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aftermathfanfic · 9 months

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Você viu essa pessoa? Filomena Cardoso Visto pela última vez perto dos penhascos ocidentais Desaparecido desde 11/03/24 Se você tiver informações, ligue para 116-000

Dewey slowly removed the poster from the wall, staring at it and frowning.

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

Jack stared up at Ma Beagle, her crowbar pushed under his chin, a wicked smile on her face. Around him, he could hear the dark chuckling of the Beagle Boys, no doubt plotting to bury him when this was over. His hands and feet were still strung together behind his back, and his mind was racing to string thoughts together coherently.

“…Um…” He croaked. “Could I ask to be untied before I explain myself?”

“Nah. I reckon you’re good to talk where you are.” Ma Beagle sneered. “In fact… let’s both get comfortable.”

She snapped her fingers, and one of the nearby beagles darted forward with an unfolded lawn chair. Ma Beagle sat down upon it, waiting expectantly for Jack to start talking.

“…Well…” Jack began nervously. “Credit where it’s due, you’ve… done your research. I… did used to be a FOWL agent. Emphasis on used to be!” He added quickly, in response to the chorus of jeering from his surrounding captors. “I’m not with them anymore!”

“Course you’re not! FOWL’s gone!” Snarled one of the brutes who’d captured him, the short, squat one. “Hard to be a part of somethin’ that doesn’t exist!”

“Granted, but I left FOWL long before they fell apart!” Turning to Ma Beagle, he said imploringly, “I had nothin’ to do with… whatever the hell happened at the Library of Alexandria! I didn’t know nothin’ about anyone bein’ brainwashed, or anyone plottin’ anythin’ against you!”

His accent was coming out. He cursed inwardly, knowing it was exposing his panic to her. The crime lord barely batted an eye at his desperate pleas, reaching into her purse and calmly pulling out a carton of cigarettes. “I’m hearin’ a lot of words, Fed, but I need a bit more convincin’ to know that they mean anything.” She told him, putting the roll of carcinogens into her mouth and lighting it. “You were playin’ both sides, weren’t ya? Spyin’ on the FBI?”

Jack forced himself to calm down. Fear was going to kill him, not save him. Swallowing his pride and anxiety, he answered reluctantly, “…Aye. I was their mole.”

Ma Beagle chuckled. “And you were talkin’ to me about playin’ things by the book.”

“Yeah, well… suppose you can call that ‘learning from your mistakes’.”

Ma Beagle leant back in her chair, remarking, “Trustin’ you with a job like that… how’d that happen?”

“…I was already in the agency by the time FOWL got to me.” Nickel started to explain. “I was an up-and-comer, see. I had skill and drive, but I wasn’t much more than an ambitious trainee. And a right prick, too.”

“More so than you are now?”

Jack forced himself to laugh. “If you can believe that… I joined up with this idea that I’d be servin’ America, protectin’ the people and bein’ some noble hero… only to find out that some of my buddies were takin’ bribes from the mafia and my boss was divertin’ funds to buy himself a swimmin’ pool. I learned the hard way that the FBI was no less corrupt than the cops, or the CIA, or… everything else, really. And, instead of acceptin’ that was just the way the world worked, I chose to mope around and angst about it… and that’s when Buzzard found me.

“Buzzard saw that I was clever, skilled and disillusioned – the perfect soldier for his war. He came to me and gave me this pretty speech about how the world was corrupt, chaos reigned supreme, how McDuck was the catalyst for all of it and that FOWL was here to bring order and stability back to the world. I’m sure he gave you a similar speech, he was full of them.”

“Mm.”

“Well, I was young back then, and-”

“The hell do you mean ‘young’? What, were you fifteen when they took you in?”

“I was twenty-two.” Jack replied, annoyed.

Ma Beagle raised an eyebrow. “And how old are you now?”

“Twenty-eight.”

“You look like you’re twenty-one.” One of the nearby beagles said confusedly.

“That’s the power of moisturiser, lad.” Jack retorted. “Point is that I was impressionable back then. And I’m sorry to say that I fell for it, hook, line and sinker. How could I not? It all made sense! Everythin’ McDuck does causes trouble further down the line! Pissin’ off Magica? That led to her stealin’ people’s shadows back in 2018! That space rocket he made? Led to us bein’ invaded by moon people! And Glomgold? If it weren’t for McDuck, that moron would’ve remained some nobody in South Africa! He had me sold, so I joined him.

“For eight months, I fed him and FOWL information on what the FBI was doing. I gave him case data, redirected investigations for him, I made sure that nobody in the FBI could get so much of a whiff of what he was doing. I protected the man and his followin’ of crooks, all for the perfect world he’d told me he was building in place of this one.”

Ma Beagle just looked at him impassively. “How’d that work out?”

Jack didn’t say anything. For a moment, he was lost in his own memories, remembering the humiliation he’d felt upon realising how easily he’d been manipulated. The retributive anger that had surged through him upon realising the truth.

“…Do you know what FOWL’s plan was?” He asked quietly. “For what they’d do after they took down McDuck?”

“…They didn’t have one?” Ma Beagle guessed.

“Didn’t even have sticky notes on the whiteboard.” Jack shook his head sadly. “No, FOWL’s plan for world domination began and ended with defeating McDuck, and everythin’ else was a big fat question mark, because guess what? FOWL was never established to take over the world, or to bring order to society, or to do any of that grandiose nonsense that Buzzard went on about! It was created because the old man had some unresolved childhood trauma and the man decided to play at bein’ a supervillain instead of goin’ to therapy like everyone else!”

The younger Beagle Boys backed away slightly as Jack rambled. He couldn’t help but let some old bitterness into his voice. Ma Beagle didn’t seem phased, so he sighed, calmed down, and continued, “Well… once I came to that realisation, protectin’ FOWL didn’t make much sense anymore. So, I leaked a bunch of FOWL’s info to the FBI, changed my name and went off the grid for six months before Buzzard realised what I’d done. I only came back to the Bureau after I heard what went down at the Lost Library.”

“I thought you didn’t like the FBI ‘cause they were corrupt?” Said one of the larger Beagle Boys.

“Corruption’s everywhere.” Jack replied bluntly. “You can’t get rid of it. But what I realised is that you can manage it. And that’s exactly what I did for the next three years of my career – gettin’ rid of my less scrupulous fellows and makin’ sure that the ones I couldn’t get ousted were watched very carefully.”

“How noble of you.” Ma Beagle grunted sarcastically.

Jack shrugged, casually remarking, “Well, I had to do somethin’ on the side while we were hunting FOWL.”

For the first time this encounter, Jack saw confusion emerge in Ma Beagle’s eyes. She frowned at him, demanding, “The hell do you mean? FOWL was gone.”

“Yeah, McDuck beat ‘em!” Shouted one of the Beagle Boys.

Jack laughed again. “No, McDuck beat Bradford. Sure, he knocked down FOWL’s figurehead, left ‘em crippled, but once his family was safe, Scrooge did what he always does – retreat back to his Duckburg bubble and leave the rest of the world to figure it out. FOWL still existed in splinter groups and rogue agents, and it wasn’t McDuck who put them all behind bars. It was me.

“I knew all of FOWL’s hideaways. I knew who the bigwigs were and what they’d do in a power vacuum, and I caught them all!” Jack bragged, speaking with confidence now that the Boys were listening to him intensely. “Steelbeak, Phantom Blot, Rockerduck, all servin’ life sentences in Washington State prison!” He gestured to the FOWL document that Ma Beagle had thrown at him. “That dossier that you caught me on? I had it released to the public. I… had to scrub my own records from it. For my own protection, of course. But apart from that, it was completely undoctored. And do you know…”

Jack leant forward toward Ma Beagle, saying, “In that dossier – and you can check it out for yourself – FOWL had written up a list of magical relics that McDuck had been gathering over the years. Items of untold destructive power, arcane superweapons, all at the fingertips of the Richest Duck in the World.”

“…The names you had me look at.” Ma Beagle said in realisation.

“Exactly!” Jack exclaimed. “I couldn’t just let that knowledge slide… but I couldn’t exactly go and arrest him neither. The dossier’s info on these things was incomplete, and mostly speculative. There was no proof that McDuck even owned them. But I knew he did. And I knew I could prove it. My bosses were reluctant to approve my investigation – McDuck’s not someone you can just fuck around with – but they were hardly going to refuse to the man who brought in the most prolific terrorists in America!

“After that, I came here and set up my investigation. I got one of my informants to slip McDuck a bit of info on this magic cloak, hidden in some Middle Eastern ruin. Figured he’d take the bait to get back into his old habits, and so he did. I’ve been watching him ever since, waitin’ for him to slip up and once he does…”

“You’ll do what?” Ma Beagle questioned him.

Jack smirked. “Well… if the dossier was correct, some of these items are the magical equivalents of an atom bomb. Once I’ve got proof that he has one of these things, definitive proof that he has something magical and dangerous, I come down with a warrant and thirty guys to search that house back to front. Only for that one item, of course, but once we find one, we find the others.

“We charge him with hoardin’ weapons of mass destruction, concealin’ them from the US government, hell, we could hit him with plottin’ against the government if we wanted to. And sure, maybe he won’t go to jail in the end, or not for very long, but he’ll be ruined. His reputation will be shot to pieces, he’ll have to spend a fortune in court, and all of his fancy magic relics go from him to the government, where they belong! The man will never be able to adventure, ever again.”

“…Alright.” Ma Beagle leant back, peering at him suspiciously. “Here’s my question – why? If you’re not a FOWL stooge, why go after McDuck?”

Jack stared at her like she had asked him to explain what was wrong with murder.

“Because he’s Scrooge McDuck!” Jack cried. “Buzzard might have been full of shite, but he was absolutely on point about McDuck! The man flies across the world nickin’ treasures from other countries, hoards magic and superweapons like some doomsday survivalist, hiring lunatics to build robots and time machines and all kinds of insane nonsense-” He strained against his restraints, hissing, “The man takes his nephews to ruins filled with deathtraps! Brainwashes them into believin’ his own insanity when they’re as young as ten! That’s not the work of a hero, or whatever the papers have made him out to be, it’s the work of a bloody megalomaniac!

“I mean-” Nickel spluttered in fury, forgetting he was a prisoner for a moment. “Think of all the chaos and destruction that Magica and Glomgold have caused! Neither of them would even exist if it weren’t for McDuck! And at the end of it all, does he try to make up for what he’s done? Does he use the money he’s made to help people, or to change things? No! He just goes back to his mansion, throws some token amount of money at the problem, and acts like none of it matters! Like he’s above it all! The man is greed and selfishness incarnate!”

He ran out of breath, panting as the Beagle Boys around him stared at him in shock. Even Ma Beagle had been stunned into silence by his outburst. Jack took a deep breath, then straightened himself as much as he could, trying to regain his composure.

“…I love this country.” Jack told her quietly. “But it’s built on a mountain of problems, and McDuck symbolises the worst of them. You want to know why I’m doin’ this? It’s because I want to do something that’ll change things for the better.” He shrugged, adding, “Someone has to.”

Ma Beagle didn’t say anything. Her cigarette was resting in her fingers as she peered at him, a pensive frown on her muzzle. Any number of thoughts could be going through her head, and it was all Jack could hope that mercy was among them.

Finally, she gestured at one of the nearby Boys. “Cut ‘im loose.” She muttered reluctantly.

The thug approached Jack, whipping out a folding knife from his belt as he knelt down behind him.

“Let me make this clear to you, Fed.” Ma Beagle declared as the knife started to saw through his bonds. “The only reason I’m lettin’ you go is because you’re more a threat to McDuck than you are to me. But you’re only foolin’ yourself with your good-cop bullshit. You already know that you can’t beat Scrooge by the book. That’s why you pulled that stunt in his brats’ school. Fact is, in order to bring him down, you’re gonna have to get your hands dirty.”

With a snap, the ropes broke loose. Jack winced and nursed his wrists where the rope had been rubbing against it, then began to stand up.

“When that time comes…” Ma Beagle continued, stepping up to him with a scrutinous glare. “…are you gonna be a man? Or are you goin’ to be a mutt?”

Jack glared back down at her, trying to assert some measure of authority over her. He patted his jacket down to confirm what he already assumed, then turned to the crowd of Beagle Boys.

“Whoever stole my phone and wallet, give ‘em back.” He requested them exhaustedly. “I need to call a cab to get home, and a tow truck for what you did to my car.”

Ma Beagle scoffed, a smirk returning to her lips. “Lead him out, boys.” She ordered, turning back around with the cigarette in her mouth.

With that, the boys grabbed Jack by the arm and started to drag him out of the junkyard.

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It was decided, in the end, that the family would delve into the castle in the evening, with the rest of the day dedicated to whatever one pleased. Donald had opted to spend most of his day relaxing in his motel room, quietly napping away the day. Scrooge spent his day resting too, saying that he had somehow thrown his back out in his sleep. That left the kids with the entire town to explore on their own.

Truthfully, there was not much to do in Galinha. The town was small, with the only tourist destination being the one they’d be going to later this day, though they still found some amusement. Wandering around the back streets and scaling the rough cliffs and hills that enclosed the city. Goldie didn’t make another appearance, to May and June’s satisfaction, and their day as a whole was quite pleasant.

Towards the end of their exploration, as they were walking through one of the side streets of town, Dewey slowed down and stopped as he noticed a poster, plastered on the alley wall. He’d seen these things all over town, but now that he was getting a good look at it, he found himself stopping to read it.

The poster was dominated by a picture of a young, smiling duck girl with brown feathers and messy black headfeathers. She looked to be around the same age as him. Around the photo was blocky red text that read,

Você viu essa pessoa? Filomena Cardoso Visto pela última vez perto dos penhascos ocidentais Desaparecido desde 11/03/24 Se você tiver informações, ligue para 116-000

Dewey slowly removed the poster from the wall, staring at it and frowning.

“Looks like a missing person poster.” May commented when he showed to the group later, hanging around a soccer field on the town outskirts. “Filomena Cardoso… I guess that’s her name.”

“Is that when she went missing?” Dewey asked, pointing at the date. “The eleventh?”

The others bunched around the poster, sitting in a circle on the grass. Louie peered at the sentence near the bottom, then confirmed, “Yeah, ‘Missing since the eleventh of April.’ That was over a week ago.”

“You speak Portuguese?” June inquired.

“Nah, Spanish.” Louie corrected her, shaking his head. “Portuguese crosses over with it sometimes, but that part there’s the only bit I can understand.”

“You speak Spanish?” Webby asked hesitantly.

Everyone turned to look at Louie. He faltered for a moment, then muttered uncomfortably, “Uh… yeah. Through an online course.”

“…Why Spanish?”

Louie exhaled sharply, then answered frustratedly, “I dunno, I guess I just felt like it.”

Dewey looked between Webby and Louie, the tension blindingly obvious. Knowing that the next question would be ‘when did this happen’ and ‘why keep it a secret’, he wondered aloud, “Isn’t this weird, though? A missing person in a tiny little town like this?”

“I mean, a little, I guess… But stuff like this happens all the time.” May pointed out. “What got you about this one?”

“I dunno, I just… I don’t like seeing people in trouble, you know?” Dewey told her. “And something about this girl being missing, maybe even hurt… it doesn’t feel right to me.”

“It’s because she’s pretty, isn’t it?” Webby deadpanned.

Dewey stared blankly at her.

“I-I mean, she is pretty, but that’s- that’s not why-” Dewey stammered. “I mean, come on, guys! There’s a mystery here! What happened to her? How’s she been missing for a whole week?”

“I think she just ran away from home.” May countered. “It’s not uncommon.”

“To where? There’s nothing but grass and rock for miles!”

“She could’ve had an accident.” Louie suggested. “I saw some kids scaling the cliffs around here. It isn’t nice to think about, but…”

“They would have found a body by now.” June pointed out, frowning. “Dewey’s right, there’s something weird about this.”

“You know what I think? I think this chick’s been kidnapped.” Dewey declared. “It’s the only thing that makes sense.”

The kids were quiet for a moment. May sighed and folded her arms, asking, “Okay… so what do we do about it?”

“We find her.” Dewey responded, without a moment of hesitation.

“How?” May asked flatly. “We go to the castle tonight and head back home tomorrow morning. How do we find the time to solve a missing persons case?”

“Uh…”

“We could convince my dad and Uncle Donald to let us stay here a bit longer.” Webby answered, jumping to Dewey’s rescue. “They could even help us!”

“This sounds good to you?” May asked with a raised eyebrow.

“What? We’re McDucks!” Webby exclaimed. “Saving people and beating bad guys is what we do! And you can bet that whoever abducted her is some world-class creep who deserves to be punched!”

“Yeah, like, think of what her family’s going through!” Dewey exclaimed. “If police haven’t found anything, after a whole week, then it’s gotta be us!”

“I dunno, man.” Louie muttered, visibly uncomfortable. “I feel like this is too dangerous.”

“How could it be any more dangerous than the stuff we’ve done before?”

“Uh…” Louie stumbled for a response. “…Okay, I don’t have a good answer for that. It’s just… we’re not superheroes, Dewey. Or cops. Right now, we’re a bunch of foreigners. This isn’t our business, and we’re not gonna be thanked for poking our beaks into it.”

“I’m with Louie.” May agreed. “We’re not going to find anything the cops haven’t already found, it’s just stupid to insert ourselves into this.”

Dewey looked down at the ground awkwardly, then turned towards June, the only one who hadn’t thrown her opinion into the ring. June seemed to flounder for a moment before saying timidly, “Um… I mean, if we find anything that could help, we should pass it on, but… I think May and Louie are right.”

“…Yeah. I guess so.” Dewey mumbled, looking down at the poster.

Webby looked around at her family in disbelief. “We can’t just do nothing!” She exclaimed. “That girl-!”

“Webby, this isn’t our country!” May said exasperatedly. “When we get back to Duckburg, we can solve all the kidnappings you want, but playing ‘white saviour’ is not gonna help anyone!”

“That isn’t what I’m-” Webby spluttered. She looked around at them again, then conceded reluctantly, “Look, I’ll let this go if you guys don’t think it’s a good idea, but I don’t feel okay ignoring someone in trouble. That’s all.”

“Yeah, well, the right thing to do doesn’t always feel good.” May replied. She pulled out her phone and checked the time, saying, “Ah, shit, it’s getting late. We should head back to the inn.”

“Yeah. Don’t want Scrooge taking off without us.” Louie joked as they left.

Webby and Dewey hung back for a moment, sharing a conflicted look with each other. Dewey sighed, folding the poster and putting it in his jacket. Then, they both followed after them.

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

It was around six o’clock when the family arrived at the castle. The sun was setting behind the walls of the fortress, casting a long shadow over the McDucks as they stood before the open archway where the castle’s portcullis might have once stood. Before them lied a vast courtyard, similarly draped in darkness, with not a soul in sight. To anyone else, the scene might have been too ominous to consider approaching.

“Flashlights, kids.” Scrooge ordered.

One by one, the kids turned on their torches. Scrooge and Donald passed the threshold first, leading the kids as they entered. The girls stuck close to Donald, who was carrying the rope, first aid and other supplies in his rucksack, while the boys hovered around Scrooge.

Castelo de Cristo was a far cry from the fantasy castles of yore. The inner courtyard was largely unworked dirt, rock and grass, bordered by a low stone wall only ten or so feet high. Flashlight beams swung back and forth across the castle yard as they scanned the area, with the only protruding elements being a couple of boulders and a single stone building. It very much felt like it was merely a medieval military camp, rather than a place where people had lived in.

“So… we’re looking for a secret entrance, right?” Louie asked.

“Aye.” Scrooge replied, his eye peering through the darkness ahead. “A trapdoor, secret lever, anything. The original builders of this place wouldn’t have put the idol where anyone could find it.”

“I don’t know…” June questioned as she searched, speaking a little louder so she could be heard by everyone. “There have been tourists in this place all day. Wouldn’t something like that been found by now?”

“Never underestimate a good hidden door.” Scrooge replied. “If it’s built right, it can stand undetected for centuries! You could search the same place for hours and never-”

“Found it!” Dewey called out.

Everyone rushed over to him, looking over where he was pointing his light. The door of the building was ajar, leading into what seemed to be a small chapel. In the middle of the floor of this structure, they could see that a trapdoor had been raised, old stone stairs leading down into a tunnel.

“Curse me kilts!” Scrooge growled. “Goldie’s already here!”

“How did she find the entrance before us?” Donald demanded.

“She has her ways. Come on! We haven’t got a second to lose!”

“Great…” May muttered as the team rushed forward. “I was afraid this would be about us for a moment.”

The steps descended down into an unlit hallway, cobwebs strung between the ceiling and the walls, and a musty earthen smell hanging in the air. They crept down the corridor in double file, Scrooge and Webby taking the lead, the boys walking in the middle, and Donald and the twins watching the rear.

They didn’t have to walk long before the corridor ended at an old wooden door, featureless and unremarkable. Webby and Scrooge stopped five or so feet before it, sharing a look with each other before kneeling down and inspecting the area around it.

“…What are you doing?” June asked curiously.

“Doors are the most common places to put a trap.” Scrooge replied as he inspected the floor before him. “Most adventurers see a door and don’t think twice before openin’ it… ah, here.”

He pointed at one of the flagstones directly before the doorway, saying, “This one here. This is a pressure plate, I’m sure of it.”

Webby knelt down to inspect the stone closely. “Hmm… Do you think Goldie would’ve disarmed it?”

“Knowing her, probably not. Just watch your step around it.”

“So… what, she just left it unmarked so we could trigger it?” May asked concernedly.

“Oh, don’t go thinkin’ less of her for it.” Scrooge replied casually. “She knew we’d stumble upon it.”

“Yeah, I don’t feel like that’s something you should leave to chance.”

Stepping around the pressure plate, Webby gingerly pushed open the door to the next room, and the family made their way inside. This square-shaped room had two passages that branched off to the left and right, both indistinguishable from one another. Against the wall of the room was a stone altar, draped in a decaying, moth-eaten cloth runner.

“…Hm.” Scrooge looked between the two paths, frowning. “Alright, everyone look for tracks. We need to know which way she went.”

“Wouldn’t Goldie be just as lost as we are?” Dewey asked.

“Maybe, maybe not. I’d prefer to know where she is either way, so I can get me guard up before she backstabs us.”

“Urgh.” Louie groaned as the family began to search the room. “The one time Huey’s track-finding skills would’ve been useful…”

Scrooge remained at the altar, inspecting the old stone table carefully. He noted the empty alcoves behind the altar, where once might have been statuettes or crosses. He inspected the empty candlestick holders, seeing nothing of interest, and lifted up the runner upon it to look at the surface underneath it. No sign of a hidden compartment or mechanism, which disappointed him. Altars like this were usually a good spot for something like that.

“Hey, Mister Scrooge?” June piped up after a moment. “Does Miss Goldie smoke?”

“Not since our Klondike days, no.” Scrooge replied, turning around. “Why?”

“Well, then, this probably wasn’t hers.”

June stood up from the passage she’d been investigating, picking up an old cigarette butt as she did. Everyone else gathered around to take a closer look.

“…Ew.” Dewey scrunched up his beak in disgust. Then, he said in realisation, “Wait, but then that means…”

“Someone else has been down here.” Donald quacked worriedly.

“That cannae be!” Scrooge proclaimed. “The book that Goldie stole was the only source that details the location of the idol! Nobody else should know about this crypt!”

“Well, someone clearly does.” Louie murmured.

June flicked the old butt away, a thoughtful frown on her beak. Webby turned to Scrooge, asking him, “What now? If someone else is down here, they’re probably after the idol too.”

“Or they’re guarding it.” June suggested quietly.

Scrooge frowned, thinking to himself for a moment.

“…We keep goin’.” He decided. “But carefully and quietly. You found that thin’ down this way?” He asked June, pointing down the corridor with his cane.

“At the entrance, yeah.”

“Then this is the way we’ll go.” Scrooge declared, stepping into the hall. “Donald, you take the lead with me. Everyone else, stay behind us. There’re eyes on us now.”

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thenixkat · 7 months

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Clipping - Blood of the Fang

[Intro: Sam Waymon] By the Christians, it is written that in the black Myrthian age There existed an addiction to blood, blood, blood, blood

[Verse 1: Daveed Diggs & Sam Waymon] Drink it up Fifty years 'bout enough Time to come back (Blood, blood) They want to call the bluff Okay, then Time to come back (What up!) (Blood) Hail King Huey Do it for fluid, you knew it was movin' forever Loop it, the truth is, the movement was really too clever Who is the newest to do it, pursuing a useless, polluted agenda? Too long to get they bullshit together Fifty years 'bout enough (Blood) Patient, gave 'em a two-year grace '6-6 came, and they saw the true face Black on black on black, irate Had 'em all runnin' scared straight out the gate Skin do show you who kin; that's it, though What's inside never been too simple Syrup, he sip, 'cause he can't taste his own (Blood) Drink it up, drink it up, you belong in every milliliter of They tried to take out every military leader, but You was born to be a martyr And it doesn't mean a thing because that body really meat Fill it up, your history is one you might consider killing for This ain't the shit they taught you when you went to kindergarten What you need to know is in the (Blood)

[Pre-Chorus 1: Daveed Diggs] Queen Angela done told y'all, "Grasp at the root" So what y'all talkin' 'bout—"Hands up, don't shoot"?

[Chorus: Bongili Girls' Chorus & Daveed Diggs] Aw deeyanga, aw deeyanga Look back, blood on the ground Aw deeyanga, aw deeyanga Look straight, they still shootin' Aw deeyanga, aw deeyanga Jump back, still here Aw deeyanga, aw deeyanga Now, what that tell you 'bout death? Death ain't shit, you got to

[Post-Chorus: Daveed Diggs & Sam Waymon] Drink it up, drink it up (There existed an addiction to blood, blood, blood) Drink it up, drink it up Drink it up, drink it up (There existed an addiction to blood, blood, blood) Drink it up, drink it up

[Verse 2: Daveed Diggs & Sam Waymon] Fist in the sky if you ready Dice a ofay like confetti, they thought you was playin' Though really the game was more trainin' There finna be (Blood) And much of it blue Time to fly, 'cause you know time fickle So cold, finna snow, swing a icicle Takin' out a police or a politician issuing a statement sayin' Turn it on a dime or get the nickel And it ain't just money, B, this ain't honey Sweet, but it's funny to think of them wantin' to speak When this pain is deep and ingrained in (Blood) Drink it up, dress it down Queen shit, wear the crown, King shit, wear the wounds New blood in the wombs Loose noose, clear the tombs, bubblegoose, suede shoes Lookin' like a who's who of the dead Come back, bust a head, run track to the red Black suit, black hair, black wings, black stare Blackout for the (Blood) (Button up, bruh) Actin' a fool was just acting You knew about adapting since dudes started tappin' And in the dark, flapping the full moon Asking if you knew the passion that grew when unmasked Because they were never seein' the basics Geronimo, Erika, Gregory With they faces in every book, record, or CD Even made the MP3s laced with (Blood)

[Pre-Chorus 2: Daveed Diggs] Brother Malcolm done told y'all, "By any means" So what y'all talkin' 'bout—"All on the same team"?

[Verse 3: Daveed Diggs] Everybody wanna kill a movement 'fore the moment But they cannot kill what cannot die There wasn't ever really an opponent For what they figured was only three-fifth-human And they thought they could enslave By disconnecting from the truth But look at Brother George He's back again and never did look finer Said it's time to gather up another meeting of the Ina Said that Quentin couldn't kill him and America can't either And he been sleepin' since '71 Ain't it time to feed, or at least sip a little sum'n? He up in the Cadillac with little Bobby Hutton Ridin' shotty with the shotty, swoopin' up the cousins They soo-woopin' for your blood That Bobby Seale is on the door When they regroup up at the club And Brother Eldridge is keepin' souls on ice 'Til the time was just right, now suffices Emory got the scene drawn up nice And Afeni here with Pac, yep, thug life Kathleen, "Black and Beautiful" as the motto Assata up in here sippin' a bloody café cubano With Hilliard on the seat next to her babysittin' the ralo Waitin' for Heron to say somethin' fly for them all to follow Into the night, let it swallow, eyes on the sparrow tomorrow You know the marrow is hollow and light as air And the call is out to the rest And this model of effervescence when all of it manifested They never bothered to question While calling for the arrest and murder Guess they never knew it was a test To best assess the way to move in And digest the flesh of every wicked human 'Til the best and blackest blood is back to ruling

[Pre-Chorus 3: Daveed Diggs] Prince Stokely done told y'all, "Have no fear" So how come every time they be like, "Yawk! Yawk! Yawk!" Y'all look scared?

[Chorus: Bongili Girls' Chorus & Daveed Diggs] Aw deeyanga, aw deeyanga Look back, blood on the ground Aw deeyanga, aw deeyanga Look straight, they still shootin' Aw deeyanga, aw deeyanga Jump back, still here Aw deeyanga, aw deeyanga Now what that tell you 'bout death? Death ain't shit, you got to

#youtube #music #clipping #black music #noise music #hip hop #flashing #political music #lyrics

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insipid-drivel · 2 years

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Please tell us more nanisms?

On it:

"I've been runnin' all over Hell's half-acre." - "I've been working so hard and I'm so exhausted my boss may actually be Satan if I haven't been doing this to myself."

"Their nose is so high up they'd drown in a rainstorm." - "That person is so narcissistic and full of themselves that I wouldn't be surprised if they walked into traffic believing all lanes would stop for them."

"Tighter than a bull's ass at fly-time." - "Literally disgustingly frugal with finances."

"So cheap they wouldn't pay a nickel to see Jesus riding a bicycle." - See above.

"I'm so broke I got a tumbleweed as a pet." - "Trickle-Down economics have not worked out like Reagan promised."

"Those clothes are so tight I can see your religion!" - "You are so scantily clad/under-dressed for this venue or occasion it's hard not to stare."

"More nervous than a long-tailed cat in a room full of rocking chairs." - "I'd better be very careful and paranoid in this situation or my ass is on the line. Maybe stress-management therapy is a good idea." "If you two don't quit fussin' I'm gonna make ya kiss!" - Most often used regarding squabbling/arguing siblings and young children. "If you don't break it up and chill out on your own I'm going to intervene and disgust you out of ever wanting to argue around me again."

"It's drier than a popcorn fart out here!" - "The weather is very dry and the local environment would benefit from some rain."

"It's so dry the trees are bribin' the dogs..." - See above.

"I don't know whether to check my ass or scratch my watch..." - "I have no idea how to respond appropriately to this scenario and cognitive paralysis is likely to ensue shortly."

"Well that just dills my pickle!" - "I've just received some very positive news!"

(By popular response from the tags) "Useless as tits on a boar-hog." - "This object/person/concept is so ineffective and cumbersome I'm not sure why it/they are involved in the situation at all."

"They just make my ass itch!" - "That person is so irritating that my skin crawls whenever I have to be in a room with them."

"Who licked the red off your candy?" - "What are you so upset about?"

"Quit goin' 'round your ass to get to your elbow!" - "Stop screwing around and wasting time!"

"You could make a preacher start cussin'!" - "You're so annoying that even a man of god couldn't stick to his vows once you start talking."

"Don't piss on my leg and tell me it's rainin!" - "Trying to lie to me about this situation is painfully obvious and will only make me angrier."

"They're talkin' with the tongue of their shoe." - "Nothing that person says should be construed as truthful or reliable. They're talking out of their ass."

"Man, if you had an idea, it'd die of loneliness." - "Idiot."

"I've met a tree stump in the Louisiana bayous with more sense." - "That's so dumb I need to commune with nature to wipe off the stupid in favor of getting trench-foot."

"Me'n you are gonna mix." - "With respect to the premises we are now occupying, I will be beating the crap out of you after we can appropriately excuse ourselves to a private location."

"Better give your heart to Jesus, 'cause your ass is mine!" - "I have lost all patience and this confrontation will likely end violently very soon."

"That'd scare a buzzard off a gut-wagon!" - "That sensory experience is so disgusting not even a carrion animal would have anything to do with it."

"If I had a dog as ugly as you, I'd shave his ass and make him walk backwards." - "Assface."

"Feels like I got ate by a wolf and shit off a cliff..." - "Oh my god, I feel horrible right now."

"You're so skinny if you stood sideways and stuck out your tongue you'd look like a zipper!" - "I am a Southern person accustomed to hospitality and associate a thin or underweight physique with domestic or environmental hardship." Side note on this one: This can be used as an insult, especially toward men, but I more often heard it as an expression of sincere concern for someone's health and wellbeing. Usually if this phrase was used in my experience, the subject of the expression would be invited to a meal or given a large amount of food to take home.

"That's bad enough to gag a maggot!" - "That odor/flavor is so bad flies wouldn't even lay eggs in it."

"Lookin' like 40 miles of bad road..." - "You look like crap. Are you okay?"

"It's cold enough to freeze the balls off a pool table!" - "Please consider turning up the thermostat because it's very cold in here."

"It's hotter than two rabbits screwin' inside a wool sock!" - "It is alarmingly hot and (sometimes) humid today."

"You're so full of shit your eyes are brown." - I think that one's self-explanatory.

"Y'all wanna go out for some bait?" - "Would anyone like some sushi?"

There are plenty more phrases out there. I just didn't want this response to run too long.

#southern slang #linguistics #ask

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metvewor · 2 years

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Chief keef 3hunna bass boosted

Fuckin' with them O boys, you gon' get fucked over Chief Keef – Love Sosa Andrew Barber October 19, 2012. Hit him with that cobra, now that boy slumped over Tutti Originale Traduzione These bitches love Sosa Queste femmine amano Sosa O end or no end O fine o non finire Fucking with those O Boys, you gon' get fucked over Cazzo con quei O ragazzi, si gon 'scopa, oltre Rari's and rovers Rari e di rover These hoes love Chief Sosa Disrespect them O Boys, you won't speak again, boy Chief Keef - Love Sosa Lyrics & Traduction Fuckers in school telling me, always in the barber shop "Chief Keef ain't 'bout this, Chief Keef ain't 'bout that My boy a BD on fucking Lamron and them He, he, they say that nigga don't be putting in no work” It was released on October 18, 2012. Chief Keef - What U Talkin' Bout (feat.A fost lansat pe 18 octombrie 2012.Chief Keef - Semi On Em (ft.Gucci Mane).Chief Keef - Don't Make no Sense (feat.Ask grandma for fifty, grandma she gave me a hundred I ran off with the money, then brought back some money Smoking green dope shit reekin like fried onions I take any money, hoes, money, hoes, money I be trapping, I ain't lacking, nigga I ain't worried I will let my glock blow, nigga I ain't scared I'm a warrior with a thirty, nigga I ain't curry Check out my watch nigga my diamonds nigga, they ain't blurry I was in wokcano's eating on some curry But wanting to hit thirty-four bitch that's eddy curry I'm still smoking loud even though you hear me Bitch I'm in the field white sox paul konerko Get my hittas on you, ronald belasario To that bitch that gave me head last night nerdy ho Throwing money in the club I'm a pitcher run your's up And I swear my watch a thot, it is a lil flirty ho Pull up doing hits, eating on some cereal White chocolate, white milk, red cheerios Shoot the red guts out a nigga material Bitch I'm trapping in my trap dancing like lil terrio Ask grandma for fifty, grandma she gave me a hundred I ran off with the money, then brought back some money Smoking green dope shit reekin like fried onions I take any money, hoes, money, hoes, money I be trapping, I ain't lacking, nigga I ain't worried I will let my glock blow, nigga I ain't scared I'm a warrior with a thirty, nigga I ain't curry Check out my watch nigga my diamonds nigga, they ain't blurry White 'vette, pull up red interior Engine too damn loud, I'm not hearing ya Four nickel on my hip, I'm not fearing ya Hollows hit your face it's bacteria Bitch I'm trapping out the hemi-a Bitch I'm trapping with the semi tucked Got a thousand for a hundred pack then pick it up Nigga said can he be glo I'm not feeling ya Bitch I'm in the trap I'm counting all these silly bucks Dirty money, but it came in clean as fuck All this jewelry on got me blinging up Nigga want war, tell him set it up Ask grandma for fifty, grandma she gave me a hundred I ran off with the money, then brought back some money Smoking green dope shit reekin like fried onions I take any money, hoes, money, hoes, money I be trapping, I ain't lacking, nigga I ain't worried I will let my glock blow, nigga I ain't scared I'm a warrior with a thirty, nigga I ain't curry Check out my watch nigga my diamonds nigga, they ain't blurry

#Chief keef 3hunna bass boosted

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brolicarmydjschool · 2 years

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10 Secrets To Creating A Funky Beat Juggle

I’ve never been one to gloat BUT… If I had a nickel for every time I’ve been asked “Rob, what is the secret to Beat Juggling…” or “Yo, I’d love to get together with you and practice my beat juggles…” I’d be writing this article from inside my vast Westchester, NY estate. Specifically, inside the library quarters. On a dumb long table. Hand carved out of Macassar Ebony wood. Straight up yo! But I rarely have a nickel on the occasions I’m approached about the mystery of “Beat Juggling”. Therefore, I’m forced to write you this article from my Jackson Heights apartment. In my living, on my black leather bachelor couch. I’ll make it to Westchester one day though, ha! Aight man, back to Juggling.

Battle season is right around the corner. Thus, I know many of y’all are locked in your bedrooms, training for what comes down to 6 minutes of your best stuff. Six minutes man, that’s all you got and you gotta make the most of it. So with that, the following article will impart my 10 basic principles for creating a funky “Beat Juggle”.

1) Tap into your funky side I can teach you how to walk because motor skills are acquired through physical repetition. I can teach you how to talk because speech is ultimately generated from specific areas in the brain. But Funk CANNOT be taught for FUNK is intuitive. Instinct is not learned. That comes natural. For example, every battle DJ can LEARN or be TAUGHT how to physically “back spin” LL Cool J saying “rock the bells”. But the pacing and rhythmic way that DJ chooses to “back spin” those 3 words is a sensation unique to that individual, i.e., INSTINCTIVE. Once you’ve found the funk inside your spirit, project it onto the music you’re training with.

2) Train from your soul When you jump on your turntables to practice, train from your soul, not your mind. Over the years people have sent me countless practice videos of them “Beat Juggling”, wanting feedback on how they can improve on this special skill set. Within seconds I can tell when a DJ is cuttin’ from memory or from his/her soul. I’ll be honest, the majority of y’all rock from memory. You’ve broken down a technique that was birthed out of pure emotional expression into a step 1, 2, 3… oriented equation. “First I’ll offset this kick, then spin the record back 2 rotations to the snare, move the crossfader over and oh yeah, I gotta move the up and down fader once to double up the snare I hear on the other turntable.” Like, I could literally read your mind while you’re in the middle of performing that Juggle. When you practice, practice out of the love you have for the music you’re manipulating. Train out of the need to feed your soul. I mean this LITERALLY. I’m not trying to be abstract. The last thing on your mind when you’re creating is sounding perfect. GrandWizzard Theodore created the scratch from a mistake. A mistake he was unaware he made while he was practicing because he was so emotionally consumed by the music he was working with. Luckily he was recording himself.

3. Press Record Always, always, always, document your practice sessions. When I competed I taped myself practicing. And more often than not, when I’d review the 90 minute TDK cassette tape, I would always hear myself doing cool sounding stuff I was unaware of in real time. On some occasions I’d develop a pattern during a practice session only to forget it the next day. Thankfully, I’d always have that tape to reference. I’m talkin’ pre-digital age. Now, there’s no excuse for you not to archive your training. Be it sonically or through video. You’d be surprised at how helpful logging your “Beat Juggling” progress would be.

4. Practice with a friend At the end of the day, you’re practicing with the intention of showcasing what you’ve come up with for other people. This is where practicing with a friend can be vital to your progress. Truth is, there are times where we start feeling ourselves (or maybe you’re just high on some weed, LOL) and you think, “yo, this routine is gonna bang when I do it in front of people.” Only to have it go over people’s heads or just fall short of the impact you expected. One great remedy for this is practicing with a friend. It doesn’t necessarily have to be another DJ. Just someone whom you trust will give you honest feedback about the direction you’re taking a specific routine in. If only you understand your juggle, what’s the point in doing it? I was fortunate to have the kind of friends (what up Gudtyme… Jose Perez?) that would come to my house after school and just watch me cut. It’s like they were my own personal audience. Their feedback played a major role in the DJ I am today!

5. Work on your speed When you watch a DJ like Steve D perform a “Beat Juggle” aka “The Funk” as he coins it, Steve moves so leisurely, doesn’t he? He’s boppin’ his head, you’re boppin along with him and you fail to realize just how deceptively fast he’s moving. “Beat Juggling” takes incredible speed. Take pride in practicing your quickness. Manually, piecing together Kicks, Snares, High Hats and words within a 2 bar section of a song takes swiftness. So before you sit down to work on that new Juggle, spend 5-10 minutes just back spinning. Once you’ve warmed up, start on that new Juggle of yours.

6. Every song is different If you gave me a variety of songs to work with for a battle, I’ll spend ample time listening to each song from beginning to end. Picking up all of the nuances particular from that individual composition. For this reason, out of all the routines in my repertoire, YOU’LL NEVER HEAR ME REPEAT THE SAME PATTERNS SONG TO SONG. That’s because each track asks something different from you. Having a grasp of this theory will make for a 6 minute routine that keeps evolving with each second.

7. Funk begets Funk I know where in an age where a lot of battle DJs are “Beat Juggling” Electronic and Techno music. And hey, if that’s the stuff you listen to, if that’s the stuff that moves you, if that’s the stuff you wanna “Beat Juggle”… be my guest. But Funk begets Funk and “Beat Juggling” is ALL about sounding Funky. So I strongly suggest you work with actual Funky music when you’re formulating a new pattern or routine. Many of us complain that “Beat Juggling” as we know it today is stale, synthetic and flat lines after a few quick seconds. One reason for this is a lot of battle DJs are working with beats that are produced on a computer grid. Sequenced copy and paste style. There’s no feeling in that! Factor in the unrecognizable songs competitors are using and your audience won’t be able to acknowledge what you’re doing to the music. If you wanna conceive your own Funky beat, work on familiar songs with a live Funky drummer or Funky samples. Done properly, Funky Beats equal Funky Beat —–> Juggles.

8. Study His Story Last month I had a spirited debate with a DJ from the current generation of Turntablist. I was arguing for the importance of competing with actual vinyl. He advocated for the advent of using Laptops. I was of the opinion that vinyl allows you to create a routine filled with peaks and valleys. He championed the idea that allowing Laptops in battles made it so he didn’t have to worry about switching records. Thus making it possible for him to squeeze more into a 6 minute routine. My response to that was “QUALITY VERSUS QUANTITY MAN!” To you reading this, I say, study the story of Aladdin, Steve D, Dr. Butcher, Mista Sinista. Study history, study HIS STORY and HIS STORY and HIS STORY… for in “history lies all the secrets of [the craft]”. Research how the most innovative Jugglers before you elevated the art. Hopefully then you’ll develop an appreciation of just how sacred it is to take one beat from a song and physically transform it into something totally different. That’s what I call being creative. Pre-producing your drum sounds on a laptop is just cuttin’ corners.

9. Memorization versus improvisation If I gave you 2 copies of Chic’s “Good Times” would you know what to do? If you’re a battle DJ you should know but I’d bet a majority won’t. I attribute that to a focus on memorization. As a result, you’re neglecting the ability to improvise. When you sit down to create a “Beat Juggle” do not limit yourself to set patterns of practicing. If you’re inclined to do that, the most efficient way to BREAK this habit is to throw on a BREAK-beat like “Good Times” and let it all flow. Develop what I call “Turntable Instincts”. Learn how to navigate through a section of song solely relying on your intuitive abilities. You won’t develop these in one session mind you. It takes time so be patient.

10. Have fun! DJing, Mixing, Battling, Scratching, “BEAT JUGGLING”… is just an adult way of having fun. When you’ve got a kick, snare and hi hat at your fingertips, be present. Enjoy the feeling of altering music. Seriously take it in. Your state of mind while practicing directly impacts your creativity. So revert back to your days as a kid playing with your favorite toy when you’re on the turntables. Don’t take yourself too seriously. When you make a mistake, laugh it off. When you do something cool, laugh it off. At the end of the day, making music on a conventional instrument or a turntable is about the enjoyment you personally feel and bring to your audience!

If you’re looking to erase the mysticism behind techniques like Beat Juggling and creating a battle set, subscribe to Brolic Army DJ School. The first DJ school to curate an extensive curriculum on Beat Juggling and we remain committed to teaching aspiring DJs the skills they need to excel in the field.

Have a question? send us an email and one of our team members, or Rob Swift himself will help you out!

#beat juggles #Djing #dj #Brolic Army DJ School #scratching

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twixtandshout · 3 years

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Fuck the “Qrow is secretly everyone’s father” aus, gimme a fic where he ends up hurt and a little girl rescues the injured crow and nurses him back to health and he definitely isn’t attached at all, she doesn’t remind him of his nieces in the slightest, absolutely not

Edit: Be the change you wish to see in the world

#look... i just think crow!qrow deserves scritches #also shenanigans #and i saw a video of a very sweet and ruffly pied crow and i'm Soft #rwby #talkin' things #if i had a nickel for every time i went 'this'd be cool but i'm not gonna be the one to do it' and then did it #i would probably have more nickels than i really want

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dragon-mantis · 5 months

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"kill them with kindness" wrong. satellite at point nemo 🛰🛰🌊🌊🌊🛥🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊

#tma #oliver banks #nickels talkin

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lucj444 · 2 years

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So far every song called “Islands” I’ve heard has been an absolute banger.

Admittedly thats only two songs… but if its just a coincidence its a wild one

#im talkin oingo boingo and kaja #both Islands are such good songs #oingo boingo #kajagoogoo #kaja #shut up ashwyn #worst badtardisation of that if i had a nickel meme

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nickelofprion · 3 years

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What if your posse never died? What would you do then?

"My posse... Hmph, I guess that's one way ta put it."

"I'd go back ta livin' life normally. I'd be content with myself again, I guess. It'd be a bit different n' there would still be things ta figure out, but nothin' as bad as right now."

#nebulous you are KILLING HER #ask #how to say goodbye and mean it tl #about nickel #?#sweet talkin gladiator

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jockpoetry · 2 years

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me sowing (buying clothes i want to wear) Haha fuck yeah!!! Yes!! me reaping (said clothes making me feel wildly dysphoric so i do not wear them) Well this fucking sucks. What the fuck.

#talkin to myself #if i had a nickel for every time i've done this i'd have like 5 dollars that i'd probably spend on something that'd make me feel dysphoric

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ameliora-j · 3 years

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show me // rw x reader

words: 1.5k

warnings: smut, innocence kink, corruption kink, oral (f receiving), overstimulation, fingering (f receiving)

a/n: maybe multi part if it doesn’t flop idk

to ron you were perfect. the picture of innocence. and everytime he looked at you… all he wanted was to have you on your knees for him, choking around his cock as he filled your throat and painted your body with his seed.

he felt bad for these thoughts, of course. you were innocent. you stopped in the middle of hogsmeade to look at the flowers. you helped people with their homework. the entire school had deigned you ‘the y/h princess’ for how perfectly innocent you were. wide, doe-like eyes, a pretty smile, and a seemingly permanent blush painted across your cheeks.

ron was your potions partner—and your crush for three years—and when you came to potions in the tight shirt and short skirt, he snapped. the skirt fell just below the curve of your bum, leaving absolutely nothing to the imagination, and the shirt showed just enough cleavage. you didn’t do it on purpose, of course… you hadn’t had anymore clean uniforms, forcing you to pull on your one from fifth year. it still fit, but your body had grown and curves accentuated since two years ago. when ron laid his eyes upon you, his pants tightened considerably around his crotch.

“hi ronnie,” you smiled as you sat beside him.

“hi dove,” you blushed at the nickname, a swarm of butterflies erupting in your tummy. he’d called you dove for as long as you can remember, but it never failed to make you swoon.

“hey ln! i dropped something, could you pick it up for me?” draco snarked behind you. ron turned to glare at the two slytherin boys as you reached for the book draco had dropped.

“he can get it himself dovey, he’s got hands,” ron snarled as he fixed the smirking boys with a hard glare. you just shrugged and returned to taking your notes.

all day continued on like this. boys throwing remarks at you and you were clueless as to what they meant. as you were walking by ron’s side out to the courtyard, mclaggen called “hey ln, mind if i take a turn after weasley there? i’ll let you tickle my pickle for a nickel!” teasingly across the hall.

you looked up at ron with slightly furrowed brows. “wha’s he talkin about ronnie?” you asked innocently.

“you really don’t know, do you dovey?” ron asked as he looked down at you, sympathetically. you shook your head as a pout crossed your features. ron offered you a small smile as he pushed your hair away from your face. “your skirts really short today, dove. he’s asking you to do something sexual for him,” ron informed you.

your eyes practically tripled in size. “didn’t know! promise i didn’t. didn’t have any clean uniforms. had to use one from fifth year,” your pout deepened.

“i know you didn’t, dove,” ron kissed your head gently. “mclaggen’s a jerk.”

“is that what everyone’s meant today? they want to do something sexual to me?” you asked and he nodded. “do… do you?” you asked shyly.

ron blushed slightly at the question. “do i want to do something sexual to you?” he asked and you nodded. “i respect you enough to not do anything, dove.” he kissed your nose.

“but have you ever… thought about it?” you asked.

“once or twice,” he answered casually.

“show me…” you whispered so lowly that ron almost didn’t hear you.

“what?” he gulped.

“show me… what you thought about doing,” as you looked up for him, asking him to do something dirty so casually, you were still the perfect picture of innocence. ron closed his eyes tightly and inwardly groaned as he thought about all the things he could do to you.

“are you sure dove?” he asked.

“positive ronnie. want it. please,” you told him. he took your hand gently and lead you up to his dorm. once he closed the door, he kissed you softly.

“gonna go slow, dove. don’t wanna do too much for your first time, okay?” you hummed softly as he returned his lips to your’s and kissed you dumb. “lay on the bed f’me,” you did as you were told and stared up at him.

he pulled the rings off his fingers and set them in your hand. “hold these f’me, yeah dove? keep ‘em safe.” you nodded and closed your hand around the silver circles in your palm as he kissed down your neck. he slowly unbuttoned your shirt as he continued to kiss down your body gently.

“gonna eat your pretty pussy, that okay dove?” he checked for your consent and you nodded. “words please,” he spoke gently.

“yes ron,” you murmured softly. “that’s okay,” you whispered softly.

he smirked as he pulled your panties up and found your cunt already slick with arousal. he left open-mouthed kisses up your thighs. you let soft moans escape your mouth as you closed your eyes. “has anyone ever touched you here, dove?” he asked, breath fanning over your clit.

“no,” you shook your head, whimpering softly as he left a small, open-mouthed kiss on your clit.

“have you ever touched yourself?” just the question made you blush and he smirked. chest swelling with pride at the fact that he got to be the first person to make you feel good. he reached up his hand and intertwined your fingers. “hold my hand, dove. gonna make you feel so good.” you nodded and squeezed his hand gently, moaning softly as you felt his tongue lick a stripe over your cunt.

once ron got his first taste, he ate you like a starved man. he moaned at the taste as he licked fervently at your cunt, reducing you to a moaning mess above him. you gasped and shuddered as he wrapped his lips around your clit and sucked gently. “please…” you whimpered. “p-please,” you repeated, not even sure what you were begging for at this point.

but somehow, ron knew exactly what you needed. he reached his free hand up and slowly circled your opening with his middle finger. you moaned loudly as he pushed his finger through the ring of muscles and began thrusting slowly. “more… please more,” you whimpered. he pushed in a second finger and curved them, causing you to moan again and buck your hips.

“gotta stay still for me dove,” ron whispered softly, before returning to eating your cunt like a wild animal.

“ronnie… ronnie my tummy feels weird,” you whimpered softly.

“gonna cum dovey. let it go,” he whispered. “cum on my tongue dove, wanna taste you.” you did as he said, feeling all of your muscles relax as your back careened off the mattress and you repeated please and whimpers mixed in with his name.

ron pulled his mouth away from your clit, using his fingers to fuck you through your first ever orgasm as his eyes locked on you. somehow, even stuffed full with his fingers you looked so… innocent. he pulled his fingers from you and sucked them clean before diving back in, cleaning you up.

you shrieked at the overstimulation as you squeezed his hand and bucked into his mouth. he fucked you with his tongue and circled your clit, latching his mouth to your cunt and sucking softly. ron was a god with his mouth, there was no denying that. it was mere minutes before he felt you cumming in his mouth again. you whimpered softly as he continued his soft licks up your slit to bring you down.

he placed one last open-mouthed kiss to your clit before kneeling up on the bed. “precious,” he whispered as he stared down at you. eyes blown, lips bitten red and swollen, cunt still slick with your own cum and arousal, chest rapidly rising and falling, and hair a mess. you smiled dazedly up at him as you squeezed his hand again.

“thank you ronnie,” you murmured softly.

“of course, dovie,” he smiled.

“wha’s that?” you asked as you pointed to the tent in his pants.

“i’ll teach you another time, yeah dove? let’s get you in the bath, okay?” you nodded, too tired to argue as he lifted your limp body in his arms and walked you into the bathroom. he set you on the porcelain bowl and allowed you to go as he readied your bath.

he was gently in cleaning you up, mindful of all your sensitive spots. once he was all done, he put you in a pair of his boxers and his quidditch sweatshirt, allowing you to curl into his chest and play with his fingers as you came down. “ronnie?” you asked softly.

“yes dove?” he asked.

“does this mean you’re my boyfriend now?” you asked him.

“if you want me to be,” he smiled at you. you nodded with a small smiled as you looked up at him. he leaned down and pressed his lips gently against your’s. “go to sleep dove, i’ll be right here, okay?”

“okay,” you whispered, allowing your exhaustion to overcome you.

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