her fingers trembled faintly, but he held her steadily. "I suppose your gallantry should not go unrewarded."
She winced at herself, and her need to make the simple act of a dance something obligatory. Why could she not simply say that she did wish to dance with him?
Because that would be far too damning an admission, and far too revealing for one simple dance.
But Gilgamesh just smiled at her as he always did. He moved slowly, grasping her hand as he took the first step out from the edge of the crowd, "I'm honoured."
Thena forced herself to look up at him as he swept her onto the dance floor. It wasn't that moving with him was unfamiliar, or even awkward. It felt like when he had helped her from the wagon by lifting her delicately by the waist.
If anything, it felt too familiar, and perhaps even too...nice. He was warm, and gentle, and if he were not wearing the pauldron of his armour, she had half a mind to slip her hand up to his shoulder. His hand grasped hers out from them, the other on her back in a proper and appropriate position.
"So, have you thought about it?"
"Hm?" she blinked, betrayed by her mind wandering away from her actions and instead meandering along the subject of her dance partner.
"Marriage."
The royal advisor's cheeks took on a lively rouge as he spun them around with ease. This was not the first time they had discussed such a topic, either. And remembering the last time they had never failed to send her heart into a frenzy.
Somewhere behind them, Sersi also spun past amidst her dance with her husband. Her sister's giggling reached her ears, worsening Thena's feeling of fluster. Sersi knew very well that the subject of marriage - when it involved the Captain - always left her feeling stymied.
"I," Thena started and then paused immediately. Her mastery of language was slipping from her mind. Her eyes slid down his chestplate to the crest of the kingdom sitting right in the centre. Her hand twitched in his again, "I have...considered it."
At her own insistence, her marriage simply had to wait. As soon as she had abdicated, there was little time until Sersi's coronation and the wedding happening right on top of each other. And she and Gilgamesh were at their busiest when Sersi and Ikaris were.
There was no time to consider Gilgamesh's proposal of a proposal, as it were. And a man of his word, he had not brought it up amidst all the chaos of things. But he was asking now. As she had told him, he was asking if he could ask her again.
"And?" he prompted her gently--sweetly. He ducked his head closer to hers, moving closer in their dance to a proximity one could consider salacious. "If I were to ask you, would you say yes?"
Thena tried to keep her breathing even. She felt as if she were drowning in him, and she did not fully want to emerge from it. But she forced herself to keep her face from burying itself against his neck. "Your timing could be improved, Captain."
"Oh?" he chuckled, still in good spirits as she dodged his approach to marrying her yet again. "And how is that?"
Thena closed her eyes, trying to concentrate, and unable to do so while she thought people might be observing them acting so improperly. All she needed do was turn her head for her lips to graze his cheek or perhaps even his ear (indecent!). She gulped. "It is my sister's wedding day, Gil. This is no time for you to be asking for my hand."
"I daresay she would approve."
Sersi would be the first to jump for joy. She would also point right at Thena and say that she had said so long beforehand.
"I will not become engaged on the day of my sister's wedding," Thena resolved with a bit of a huff. "Have you no sense of propriety?"
On the contrary, it was mortifyingly she who was breaths away from pressing her forehead under his jaw just to feel the warmth of his skin.
"Forgive me, your Grace." She knew he was smirking--she just knew it. "Shall I ask again tomorrow, then?"
Thena's heart pounded. He hadn't asked in the exact words, but her whole body felt flush with warmth and thrill all the same. The warmth did not drain from her cheeks as she gripped his hand purposefully with her fingers. "I will be at the garden pond at first light. I expect you will not keep me waiting."
As she had done to him.
His hand squeezed hers, and he even dared to weave their fingers together (the absolute audacity). He tilted his head, disguising the way he touched his cheek to the top of her head, no longer weighed down by a golden circlet. "I wouldn't dream of it, Thena."
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phoebe-delia · 1 year
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Hi ٩(。•́‿•̀。) ۶
For the Hanukkah prompts I'd like to suggest:
Discovering muggle music ☆
Hope you like it and all the best wishes
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Night 6: Replay
Hi sweet anon! Thanks for the prompt. I love this idea! My instinct/first thought was to go with Taylor Swift. But I decided to do this instead because it feels much more true to their time and I wanted them to experience this music together. I hope you enjoy, and best wishes to you too!
Draco found it when he was cleaning out the attic. It was sitting in an old wooden chest in the back. It was a short, but heavy rectangular device with a large circular platform and a thin stick attached.
"Harry?" Draco called, frowning at the...thing in his hands.
He heard footsteps before Harry stuck his head into the room. "Yes, love? Everything alright?"
"Yes, but what's this?" Draco gestured to the object.
Harry's eyes fell on it and then widened. "Oh," he said. "Right."
"What is it?"
"That's a record player," Harry explained, coming closer to look at it with Draco. "It's a Muggle device. It was Sirius's."
"What does it do?"
"It, er. Plays records. You know? Like a vinyl record?"
Draco shook his head, and Harry smiled. "Let me show you," he said, stepping past Draco to look through a pile Draco hadn't gotten to yet. Harry frowned in concentration, flipping through a stack of some square, thin things Draco hadn't ever seen before.
"Got it!" Harry grinned, pulling out one item in the stack. Draco's eyebrows went up at the image of four men with long hair, their faces shadowed.
Harry walked back over, reached into what Draco now saw was a flap, and pulled out something circular, thin, stark-black. "This is called a record," Harry explained. "When I put it on the player and set it up properly, it'll play music."
"Oh," Draco said with awe, watching as Harry carefully put the record onto the player, turned the device on, and lifted the stick to settle it onto the record. "What are you going to play?"
Harry grinned. "You'll see. Just listen."
Draco fixed his eyes on the record player as the speakers flared to life with the first sounds of the song.
'Is this the real life? Is this just fantasy? Caught in a landslide, no escape from reality. Open your eyes, look up to the skies and see.'
Harry suddenly made a fist and brought it under his mouth like a microphone, mouthing the words. 'I'm just a poor boy, I need no sympathy. Because I'm easy come, easy go. Little high, little low.'
Draco watched in amusement as Harry spun around and continued his silent song. 'Any way the wind blows doesn't really matter to me. To me.'
Something in Draco's chest tightened. "Harry," he whispered. "What is this?"
"Shh," Harry whispered back. "I'll stop dancing. You just listen."
By the time the song ended, Draco had tears in his eyes, and he saw the same when he looked at Harry.
"What do you think?" Harry asked, his voice soft.
Draco let out a long breath. "That was...Play it again."
They spent hours in the attic, foregoing cleaning up for the rest of the night. They danced around and sang the lyrics at the top of their lungs, with Draco asking Harry to play the song over and over again, which Harry was only too willing to oblige. Draco stumbled over the words at first, but by the end of the night, he was matching Harry word for word and note for note.
When they were finally out of breath, and Draco had a near-pounding headache, they both flopped onto the ground, limbs spread out like starfish.
Harry reached over and laced their fingers together. "Tomorrow," he said, "I'll play you ABBA."
Read the other Hanukkah fics so far here.
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night-wilf · 1 year
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Writing prompt 108:
Oliver Queen comes back a different man from the island as his soul is bound to the land. The soul in place controlling his body an eldritch time god punished for his actions.
The mask begins to crack as more piles onto his plate.
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