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#or more accurately she will kill you and rhyme about it as she's killing you

harrowharks-iliac-crest · 7 months

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Gideon the Ninth Appendices (continued)

Cohort Intelligence Files

Oh, these are written by Judith!

Wow, she and Marta joined the Cohort when they were literal children - eleven and ten, respectively. I guess it's somewhat common to burden little kids with responsibilities early amongst the Nine Houses?

On Naberius Tern:

He also has an extremely good opinion of himself and his swordplay, an opinion that Lt. Dyas notes occasionally aligns with reality.

Oh I love the subtle shade here. I'm also noting that Coronabeth's charisma seems to dazzle even Judith Deuteros as she is writing this, since she doesn't know about her or Ianthe's necromantic prowess - yes they were homeschooled, but knowing that necromancers are usually frail, wouldn't you wonder whether Ianthe is more necromantically apt, quietly, from her sister's shadow?

I guess not.

On Isaac Tettares:

the eldest of eight. [...] Father killed by terrorists out on [REDACTED] nineteen years ago: all of his children have been posthumous and the title held in stewardship.

Interesting! Also the bit about how kids can be born either of XX-carrier or vat-womb. Reproduction sure has advanced a great deal (as has the disconnection of sex from gender, apparently - which I've noticed before, but is obvious enough here to comment on it!)

Anyway, as we learned in Harrow the Ninth, the father does not have to be physically present for a child to get their genetic material. All you need is said genetic material. If you're in an important position in your House, presumably it's custom to save an amount of genetic material so you can continue to have heirs in the event of your death.

It seems customary for the Fourth to go to school at the Fifth, which explains the close relationship between Isaac and Jeannemary, and Abigail and Magnus.

On Protesilaus:

He's married??? He has children???? Oh my goodness, that makes his unfortunate demise at Cytherea's hands so much more tragic.

... Okay, I think that's all I really have to say on that!

A little explanation of naming systems

I did already get the idea, literally from the Dramatis Personae in Gideon the Ninth, that names refer to your House. Interesting to me is that they work differently to current surnames: people have different last names to their parents, and their last names are at least somewhat unique to them. Even siblings rarely share a name, making Coronabeth and Ianthe exceptions to the rule.

Interesting!!

Pelleamena and Priamhark: It shouldn't surprise me that these two are named for people in the Iliad. I kind of figured, with Priamhark, but it's a little less obvious with Pelleamena.

I adore the little pronounciation guides, tbh.

Crux, to rhyme with "sucks": Yeah sounds about right

Marta Dyas: DIE-ass. I'm sorry, I couldn't come up with anything better.

You know, I'm glad I decided to dig into these in a bit more detail, because Tamsyn's notes on these are hilarious.

On Ianthe and Coronabeth:

In the original, Ianthe and Corona were "Cainabeth and Abella", a feat of naming so unsubtle that I might as well have just gone with "Goodtwin" and "Badtwin". And it's not even accurate! It should be Badtwin, and Lessbadtwin.

I'm reminded of Coronabeth going "She could have taken me!!!" after Ianthe became Lyctor. Oh, she sure could have! Why do you sound jealous, Coronabeth?

On Jeannemary and Isaac:

Isaac here foreshadows Gideon's death by doing the "bravest and stupidest" thing, i.e. getting his abdomen made into a huge Connect-4 board. I might as well have called Jeannemary and Isaac "Don'tgetattached" and "Deadsoon".

Okay, rude. I mean, I didn't end up reading into the naming while reading Gideon for the first time, though maybe I should have. Maybe I wouldn't have gotten so attached (and upset) when they were both deadsoon.

On Palamedes:

Pal-AM-a-dees. At first I had a coarse comparison here, but then I removed it.

Palamadeez nuts, lol. So rude, Tamsyn.

Oh wow, more foreshadowing in the names of Dulcinea and Protesilaus. Wow. Okay remind me to dissect any new names that come up in Nona the Ninth (whenever I get to actually reading that).

... Okay, we're done with the appendices of Gideon the Ninth!!

Now soon to follow: Appendices of Harrow the Ninth, including As Yet Unsent, then I will read The Mysterious Study of Doctor Sex, and then, then finally, we will start on our reread of Gideon and Harrow.

I can't wait!

#tlt liveblog #the locked tomb liveblog #tlt spoilers #the locked tomb #tlt #gideon the ninth #harrow the ninth #gideon the ninth appendices

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therubyreader · 3 months

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My Review of Powerless by Lauren Roberts

See a full list of my book reviews here

*Disclaimer: there will be spoilers later on in the review*

Review Word Count, non-spoiler: 875 Review Word Count Total: 1,553

Hello everyone! It’s my first review of 2024! I have once again fallen victim to the influence of BookTok and read Powerless by Lauren Roberts, after not being able to escape it being recommended to me by essentially everyone and their mother. And this time they’re onto something, they have not disappointed me with this one.

Powerless follows Paedyn Gray, an Ordinary, someone without any powers in a society where being Ordinary is a crime punishable by death, surviving the slums of Ilya by pretending to be a Psychic and stealing to stay alive. One day she unknowingly saves one of the princes and is forced to participate in the Purging Trials, a brutal competition to showcase the powers of the Elite, powers she doesn’t have, while managing to not get caught lest she be killed when they find out what she really is.

Let’s get a couple of things out of the way, first this book is marketed as an enemies to lovers story, which it isn’t. Paedyn and her love interest, Kai (because of course his name is Kai) are rivals in the Trails by circumstance, but like they both take a liking to each other immediately. I saw someone call it insta-love which, sure, but I wouldn’t go that far per se, but there isn’t really an “enemies” thing, Paedyn just dances around the fact she likes Kai for most of the book and this dude is smitten almost immediately. So, sorry to disappoint you all with that one. There is romantic chemistry pretty immediately, but they do have some fist fights and hold knives to each other’s throats also so if you’re into that, wink wonk.

Second, this book is marketed as a mixture of Red Queen and The Hunger Games, which like, I guess. The comparison to The Hunger Games isn’t completely accurate, I mean there are games that can result in death but people dying isn’t a requirement, there are people who participate in the Trials and lose but also stay alive. The comparison to Red Queen though, is very on the nose, if you liked Red Queen and wanted to read a world with a near identical magic system and a very similar plot progression, this is the book for you. I’m saying this as a fan of Red Queen, it is one of my favorite series of all time, but there were a lot of mirrors between it and Powerless, which isn’t necessarily a bad thing, but it is something you should be aware of.

I think my biggest complaint with this book was how the magic system wasn’t really explained in depth, there were different classifications between the different types of powers, each had its own cute little name like they do in Red Queen. People with super strength are called Brawnies, or teleporters are called Blinks, or those who can control plants are Blooms (just off the top of my head). While we are told that the plague is what gave certain people cool abilities and fancy hair colors, we don’t really know much else. At least in Red Queen we know that people inherit their father’s power, but in Powerless they don’t seem to have any rhyme or reason. For example, Kitt has a dual ability, cool, why? He’s the only person we know of that has two abilities and everyone is very chill about this though it is out of the norm and never explained. Kai is a Wielder, meaning he can use anyone’s ability if they’re in range, which is mildly related to Kitt’s ability if you think really hard about it and it makes sense since they’re brothers, but their dad is Brawny? You’ve lost me there. Also, what made certain people have abilities and others be Ordinary, why are Ordinaries still being born, like how does that work genetically if both their parents have abilities. I don’t know, maybe it’s just a me thing where I’m thinking too hard about it, but I do honestly hope that the rest of the series goes into this a bit more since I crave answers. This was probably done on purpose, and we’ll get Ordinary lore further down the line and lore about abilities as a whole, which is a selling point to get you to keep reading, but I would’ve appreciated a small bit of lore as I read. I shouldn’t have had this many questions about the magic system while reading since it did pull me away from the story a bit.

I did enjoy the book despite my mild complaints, the story was entertaining enough for me to keep me reading even though I could essentially predict what was going to happen next since it follows a very basic YA plot progression and the characters were, mostly, fun to read about. Honestly, for a debut book, it was fairly well written, and I don’t have very many complaints on the writing style outside of the typical cliches, but I’m reading a YA book so I cannot complain. Overall, it was very enjoyable, though nothing groundbreaking, and I plan on reading the sequel when it comes out later this year, I give it an honestly pretty decent entertainment out of ten.

Spoilers!!

Normally I start the spoiler part of my review talking about something negative, but I have decided, new year new me, for now, and I’ll talk about something that I liked. I did enjoy the emphasis on the eye colors, which at first is super annoying because you’re like “omg can they stop talking about each other’s eyes we get it” but as the book goes on the eye color becomes super important. When Kai first meets Paedyn, he’s fascinated by how blue her eyes are and she always talks in detail about his gray eyes, while when she meets Kitt she can’t look him in the eyes since he has his father’s green eyes and Paedyn’s father was killed by the king so she sees the eyes of a killer whenever she looks at Kitt. As the story goes on, Paedyn is able to look Kitt in the eyes and starts to see them as his eyes, not his father’s cruel eyes and slowly starts to associate the green eyes with Kitt and not her father’s killer. But then right at the end we learn that it wasn’t actually the king who killed Paedyn’s dad, but Kai, and Paedyn’s dad was the first person he ever killed. So then the whole thing is flipped on its head! Paedyn realizes she had been hallucinating the king killing her dad (which like I get the trauma, but she was too weird about the green eye thing for me to just pretend she had never seen the king before but I’m not going to worry about it) when it was actually Kai. She had spent the whole book lovingly staring into the eyes of her father’s killer, and we find out in Kai’s bonus chapter that he took note of Paedyn’s dad’s blue eyes as he killed him and then was practically writing poems about Paedyn’s eyes. And then Kitt is for sure there.

Speaking of Kitt, I’m excited to see him enter his villain era, though poor guy just doesn’t know what’s going on which is honestly a type of villain that is underrated. Unlike Red Queen where you could tell pretty immediately that the goal the entire time was to get rid of the monarchy, it’s a bit more ambiguous in Powerless because Kitt is genuinely a nice guy who wants to do better but unfortunately his dad was assassinated and he’s a little confused. There is honestly a lot of room for his character to develop and I think that’s what I’m most looking forward to in the next one.

I do have to complain though, because this is who I am as a person. The thing that annoyed me the most was the love triangle (which if this isn’t your first time here you know about my hatred for love triangles) but this one specifically since it’s between two brothers, which is just icky. To paraphrase myself in one of my Goodreads updates (shameless plug) if I had a nickel for every time I read a book where a love triangle involves a pair of half-brothers, I’d have three nickels which isn’t a lot but I’m a little annoyed it’s happened three times. I honestly cannot put my finger on as to why I hate it so much, maybe because it has an incest-y vibe about it, but I just do not like it Sam I am.

Not to keep word vomiting, I will stop there, but I am honestly willing to talk more about Powerless if you jump into my asks, I did very much enjoy the book despite all my complaining. I could also go into a whole thing where I compare it to Red Queen if anyone asks me nicely because I do have thoughts about that, but this is not the space for it. I cannot wait for Reckless and am very excited to see where the story takes us next!

#val's book reviews #powerless #powerless book #powerless lauren roberts #lauren roberts #book review #booktok #bookblr

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drstonetrivia · 7 months

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Chapter 7 Trivia

A-Hakone we will go, A-Hakone we will go, Heigh-ho, the volcan-o, A-Hakone we will go.

Senku seems determined to break all the pots even if, to me, it doesn't match up with what his goals are.

However I'm imagining whoever Tsukasa revived next was using pots crafted by Tsukasa's hand. (If they decided to remake any)

~80km, or about 17 hours of walking (at about 5km/hr), basically as the crow flies. Taiju could run it in 5 hours, going at 16 km/hr. They stop for one night and probably do the trip in two days.

The Tokyo <-> Hakone route becomes pretty important down the road.

With Senku's crude sextant, he just lines the sights up with the sun and reads the angle that way. A proper sextant has mirrors, so you adjust the angle until the horizon and sun are aligned in the view piece.

If we assume the sun rises at 5:30AM (it's currently around springtime), then 35,970 seconds later is 10 hours later, making it about 3:30PM.

Modern buildings simply aren't built to last thousands of years. Needs change, and thus things are only built to last ~100 years, so it makes sense that there's nothing left.

If you wanted to build something to last 3,700 years, check out the Great Pyramids for inspiration!

Interestingly, skyscrapers may last longer because of the amount of glass in them and the strength of the concrete. This is probably why Roppongi hills is still identifiable but people's houses aren't.

Obviously this doesn't account for severe natural disasters.

If they're in Kamakura, they did not go as the crow flies, and the whole trip becomes 94km (20 hours of walking).

Fun fact: if you visit the Great Buddha, you can peek inside the hollow structure from the back.

Bronze can last an incredibly long time. the Antikythera Mechanism survived for around 2000 years despite the seawater thanks to bronze's resistance to corrosion. Like Senku says, bronze will also leach copper into the soil, which can kill plants if there's a high amount present.

Prunus yedoensis is one of the most widely planted cherry cultivars, and they're all clones of the same plant. This works by grafting a branch onto another tree, making the "top half" a cherry tree, or alternatively just using cuttings.

The tree itself has a short lifespan.

These are Japanese Horsetail, better known as tsukushi. They're similar to asparagus in appearance and taste, but have hollow stems.

Senku needs one hand on his stick to check stability, so he holds his shoes in one hand. Yuzuriha can hold her shoes in both hands. Taiju needs both hands to hold all their stuff, so his are tucked into his belt.

I thought it was a nice detail :)

Nitric acid burns skin, so I assume RF would too, but Yuzuriha is saying it's cold? Is she talking about the stone feeling cold? If that part of her foot is fully stone, how is she walking if she can't bend her toes? Is it just a stone layer on top of skin?

I've got questions.

Detective Tsukasa is on the case! He seems to have some basic tracking knowledge, but more impressively he can predict Senku's moves very accurately using both his knowledge of science and possibly fighter's instincts. Senku doesn't stand a chance…

Hakone is in a volcanic region with lots of natural onsen and a view of Mt. Fuji to the northwest. This scene resembles Owakudani - a geothermic area north of Mt. Hakone, along the Hakone ropeway route.

Owakudani natural hot springs seem to range in temperature between 36.3 and 96.0°C. There's no telling what the exact temperature of the pool they chose is, but Senku obviously can't take the heat.

Senku uses the terms "gunpowder" and "black powder" interchangably. This isn't technically incorrect, as up until recently they were the same thing. Nowadays, we also have smokeless powder that can be used for the same purpose.

(Also, if you don't recognise the tune at the beginning of the thread it's "A-Hunting We Will Go", a folk song/nursery rhyme.)

Finally, several of these were taken directly from Caleb Cook's trivia, so credit where it's due.

#trivia #dr stone #chapters #7

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ox1-lovesick · 1 year

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if your moots were playing the protagonist in your favourite romance movies, which idol would you pair them with as the love interest?

these are all k-dramas since i haven't watched too many romance movies 💀 I've excluded moots who are on a hiatus rn for this one,, i may add them in later though! i hope these are accurate grr

✧ @yv17 : Extraordinary You - Boo Seungkwan

Plot: Eun Dano (Kim Hye-Yoon) is a student at a prestigious high school. Her family is wealthy, but Eun Dano has a heart disease. Her fiance Baekyung (Lee Jae-Wook) attends the same prestigious high school. She likes him a lot, but he does not like her at all. Suddenly, Eun Dao has short-term memory loss and she can see what will happen in the near future. She gets confused by her symptoms. Then, Taeri, from the school cafeteria, tells Eun Dano that she is a character in the comic "Secret" like everybody else there. Eun Dano learns that her character is not even a main character, but rather an extra and she doesn't have much time to live. Eun Dano is stunned, but she decides she wants to find her own true first love and not someone written by the comic writer. One day, she falls down the school stairs. She feels her back touch the back of another student, among a group of male students. Her heart suddenly starts to flutter. Eun Dano wants to find the male student who made her heart flutter. She eventually finds the student (Ro Woon) and he is her classmate. He is a character that doesn't have a name. They get close and Eun Dano names him "Haru"

MY ABSOLUTE FAVOURITE KDRAMA EVER OML nora as dano??? seungkwan as haru??? sign me tf up. they'd be the absolute cutest. although seungkwan is quite different to haru with his personality being a lot more lively he'd still go really well with this plot! although it has a bit of a sadder (?) ending it's such a good drama. seungkwan would screw himself over again and again for nora because he's head over heels. not matter how much trouble it gets him in he'd do anything for her and vice versa 🙁 i can see vernon playing taeri and jun playing baekyung as well it fits so perfect

ㅤ

✧ @haknom - My Love From The Star - Park Sunghoon

Plot: Do Minjun, an alien who came to earth 400 years ago, begins a romance with the stuck-up A-list Korean actress Cheon Songi.

songi and minjun ARE LITERALLY THEM the minjun vibes sunghoon gives are uncanny. kayla would definitely bring sunghoon out of his shell just like songi does minjun and they'd be the most adorable couple. i see them stargazing a lot together just like songi and minjun did, sunghoon would also be such a tease and play games just like minjun 💀

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✧ @platform553 - Suspicious Partner - Choi Yeonjun

plot: The series is about Noh Jiuk (Ji Changwook), a prosecutor, and Eun Bonghui (Nam Jihyun), a prosecutor trainee, and how they work together on a mysterious case involving a sly psychopath murderer. They find out how deeply connected they are by their past. A forgetful killer can be a dangerous thing. Attorney Ji Eunhyuk (Choi Taejun) is a longtime family friend of Jiuk who betrayed Jiuk by cheating with Jiuk's ex-girlfriend. Much similar to Bonghui's current situation after her ex boyfriend, Huijun, cheats on her. Bonghui continues to curse at Huijun and his current girlfriend, singing a rhyme saying she will kill him whenever he passes her by. However ehen Huijun really does end up dead in her apartment, despite her innocence Bonghui suddenly finds herself as a suspect.

here's your ceo yj fic lirin 💀💀💀🫶 as hectic as this kdrama is the fact that jiuk sacrifices EVERYTHING for bonghui will never not bring me to tears. his job, career, reputation and even his own life??? the literal description of ceo yj. he's known for being ruthless and cold, emotionless sparing no sympathy for anyone in his court so when you finally break down his walls, he's bending over backwards to prove your innocence. even though he has to question his morals, he ultimately does what's right, because he loves you

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✧ @tzyuki - Cinderella And The Four Knights - Yang Jungwon

plot: Eun Hawon (Park Sodam) is a bright high school senior who dreams of becoming a teacher. Unfortunately, she loses her mother in a tragic accident. When her father remarries, her cruel stepmother moves in and steals Hawon's college tuition. She is forced to take on part-time jobs to make payments for her mother's memorial and her college tuition. She meets an older man, chairman of large corporation who convinces her to move into his mansion with his three grandsons who are heirs to his family fortune. Between the rebel-minded loner Kang Jiwoon (Jung Ilwoo), playboy money machine Kang Hyunmin (Ahn Jaehyun) and the super-sweet singer Kang Seowoo (Lee Jungshin), Hawon finds herself in the middle of the hottest love quadrangle to ever befall a modern fairy tale. Rounding out the mansion's chaebol lifestyle are Lee Yoondung (Choi Min) who serves as the cousins' handsome bodyguard, and Park Hyeji (Son Naeun), a girl who has been neighbors and in love with Hyunmin since childhood.

ej and jw 🤭🤭🤭 they just fit so perfectly in this drama??? idek what else to say tbh. hyunmin would 100% be jay, with seowoo as sunoo. the love triangle would be the most interesting thing ever since all three guys have completely different personalities along with different feelings towards ej. i can see jungwon being completely hostile at first but ej would melt his heart eventually falling 🙁 it'd be the cutest thing ever i need a remake with this lineup

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✧ @lov3niki - Business Proposal - Park Jongseong

plot: Shin Hari (Kim Sejeong) goes on a blind date after she accepts to replace her friend, Jin Youngseo (Seol Inah), whose father had arranged it. The plan is to have Hari 'getting rejected' by her prospective partner. However, it goes awry when her date turns out to be Kang Taemoo (Ahn Hyoseop), CEO of Go Food, the company where Hari works. Taemoo, who is being pressured by his grandfather Kang Dagoo (Lee Deokhwa), the chairman of Go Food's parent company, to go on blind dates with suitable marriage partners, decides to marry his blind date partner to avoid going on the rest of the dates, without knowing she is the fake Jin Youngseo or that she is his employee, which she assiduously tries to hide. However, Hari's fake identity, but thankfully not her employment status, is soon exposed after the real Jin Youngseo gets into a parking accident with Cha Sunghoon (Kim Minkyu), Taemoo's secretary, who was acting as Taemoo's driver at that moment.

KIM AND JAY I WILL DIE ON THIS HILL. literal embodiments of hari and taemoo like ??? ceo jay 😻💪 jay would be a bit more cold than taemoo me thinks but just as inlove 🫵 would literally do ANYTHING for kim would buy her food from Woolworths en alles 🙀🙀 malva pudding elke dag 🫶 he'd be Hannah Montana with the way he switched up in the office vs at home. all clingy and cuddly and then back to cold emotionless ceo at work 🙀 would probably blush every time kim breathes in his direction 😻💪

#𝐈𝐈. ── 📻 asks!#𝐈𝐈𝐈. ── 👥 anons!#𝐗𝐈. ── 🎮 games!#𝐈𝐕. ── 🫀moots!#yv17 <3 #haknom <3 #tzyuki <3 #blurredplatform <3 #my fave dramas i love them sm #KIM HYEYOON AND SON NAEUN MY WIVES

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wtfgaylittlezooid · 2 years

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Would love to know about your interpretation of Jonathan Crane, my beloved skrunkly <3

Surprisingly! Despite how much I adore him he does not change that much.

His story is mostly based on him in Year One. His mother didn’t want the baby, wanted it killed. His grandmother kept him alive to spite her daughter and raised him but didn’t love him. He was bullied for looking like a walking scarecrow, and he had to care for the farm when he barely had the build to do so. He underwent so much abuse that the only way his mind could cope with it was an explanation.

Fear meant control. Fear even meant progress, if pushed enough.

He is very adamant on the what doesn’t kill you makes you stronger mentality. It was and is his only mindset and is something he cannot let go of. This mindset only got enabled as he got older. The fear allowed his bullied to control him, and so he’d tough it out. Keep through it until he could bite back. And that’s what he did.

His grandmother stopped abusing him as he got older, and with each year she got more and more terrified of him. The bullies stopped soon as well, as Jonathan learned to pick apart actions and body language and take accurate guesses at one’s fears. He gave fear, and with it he held control.

So he decided to become a professor to teach about this. To teach about its power and how because he grew up with so much of it and how he pushed through he still came out on top with the greatest piece of knowledge. He was damn good at it, but got kicked out after nearly giving a student a heart attack when firing a gun loaded with blanks in class.

He transferred to Arkham Asylum as a psychiatrist where he began bringing the concept of fear toxin to life. He found something interesting about it though: it isn’t consistent.

If it’s in a liquid manner and ingested through a drink or inserted in the blood stream it is as it’s most effective. It’s instant and powerful and can kill. The gas isn’t as effective, but amazing for area damage and immobilizes people just as well.

He tested the fear toxin on the paitents. In his mind, he was pushing them forward. They had to endure enough, had to break a few bones to move forward in a better strengthened mind. It was torture but Arkham looked the other way. Until he was so convinced this was the way that Crane began using it outside of Arkham.

He became a regular patient after that, but he never give up.

Backstory out the way! Here’s other stuff about him

He has a southern accent, though hides it. It tends to slip through when he speaks on instinct or mutters some weird southern metaphor without thinking. For a while he actually spoke in a British accent so people would stop underwhelming him.

The nursery rhymes are both a grounding tactic and a way to focus for him.

He works alone a lot of the time. He’s a very closed off person. Though the exceptions tend to be Riddler, Harley, and Mad Hatter. He has a fondness for the three.

He has a pet crow named Craw. This is the only one he’s named though he has many of the crows in Gotham trained. They bring him a lot of stuff, actually.

And finally his hideouts tend to be in abandoned places. He’s not a very picky person, and favors efficiency above all else.

#i need to start tagging this shit #uh #mints batman timeline #there we go #Jonathan crane #the scarecrow #dc comics #repost of the art so people know how he looks #trypophobia #syringe

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sam-t-a · 2 years

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Arcane’s Magnificent Dive into the Dark (Spoliers)

For a show that spares no effort to show you exactly where it stands on darkness, Arcane does an excruciatingly good job of exploring it anyway, and in ways I’ve frankly never seen done on any show before.

Shimmer is one of the most interesting devices the show uses to that end, and although it’s discussed in ways that make it sound like a drug, the fascinating thing is that we don’t see the substance itself having addictive qualities. Silco and Sevika use it regularly and don’t seem to suffer any side-effects and don’t display any of the hallmarks of addiction.

Which means that people weren’t getting addicted to Shimmer...they were getting addicted to power. And one very clever twist was that the only addict we see on screen for a significant amount of time was the man Vander rescued from the traders in the first episode. This could be read as a signal that the same people who flourished under Vander floundered under Silco, but I think there’s more to it.

What Vander offered depended entirely upon his own power, his whims and desires, and his perceptions of right and wrong, regardless of whether or not we agree with those perceptions. There is neither law nor personal agency anywhere in sight, and no matter how grateful someone like that can be to Vander, they will always resent their reliance on him. You wouldn’t want to need Vander. You would want to BE Vander. This is why, for the people to whom he offered protection, Shimmer must’ve felt like godsend.

This is the kind of surrender to the dark that happens to people when they’ve been so disenfranchised that they pursue power blindly, desperately, stumbling and fumbling into the dark without rhyme or reason until it engulfs them.

Vander himself, when he’s on the verge of losing, resorts to Shimmer so he can continue fighting, which makes his death both a way of steadfastly standing by his ideals (he died protecting Vi, fighting Silco, and trying his best to stop conflict from erupting between Zaun and Piltover) but also an acknowledgement of Silco’s ways (you can deny the darkness all you want, but once there’s something you want badly enough to fight for and someone stronger that you’re powerless to fight, you’re going to resort to it anyway).

We also have characters like Sevika, not exiled from Vander’s community like Silco is, but not integrated into it like the man with the glasses. For someone who happens to be stronger-bodied and willed than the average citizen, Sevika wouldn’t have mixed feelings about Vander. As a moral authority, he offers her no level of protection she can’t provide for herself, but restrains her from fighting for the rights and resources to which she believes she’s entitled. To her, his cooperation with Piltover is betrayal and her only solution is Silco.

I get the impression she would very well have chosen a less extreme boss for herself if she could because she is not really a character with significant darkness in herself, but the only alternatives to Silco would be those who were only interested in their own enrichment, and not in the cause she initially joined him for in the first place. It would probably be more accurate to say that she’s aligned with the dark for personal and pragmatic reasons rather than actually ON the dark side.

And since she makes her choices with total clarity (something she has in common with Silco), she only benefits from her use of shimmer and she only ever causes harm deliberately, which is worth noting because a recurring theme in the show is characters trying very hard to reject or deny their own darkness before giving into it/losing control over it (in the form of shimmer/hextech/etc.). We’ve seen it from Jayce and Victor (arguably characters with little to no darkness in them trying very hard to be “good people”), and, devastatingly, from both Powder and Jinx, all of whom have accidentally killed someone or several people.

But never from Silco.

Silco doesn’t struggle with the dark or, as it happens, with his use of Shimmer. He uses it in very controlled doses to regain/improve his eye that he lost to his fight with Vander. The darkness doesn’t cloud his vision, it completes it. His “noble cause” isn’t a cover for power-hunger either. He wasn’t a drug lord who decided to pursue power, he was a rebel who supported the invention of Shimmer specifically to help his people combat their oppressors and consistently prioritizes that over monetary gains. He was willing to stop producing it altogether once Zaun became independent and had access to the hexgates because the power imbalance would no longer necessitate it. The power Shimmer offers him is a means, not an end.

Silco’s behaviors are all an extension of his philosophy of accepting the inevitable darkness, “the base violence necessary for change”. What makes him attractive to other characters is that he also invites those around him to accept their own darkness and allows them to express it, even at his own detriment. He doesn’t curse the fates for the dark, he embraces it in loving arms, just holding it gently -- and very very loosely. Because no one can fully control the dark and Silco knows that, and he’s willing to pay whatever price is necessary for that, up to and including his own life.

This is where Jinx comes in and where she and Silco fundamentally differ. Jinx doesn’t fight the topside because she believes in a cause. She doesn’t kill because it’s necessary. She does it because she’s in pain and doesn’t know what else to do with herself. She doesn’t punch-up at the big guy, she squashes bugs left and right because she’s bigger and stronger.

We actually saw the beginnings of her darkness seep through as Powder, when she was breaking the moving toy much like she’ll come to break any small thing that comes her way thereafter. Silco may have nurtured her worst impulses, but the soil was fertile and fresh for the digging. Jinx is the kind of dark Piltover births and then abandons, the kind of child with no instincts but to destroy, the kind of child who can only go to war, if not today then tomorrow.

But Silco doesn’t and cannot reject her when her darkness becomes inconvenient for him, and this is the main reason why I don’t think his decision not to give her up at the series finale was at odds with his character from before, and it has to do with the “could’ve been” theme of the episode.

The idea is that peace had been at our fingertips before being ruined by Jinx’s acceptance of her more destructive self, encouraged by Silco’s “You’re perfect” and the fact that she killed him, but it’s important to acknowledge that Jinx and Silco’s fights against Piltover and how they stole Piltover technology were the only reasons this peace was possible in the first place. Vander’s complacency wouldn’t have made this happen in a million years and the fireflies’ little pockets of decent living in the shadows do not a country make.

They follow the same approach as Vander in some respects, which, yes, gives some the chance to breathe and feel warmth and love, but they do so with weaponry, not with peace, and their enemy is the oppressor downstairs, not the oppressors upstairs in Piltover. Their technology, impressive as it is, has nothing on hextech and shimmer, and their capacity for encompassing change is limited.

What this shows is that Jinx was the engine bringing about real change to the undercity not despite her darkness, but through it, which means that to abandon her when independence and access to proper resources are within arm’s reach wouldn’t be an extension of Silco’s earlier approach, but a betrayal to his ideology. It would probably be the same to him as Vander standing by his side when they were brothers in arms, but trying to kill him when he decided that he doesn’t want to fight anymore and that no one else should (making use of the fighters’ darkness when it suits us and beating them down for it when we decide we’d rather have peace).

This is why I think analyzing Jinx/Powder and Silco’s relationship purely in therapist-chair terms misses a good chunk of their dynamic. Silco’s failings aren’t exactly parental - they’re political.

Ultimately, however, and despite giving his side a more than thorough examination, the show had to chicken out on him, positioning itself as being firmly against embracing the darkness, and going the extra mile to ensure there would be no mistaking it for neutral on the matter.

One subtle way it does that is by calling it an “uprising” when it was Vander leading it in the beginning, but a “war” when it’s Silco, even though the independence hadn’t actually happened yet and Zaun was still a part of Piltover. It also frames the council’s decision to opt for peace as an awakening of their conscience, forgetting (or glossing over) the fact that after years of failing their constituents, they were basically shrugging off the deadweight and calling it a day, providing whatever help they will as charity, rather than political obligation.

But I can’t say I blame Arcane for that. In the words of the late Prof. Radwa Ashour, “I'm a teacher, and I see messages of pessimism as an immoral act,” so I genuinely appreciate that the show doesn’t shy away from the cruelty that such base violence ultimately instils and how, whatever good it may do in reclaiming rights, it does precious little in healing festering wounds.

#arcane #arcane league of legends #arcane: league of legends #Jinx #Silco #Sevika #too long by half #sorta sorry #sorta had to get it out

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thevampiresiren · 3 years

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Gone Too Soon

Leon S. Kennedy x Reader

Genre: ANGST, Fluff, Smut

Word Count: 3.5k

Summary: You and Leon end up having a miscarriage and he heavily blames himself. Now he wants to try again.

WARNINGS: miscarriage, cursing, alochol as a coping mechanism, depression, self doubt, oral sex (m&f), fingering, vaginal sex, unprotected sex (stay safe my friends!)

A/N: I know this is a VERY touchy subject. I personally have never had a miscarriage but I know someone who has so this may not be 100% accurate. Also this is my first time writing smut so sorry if it sucks😅

Lennox is pronounced Len (rhymes with pen) nox (Nyx like the makeup brand or Nick's)

Leon never really wanted to have kids. With your all's job and the world that everyone was living in with B.O.W.s and death knocking on the door, the last thing he ever wanted was bringing another life into it. So when you first told him you were pregnant, it didn't settle well with him. Leon didn't see himself as the parenting type and the thought of something happening to you or the baby terrified him. But now that you both had accepted it and you were now 7 weeks pregnant, Leon couldn't be happier. He was always rubbing and littering your lower belly with kisses, telling it how much he loved the little being growing inside of you.

"I hope we have a girl." Leon said while you two were laying in bed. His right hand was gently rubbing your belly while he had his left arm around you, pulling you to his chest.

"As long as they have your blue eyes, I don't care what we have." You said smiling moving a strand of your husband's blonde hair out of his face. Even though he was only in his black sweatpants, you couldn't help but think of how handsome he was. Leon rolled his eyes smiling, kissing you and your belly goodnight.

A few hours later you rolled out of bed to head to the bathroom. You had thought that your bladder was just full and the pressure was just from having to relive yourself. When Leon awoke from you screaming his name, he thought someone had come in and attacked you. He jumped out of bed and sprinted for the bathroom door busting it open.

"Babe! What's wro-." Leon stood to doorway of the bathroom and found you laying on the floor with your hands and disheveled h/c locks covering your face and crying your eyes out. You had removed your sleep pants and underwear and he tried his best to look away from them and what was on them. He sat on the floor beside you and pulled you in his lap; your head on his bear chest as you sobbed while your hands were in fists. He rubbed your back trying to soothe you and trying to ignore the aching pain in his heart. After a few minutes your cries of pain turned into faint sobs.

"We need to go to the hospital, Sweetheart. We need to see what's going on" Leon said just above a whisper. He knew in his mind exactly what happened. You both did, but he needed to make sure you yourself was actually okay physically.

*****

It had been ten months since you and Leon had lost the baby. To say Leon was depressed was an understatement. At the beginning of the loss he stayed strong for your sake. Always telling you it wasn't your fault, you didn't disappoint him, and that he loved you more than anything else in the world. But he was so focused on you and your grieving, that he never got to properly grieve himself. He started drowning himself in alcohol again to numb the pain and became more aggressive towards Claire and Chris. Tonight was no different when you got a call at 8pm from Claire.

"Y/N... Its Leon... He's been drinking too much and he's refusing to head home." She said in a sad voice. Your heart sank at the thought of Leon drowning himself in alcohol instead of coming to you.

"I'll be right there, Claire. Can you and your brother keep an eye on him for me until I get there?"

"Of course."

You grabbed your jacket and car keys and headed out to where Claire said Leon was.

When you parked the car outside of the bar, you saw Claire standing outside of it. She walked over to you after you got out of the car and pulled you into a tight hug.

"Are you doing okay? I haven't seen you since..." Claire cut herself off not wanting to cross any lines.

"I'm doing the best I can. I just want to get Leon back to the house though and get some sleep." Claire nodded and the two of you headed into the building. When you entered you caught Chris with his hand on Leon's arm, trying to force his attention causing Leon to shove him away forcefully.

"WILL YOU JUST FUCKING LEAVE, REDFIELD."

"NOT UNTIL YOU GET YOUR HEAD OUT OF YOUR ASS AND HEAD BACK HOME TO YOUR WIFE."

"GUYS!" Claire shouted, forcing the two to look over at her and Leon's eyes to focus on your form standing beside her. You walked over to stand beside Leon, causing Chris to move out of way and stand beside Claire. You placed your hand on top of his shoulder, looking into his broken eyes.

"Babe, I-"

"Not now, Leon." You softly said cutting him off. "Please, just come home." Your voice shaking. It took him a few moments but he gave a slight nod before picking up his leather jacket and heading towards the exit. You looked other at Chris and he gave you a sad smile while Claire told you to call her if you needed anything.

The drive back home was silent between the two of you. You focused on driving while Leon looked back and forth between the outside window and his lap, the alcohol slowly wearing off. When you arrived back your place, you hopped into the shower to de-stress yourself. When you walked back into the living room, you saw Leon sitting on the couch, eyes shut, hand on a glass of whiskey that was sitting on his thigh. You walked over to the sit beside him and wrapped your arms around his waist, your head on his chest. You felt Leon relax to your touch as he let out a deep sigh.

"Leon... We need to talk about this."

Leon went to bring the glass of alcohol up to his lips, but your hand on top of the glass and staled his movements. He looked down into your e/c eyes before pulling away and placing the glass on the coffee table.

"I'm so fucking sorry... Its my fault we lost the baby." Leon said looking down to the floor trying to hold back his tears.

"What the hell are you-"

"I didn't want kids. I never wanted kids. And I was so upset when I first found you were pregnant and blamed myself for not being careful enough." He said looking into your eyes facing you. "But then I got so fucking happy. I started loving the idea of seeing the first sonogram, hearing the heartbeat, feeling the kicks in your belly, you being called "mommy", and having another reason to keep this shithole we call the world safe." You noticed his voice started shaking more and tears were on the verge of escaping his now dull blue eyes. You weren't going to speak just yet, no matter how hard you wanted to cry. He needed to get everything out. Leon looked down at your wedding ring, and held onto your hand like his life depended on it.

"I thought three years ago when we got married that having you as my wife was the best feeling in the world and losing you would kill me. But us having a family was best feeling in the world and it was taken away from me because I was too selfish and scared in the beginning. And I want kids now but I'm terrified of them being taken away from me like this again." he said allowing his tears finally fall.

You wrapped your arms around his shaking form and laid down in the couch, situation yourself so he could lay his head on your chest. You gently ran your fingers through his soft golden locks to soothe him, letting your tears fall as well.

"Leon... this is not your fault and its absolutely NOT the world punishing you. You were scared and didn't know what to do. Hell, I was terrified." You lifted up his face to have him focus on you, gently stroking his stubbley cheek with your thumb.

"But you can NOT blame yourself for this. I love you too fucking much to see you fight yourself and think that world is punishing you for being scared." Your were crying in full force now. Leon gently grabbed the back of your neck, placing a gentle and loving kiss on your lips. You kissed him back smiling. Leon slowly pulled away, letting your noses still touch.

"I love you too, Angel." He said smiling, running his finger through your soft h/c locks. He paused for a moment, thinking about you, your lives, and everything that you both had been through. He looked into your e/c eyes with his loving blue ones.

"I want us to try again. I want a baby. Please, Sweetheart?"

Your heart swelled at the words coming from him. You've been wanting to try again over the last month, but were terrified of the outcome. But more than that you were willing to risk it all to have a family with the love of your life. With a giant smile on your face you said "Yes, Leon.".

That was all he needed to hear before he captured your lips in a deep passionate kiss. You wrapped your arms around his neck while he pulled closer to his body. Leon’s tongue gently licked your lips for an entrance that you happily allowed, making you quietly moan and sent shivers down your spine. His started slowing lifting your t-shirt up to caress your breasts and removed your bra while kissing down your neck leaving gentle bite marks. You let out a sigh and pushed Leon's jacket off of him, making him discard it somewhere on the floor. Leon wrapped your legs around his waist and picked you up to head to the bedroom. He gently laid you down on the bed and hovered over you smiling.

"Aww, no couch sex this time?" You joked pouting your lips. Leon chuckled and peck your lips. He leaned back and removed his shirt revealing his toned body. You felt yourself getting more hot by the looking at the man above you who you loved for than life its self . As you scanned his body you noticed in his tight jeans that he was just as excited as you were. You reached your hands out to his waist to undo his belt when his hands gently grabbed your wrists. Leon looked down at you with his now dark navy blue lust and love filled eyes before placing your hands down to your sides.

"Not yet, Sweetheart." He said in a sultry voice causing your arousal to heighten. Leon removed your jeans in one swift motion. You look down at him as he place his large calloused hands on waist line of your panties, slowly pulling them off. The cool air caused you too shiver as it met your hot wet folds. You let out a quiet moan as he began kissing your inner thigh.

"Fuck. your soaking, Babe." Leon said while collecting your wetness.

"Leon... Please" you moaned. He smiled and gave your clit a gentle kiss before giving your heat the attention your body had been craving. His slow licks over your folds and feeling of facial hair rubbing against you set a fire inside of you. You felt your stomach begin to tighten when he began licking circles on your sensitive bud. Leon pushed your thighs up and further apart, giving him better access to suck on your clit and folds. A loud moan left your lips at the feeling and you tugged on his silky blonde locks. Leon moaned at the sting on his scalp, lavishing in the feeling and taste of your juices. He slowly inserted his index and in middle fingers into your wet cavern, rubbing that sensitive spot inside of you.

"Fuuck, Leon." You moaned bucking your hips against his tongue and fingers. Your walls tighten around his fingers, signaling that you were close to your high. Leon moved his fingers faster, making your back lift off the bed and toes curl. Your orgasm took over your body, leaving you breathless. Your body shook and your juices soaking the sheets. Leon removed his fingers from inside you to lick off the mess on them and rubbed your thighs. He gently kissed your lips, allowing you to taste your release.

"You good, baby?" He said smirking while resting his forehead against yours. Catching your breath, you smiled.

"Better than good. But I think its only fair if I pay you back." You said smirking. Leon sat on his knees and allowed your hands removed his belt. With his help you removed his jeans and boxer briefs. His hard dick hit right below his belly button, the tip an angry red with a little bit of precum making your mouth drool. You positioned yourself so that you were sat up a little but still laying down and he was above you. You placed your hands around him and gently started stroking then up and down. Leon took a deep breath as you ran you thumb over his sensitive head before slowly taking him into your mouth. His length was hot and heavy on your tongue and the taste of his precum only turned you on more. You swirled your tongue around his tip and gently kissed it before kissing up from his pelvis to his faint happy trail while you continued to stroke him.

"God, you're going to be the end of me." Leon moaned out, looking into your e/c while gently stroking your cheek. Your smirked and popped him back into your mouth. You bobbed your head up and down while stroking what couldn't fit into your mouth. Leon gently pulled you away kissed your lips, making you lay back down. You looked up at him confused.

"Not tonight, Babygirl.". He said before he slowly slid himself inside of you, kissing your forehead. You let out a soft moan at the feeling of him stretching your tight walls.

"Fuck..." Leon groaned at how tight you were. He moved his hips at a slow but deep pace while nipping at your neck collar bone. You wrapped your arms around his neck, bringing him as close to you as physically possible so your bodies were flushed against each other. He slowly started picking up his pace, lifting your legs around his waist so he could hit the spot inside you that made you see stars. Your body felt like it was in fire, your nails digging into his back. Your walls hugged him like a vice, showing that you were close, making him moan into your neck.

"I love you." He whispered, his ocean eyes staring in yours with your foreheads and noses touching.

"I lo- love you too, Leon. So much." You said as you felt almost reaching your high. Leon placed his thumb on clit, tracing circles around. You moaned loudly, Leon kissing you passionately as you came hard. As you felt yourself come undone, your second orgasm much more intense than the first; you felt Leon cum inside of you. The warmth of his seed soothing your aching walls, he gently pulled away from the kiss. He rubbed his nose against yours while gently rubbing your sides with him still inside of you as he began softening. Both of you held each other close, trying to catch your breathes. After a few minutes, Leon slowly pulled himself out of you, both of you whimpering as you missed the feeling of each other. He pulled you close, laying your head on top of his chest and wrapping the covers over the both of you.

"You okay?" Leon asked tired while stroking your cheek. You moved a strand of his disheveled hair out of his face.

"I've never been better." You said with a tired smile, bringing him into a gentle kiss. "I love you, Leon." You said.

Leon smiled, pulling you closer to him.

"I love you more.".

****

"The files for the new job are in the manila envelope over there." You said pointing to the kitchen island.

"Another? I just came back from one." Leon said as he walked over to you.

"Yeah, but apparently were working on this one together." You said shrugging your shoulders.

Leon sat down at the island and opened the envelope and saw some papers and another white envelope. Leon looked over the papers and saw that one was actually a blood test from the doctor's and one thing stood out to him

Y/N Kennedy:

Pregnancy Test- Positive

Leon stared at the words in front of him for a moment in awe. He jumped from where he was sitting, knocking the bar stool over, and ran over to you gently placing his hands on your belly.

"You're pregnant?! How far along are you?!" Leon asked excited.

You laughed at how he was basically acting like a kid getting the best Christmas present he could have gotten.

"Yup. I'm 10 weeks and the baby is as healthy as they can be."

Leon picked you up in his strong arms and gently twirled you around kissing you.

"You still have another thing to open, Kennedy." You said when he set you down, handing him the little envelope.

Leon looked at you and opened it. In the envelope were sonogram pictures. Leon felt tears fall down his face as he looked at the pictures. The pictures that symbolized your loved for each other. The little creation that was made out of the of you. Leon slightly jumped as he felt you wrapped your arms about his waist from beside him and kiss his chest; he instinctively wrapped his left arm around your shoulder pulling you close.

"So, Mr. Kennedy. Are you ready to complete this mission with me?" You said looking up and smiling.

Leon set the sonogram down before wiping the tears from his face. He gently kissed your lips "Always, Mrs. Kennedy.".

****Epilogue****

Leon stepped through the front door of the house barley getting his shoes off before he heard the thumping of little feet.

"DADDY! I MISSED YOU." Your three-year-old daughter came running towards Leon and jumped into his arms.

Leon smiled at the girl with cute freckles and moved a strand of her h/c hair out of her face, gently kissing her forehead.

"Hi Princess, I missed you too. Where's Mommy?" He asked.

"I'm in here." You called from your shared bedroom.

"C'mon Daddy!" Your daughter said, as her gorgeous bright blue eyes she got from her father sparkled.

"Lennox, why don't you go grab a book for Daddy to read to you for bed?" you said.

"Okay, Mommy!" Lennox ran as fast as her little legs could take her into her bedroom to grab her book. Leon smiled at you. You were in one of his shirts and a pair of his boxers that you had been wearing to bed as of late

“I missed my girls" Leon said while wrapping his arms around your waist, his hands landing on the small bump of your stomach. "He giving you a hard time?" He ask as he kissed your shoulder and laid his head on the crook of your neck. Leon could tell you were exhausted by how you relaxed immediately in his arms.

"Yeah, I haven't been able to keep anything down all day. Nyx was never this terrible when I was pregnant with her. He's going to be a stubborn pain in the ass like you". You said smiling causing Leon to laugh. He gently turned you around and kneeled down so he was at eye level with your belly and placed a gentle hand on it.

"Listen here little buddy. Give your mom a break okay? She's amazing and loves you very much. But she can't handle too us or she'll lose her shit." He gently spoke. You both felt a little kick from inside, almost like the little one was responding to you making you both laugh.

"Good, I'm glad we're on the same page kiddo." Leon said while kissing your stomach.

"I GOT IT!!" Lennox announced as she came back into the bedroom. Leon picked her up and carefully threw her over his shoulder making her laugh hysterically as he carried her into her room. You followed them into Lennox’s room and smiled as Leon kneeled down next to her bed and began tickling and giving her kisses. Once your daughter was asleep, the two of headed to bed yourselves. You laid down beside your husband and he began rubbing your belly again.

“'Not father material my ass" you said chuckling.

Leon rolled his eyes smiling before kissing your forehead. “I wouldn’t have this any other way.” He said looking into your eyes.

“Me either. I love you Leon Scott Kennedy.”

“I love you more Y/N Kennedy."

#leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x reader smut #leon s. kennedy x reader #leon s. kennedy x reader smut #resident evil x reader

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everysongineverykey · 3 years

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i don't think queen sings. i don't think she even really knows what singing is, having only let herself be exposed to bitcrushed computery mixtapes of her own theme. i don't think she could even describe the concept if you asked her to do it in her own words, without quoting an online definition. i think for many years, singing was nothing more than another Interesting Lightner Thing to her.

but i do think toriel sings. not for a living, not often, maybe not even very well, but i think she used to sing kris and asriel to sleep when they were younger, and maybe occasionally still does if she thinks they're having a rough time. maybe sometimes, while kris is out at the lake or with a friend, and she's baking a pie alone, she'll murmur an old song to herself, lost in thought, the melodies catching even her by surprise once she snaps out of it. the lyrics might be simple, or they might be complex, the rhyming structure well-thought-our by whatever old artist wrote it. either way, it doesn't matter, because nobody ever hears it.

until someone does. until one day, long after they have finally managed to bring the darkners into the light world corporeally, one snowy day at the dreemurr house, queen finds herself standing quietly next to the wall between the kitchen and the living room, trying not to stare as toriel, her back to queen as she preps some pie dough, sings. queen has no idea what the song is- she probably could search her database for it, but her brain functions are basically non-functioning as she listens. it's strange- she has only ever liked bitcrushed reverse diss tracks and her own snazzy mixtape, but... something about hearing toriel sing so smoothly, so sweetly, so naturally- it has an odd effect on her.

actually, toriel herself has an odd effect on queen- when they first met, she shook her hand, as lightners do, and the softness of her paw was... well. it's not often that queen, with all the words in every language in the world, is rendered speechless. but she was then, as the light woman- yes, good word for her, light, she shines, she glows, her smile nearly blinds queen, even though she has no eyes- took her furry hand in queen's, beamed, and told her i am toriel, and she is now, too, as she watches her take out the rolling pin, singing all the while. does she even realize she's doing it? because queen sure does.

from then on, queen hears her song in everything- in the hoarse undertones of kris' quiet voice, in the sound of the wind over the lake, in the background at all times, even when the only sound is her internal fan. she asks kris about it offhandedly, and they mumble something about toriel singing them to sleep when they were little. they sound embarrassed. queen cannot believe this ingratitude- she would KILL to hear her sing that often.

for centuries, lightner authors have waxed poetic about seeing the whole world in someone's eyes, hearing bells ring when their beloved laughs. looking at toriel dreemurr, queen finally understands that.

perhaps i phrased some things badly earlier. i said i don't think queen sings- it would be more accurate to say i don't think she used to sing. i think these days, she's working on it, listening to random songs over and over, pausing them and repeating the lyrics, trying to copy the singers' tones and melodies. it's a challenge, to be sure- her voice box was not designed for this sort of thing, so she never tried it- but she'll get there. and in the meantime, she will continue hanging around toriel, waiting for a lull in the conversation, for the lightner teacher who has taught her so much to slip into her element, and listen for the bells ringing as she starts to sing.

#deltarune #quoriel #anyways. queen learning about lightner things but make it quoriel

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dadsbongos · 3 years

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Liebeskummer

Movie/Game/Show: Danganronpa: Killing Harmony Dynamic: Korekiyo Shinguji/Reader (and his sister shit but i actually take it seriously, unlike kodaka) Warnings: korekiyo’s backstory/trauma (his sister), sexual/physical/mental abuse implications (and outright said but not described in detail except the emotional and mental), anxiety in both kork and reader and mental breakdown(s?), airhead shit but it’s sad Summary: It’s all her fault. ~~~

Korekiyo suddenly turned to the girl beside him in his quiet research lab, “Have you ever heard of Jack of Fables, (Y/n)?” at her, albeit confused, nod, he continued, “Well, all those myths, fairy tales, and even nursery rhymes in reference to ‘Jack’ are actually about the same man. What this means is that Jack Be Nimble, of the candlestick, Jack the Giant Killer, who sold his cows then murdered and robbed a giant, Stingy Jack, who tricked the devil so relentlessly that he was banned from both afterlives, Jack of Jack and Jill, who cracked open his skull, Jack o’ Lantern, Spirit of Halloween and Headless Horseman, and Jack Frost, Spirit who ends autumn and begins winter are all one in the same. He made so many poor life decisions that he now serves as an immortal representation of winer with a pumpkin serving as head and flashlight. Is that not fascinating?”

“Aw,” (Y/n) grinned, nodding once again, “Like the American ‘Florida man’.”

Korekiyo sighed, disappointment palpable in his tone, “That is… actually much more accurate than I wish to admit.”

“Wait, wait,” she tilted her head, patting the man’s arm despite his attention already being on her, “So… like, was he also Jack the Ripper…?”

His eyes widened at her statement, “(Y/n), I must be grateful you were not born to the life of a woman of the night in Victorian London because I assure you, Jack the Ripper was incredibly real.”

“Oh, that’s so sad…” she pouted before clearing it back into her usual smile almost instantly, “Well, thanks for the folklore fun fact, Kiyo! I didn’t know that Jack was so dumb! God, I’d hate to be like him…”

“You do realize you’re not so bright yourself, yes?”

She shrugged, “I’m fine with that, but at least I’m not tricking the devil!”

So sweet and kind, the Ultimate Composer was. Against all expectations, she wasn’t highbrow or traditionally genius, but she was more than excellent company. And, to top it off, the idea of turning her into one of Sister’s friends was oddly… sickening.

It should’ve been perfectly fine - she was a deeply respectable young woman unlike Miu and Maki, there’s no reason he could have against her.

It just felt wrong.

“Oh! Oh!” she burst out, clapping her hands together, before turning and reaching into a bag slung around her hip. Rooting through scrapped sheet music and notes, once she found what she’d been searching for she held it up excitedly, “Boom!”

Korekiyo took the item, just barely brushing his wrapped fingertips against hers, “Cleopatra’s Pearl Cocktail… much appreciated,” he pressed the small bottle into a pocket on his uniform, “If you enjoy giving gifts, perhaps we can discuss cultural gift-giving practices?”

“Ooh, Kiyo’s gonna teach me?”

“Hmm,” Korekiyo hummed quietly to himself, “Well, perhaps… you would prefer I tell you of a composition piece in relevance to mythology, yes?”

“That’d be nice,” the girl giggled softly, rubbing the back of her neck, “To be honest, I just like when you talk… you sound so smart all the time!”

“My thanks, (Y/n),” he nodded curtly, muttering to himself before coming to speak up, “Alright, I believe that the composition for you would be The Ring of the Nibelung, of Germany.”

“Oh, I know that one!” she knew most ‘ones’, to be fair.

“I had suspected so, but have you heard of the heroic legends behind the pieces?”

“Ah, no… are those what you’re gonna explain?”

“I had planned to, yes. Alright, well, the four parts, as you know, are The Rhinegold, The Valkyrie, Siegfried, and Twilight of the Gods. Nowadays, they are most commonly played as individual, separate works despite making one complete story. They were always intended as a sequence - as The Ring cycle, cleverly. Each piece revolves on a loose basis to German heroic tales and Norse legendary sagas, with the overarching tale of the magic ring forged by the Nibelung dwarf, Alberich, which grants the power to rule the world,” he paused at the sight of (Y/n) yawning, his lips pursed and eyes shot down to his shoes before flickering back up to the girl, “Ah, my apologies for taking far longer than necessary. You must find this- “

“Ah, no!” (Y/n) shook her head, waving her hands about as though it would physically prove how far from needed his apology was, “That’s not it! I’m just kinda tired, ya know?” as if to prove her point, another yawn washed over her, “I hadn’t slept well last night after Kirumi…”

“I see,” Korekiyo nodded, closing his eyes to think over his words, “I apologize for making it about myself. If you wish, I could walk you to your dormitory. Now that you mention it, it has been quite the long day.”

“You don’t have to, Kiyo, I’d hate to bother you so much in one day let alone one sitting,” the composer puffed her cheeks out, “That’d be so obnoxious…”

“I don’t find it obnoxious whatsoever, especially if it’s to aid- “ he hesitated, “to aid a friend.”

He hadn’t had friends before. People usually found him creepy and that was the end of the story - nobody approached him and he didn’t branch out. Life went on. The world spun. His loneliness was everlasting and yet nonexistent. He has Sister. Though, deep down, he knows. She’s on another plane of reality with loneliness stronger than his, that’s why he sends her respectable young women.

Just like (Y/n).

But just… not (Y/n). For reasons he personally chooses to not disclose to even himself.

“Aww, Kiyo! You care!” the girl placed a hand over her heart as if to show that the organ itself was squeezing in delight at his offer.

“Of course, I do,” Korekiyo didn’t like how quiet she made him. How jittery and nervous. And he didn’t like how it made him question the way Sister made him feel.

She also made him nervous but it felt different. He liked to pretend it was the nervousness of a love you don’t quite have yet, but he fully knows he’d be lying. She was a mean girl, a bully in school before being hospitalized. Prone to violent and outright frightening outbursts when she had the energy to do more than force him to her side.

But he didn’t like questioning those feelings for Sister. Who he was, was based on her. His uniform. His passion and talent. His hair. His perfect complexion. His life as the universe knows it is an ode to her.

It’s too late for him to go back now… he’s already done so much in her name it’d be cruel to give up now. He might as well continue for Sister.

“If you really don’t mind, then yeah, I’d like it if we could walk together… I get a little nervous going around at night, you never know who’s gonna snap…”

“And you trust me?”

Shit. That’s what gets him in trouble. It’s as Sister always said. ‘Too naive to make his choices, and once he’s free, too inept to make the right ones.’

“Well, yeah,” (Y/n) spoke as if there was hardly any thought to the answer, “All you’ve shown me is somebody worth trusting,” then, she’s quick to remember poor Kaede, “Well, maybe I’m being silly. But hey, if I have to choose between dying trusting my friends and paranoid beyond myself, then maybe I’d- “ she paused, “Ehhh, I don’t like the way that’s coming out.”

“I understand what you’re attempting to say,” Korekiyo reassured, turning towards his research lab’s exit, “Let us start towards the dormitories, yes?”

“Right!” (Y/n) nearly found herself jogging to catch up to Korekiyo’s long-strided head start, she clutched the strap of her bag as she did so, “So… you heard about Angie’s plan, right?”

“To perform a resurrection?”

“Do you think it’ll work?” she seemed antsier than was typical for her, “I mean, you’re into anthropology, so, like, has there ever been a case where that did work? Do you know?”

“No, besides, that would be more akin to history, remember?” she probably didn’t, her memory failed her at an ungodly amalgamation of best and worst of times.

“Oh, yeah,” she murmured and nodded, pretending to recall the difference between the two.

“Who would you desire back into this game, if you could?”

“Rantaro,” her answer was quick, her fingers looping together nervously, “We didn’t really talk much, but uhm, whenever we did - he was really nice. He said I reminded him of a sister of his… so that’s a good thing, right?”

Depends on who you ask, really.

“You grew attached to him so quickly?” there was no jealousy there, he tried to convince himself.

“I’d be lying if I said I didn’t wish I’d gotten to know him more. He was always running around, trying to save us, and in the end… it got him killed.”

A lot of things will get you killed.

Korekiyo shook off the thoughts racking his brain, “Your care for him even through his estrangedness and peculiarity is truly beautiful, (Y/n),” he fiddled with the locket piece hanging around his shoulders, “Even your care for myself. I’d be lying if I’d said it wasn’t endearing.”

“You’re not…” her words died out, not wanting to lie to a dear companion of hers, “You’re a little off-putting but you’re not undeserving of love, Kiyo.”

It was a complete 180 from what Sister had told him his entire life. A new lesson coming in far too late. He had to earn love. He should’ve been crawling on his knees and pleading for affection, but now he was supposed to simply receive it? It sounded so incredibly fake. A fictitious tale told alongside gumdrop fairies and candy trees.

No place for someone of realistic standard.

No place for him.

“You’re far too kind, (Y/n).”

“Maybe you just haven’t known nice people,” she suddenly stopped, slapping a palm to her mouth and muffling against it, “I’m so sorry!”

“Worry not,” Korekiyo continued walking, “I’m unphased.”

Because maybe it was true.

Maybe Sister wasn’t so nice.

There was an itch at his skin in the thought and he shook his head.

Sister was kind enough to love someone like him. Who was of rotted soul and rancid heart.

“I shouldn’t have just said that, especially since I don’t really know your life…”

“Would you like to learn it someday?”

(Y/n) was fairly shocked at how quickly he seemed to breeze by her insult to his family and friends - well, if he had any friends - but she wouldn’t refuse. It was extra time with Korekiyo! Who could turn that down?

“I’d love to.”

“Tea and cookies,” (Y/n) pumped a fist in the air, “What could be better than enjoying those with a friend?”

Korekiyo felt his lips twitch up behind his mask at the rhetorical question, he reached out for his teacup, “Perhaps freedom from this killing game?”

“Oh, yeah, huh…” she deflated, “Jeez, I can’t believe I’d say that…”

Oh, great, of course, now he’s gone and made the local ball of sunshine in this school upset.

“Nevermind that, (Y/n), it was a tease…” he gripped the cup a little tighter, cheeks heating up in humiliation at his failed joke, “I apologize if it seemed like anything other than such.”

“No, don’t apologize, it’s fine! It was kind of a dumb thing to say, now that I put some brain into it,” so it made sense she’d said it, (Y/n) frowned at the bitter thought.

“Ah,” the clink of a cup against the table caught the girl’s attention, “I must change my mask in order to properly enjoy this tea and these cookies,” as the anthropologist went to turn, he was stopped by another outburst from the girl.

“No, don’t! Uh, here!” she clenched her eyes shut, papped her palms over her face, and turned her head downwards, “See? Now I can’t!”

“You don’t have to go to such lengths, I could simply turn- “

“No, no, I want you to feel comfortable and I heard once that doing things to make your friends comfortable is, like, a way to make them like you more?” she huffed at the wording, “Just, I don’t know… I want you to know that I care. Ya get it? No need to turn yourself away like that when I can just not look.”

A tuft of air passed through his nostrils at the girl.

Sister would adore a friend like her.

Korekiyo pulled down his mask, brows drawn tight towards his eyes at the new realization. It was no longer a matter of her being respectable, it was now the knowledge that someone as tender-hearted as (Y/n) would be loved beyond comprehension by Sister.

But… no. Sister couldn’t have her. She’d understand, right? Of course. She could have someone else - the other bubbly girl, what’s her name? Angie. She could have Angie.

Korekiyo just… he just needed (Y/n). Something about her was calming and sweet. He picked his mask for eating from a pocket in his uniform and carefully adjusted it over his lips so as to not smudge his lipstick. It wouldn’t anyway, he knew this, but it usually never backfired to be too sure.

The lipstick in itself was quite the hassle. Another homage to Sister that she might not even be seeing. So was the hair. It got tangled and knotted and was hell to dry after a shower.

“Not to rush you at all, but are you done? Cuz my eyes are starting to hurt… I think I’m squeezing them too hard.”

“Right, yes, I am.”

He really shouldn’t think like that… Sister deserved to be honored.

As if she’d been reading his mind, (Y/n) leaned over slightly, pointing at Korekiyo’s hair, “Hey, hey, how do you manage that? It always looks so silky and soft and well-kept.”

“Ah, well, it is quite troublesome most days, but with patience and rather expensive products, I keep it together.”

“I was wondering, too, do you ever put it up?”

“Not usually, though, that would be… nice on occasion,” he sipped at his tea, enjoying the way (Y/n) shyly glanced away to prove she didn’t want to invade his privacy. She was too delightful to be in a place such as this, even if he did enjoy the beauties of law-absence.

“Uh, I don’t want to come off pushy or like you have to let me, but if you want, I’d love to put your hair up! To be honest, I’ve been wanting to for a while,” her eyes widened at her own statement, “Oh, that sounded creepy. I’m so sorry.”

“I am hardly one to judge,” he reached over for a cookie, “But, if you’re so inclined, I won’t protest.”

“Yay!” she bounced slightly in her chair, “Oh, that’s great, Kiyo, thanks.”

“Shall we go to your dorm after finishing our refreshments?”

“I’d like that,” (Y/n) grinned.

And to think she almost didn’t approach Korekiyo on that first day in the school. How ridiculous could she have been to judge based on looks? Sure, he was a little strange and the way he spoke was unlike any teenager she’d ever met, but he was still a person. He deserved to be given companionship.

Besides, he’d only ever shown her kindness and support.

He didn’t even make fun of her when she said something stupid in front of everyone.

She cringed at the memory of every time Kokichi or Miu or Maki prodded at her. Even Ryoma and Kaito had picked on her when she misspoke during the first trial and just brought up a point the class had already proven. It made her heart wrinkle and shrink at the mere thought. Kokichi still made fun of her for questioning Tsumugi’s whereabouts during Rantaro’s murder.

“You’re staring into your tea, it will grow cold if you only look at it.”

“Oh, yeah,” shaking her head, (Y/n) silently cursed herself for spacing out. What an awful habit of hers, it was, “Sorry for taking so long.”

“You shouldn’t apologize, I’m not upset in the slightest,” he felt his heart lighten at the tiny smile that illuminated her face, “I simply enjoy spending this time together.”

“You’re too nice sometimes, Kiyo,” she giggled, but they both recognized the tingle of nervousness jumbling within it, “If you’re not careful, I might fall for you or something…”

“Maybe that wouldn’t be such a bad thing?”

I wouldn’t mind, she wanted to say.

If you’ll have me, he wished to murmur.

Then he felt his chest tighten.

“Can I…” he tapped a finger to the table, “ask you a question?”

“Of course.”

“Have you ever been in love?”

“Uhm,” she bit her lip as she thought back, “No… why?”

“How do you think it feels?”

“Like, you could be free and yourself around the person? I’m not too sure, but I think if you and someone else are in love then you’ll accept each other completely, you know? Sure, there’s flaws in every person, but I think you accept those, too.”

“I see…”

“Kiyo, why do you ask?”

“I…” his brows furrowed, “A lot has been on my mind as of late.”

“Alright, I won’t pry,” standing from the dining table, (Y/n) clapped her hands together, “Now, if you’re still down, I’d love to put your hair up!”

“As it stands, I am still, as you put it, ‘down’,” Korekiyo nodded before joining the girl and starting towards her dorm room.

“Nice!” she pointed directly ahead, “Now, onward!”

A total airhead at her truest, Korekiyo thought. He didn’t usually partake in the type, but something about (Y/n) just pulled him in tighter every time he tried turning away.

So, what’s the harm in giving in? Swimming against the tide only ever led to drowning anyway, so why fight it?

Sister… Sister was dead. Is dead. Resurrection isn’t possible and hasn’t been in human history. And she had changed so much of him. (Y/n) would never force him to bend to her ideal.

The more he thought about Sister in comparison to (Y/n), the more he realized that Sister felt like a ball and chain - and (Y/n) felt like a breath of fresh air.

Just her name inside his own head sounded as sweet as the best form of heaven.

“Here we are!” (Y/n) cheered upon their arrival to her room, “There’s probably a bunch-load of unfinished works in here so just… don’t judge them too harshly, okay?”

“I could hardly judge an unfinished masterpiece.”

“I don’t know about masterpieces…”

“If you create them with heart and soul, there’s nobody who can effectively say they aren’t except for yourself,” Korekiyo enters the room after her, legs carrying him towards her desk as she roots around her bathroom for a hairbrush and hair tie, “Sadly, this is also applicable to disasters with effort put into them. However, just from skimming these, I can tell you they are not such disasters.”

“Aw, thanks, Kiyo, you know - I know I’m the Ultimate Composer and junk, but jeez it gets so nerve-wracking when people hear my stuff. I like what I write, but who’s to say other people will?”

“I understand that. Showing others your work is extremely unsettling at times,” he followed the girl to her bed and sat between her knees on the floor, “I recall feeling that way when I would dabble in artistry.”

“You can draw?”

“I would when I was much younger,” he felt her fingers run over his scalp and through his hair and the weight looming over his shoulders practically melted off, “I haven’t held onto any of them, and they’ve likely aged poorly, but I know how I felt showing them around.”

“Why’d you stop? If you don’t mind my asking,” reaching around, (Y/n) threaded her fingers through Korekiyo’s bangs and, as gently as humanly possible, pulled the hair hanging over and around his face back into a slicked style.

“My… sister, she always rathered that I participate in anthropology with her. I wasn’t all that good anyways.”

“Aw, that’s kinda sad. Even if you weren’t good, you could’ve improved over time.”

“Do you truly believe that, (Y/n)?”

“Of course, I mean, talents are just developed over time, right? Angie didn’t pop out of the womb an art genius and I didn’t start off great at writing music, you just keep at it and eventually your skill level is way better than when you started.”

Sister always said he’d be garbage at drawing. Somebody like him could never learn.

She tied off and twisted until the bun was perfect - well, not perfect. It was presentable enough, and it was just a bun anyway! Not like they had anywhere to be.

“Sorry it’s messy,” she scratched at her cheek, feeling anxious that he’d be upset with her work.

“I…” he felt another little smile peek over him, it was indeed messy with stray hairs sticking out here and there and a few tiny bumps running over his head, but even so, “I love it.”

“You do?”

“It’s a gesture from you, why wouldn’t I?”

Standing beside Korekiyo at the mirror, (Y/n) twiddled her thumbs before spewing out her question, “It’s totally cool if not, but can I hug you? Sorry if that’s weird!”

“No… it’s…” Sister never asked to touch him, and now that he thought about it, she never seemed to care when he told her to stop, “That would be wonderful.”

As her arms slowly came around him, he felt truly at ease. With Sister, there was always this fear of never being what she wanted. That she hated him deep down. With (Y/n), it felt like finally being attached to someone you were meant to. Returning to a place of deep affection.

“You truly do care about me, don’t you, (Y/n)?”

“What kind of question is that?” she back-pedals, “I mean, of course, I do. You’re very dear to me, Kiyo.”

Maybe even a little too dear, considering the current climate of the killing game.

But even so, neither of them pulls away. Neither cares enough to wrangle themselves from indulging in the other’s touch. It feels too good against their skin.

It’s then that Korekiyo’s brain strikes the flint to create the burning thought - maybe Sister wasn’t all that great. Maybe Sister didn’t love him.

She’s only ever made him miserable, now that he recalls it all.

(Y/n) doesn’t. She makes him feel human and alive and adored. He likes the way she makes him feel. And between the two, he much rather would be praised than berated.

Oh God, what did this mean again?

Where do the creation myths go?

Who’s Princess Kaguya?

Her head throbs at the thoughts rumbling through her. She tried to get Korekiyo to get someone, anyone, but her to organize his notes.

Shuichi would love this stuff! You two should bond!

Gonta could learn about being gentlemanly from you! It’d be a great learning experience!

I know you don’t like Miu that much, but maybe spending more time together could make you understand each other more?

Anyone.

And yet, Korekiyo denied. He liked spending time with her. He wouldn’t mind answering every question she had - no matter how many times she asked it. He was a patient person, he could handle it.

(Y/n) looked at all the books and stray papers surrounding her alike, bottom lip tugged between her teeth in focus and face beating hot in vivid embarrassment. He wasn’t even looking at her, thank God, but still… it was so mortifying that she’d already lost track of what she was doing.

She tried so hard to pay attention, she really, really did!

She wanted to help so bad. She wanted to be useful so bad.

But she knew… she’s not a smart person, per se. It was beaten over her head repeatedly her entire life by her family, schooling, peers, and even her friends. She was an idiot who couldn’t do anything right.

It’s why she wanted Korekiyo to ask someone else.

But how could she say no to him? He was always so nice, it’d be downright mean to refuse him. Right?

She felt her eyes burn, vision growing blurry through tears. Setting down the papers in her hands - (Y/n) covered her eyes to keep any wetness from splotching the notes below. It was the least a fucking moron could do.

“(Y/n)? Are you feeling okay?”

Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck

She nodded shakily, just wanting Korekiyo to ignore her and continue his work. Better yet, he’d kick her out and she could dodge the incoming humiliation altogether.

“Yeah,” her voice cracked, lips trembling.

Goddammit.

She heard papers rustling before she could feel the presence at her side. Fingertips just barely grazing her body before hesitating back, “You’re lying.”

Understatement of the year.

“I just… I’m so sorry, Kiyo. I’m such an idiot, I knew I couldn’t do this,” she whimpered, desperately trying to grab and suffocate down her bubbling sobs before they wracked her throat, “I’m too fucking dumb to do anything right… I’m sorry…”

“No, no, don’t apologize. You’ve done nothing wrong and you’re no idiot,” he’s immediately slammed with every memory of every time he’s called her such a thing. No matter how nice he tried to be about it, he still aided her insecurity, “I’m sorry for ever saying you were. Intellect is not measured by how well you can do a task nor should everyone’s mind be measured the same. Intelligence is fickle and is spread over a vast variety of subjects. You’re not an idiot for not being able to do something you’re not accustomed to.”

“I just… I- I wanted to help you but then I forgot everything you said about organizing them and then which regions are which and what even is a gorgon?”

He chuckled quietly at her question, “A creature in Greek mythology most commonly in reference to three sisters - Medusa, Euryale, and Sthenno - with hair made of living, venomous snakes that turned those who so much as looked upon them to stone,” he glanced around at what (Y/n) had gotten done, “I see that the filing in relation to music is nearly completed for your half.”

“That’s about all I’m good for.”

“And I would not have managed that so easily, music was never an incredible strength of mine - though I do admire it.”

“Don’t lie to me, Kiyo…”

“I would never,” he moved his notes away to sit more comfortably next to the girl, “In fact, if you’d be willing to listen…” his throat tightened and heart thumped in his chest, “I would like to tell you of something that’s been troubling me for quite some time.”

“Yeah,” she wiped away her tears, sniffling, “of course.”

“I told you of my sister, correct?” he waited for her nod of confirmation to continue, “Well, it’s my belief that…” his fists clenched.

What if she didn’t believe him? What if she blamed him? How do you tell someone your older sister raped and abused you when you’re barely even coming to terms with the fact yourself?

“(Y/n), I…” he stopped, gut bunching in knots before he suddenly ripped down his mask and turned to face her, “I think I need help…”

“What? You’re just wearing lipstick, Kiyo, there’s nothing wrong with that.”

“No, no, no, no,” he shook his head, hands shaking wildly as he pulled out the ponytail (Y/n) had done up earlier and yanked through his hair, “E-everything I am is because of her! She consumes me even in death! She- she- she hurt me…”

“Oh,” the girl moved to sit up on her knees, hands reaching out but not yet touching him, “What happened, Kiyo? You can tell me, I’m listening.”

“She told me I was an awful boy, nobody but her could love someone so foul and creepy… she- “ he moved to grip his sleeves, “She touched me,” he looked into the girl’s eyes, “Is it my fault? Am I so disgusting? Why would she do this?”

“Do you want me to hold you or no?” at his shaky nod, she instantly took Korekiyo into a hug, cradling his head and shoulders to her body and stroking through his hair, “You’re more than what she made you. You’re bigger and better than her manipulation. And it’s not your fault she did what she did. It’s completely and totally on her. She took advantage of you, Kiyo, that’s not your fault.”

He grabbed her arm and pressed his face into her shirt as she held him, “Am I rotten? Am I lovable?”

“You’re the best person I’ve ever met. You’re worthy of love and care.”

His lipstick smeared over her shirt and across his cheek and neither of them minded. It would wash off eventually. Her stain on his life would come out.

“When we get out,” (Y/n) began again, “do you want to seek professional help? You can get it, Kiyo.”

He was slow to nod, beginning to grow tired from dosing out tears and trauma at once, “I do… thank you, (Y/n)...”

“No need to thank me.”

“(Y/n)?” she hummed quietly in acknowledgement, “Even if it isn’t for field work… I wish to travel the country with you. I want to show you the beauty of humanity as I know it… for our sakes.”

Looking down, (Y/n) caught the gentleness in his eyes, tender and soft and awaiting her response, she smiled softly, brushing back his hair, “I would love to, Kiyo. If it’s truly something you want to do, I would be happy to go anywhere with you.”

Nighttime was quickly approaching and with the atmosphere and turmoil of the class, (Y/n) didn’t feel very safe being out so late.

“You’re certain you don’t wish for me to walk you to your room?”

“No, you finish up here,” (Y/n) waved off Korekiyo’s offer, “Don’t be such a worry-wart, yeah? I’ll be fine! You better take care of yourself while I’m gone, though.”

He nodded, a small smile stretching over him, “I will, dear (Y/n), don’t worry.”

The girl’s eyes widened slightly before she returned his beam, “You have a cute smile, Kiyo.”

“Oh,” right, he didn’t have his mask on at the moment. It was refreshing to wake up and not trouble himself with makeup for a woman he wasn’t sure even cared - dare he say it, it was nice, even.

He’d only taken his mask off around (Y/n), it felt intimate. Sweet. Something passed only between them.

“Thank you.”

She nodded before turning back and pressing outward from his research lab, “I’ll see ya tomorrow, Kiyo! You better have the sweetest dreams, ya hear me?”

“You as well.”

He returned to cleaning up his lab, occasionally stumbling over a floorboard looser than the others. How troublesome.

That’s when her voice picked up from within his brain.

“You never loved me.”

He looked around despite knowing exactly where the voice was coming from.

“You let her do this to you. You let her take you from me.”

Pushing past them, he persisted in rooting through his notes and organizing his papers.

“She hates you. She’s scared of you. She’s just trying to be nice. You scare her. You scare all of them. You rotten, rotten boy. You’ve been ruined - only I could love a face so hideous and broken. A horrible, horrible boy lucky enough to be given the love I did.”

His hands shook, fingers twitching and heart thrumming heavy, “No. (Y/n) likes me. She enjoys my company.”

“Why would she enjoy the company of someone so lonely and depressing? So gross and foul? She probably hates you for partaking in your own sister’s touch.”

“No, she- she doesn’t… she knows it’s not… it’s not my fault…”

“Are you inside her head? How do you know? How are you certain? I’m the only one who ever loved you - and you’ve abandoned me. Left me all alone.”

“No, I- I haven’t abandoned you, Sister! Please, believe me, I never abandoned you.”

“So, you know what you must do to prove yourself to me.”

“(Y/n) wouldn’t like that…”

“(Y/n) wouldn’t like you anyway.”

She’s right, right? She’s right. Someone as wonderful and beautiful as (Y/n) could never adore him the way he does her. He loves her and she must find him repulsive. Staying out of fear.

Out of pity for the boy abused by his sister. And so, who better to return to than the more predictable of the two?

(Y/n) may have felt more like coming home than Sister - but Sister was home. (Y/n) was comfort. Sister was familiarity.

He found his foot planted against the loose floorboard once again. He knew how he had to make up for his misdeeds and abandonment.

“I’m truly relieved to see that you got to your room safely,” Korekiyo murmured to (Y/n).

“Huh? Oh yeah,” she pointed over to their local gentle giant, “Gonta and I crossed paths on my way and he wanted to walk me to my room and I just couldn’t say no to him. It’s nice to have someone you trust in this ‘game’. Well, other than you,” the elevator jumbled slightly as it dove down into Monokuma’s makeshift courtroom, “I trust you, obviously.”

She shouldn’t. And he wants to tell her that.

But as Kokichi and Shuichi take glances at him from across the elevator, he knows that she’ll figure things out soon enough.

And, during the trial, when Shuichi’s convicting Korekiyo of the murder of Angie Yonaga and Tenko Chabashira - she does. And she cries and screams and throws a fit. Demanding Korekiyo to fight back harder. Demanding Shuichi to stop lying and get serious. Because Korekiyo would never kill somebody.

He was nice. He was a gentleman. He cared about people. He had stolen her heart - and a man who managed that wouldn’t kill anybody. So, of course, Shuichi was lying.

“Do I have to remind you of what’ll happen if you don’t vote?” Monokuma bit out.

(Y/n) clutched at her hair - she knew what she had to do. But every time she went to vote for Korekiyo, her body wouldn’t let her.

Reaching over, the boy himself took her hand in his, “Allow me,” as he guided her hand over her voting panel. No matter how she swatted at his hand or tried to wrench herself from Korekiyo’s grip, he pressed her vote into his name.

She was forced to watch as he was strung up and spun. Made dizzy and sickly. She was made to watch as he fell into the melting pot. Fires eating at his body until he was no more than spirit.

As Monokuma and the sister who had harmed him so horrifically worked as one to rid the world of his soul.

Eyes went to (Y/n) as the execution subsided. Her sobs and hiccups drawing everyone’s attention.

Gonta was the first to approach, a large hand settling on the girl’s back as she cried, silently taking her into a hug.

Her heart wrenched, fingers squeezing at Gonta’s suit and throat rubbing raw with her wild wails.

He could’ve gotten help. He could’ve gotten out with everyone. If she’d just stayed with him then she could’ve done something. Angie and Tenko would be here. Korekiyo would be here.

“Alright, that’s enough,” Kaito’s voice peeked through, “Don’t cry because he’s gone, (Y/n). Move forward - for both of you.”

“I…” she shook her head, choking on a sob, “I don’t think I can…”

Shuichi placed a hand on Kaito’s shoulder, “Just give her a little time.”

As the group moved out of the courtroom, Gonta stayed by (Y/n)’s side up until she clumsily made her way into her dorm room.

Immediately, she collapsed into her bed sheets. Dreading tomorrow. And the next day. And the one after that. And the one after that. And so on. And so forth. Maybe she should’ve known better than to go around falling for a guy in the killing game. Maybe she should’ve held herself up in her room all alone.

There was no escape from this feeling. No hiding. It may get better over time - but Korekiyo would always be gone.

A buzz at the door caught her attention. Her movements were sluggish, honestly just hoping that whoever was there had given up and left by the time she finally answered.

Shuichi stood there, classically uneven, anxious smile and all, “I think there’s something you might be interested in? If you’ll follow me.”

No verbal response was given, only (Y/n) stepping out of her room and shutting the door behind her to give him her confirmation.

He began towards the casino. With a sigh, (Y/n) was about to tell Shuichi off - she didn’t need to start gambling to get over Korekiyo’s death - until he stopped in front of the building.

“I mostly just wanted you to get some fresh air,” he says earnestly before digging in his pocket and pulling out a key with a heart-shaped handle, “I got this from here. You can get your own or keep this one, I think you need it more than I do,” at her confusion he continues to explain, “It can take you into this weird dream-like state where you can see what ‘ideal’ you play in our classmates’ minds… I think you know who I gave this to you for.”

“Kiyo…”

“Yeah. You can see him again, if you want.”

She wanted to be strong and push the key back into Shuichi’s hand - instead, she just looked between him and the key in her hold and nodded slowly, “Thank you, Shuichi…”

He placed a hand on her shoulder, “Sleep well, (Y/n). I know you can grow past this.”

Because he did.

“I’ll try.”

But he wasn’t her. And Kaede was gone far before Korekiyo. And their grief was not the same.

“Thanks again, Shuichi.”

“Just take your time, okay?”

“Yeah, okay.”

Her knees felt like collapsing under the weight of her nerves, hand falling to the doorknob of the hotel room.

She pushed through her anxiety and found herself in a red-tinted room, a large heart-shaped bed in the center with a merry-go-round circling it. Then, she found Korekiyo standing to the side.

What would his ‘ideal’ version of her be? A friend? An out-of-touch acquaintance? A lover?

Her heart throbbed at the last possibility.

“Ah, my dear, back so soon?”

“Oh, yeah, sorry…”

“Why are you apologizing?”

“I’m, uhm, not sure?”

I’m sorry I couldn’t help you.

“Then don’t,” he seemed to glide across the room, taking the girl’s cheeks in his hands, “You’ve always had a problem with that, my love.”

My love? My love.

“Ah, yeah, sorry,” she huffed at her own word selection, “Oh…”

Korekiyo chuckled quietly, pulling down his mask to kiss her forehead, “I already took my medication while you were out.”

“Your medication?”

“Yes, from the doctor. You were the one who pushed me to go, have you forgotten?”

“Right! No, no, I just blanked,” she quickly lied, giving the boy a broad grin, “I’m glad, though.”

“It’s only medication, dear.”

“Still,” (Y/n) reached up to cup Korekiyo’s cheek, “it’s good that you’re following through with your meds.”

“Your support always helps,” he pressed another kiss to the girl’s forehead, “We’ll be leaving early in the morning tomorrow, I should warn you,” at her furrowed brows he explained, “In order for us to catch the first train to Iwate prefecture. Did you forget, darling?”

“Wait, wait, let me guess…” she waited for his nod before tossing out her suggestion, “We’re traveling for field work!” she was then quick to tag on, “As a couple that’s, like, super in love?”

“You didn’t forget at all, my love,” Korekiyo pulled away slightly, and sat on the bed, removing his shoes, “You play that memory of yours down too much. You’re far more intelligent than you think.”

“You think that?”

“Of course, I do. It’s not just because I love you dearly, either. You mustn’t let the words and actions of others control your opinion on yourself - you’re better than they say.”

This is his ultimate fantasy. He’s her lover. They travel and see the beauty of humanity together, just like what he said he wanted. He loves her. He thinks she’s so great.

He’s wrong.

She should’ve stayed with him that night.

He’s wrong.

She could’ve done so much to keep him with her.

He’s dead.

Because she should’ve stayed.

“Kiyo,” her eyes burned and began to soak, “I’m sorry!” her lungs rapidly expanded and contracted with her sporadic breaths, her hands clutching at her shirt. Her knees finally buckled and she collapsed to the ground, “I’m sorry! I’m sorry! I’m sorry! I’m sorry for being a stupid, stupid, stupid failure! Please… forgive me…!”

Korekiyo immediately stood up and rushed to (Y/n)’s side, bringing her into a tight hug as she fell to the floor, his fingers running through her hair. He kisses at her temple and cheeks, waiting until her cries settle enough for him to be audible in the room, “It’s interesting, dear, I first realized I’d fallen in love with you in a situation similar as this. I desired to comfort and reassure you just as I do now. You’re not stupid nor a failure, and I adore you above all else.”

Shaking her head, (Y/n) only began to cry harder into Korekiyo’s chest. This could’ve been their future. This could’ve been what they had to share and hold between only each other. If she’d only stayed. If she’d been with him that night.

“Oh, my dear, I’m sorry for upsetting you.”

“It wasn’t you,” she clamped a hand over her mouth, trying to keep back her cries, “I- I- it’s all my fault… it’s all my fault…”

“You haven’t done anything wrong, darling,” Korekiyo held her tighter, “I love you, my dearest (Y/n). No matter what you’ve done, I will always forgive you.”

And once again, her tears only came out harder. Her head pounding ruthlessly at the ache and consciousness fading out in her exhaustion. Korekiyo was dead. And no amount of her tears could ever bring him back.

#korekiyo shinguji x reader #korekiyo x reader #shinguji x reader #drv3 x reader #he deserved so much better :(( i wuv him #let me know if i miss anything with the warnings

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everlarkficexchange · 3 years

Text

Clubbing 101

Written by @alliswell21

Prompt 144: She has a night of fun before the start of the semester. She meets this guy, they hit it off that they sleep together. But when she shows up to her class the next day, she sees the guy again. But he’s her professor and he’s way older than she originally thought. #olderPeeta [submitted by @animekpopxx]

Rating: Explicit. NSFW.

Tags and Warnings: Canon Divergence; College!AU; Age gap, older man/younger woman; The opposite to slow burn? Smut; Unprotected sex; technically impaired consent since alcohol, but their both into each other while sober too 🤷🏻‍♀️; Ethical dilemmas; Teacher/Student relationship (sort of); One Shot, with an ambiguous open ending? Almost 10K words. Unbetaed.

Notes: Thank you to the moderators once more for putting up with us, procrastinating writers. You gals are saints! Thank you to @animekpopxx for her amazing prompts that never fail to snag my attention and give me the best ideas ever! You rock! I projected this story to be a smutty short thing, but it sprouted words and a background out of nowhere and I had to forced myself to stop adding to it, to get back to my other submissions waiting in my docs. Hopefully, it’s a good read for the ones who take the chance with it.

Thank you all!

KPKPKPKPKP

It starts with a harmless ranting.

“I’m not outgoing, or fun. I’m not even ‘cool’… hell, I don’t care what my sister says, I’m too old for this place!” I tell the handsome, bearded, guy sitting in the barstool next to me, “She’s a med student, you know, but she insists that partying is part of the college experience, especially when one’s career is so demanding… plus, is the last weekend of summer break, which apparently means you’re contractually obligated to party extra hard,” I roll my eyes, “I never saw the appeal personally, but I let her drag me out here so I can keep an eye on her. Is not like I’m gonna let her piss away her future for a night of clubbing,” I scoff, taking a long pull of my beer.

The guy chuckles, but I’m not done just yet.

I slam down my bottle and continue listing my grievances, “The thing that grinds my gears, is that she begged for a ‘girls’ night out’, and instead of drinking with me and people watch, she goes off with the first fucker that asks her to dance! I mean… did it ever occur to her, I may want to dance with her on OUR girls’ night out?!” I scowl and gulp another mouthful of beer, “then, to add insult to injury, thirty minutes later I get a text from her, saying to go on home without her ‘cause she found a ride, followed by that cursed eggplant emoji, like I needed an illustration of what kind of ride she’s getting,” I mock gag, rearranging the strap of my tiny purse across my chest.

“I guess she’s young, and beautiful, and does work very hard, but if you invite me to go clubbing with you, don’t abandon me within the first 15 minutes of arriving!”

My companion winces before sipping his drink, and smiling ruefully, “That’s harsh… sorry you’re having a shitty night,”

“Meh… little sisters, right?!” I shrug.

The guy smiles crookedly at me, and I find myself enjoying his smile, “I wouldn’t know about that. I’m the baby of three brothers, and the only thing I got away with was learning how to wrestle and spring awesome comebacks on the fly… the brutes kept me on my toes,” he chuckles.

“Three boys? Sounds chaotic. Your poor mother!”

“Yeah… life’s chaotic.” He averts his eyes for a second, his smile goes away. I’m afraid I’ve said something wrong, but he suddenly looks back at me, and confesses, “I’m not into clubbing either.” His eyes sparkle, despite the awful, dim, blue lights bathing the place.

I smile, “Look at us wallflowers, bonding over drinks and sibling shenanigans,” we clink our drinks together and sip. I’m chatty and relaxed, so unlike myself; I guess the two beers I’ve had are starting to get to me. “I’m Katniss, by the way.”

“That’s pretty,” he says, shyly; makes my chest warm up. “Nice to meet you, Katniss. I’m Peeta.”

I arch my eyebrows, “Peter?” I repeat, because I’m pretty sure I miss-heard him over the obnoxiously loud music.

The guy shakes his head, “Pee-ta… like the bread?” He chuckles. Then adds, “Family name. Everyone on my dad’s side are bakers.”

I snort-laugh, “Punny!” I say, taking another sip. Yup, beer’s getting to me, I’m not this cleverly funny. “My dad was into survivalism and botany… I’m named after a plant also known as Duck Potato, so I win the weird name competition!”

“Hey, it’s something else to bond over,”

“Cheers to that!” We clink our drinks again, and partake in our booze.

He orders another whiskey neat when he’s out… sounds both snooty and distinguished at the same time. Goes well with his put together image, though: nicely trimmed beard, nicely combed hair, nice polo shirt with what I believe is a tiny loaf of bread embroidered on the chest, and dark-wash jeans… I think. It’s hard to tell under the black lights of the club.

He offers to get me another drink, and I order an appletini.

“J.D. from Scrubs always drank one,” I explain, swirling the coctel in my hand, “I’ve always been curious to try, but didn’t wanna spend my own money experimenting on a drink I could potentially hate.”

“Makes sense,” Peeta says, “So… what’s the verdict?”

“Is pretty good, actually. But I think I’ll stick with my Miller Light,”

Peeta nods, “I honestly don’t enjoy alcohol that much.”

I giggle. “Then, what brings you to this fine establishment tonight, sir, if you’re not much for clubbing, or drinking?” I watch him out of the corner of my eye.

I like that when he smiles, his eyes crinkle in the corners.

“I lost a bet against a colleague.”

“Oh,” I’m suddenly self conscious and a little uncomfortable. I give the guy a scrutinizing look, and ask suspiciously, “what was the punishment exactly?”

The man rolls his eyes. “I have to spend one whole hour in the club, without criticizing anything, like the bitter old man I am,” he grins, “My friend’s words. Not mine!” He raises both hands, claiming innocence.

I laugh at the face he pulls, “Well, you’ve just defaulted on that punishment,”

“How so?” He beams.

“With the look in your face! It spoke volumes!”

“Am I that transparent?”

“You read like a preschooler’s board book, pal!”

We both laugh, I drink my beer, and he throws back his whiskey neat.

“So…” he makes a show of looking at his watch, “I still have 33 minutes to kill before I’m allowed to run out of this place… I know I’m not a Med student, co-Ed, sister of yours, but… would you, um, like to dance with me?” He sounds adorably hopeful.

I glance at the man sideways, toying with my bottle.

He smirks, mischievously, “I promise, spirits make me more coordinated on the dance floor. I become this amazing dancer when I have a couple of drinks on… or so my brain believes. I probably look like an idiot, but I’m too goofy to know the difference. You’re welcome to be the judge it for yourself,”

I take my sweet time finishing the last dregs of my beer, and wrinkle my nose, “You sure you wanna dance to this shit, kids call music nowadays?” I smirk, pointing a finger up, motioning wide circles into the ether.

Peeta gives a full belly laugh.

I really do like his laugh!

“Isn’t it our only choice?” He ventures.

Not if you follow me home, my thirsty brain supplies; my lips on the other hand, just let through a hint of a smile, because I’m buzzed, but not drunk enough to proposition a total stranger. I’ve never been one to sleep around anyway.

“Okay,” I say, too enthused. “As long as we both agree that this isn’t music,”

“Oh no, this just barely passes as noise!” Peeta agrees readily.

He guides me to the packed dance floor, and we start moving to the booming, deafening tunes playing overhead.

I’m not sure if one could call this dancing. Everywhere I look people are writhing against each other, like a pack of zombies without grace or rhyme.

I’m not sure Peeta will get an accurate assessment of his dancing skills, compared to what I’m seeing, he’ll probably look like a professional; plus, it’s too dark and busy in here to really appreciate anything, really, but after a few minutes of just shifting in place, robotically, I snatch two bottle beers from a waitress walking by, offering one to my partner, hoping that’s enough to get us loosen up. The waitress stares at me until I rummage on my crossbody mini purse and toss a crumple ten on her tray.

The liquid boost works. Before I know it, I’m grinding my hips against his. Peeta’s just the right height for his thigh to fit between my legs and brush against my front. I get tired of undulating my arms in the air, so I drop them around his shoulders, and feel just how firm and broad he is under my touch.

Our chests are tightly pressed together, and I’m at the right angle to just stare at his plush-looking lips. I turn around before I do something brash, like kiss him in the mouth. Peeta doesn’t question it, he just places his hands on my hips, and starts moving to the music’s beat.

I bring the beer to my lips, but the bottle’s empty… oops! It doesn’t matter, I’m having the time of my life!

Peeta’s swaying guides me. I basically drape my back over his front, and bump my ass into his groin. I feel the hint of a bulge there, and press my rear into it again, just to confirm if I felt what I hope I felt.

Peeta’s fingers tighten on my hip, emboldening me to keep going until I’m practically twerking into him, and his slight bulge morphs into a full blown hard-on.

I twist in his arms to face him, my lust idled brain barely thinking rationally, “Are your 33 minutes done yet?” I yell into his ear, so he can hear me over the noise.

He doesn’t even look at his watch, “To hell with time! I‘ll stay here all night, if you want me to,” He answers loudly.

“Come on, then!” I push off his chest, and snatch up his hand before he can reply.

Leaving the dance floor is surprisingly easily, considering the crowd bouncing in place together.

I make no conscious plan on where we’re going; I’m arguably familiar with the layout of this place from my many visits since Prim turned 21; I’m only mildly surprised when we navigate across the club, all the way to the restrooms. It’s like my clit is making all the decisions tonight… good for it!

There’s a line of disgruntled women waiting to get inside the Ladies Room, but the Men’s Room is available, and Peeta lets me guide him into it, like one of those pull toys children have.

“It stinks in here,” I comment blandly, but make a beeline for the last stall with a door.

There’s one guy at the urinal, but he doesn’t even look up from his pants, so I just shrug it off and yank Peeta into the stall with me.

The space is tight, but once inside the stall, I push Peeta into the door, and attack his mouth.

He makes a startled noise at the back of his throat, but his hands and arms immediately press me into his body more fully. My own hands trek down to his belt, where I fiddle with the buckle until it’s undone, and I can access his pants’ button and fly.

He hisses when my fingers graze his warm erection, and bucks into my knuckles. I’m in the process of sticking my hand inside his boxers, when Peeta growls, sucking my lower lip into his mouth, and letting it go with a wet pop.

“Switch places,” he pants against my mouth, and hoists me up, until my back hits the door and his hands grab my hips possessively, jutting my pelvis forward, “I’m hungry, would you mind if I eat you out?”

“Okay,” I gasp.

Thank you for forcing me to wear your tiny, clubbing dress, Prim!

“You’ll allow it?” He asks, incredulous, rubbing circles on my hips with his thumbs.

“Yes… I’ll allow it!”

His smile is sexy, his stare is hypnotic. Damned my drunken ass! I can’t believe I’m willing to do this in a smelly bathroom stall!

Peeta sits on the toilet and licks his lips while staring up at me. His hands disappear under the stretchy material of my skirt, bumping my purse out of his way. He skims his fingers under the elastic of my panties, and I bite my lip, nodding eagerly.

Slowly, Peeta slides my underwear down my legs, the tips of his fingers follow, leaving a trail of fire in their wake. It’s the most erotic thing I’ve ever experienced!

Once he brings my panties to my knees, his hands rush back up my thighs, pushing the flimsy skirt around my waist. My underwear drops to my ankles on their own.

Peeta’s level eye with my crotch, and I squirm restlessly. “Beautiful… absolutely soaked,” he whispers in a daze, he inhales pulling me closer, “You smell divine!” He descends, nose first, into the thatch of dark curls between my thighs, making me moan. He ruts his face against me, and suddenly drops to his knees, grabbing my calf to pull my leg up.

But the movement gets prevented by my stupid underwear, tangled in my ankles. Without missing a beat, I toe my panties off, so Peeta can maneuver my body however he wants.

He drapes my leg over his shoulder, opening me up to his ravenous mouth. He grunts, burying his face into my core, and finally, FINALLY, his tongue swipes between my folds.

“Fuck!” I squeak.

My hands fly to tangle into his soft, perfectly coiffed hair. I nearly smother him, holding his face to my pussy, but he’s doing wicked things to me with his tongue: lapping, sucking, and nipping at my labia; drawing number eight figures around my clit with the tip of his tongue, to then sinking it deep inside my core. I can’t stop bucking into his mouth over and over.

When was the last time I was given head? Fuck if I know! Darius probably, he was decent, but didn’t do it often. And Thom was so boring at it, I actually preferred he didn’t do it. But this guy is amazing! A real expert in the matter!

“I’m so close! Please… I’m so close,” I wail like a cat in heat, writhing against the door.

Peeta looks up, and despite the horrendous lighting in the room, I realize he’s got the deepest blue eyes I’ve ever seen… too bad I can’t hold his gaze too long, because he starts rubbing my clit with his thumb, while fucking my hole with his tongue, and is all I can do not shout and scalp him in my delirium.

He doesn’t stop drinking my juices while I convulse above him. On the contrary, he retrieves his thumb, but keeps his mouth busy, lapping away all the slick I give him.

It’s too much.

I tug on his hair to pull him off of my sensitive privates.

Peeta takes one last lick with the flat of his tongue and looks up at me, smiling wolfishly, “Was that good?” His beard’s dripping with me, he wipes some of it off on his sleeve.

I snort, unsexy and definitely rude. “You made me cum so hard I saw stars… yeah, it was good. Better than good, really!” I smile down at him, and try to pull him off from the floor.

All the gel holding his curls in place is gone now, rubbed off on my palms. His hair is sticking up on the top and towards the back of his head. I reach up to try and smooth it back, “I’m sorry, I seem to have made a mess of your hair,” I giggle. It’s adorable, but I feel bad that I ruined it.

“You can mess my hair any time you want, Katniss.” He says, almost shyly, he places his hands on my waist, over the bunched up dress.

It’s a big turn on to me, how his words are so flirty, but he delivers them so sweetly and awed. Is unexpected and endearing… which is odd, because I don’t usually find people endearing at all!

We both chuckle.

He licks his lips, and I feel heat pool in my lower belly again.

“Come’ere!” I wrap my hand around his nape, and pull his lips to mine.

He responds immediately, licking the seam of my mouth. I suck on his tongue when he slides it against mine.

He moans.

“Fuck me, Peeta,” I rasp into the kiss, palming his dick through his jeans.

He groans, “Are you sure?” He barely holds back another groan when I squeeze his clothed erection.

“Cock. In me. Now!” I command through gritted teeth, trying to pull his cock out of his pants with one hand, while taking his hand, and splaying it on my boob.

“Okay… shit… this is… surreal! This has never happened to me before!” He kneads my tit, gently.

I’m not sure I was supposed to hear that, so I pretend I didn’t and turn, facing the door to wiggle my ass, in an attempt to convince him.

Peeta makes a noise in his throat, quickly followed by the sound of shifting clothes, and a metallic thump from his belt buckle hitting the toilet.

I whine when Peeta’s warm, heavy cock caressed my bare ass cheek. “Please don’t tease me,” I beg.

“Fuck, Katniss… do you really want this?”

“Yes, Peeta… put your cock inside my cunt, and fuck me all the way to next week! Now!”

His warm body cocoons mine, “Anything you want, sweetheart,” he whispers into my ear, and I feel the blunt head of his cock parting my folds, coating himself with my natural lubricants.

He finds my entrance, pushing inside just the tip. He gasps, “Fuck!” One big hand wraps around my hip to keep me steady, bracing his other arm on the door, above my head.

“Peeta… Please!” I wiggle my ass, making him sink another inch deep.

“Hold still,” He hisses, “I’m trying to hold back… not ramming in too roughly… embarrassing myself, cumming too fast,” His hot breath warms my nape. “You feel like heaven!” He growls, tightening his hold on me.

I’m torn, wishing he’d drill into me without mercy already, while another part of me is grateful he’s trying to stay under control… I don’t know which I want more…

When was the last time I had sex?

As if reading my thoughts, Peeta shares haltingly, “It’s been such a long time for me. I want it to last, but I’m

Not sure if I can,”

I don’t have time to second guess myself, because Peeta’s moving, and he’s massive!

“Don’t hold back!” I bleat, “I want it rough… I want it fast!” I gasp, clenching down on him. I paw at the door for purchase, trying not to face-plant on the cold, hard surface, while Peeta’s fat prick stretches me to the brink of pain! I can’t stay put for him any longer; I buck into him.

“I said to hold still!” He slaps my ass, hard. It stings, but it’s a welcomed feeling.

I moan and melt, finally relaxing enough for him to penetrate me all the way to the hilt. He stays there a moment, breathing harshly into my neck, squeezing my hip on and off.

“You’re so tight. So warm. So wet, Katniss.” He nuzzles my ear, “I’m gonna move now, I apologize beforehand in case this ends too soon for you…” He drags himself slowly out of me, just to plunge right back in with a swift, hard thrust.

I squeak; he grunts..

Peeta holds me by the waist, “You’re so pretty and sexy, Katniss. I can’t decide if you’re real, or the most vivid wet dream I’ve ever had…” he’s fucking me like a jackrabbit in rut.

I’m speechless, vaguely wondering if I didn’t dream him instead?

His cock head hits a spot deep inside me I’ve never reached before. I start babbling nonsense— mostly praising his cock and his strength— I don’t really know what I’m saying, but he seems to be enjoying it thoroughly by the increase in his speed and the volume of his grunts.

I’m joisted up and down his shaft like a rag doll; I wish I’d thought of hanging my stupid little purse somewhere before we started, because now it’s bumping on my thighs, distracting me from the great ducking I’m getting; it’s no matter… I can feel my orgasm building in my belly.

“I’m gonna cum, sweetheart… I want you to cum too,” He nibbles on my earlobe.

“Yes, Peeta! Please make me cum, I’m so close!”

One of his hands slides around my waist to play with my clit, while his other tweaks my nipples over my dress and bra. That, added to the sensation of my g-spot being prodded repeatedly, sends me spinning over the edge.

I must’ve screamed or something, because he clamps his hand over my mouth, and then he’s grunting, digging his forehead between my shoulder blades, and pulling me back against his unyielding body.

“Fuck…” he gasps and shivers behind me. I feel his dick pulsing, his rhythm faltering, and then he goes still.

Peeta sags a little, wedging his shoulder into the door to keep from falling. I’m surprised he still has the strength to hold me up too; I have to be dead weight at this point, since my legs feel like overcooked noodles and my arms gave out a minute ago.

We both try to catch our breaths, too spent and weak for much more, at least for a few minutes.

Peeta stirs. “Are you okay?” He breathes out, ruffling the loose wisps of my hair with his breath.

I chuckle, leaning my sweaty temple on the cool door. “I can’t feel my toes… which is excellent!”

“Good,” he sighs.

Three heart beats later, he straightens up and pulls out of me. An indecent amount of spend flows down my legs as soon as his cock dislodges from my pussy, but Peeta shoves something soft between my thighs quickly, before I have time to freak out about the mess.

I look down mildly curious, staring at an embroidery of a tiny loaf of bread. Vaguely, I wonder if that’s his uniform? He said he was a baker, right? At least he’s named after bread or something. I giggle. “Is this your shirt?” I ask, widening my stance to gracelessly wipe myself clean.

“Yeah,”

“Thank you,” I say, dazedly, turning sideways to smile at him gratefully.

He’s wearing a simple, white, cotton t-shirt when I return the polo to him, now spoiled with cum and slick. I’m caught off guard by how broad shoulder he is, and by how nice he smells… cinnamon and sweat. Weird combination, but pleasant. I wonder if he baked any bread today?

“Um… would you… would you like to put these back on?” He asks awkwardly, leaning down to pick up my discarded panties from besides the foot of the toilet bowl.

I wrinkle my nose, “Not really,” I mumble. “Who knows when was the last time that floor got cleaned. Gross.”

Peeta smiles and shakes his head, “Here,” he grabs his polo, covered in our juices, and wraps my underwear in it. “Now it’s hidden.”

My body is finally catching up with the advanced hour, the beers and the two amazing orgasms. I’m starting to feel sore everywhere, and my eyelids are getting heavy. “Wow… think I’m officially all partied out,” I chuckle weakly.

“Ditto,” Peeta agrees, his smile is shy. “So… there’s this little dinner about two blocks from here,” he starts, eyes downcast; the space seems to shrink around us, now that the frenzy of our physical activities is done with. “Would you like to grab a pancake or som—“

My phone rings, startling us both into silence. I frown, but scramble to find it in my purse, to check who could be calling me… apparently at 2 a.m.!

My frown deepens. Prim’s smiling face flashes on the screen. She was supposed to be getting some herself! “It’s my sister,” I whisper, tamping down my rising panic. I don’t ask if it’s okay to answer, I just do it. “Prim?”

“Where the hell are you?!” I have to pull the phone off, or risk eardrum rupture by my sister’s screeching. “I’ve been texting and calling you! I’ve been worried sick!”

I scowl at the wall, confused and little annoyed, “Prim… Prim, are you okay? Are you hurt? Do you need me to come get you somewhere?” I try to ask.

“What?! No. I’m home! But you aren’t, and I’ve been scared shitless trying to find you!”

I give Peeta an apologetic grimace, and blindly feel around for the lock to get out of the stall. “Um… why are you home so early? Last time I heard from you, you were getting a ride,” I’m trying to sound unaffected; It’s all I can think to say in my mortification.

“Never mind that! Why aren’t you home already? I thought you had to work in the morning and then go to sch—”

While Prim rages at me, I place a hand on the phone and turn to Peeta, still in the stall, awkwardly facing the wall, I assume to grant me some privacy. I’m sure he can hear my sister’s frantic chastisement from where he’s standing. “I’m sorry… you’d think I was a teenager instead of a grown ass adult,” I roll my eyes.

Peeta waves me off good naturedly. “It’s okay. I’m sorry for keeping you so late,”

I’m about to say something else, but Prim yells loudly, something about calling the police and checking the hospitals for me, which truly prompts a reaction from me, “Calm down! I’m still at the club, exactly where you left me!” I cover the phone with my palm again, and turn to him. “I’m… I’m gonna go? Before she threatens to send the marines in,” I try to joke, but our situation takes all the levity out of it, and my attempt dies off, lamely.

Peeta nods, smiling softly; somehow I can tell it’s not genuine.

“Little sisters, right?” I offer halfheartedly, twisting my lips.

“Can I… walk you out at least?” He asks quietly; Prim hasn’t stopped nagging this whole time.

“I… it’s not necessary, but thank you…”

Peeta nods again, looking disappointed.

I don’t get to tell him a proper goodbye, because two dude-bros come in the bathroom, letting the noise from the club filter in; one of the idiots elbows the other, and both start making some lewd comments about me, but Peeta steps in, eyes wild with anger, and tells the guys to knock it off. Prim hears the whole thing of course, and goes nuts herself asking what’s going on?

Peeta looks at me, and motions his head towards the door.

Message received, I step outside the bathroom and book it out of the club, “I’ll be home in a bit. I’m gonna call and Uber,”

“Call me as soon as you’re in it!” Prim demands.

“Fine! Now stop nagging me, will you?!”

I don’t realize I never looked back at Peeta to wave my goodbyes until I’m in the car, heading home. Regret truly is a bitch. I can’t help feeling like I just lost something important, but I have no idea what it is.

>>—————> * <————<<

It’s been a very long Monday. I’m mainly running on caffeine at the moment, and can’t wait to get home and pass out in my fluffy bed, to see if I can catch up on last nights lost hours of sleep.

I enter my last class of the day and find a seat in the middle of the third row. I pull my laptop, a writing pad and my mechanical pencil out of my bag, and watch as my classmates start filtering in one by one, greeting each other and finding their places, lazily.

I’m the oldest student in this class, which is not surprising. I’ve only just come back from my extended— 5 year— sabbatical; and did it only after I was completely sure I could handle my workload and the financial strain of both me and Prim going to college at the same time, without giving myself an early grave.

It’s been hard, but I’m glad I came back to finish my schooling, I only need a handful of credits to graduate, which is great!

I check my watch. We still have a few minutes to kill before class starts. The professor— Dr. Mellark, according to the copy of my schedule— is not here yet, so I pull up the banking app on my phone to give it another glance. The balance is still the same as the last two times I’ve seen it, but it doesn’t hurt to be extra careful when one is on a tight budget. I scheduled payments for the power, gas and rent to go out in the next few days, and I want to make sure there’s enough money in the bank to cover them. We’re looking fine for the month, financially speaking.

The door to the classroom swishes open, and I start signing off my app.

“Good afternoon ladies and germs; I’m doctor Mellark, and provided you’re in this room for an English class, I’ll like to welcome you to the amazing world of Classic Literature!” Says a deep, male voice I find oddly familiar. “By the way, don’t any of you dare to disagree with me on the awesomeness of classic lit… I’m a doctor, I know what I’m talking about… unless you ask me about medicine, then please be free to disregard everything I say, because I’m not ‘that’ kind of doctor!”

A murmure of little chuckles fills the room; even I smile, silencing my phone and putting it away, before looking up at the professor.

I choke on a strangled gasp when I finally set eyes on the man I assume is the teacher, dumping a worn, leather, messenger bag on the desk near the podium. He’s the last person I would’ve expected to have as a professor.

Oblivious to my predicament, Doctor Mellark— or as I know him: Peeta!— keeps introducing himself.

“I’ve been teaching this course for 14th years, but I’m always pleasantly surprised to hear the different points of views my students bring to our discussions on the classics we study, which in a nutshell, is the beauty of this class.” He pulls a ream of paper out of his bag, and gives it to a student in the front, “Please take a syllabus, and pass the rest to the next person, and so on… thank you!”

My face is burning. I think I’m gonna faint.

“But enough about me,” his voice booms, making my whole body shiver. “I don’t normally do roll calls or care about attendance, as long as you’re not missing assignments, and are here during discussions, so this is the first and last time I’ll be reading this list,” he rises a piece of paper above his head, I surmise has the students names on it, and he instructs, before reading, “I’ll call your names, and you’ll introduce yourself, briefly, that way we can all get acquainted with each other, yes?”

Ugh!

He can scratch my name off that list right now! We’re more than acquainted with each other.

Bile rises to my throat. An intrusive, bitter thought pesters me: how many of his students has he gotten ‘that’ familiar with?

But the thought dies off quickly. An even worse, more worrisome thought springs front and center in my mind: Did we use protection?!

Panic rises in my chest, a nervous queasiness settles in my belly; a distant memory of warm goo sliding down my legs comes to mind… Oh shit!

Oh shit, oh shit! We didn’t use a freaking condom? Who does that?!

Oh shit!

Would a Plan B still be effective right now? It’s been less than 24 hours…

Peeta’s reading names. People stand from their seats and talk about themselves. I haven’t heard one word they’ve said, but I’ve been watching how some of the female students bat their eyelashes and speak all breathily, smiling coyly at him… Peeta seems oblivious to the flirting, but I still feel a cocktail of unpleasant feelings in the pit of my stomach.

I realize, I’m jealous!

My ass is frozen in my sit, I’m not even breathing. I don’t think Peeta’s seen me yet, but… what will he do or say once my name comes up? I send a quick prayer to heaven, he won’t recognize me since I look nothing like I did last night at the club, with my hair down and my face all made-up. Right now and plain ol’ me… the rub is gonna be my name. Darn my dad and his awful naming whims!

Soon enough, he reads a name that makes him stutter, “Kat…Katniss? Everdeen?” He does a double take, “Katniss Everdeen…” his eyes are the size of saucers when he scans the lecture hall, swiftly. When he finds me, he looks back down at his paper, and says the name out loud again, unsure, “Katniss Everdeen?” Like he doesn’t believe what he’s reading.

I stand up woodenly, my voice cracks a little, “I’m—I’m Katniss Everdeen… hi!”

I’m about to drop back into my chair, but Peeta kinda mumbles, “You know, Arrowhead, or Katniss is a water plant? The root is edible… like a swamp potato?”

There are quiet little giggles all over the place.

Peeta clears his throat, his eyes flit away; his face’s blank of emotion, but his cheeks seem pinker than a second earlier, “I just read that online, believe it or not. Interesting facts about local flora, people. Reading is knowledge, but so is learning from one another… what can you tell us about yourself, Miss Everdeen, besides that you have a very unique first name?”

“I…” I harrumph, avoiding eye contact with Peeta at all costs, “I’m a part time student. Majoring in Botany. I took this class to fulfill my last English credits requirement for graduation. I do love books and classic literature, in particular.”

“Thank you… Miss Everdeen,” he rasps.

I sit down, clumsily, hoping this horrible, horrible moment is just a nightmare and that I’ll wake up any second now, drooling on my desk, with indentations of my notepad on my cheek, because anything would be less embarrassing than what I’m going through at this point.

Mercifully, Peeta calls a different name, and then another, and then another. I don’t look up from my notepad once.

Peeta for his part, sounds stiff and monotonous— or so I’d like to think— no more jokes or clever sayings. Maybe he’s not as affected as I am about this ordeal, and I’m just making it a bigger deal than it really is? Maybe he does have experience sleeping with students— I mean, it’s not unheard off, right?— Not that either of us had any idea we were engaging in a teacher-student affair last night…

Although, calling it an affair is generous; it was a measly one night stand. A chance encounter. Two people letting off steam before a busy week ahead.

I’m getting increasingly angry with all this thinking… and the class seems to drag on. It feels like an eternity, and my mind keeps churning up all kinds of questions: Why would he not say he was a teacher at this particular college? Did he lie about being a baker? Is his name even Peeta?

I scoffed at the thought.

To my horror, I hear him ask, “Anything to say, Miss Everdeen?”

Looking up at him requires a great deal of bravery and self admonishment, but I do my best and face him— he’s wearing glasses now, which makes my belly tightened for inexplicable reasons— “No, Doctor Mellark, nothing of consequence anyway,” I retort as venemosly as possible, without alerting anyone else there’s something weird going on between me and the professor.

Peeta grimaces slightly. Then looks away, “Very well, as I was saying, we will start with the basics: The Iliad and Moby Dick, since those are High school level works, I expect your reports to be sufficiently well researched, and your personal ideas on the text somewhat fleshed out. It doesn’t have to be in-depth. I’m just looking to determine everyone’s style and needs for the semester ahead…” he continues his spiel, and I feel free to go back to my stewing and my musings.

Before I know it, Peeta’s dismissing the class, wishing everyone a good rest of their evening.

I jump into action, packing my stuff with my head bowed, but then I hear him again.

“Miss Everdeen, a private word, please?” It’s much too quiet to have been said from his podium. I still startled when I look up and find him standing right against the first row of desks, directly in front of me.

His face is not quite stern, but he’s definitely less smiley than when we met.

I force down a gasp, because under the better lighting of the lecture hall, and close up, I can see a plethora of details I missed at the club; like the arresting blue of his eyes, the slight reddish of his neatly trimmed beard, peppered with silver whiskers all over, while his perfectly combed hair is almost all silver on the temples, and ashy blonde on the top. His shoulders are even broader than I remember.

He’s overall stockier than I originally thought, and just a smidge shorter, which is fine, he’s still the most handsome man I’ve ever met, and I wouldn’t mind climbing him like a tree—

I shake my head off the intrusive, lecheros thoughts. I’m literally lusting after my teacher, for goodness sakes! This is beyond a silly schoolgirl crush!

Peeta arches one dark blonde eyebrow at me, expectantly.

I nod curtly, because my tongue is stuck to the roof of my mouth, and gesture for him to lead the way.

I shove my laptop into my bag, and hastily shoulder the straps, hugging my writing pad to my chest, following my professor like a chastened little girl.

My stupid eyes find his ass, and I blink twice, at the exquisite sight in front of me. I groan internally.

He grabs his own bag, takes off his spectacles and slides them into his shirt pocket.

How old is this man?! He said he’s been teaching this class for 14 years, when do professors start their teaching careers? How did I never see him before now roaming campus? Is his age the reason he ate pussy like a master?

I shake my head, cursing my horny brain.

Peeta opens a door I have no idea how we came across, and then stands aside, gesturing for me to go in first.

I duck my head and step into a warmly decorated office, with a small desk and two chairs in the middle of the room. Bookshelves full of tomes line the office. A handful of pictures and framed diplomas hang from the only available wall space in the room, but I don’t get to study them before he catches my undivided attention.

“Let me start by apologizing,” Peeta stars, closing the door behind himself, “I assure you, it wasn’t my intention to cause you any stress, or embarrassment out there.” He pauses, “Would you like to sit?” He offers, wincing. He doesn’t wait and steps around me, to pace on the other side of his desk, “I… um, never been in this position before,” he scowls, “I’m not sure what assurances I can offer at the moment, except, that I will start the process to recuse myself from this class immediately, to not interfere with your academic—“

“Recuse yourself?” I cut him off, “what do you mean?”

Peeta squirms a little, and sits down heavily on his chair. My bag slides off my shoulder, and I just dump it in the empty chair I was offered a moment ago.

“Well, Miss Everdeen, it’s the right thing to do, given our circumstances. We’ve breached the appropriate boundaries of our pupil and teacher positions, and staying in the same class together will put you at a disadvantage… is a power imbalance situation, that calls for action.”

“Can you stop calling me ‘Miss Everdeen’? It’s weird…”

“I’m just trying to maintain an acceptable level of decorum between us,” he says sheepishly.

“That ship has already sailed,” I say tiredly.

“Perhaps, but it’s my responsibility to still try,” he rubs his forehead. “Anyway, I’ll call my department and see what is next. Stepping down myself is the only fair solution I see so far… it would be terribly unfair to ask you to switch classes. Simply disrespectful, but we both can agree this uncomfortable situation needs to be nipped in the bud, for both our sakes, Miss Everdeen.”

“This is bullshit!” I snap, “What happened in that club, isn’t that terrible of a problem! What we really need to do is stop acting so stiffly and guilty. By the way, you sound like a walking thesaurus!” I accuse, looking him in the eyes for the first time since he called my name at the lecture hall. “Stop it!”

Peeta inhales deeply, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Miss Everdeen, our actions last night may have been honest, and even innocent in nature, but they still carry consequences… unexpected ones, especially in light of the facts. And the facts are, that it would be unethical for me to remain in a position of authority over you. In any case… if you feel the need to report me to the school administration, for… harassment or inappropriate behavior or anything else, I won’t dispute any claims. I promise to distance myself from you and give you space so you can continue with your education without interference, in a safe environment.”

I grunt, “I’m not going to report you, because you didn’t do anything wrong. Sure, I thought you were a baker… I mean your story about your name, and that little loaf of bread embroidered into your shirt, I thought it was your uniform,” I shrug one shoulder.

“Sorry about that… I never meant to mislead you,” he says bashful.

I ignore him, “Either way, I was the one pulling you into that bathroom. I threw myself at you. I begged you to do things to me, and you just granted me my wishes…” like a sexy gentleman, “The sex is on me. I’m 26 years old, I’m not some bumbling teenager who hasn’t learned to take responsibility for her actions, so, please… stop trying to shield me, or protect me, or whatever it is you’re doing,” my arms flap around in frustration. I finally push my bag off the chair, and sink into it. “Look, Peeta—“

“Professor…” he corrects, frowning a little.

I roll my eyes, if he knew he’s just making it sound kinkier than it already is, he wouldn’t be so adamant about the freaking titles.

“Fine… Doctor Mellark,” I enunciate, pettily. “I specifically chose your class as my last English elective for two reasons. One: it’s exactly the amount of credits I need to graduate at the end of the semester. And two: it fits my schedule to a T, which is important, since I do have a full time job when I’m not a college student. So, I’m sure we can both be adults about this unfortunate situation, and simply forge on. There’s no need for you to recuse from teaching this class, and I have absolutely no intention of switching. We both can wear our big people britches, and pretend last night was a… what did you call it?” I wave my hands, as if the answer will materialize from thin air, “A vivid wet dream? And leave it at that!”

Peeta glares at me, looking aggravated for the first time since I met him. “It’ll be unethical to continue like everything is normal, Miss Everdeen.” Peeta argues, stubbornly.

“Nobody has to know about last night,” I say, exasperated, then a horrifying thought flashes in my mind, “Unless you bragged about it already!”

“No!” He straightens in his chair, looking offended, “I would never do something so vile,” He looks indignant, “plus, the fact still remains that something did happen last night, and I know about it! I can’t, in good faith, be your teacher.”

“Are you planning on showing me favoritism because you know what my pussy tastes like, Peeta?” I deadpan, “Or are you gonna blackmail me into doing it again?”

“Stop calling me Peeta!” He growls through his teeth, his very thick fingers clenching into fists on his armrests.

I blink at his reaction owlishly, realizing I’m truly pushing it this time.

“I’ve always prided myself on keeping my nose clean. Being a decent man and tutor. Never in 17 years of teaching have I slept with a co-ed, let alone a student in my own class.” He breathes deeply, then pins me to my chair, with those arresting blue eyes of his, burning with controlled anger, “I would never extort you or anyone for sexual favors, Katniss. While I don’t really want to lose my tenure or face other disciplinary actions from the school authorities, the one thing I truly don’t want to damage are my personal standards, and my self image.

“Katniss, I’m already biased when it comes to you. Being your professor won’t be exactly fair to anyone. I’m not saying I would give you A’s willy-nilly, nor that I would grade your papers any differently than I’d do your peers or that I’d be less critical of your work,”

“That’s reassuring,” I roll my eyes. “You’re telling me that if I bring you a shit essay, you might not be persuaded to let me redo it?”

He sighs, “I don’t know…” he scratches the back of his neck, “I’ll most likely hover over your desk a disproportionate amount of time compared to your classmates. There’s also a chance I’ll call on your name more often than the rest of them?”

“I still don’t hear one unscrupulous, wrong reason, why you can’t do your job, and teach this class.”

We sit there, staring at each other, at an impasse.

“Why are you so set on keeping me in that room, Miss Everdeen?” He asks, softly.

Finally, I relent, relaxing my tense shoulders, and exhaling tiredly. I raise my hands in defeat. “I don’t know, Peeta. Because I want to protect you, the same way you’re trying to protect me. But… recuse yourself if you have to. I still believe you’re a better man than your urges.”

Peeta relaxes in his chair too, “Thank you, Katniss.You didn’t have to say that, specially because you don’t know me. It still means a lot.”

I chew the inside of my lip, calculating stuff in my head. “You’re right, I don’t know you, but I consider myself an okay judge of character.” He opened this door, it’s time for me to walk through it, “Can I ask you some stuff?” I ask innocently.

Peeta arches his eyebrows. “Shoot,” he says.

“How old are you?”

“45. I’m sorry. I knew you were young last night… I just didn’t quite grasp just how young,” his eyes shift downwards, sheepish and uncomfortable.

“I’m an adult. I’ve been the head of my family for years. At this point, age is irrelevant for me.” I state, dismissively.

“What about your family?” He asks, tilting his head sideways.

It takes me a minute to answer. I cross my arms over my stomach, and exhale, “It’s been only Primrose and I for five years now. My mother had cancer. My father passed when I was eleven.” I rock in my chair, slightly, “That’s why my sister was being such a clingy bitch last night. She can’t bear to lose anyone else. Neither can I for that matter.”

Peeta leans forward on his desk. “I’m so sorry to hear that, Katniss.”

I sit back, feeling like a huge weight just got lifted off my shoulders. “It’s okay, really. I’m back in school, about to finish my last semester, Prim is doing great in university, the only debt we have right now is Prim’s car and my Target card… we are actually okay,” I smile, meekly at him.

“That’s… that’s good, Katniss. Admirable, really.”

“Peeta?” I start cautiously, “Would you really remove yourself from the class because of me?”

He looks me right in the eye, sincerity emanating fro his eyes. “Absolutely. Without hesitation. As soon as you leave, I’ll email my Head of Department, explaining my situation. Don’t worry, I won’t mention any names or details—“

I shake my head, vehemently.

Peeta squints, studying me cautiously, measuring me.

“Please… stay with me…”

Something in my tone catches his attention, and he eyes me curiously. “I’ve already told you why I can’t,” he says, almost soothingly.

I stand up. Go around my chair, and drop back down into it. I start shaking my leg nervously. “I had this feeling in my gut since last night. Like I lost something precious, I just couldn’t put a finger on it… I still can’t, to be honest. All I know, in my loins, is that I can’t let you step down from your position, and I sure as hell won’t walk away on you without figuring out what this…” I wiggle my fingers, pointing to the mouth of my stomach, “feeling is about.”

He stares at me.

I stand up again, and this time I just pace, to the wall with the pictures, and stare at a bunch of faces, too similar to Peeta’s not to be related to him somehow.

“I know I’m not making sense, but I just needed to say that.”

He watches me for a long beat, weighing his options no doubt, before answering, “I can’t be your teacher, Katniss…” he sighs, and rubs his forehead, “because I’m afraid seeing you every week, without being able to touch you will be absolute torture.”

“Really?” I bite my lip, giving him an open once over, not feeling one iota self conscious about. “How come?”

Peeta huffs, avoiding my eyes. “I’d be wondering what your breasts look like the whole time.” He confesses, flatly. “I didn’t get a chance to see them last night, and it kept me awake an indecent amount of time.” He twists his lips, “I’m gonna be pinning the whole semester, whether you’re in the classroom or not, craving the taste of your juices in my tongue, and worse of all, I’ll probably embarrass myself, giving me involuntary hard on’s just fantasizing about you.”

I practically prowl towards him. “You poor thing,” I coo, pouting. “Would you go home to masturbate on the soiled pair of panties I left behind on that dirty, bathroom floor?” I ask… more like, purr, really.

Peeta chuffs out an incredulous laugh, covering his face with both hands. He grunts, “Aw, fuck! That sounds so… it’s probably exactly what could happen. I’d try to stay professional in the classroom, but in the privacy of my home…” he chuckles weakly, shaking his head.

“What kind of fantasies are we entertaining here?” I ask, invested, and sit on the corner of his desk.

Peeta thins out his mouth, “Katniss… that’s a slippery slope you’re trying to climb,” he warns.

“Humor me?” I cajole.

He takes a stuttering breath. “I’ll bring you into this office, same way I did today, except I’ll rip your clothes off, throw you on the desk and take you hard and fast. From behind.”

I can’t stop a small sound at the back of my throat, nor the need to rub my thighs together.

I clear my throat, “I expect you’d want to fuck me on every surface in this office?”

Peeta pulls on the collar of his shirt, his face turning crimson, “And probably the lecture hall as well,” he adds conversationally.

I nod, scooting closer to where he sits. “I’m curious too you know. I didn’t get to see ‘any’ part of you naked. But my muscles still are deliciously sore from last night. A girl has to wonder… just how big a dick has to be to cause so much wreckage?”

It doesn’t take much effort at all to work him up. Peeta’s pants are tented in what looks like the most uncomfortable erection ever; he shifts in his chair to try and hide the effect my words have on him, yet, his hands remain folded on his lap, white knuckled with the effort of keeping himself in check. He’s really committed not to touch me while I’m still his student, but he rasps a question, full of concern.

“Did I hurt you?” His eyes search me, earnestly. “I’m sorry I was too rough, really,”

My heart gives a little somersault. “No, Peeta. You were pure perfection. I loved how you handled me.”

His lips twitch, and I’m amazed at how expressive his face is, even partially hidden under his near facial hair. “You said you were hungry last night before you got on your knees…” I murmur, “I think, next time I’ll return the favor,”

“Next time?”

I slide closer to him, but we both keep our hands to ourselves.

I lick my lips, resisting the urge to drop on my knees between his legs and gobble up his cock. I didn’t lie about wanting to see him in all his naked glory, but I can show the same level of restraint he does; I respect him for trying to keep a moral and ethical compass.

I smirk at him, slyly. “Are you sure you wanna abandon your post as my professor, now that my education is on the balance? We can wait a handful of months, Doctor Mellark… I promise not to tease you,” With that, I mean, I promise not to aggravate what could potentially be the worst case of blue balls in the history of slow burns.

Peeta hisses a mirthless chuckle, “You’re too much of a temptation, even if you don’t actively try teasing me, Katniss,”

I start playing with the end of my braided, dark hair. “You know what I’m most really looking forward to, from when I’m no longer your student?” I pose, shyly, “Going to that dinner you mentioned last night.” I shrug one shoulder. “I’ll let you buy me a stack of pancakes to celebrate my graduation. I’ll probably introduce you to my sister, Primrose… and we’d go from there… if you wanted to…”

Peeta smiles, disarmingly. “I’d love that too, Miss Everdeen.” He says quietly.

I let go of my braid, and hug myself, “Stay in the class?” I practically beg one last time. “We can do it, I know we can. We can have a platonic, completely innocent teacher-student relationship until I’m done with college,”

Peeta shakes his head. “We’ll see after I talk to my head of department. Who knows, maybe all the schedules are already locked in place, and I have no other choice but to stay put. There’s no guarantee a replacement is available for me.”

“We’ll make it work!” I say enthusiastically.

“Maybe…” he sighs, not entirely convinced.

I pull my phone out of my pocket to check the time. Time is running out, I gotta get to the pharmacy before my window of opportunity closes.

“Hey, Peeta… um, invasive, weird question?”

I wait for him to nod.

“Have you by any chance, have gotten a vasectomy at any point?”

“Mmm no, never had. Why?”

Aw shit!

I bite the inside of my cheek. “Hopefully no reason.” I say quickly, too nonchalant for my own good, and he catches on it, I can see the gears turning in his brain, “Okay,” I make a big show of yawning and stretching my arms, “I have to run some errands before going home and crashing for the night.”

Peeta cringes, “Are you… okay? Really, okay? You said you were sore?” His eyes rove over my face full of concern.

“I’m fine,” I smile, “nothing a long soaking in Epsom salts can’t cure.”

“Okay,” he says, unsure. “I don’t want to overstep any worse than I already have, but… I’ve been anxious, wondering if you were alright, if you got home fine to your sister since you left the club. Which, obviously you did… but, I wanted to kick myself for not asking your number, just to be able to check on you… and this is frown upon, a d completely unethical, but—“

“I’ll email you,” I say quickly. “Nothing explicit. But I’ll let you know I’m home and okay.” I’ve spoken to people in code before, this shouldn’t be a problem, and really, sending my professor an email with a time stamp and some innocuous question about the syllabus doesn’t have to be nefarious at all.

“Alright… Just let me know if there’s anything wrong, okay? I swear this won’t become a routine thing or anything, just this time, to give me peace of mind, and because it is late… and well, yesterday…”

“It’s fine, professor. I don’t mind. And… everything will work out,” I say shouldering my bag and pocketing my phone, “everything will work out, even if my Plan B doesn’t,” I smile and scurry out the door, before the puzzlement in his face has time to settle.

After all, a semester is only 15 weeks long, give or take… that’s plenty of time to figure things out.

#alliswell21 #animekpopxx #prompt 144 #Springtime Edition 2021 #submission

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the-lonelybarricade · 3 years

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A Court of Faded Dreams: Chapter 16

Chapter title: A Sound of Thunder

Fic Summary: In her grief after Rhys sacrifices himself to restore the Cauldron, Feyre accidentally sends herself back in time. Back in her human body, in her early days in the Spring Court, Feyre must be careful how she alters the timeline as she tries to save Rhys and Prythian from Under the Mountain.

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The sounds of the teeming crowd were thunderous against the passageway.

Equipped with her fighting leathers, her head held high, Feyre couldn’t help but feeling she truly was a champion, striding toward the glory of battle. She let her mantra of names drive her forward, her steps unfaltering. She was High Lady of the Night Court, Feyre Cursebreaker, and she would show this infernal court that she would prevail.

Rhysand, Mor, Cassian, Azriel, Amren, Elain, Nesta, Lucien—my friends, my family, the dreamers of the world. For them I will endure. For them I will not be afraid. I am Feyre Cursebreaker and I will not falter. I will not break.

The dissonance of laughter, shouting, and unearthly howls worsened when they stepped into the massive arena.

Cursebreaker, High Lady, mate, salvation—I could call you many things, Feyre, but none of them quite do you justice, Rhys’s voice purred. He must have overheard her mantra while she’d been walking through the hall. Historians will need to paint this image before me, for no words could accurately describe your tenacious spirit. You look as if you could face the Gods and win.

It may have been enough to bring her to her knees had the guards not been holding her up. After two days of silence, hearing his voice was like snaring a rabbit after days without food—a sweet, guilty relief.

Romantic analogy, he teased, but there was an unspoken apology in his voice, in the loving caress against her mind. Yet, now was not the time to speak about their disagreement, not when they were both too keyed up about the trial.

Remind me to write you more poetry when we leave this Hellhole, Rhys continued. I suspect having a huntress as a muse could produce some rather inspiring works.

Feyre tried not to smile, stepping carefully on the slick, muddy floor as she was led before the crowd.

Your lips are red as the blood of a freshly skinned doe. Your eyes as blue as a bird shot down with an arrow—

Your prose is truly stimulating, Rhys, but shouldn’t we be focusing on my impending doom? She cut in.

Brilliant, Feyre. I was about to work in a comparison to disembowelment, but your travails against the Middenguard Wyrm might prove more inspirational. What rhymes with Wyrm, by chance?

Feyre was hauled towards a wooden platform erected above the riotous crowd. Atop it sat Amarana and Tamlin and before them was an exposed labyrinth of tunnels and trenches—her fighting arena. She was thrown to her knees before the platform, the half-frozen mud splattering from the impact.

Rhys was still chattering in her mind. Firm, term, squirm, discern…

Feyre rose back to her feet. She knew Rhys was trying to keep her nerves at bay, knowing this trial could still very well kill her. For all the lightheartedness of his words, she could sense his apprehension.

Around the platform stood a group of six males, secluded from the main crowd. Feyre tracked her eyes over their cold, beautiful faces, smoothing the recognition in her eyes—Helion, Kalias, Tarquin, Beron, Thesan, and Rhys, who bore a feline smile through his corona of darkness. But anyone who knew him well could see how the facade of amused indifference didn’t quite reach his eyes.

Choosing to rhyme ‘Wyrm’ seems like the work of a lesser poet, Feyre hummed to him, because maybe he needed the distraction too. It would be much more impressive for you to rhyme ‘Middenguard’.

Amarantha raised a hand and the roaring crowd silenced. “Well, Feyre,” the Faerie Queen said, resting a hand on Tamlin’s knee. “Your first task is here. Let us see how deep that human affection of yours runs.”

And what if I do? Rhys purred, continuing this dance of not quite acknowledging their anxieties. It was a routine they both performed well. If I come back to you with a brilliant poem rhyming ‘Middenguard’, what will you give me? A Champion’s kiss?

Defeating a Middenguard Wyrm is certainly much easier than writing verse about one. It would be a shame for that to go unrewarded.

I’m pleased you recognize my plight, Feyre darling.

“I took the liberty of learning a few things about you,” Amarantha drawled. “It was only fair, you know.”

Feyre braced herself, knowing any moment she’d be pushed into those trenches. If she was ready, perhaps she could land on her feet and take off before the Wrym gave chase.

“I think you’ll like this task,” Amarantha went on. She waved a hand and the Attor stepped forward to part the crowd, clearing the way to the lip of a trench. “Go ahead. Look.”

Feyre stalked towards the trenches and tentatively peered down the twenty foot drop, pretending she didn’t know full well it was a trap. Still, she took the moment to study the path she should take starting directly below. Feyre tracked the route that would put the most distance between herself and the Wyrm initially, to give her enough time to disguise her scent.

Hands slammed into her back, and Feyre watched the floor of the trench rush towards her before she was jerked up by the bone-hard grip of the Attor, its wings beating powerfully against the drag of her weight. Laughter echoed across the chamber as she dangled from the Attor’s claws, but Feyre didn’t let it deter her. She had a better vantage point, now, and she could see to the pit of bones where she’d laid her trap—there. She studied the necessary turns at each junction, trying to commit it to memory—left, left, left, right, right, left, right…

The Attor swooped down into the trench and dropped Feyre on her feet. She landed gracefully, a lioness poised to pounce. And before Amarantha could begin rattling on uselessly with her taunts, Feyre lept into a sprint, flying through the muddy passageway.

After a moment’s surprise, Amarantha tipped her head back and cackled. The crowd began howling in laughter at her lead. “Humans are such cowards. Why do you run, Feyre, when you’ve yet to learn what you’re facing? Such disappointing behavior from a supposed huntress. You were meant to catch my prey, not run with your tail between your legs.”

Feyre was hardly listening as she skidded around the first left where the passageway split into two, nearly careening into the wall of the trench. She took only a moment to regain her footing, scooping a handful of mud from the wall as she did so. Feyre began spreading the foul sludge along her arms as she took off once more.

“Release it,” Amarantha hissed, seemingly provoked by Feyre’s lack of acknowledgement and unfaltering maneuvers. She certainly hadn’t expected her little toy to be dropped into the arena with a plan.

Behind her, Feyre heard a grate groan open, then a slithering, swift-moving noise. She increased her pace, throwing herself through the next diverging left path. The crowd had quieted to a murmur, silent enough for Feyre to hear the guttural rumble of the worm. It wasn’t yet close enough for her to feel the vibrations in the ground and Feyre took that as an encouraging sign. She tore at the wall as she ran, rubbing more mud onto her fighting leathers, along her torso. Feyre veered left again at the next fork.

Three lefts then two rights then another left… Feyre reminded herself as she heaved a handful of mud onto her head mid-stride, ignoring as the slop dripped down her face.

“What’s it doing?” a faerie from the crowd sneered above.

Feyre could feel the vibrations of the Wrym as it gained on her, though she couldn’t yet smell the stench of its breath and that was promising. She was running through a long, straight section of the trench and she hoped she’d put enough distance between them to make it across.

Feyre soared past the opening she’d wasted precious time forcing herself through last time she’d been in these trenches. She came to the end of the passageway and took the path to the right, pausing only long enough to rub her another glob of mud over her neck and clothes. Feyre heard what sounded like the Wrym entering the long stretch of passageway she’d just hurled out of. Hoping she’d disguised herself enough, she bolted towards the next fork and promptly skidded to the right.

“She’s become invisible to the Wrym,” Rhysand observed in the elegant timbre as the vibrations rattling through the trench diminished.

Feyre realized he was giving her a subtle hint while answering the male’s question—the Wrym must have taken the left passageway.

Good, she’d bought herself more time. Left then right—then she’d be at the entrance to the pit. She launched further into the labyrinth, following the long and weaving path. Feyre ventured a glance at the crowd long enough to ascertain the Wrym was off her trail, their eyes turned far in the opposite direction.

She weaved left at the next branch, pausing long enough to rub more mud onto herself for good measure. Then she was hurtling towards the last turn and vaulting gracefully into the pit, where she plunged into ankle-deep mud. Feyre might be invisible, but there was still a chance for the Wrym to circle around and happen upon her through the dark tunnel.

The Wyrm is on the other side of the trenches, Rhys informed her from his vantage above. You have time, Feyre. I’ll let you know if it starts heading towards you.

She wouldn’t let the relief show on her face. She had to act ignorant to the Wyrm’s movements, which meant she needed to maintain a hurried pace.

Faeries were peering into the gaping mouth of the pit above her, their faces dark and leering. Feyre paid no mind to them as she quickly scanned her surroundings. She let a sly, predator's smile break over her face.

There was a dark chuckle in her mind. You look absolutely terrifying right now, Feyre darling.

She could only imagine—her white teeth probably stark against the dark mud caked to her face. That only encouraged her smile to broaden.

Quickly, Feyre picked through the mud, scavenging for the largest bones she could find. She promptly snapped them in half against her thigh, ignoring the sting from the impact, and tossed them into a pile. More and more bones, venturing into the darkness of the tunnel to find some of them, until they formed an impressive heap of ivory in the center of the pit. Her legs were sore and burning from where she’d heaved the bones upon them, but she gritted her teeth against the pain.

Feyre swiftly got to work in building her trap. She selected four of the larger bones from the top of the pile and slid them into the loops of her fighting leathers for later use. She took first to building the beginnings of her ladder, driving the sharp end of the bones into the wall as far as she could reach, double checking they were pushed in far enough to be sturdy.

“What’s it doing? What’s it planning?” one of the faeries hissed.

Feyre faced back toward the center of the pit opening, calculated the distance, and began plunging bones into the ground, sharp-side up. One by one, she stuck them into the muddy floor until the pile of snapped bones had disappeared, the whole area—save for one spot—filled with her homemade caltrops.

Feyre didn’t double check her work as she turned on her heel. She began climbing up the bone ladder, sparing one of the bones looped through her fighting leathers to serve as the final rung. Finally, she heaved herself out of the pit, her trap set. Now to bait her prey.

The Wrym had to be decently far away, for she felt no vibrations and heard none of its rumbling groans. The only indication of its location was from hasty glances toward the faeries crowded above, but they seemed amazed enough at her handiwork that most were staring right back at her. Feyre supposed she’d have to track it herself, then. She spared a moment to ensure that no part of her was left uncovered in the filthy mud, dousing herself one final time. She withdrew one of the bones from her belt, her grip slippery.

“What’s it doing?” that same green-faced faerie whined.

“She’s built a trap,” Rhysand answered again with twinkling eyes. “The Wrym relies on its scent, and Feyre is its invisible huntress.”

Feyre glowered and sent him an obscene gesture, just for old time’s sake. His laughter reverberated through her mind in response and she smiled inwardly at him.

Go hunt, my beautiful, cunning mate.

⟡⟡⟡

Feyre spared two more of the bones on the especially tight corners leading to the pit, driving them into the ground so she could use them to haul herself around the bend. The novelty of her trap having worn off as she stalked back into the labyrinth, Feyre was able to spot a crowd of faeries gathered to taunt the Wyrm. She followed after, slowing to a stalking pace as she flattened her back against a wall as she heard the slithering and grunting of the worm. And crunching.

The faeries watching the Wyrm—ten of them, with frosty blue skin and almond-shaped black eyes—giggled. Feyre could only assume they’d grown bored of her and decided to watch something else die.

Feyre slid around the bend and craned her neck. The crowd murmured overhead. Too covered in its scent to smell her, the Wyrm continued feasting, stretching its bulbous form upward as one of the faeries dangled a hairy arm. The Wyrm gnashed its teeth and the faeries cackled as the arm dropped into its waiting mouth.

Feyre raised her bone-sword as she moved around the bend, away from the Wrym, and prepared herself to run for her life. She couldn’t afford any self doubt as she drew the jagged edge of the bone across her palm, splitting open her flesh.

I am Feyre Cursebreaker, High Lady of the Night Court, the Stars Eternal, and I will endure.

Blood welled, bright and shining. Feyre let it build before clenching her hand into a fist. The worm would smell it soon enough.

Something unexpected had happened last time, Feyre remembered—the Wyrm had become so ravenous it’d broken through the wall rather than come round the bend.

The crowd had gone silent. Feyre tried to back up casually, putting space between herself and the wall but keeping her eyes fixed towards the turn. She couldn’t look as if she knew the Wyrm would move unexpectedly—Amarantha might suspect Rhysand’s intervention.

The blue faeries were grinning at Feyre as she stumbled back, mock confusion growing on her face the longer she waited.

She must have been selling it convincingly enough because shattering the silence like a shooting star, a voice—Lucien’s—bellowed across the chamber. “TO YOUR LEFT!”

Feeling so grateful for her friend, Feyre used his interjection as an excuse to break into a sprint away from the wall. The extra space she’d slyly given herself had been enough to offer an edge as the Wyrm exploded through the mud, a mass of shredding teeth. Feyre was already running, so fast the trenches were a blur of reddish brown. She could hear the Wyrm shuddering through the tunnels, quick on her heels, but not quick enough.

Feyre took a sharp turn, grabbing onto a bone-rail to careen around without breaking her speed. She let the momentum propel her forward to the next turn. Feyre’s breath was a flame ravaging her throat as she hurtled around the next bend.

The worm was a raging, crashing force behind her, but Feyre’s steps were steady as she strode across the mud, flipping through the final turn. The crowd became ravenous as she shot through the straight passageway curving up before the pit. Feyre had earned precious seconds on those turns; now that they were running straight on, the Wyrm was gaining on her quickly. She could feel its breath warming her back as the mouth of the pit loomed, and she lept.

Time seemed to slow as Feyre met open black air. Somehow falling had lost its edge after learning to fly with Azriel. She swung her arms as she tumbled gracefully toward the spot she’d kept clear of sharp bones. Feyre hit the ground hard, rolling with the momentum. She felt something pop, but didn’t give herself time to clock it as she hurried into the darkness of the den.

The Wyrm plummeted into the pit with a wet, crunching noise. And then its body went still.

Feyre ventured toward the beast, seizing one of the bones from the ground as she did, just in case. Her left arm was limp and throbbing—dislocated, she realized belatedly. From the fall.

There were gasps rising indiscriminately from the crowd. Then cheering. Feyre was too busy wondering how she’d climb out of the pit with a dislocated shoulder to bask in the pride of it.

No one made any move to help her. Feyre gritted her teeth. Fine then, she thought. She’d set it herself. It was crude, and she might not do it correctly, but Rhys could rectify any further damage later on. Right now she had to focus on getting out of this Gods’ forsaken pit.

After taking a long, steadying breath, Feyre shoved the left side of her body into the mud wall with enough force to make her gasp. Still, she felt that pop as her shoulder slid back in place. Feyre swallowed past the hot shards of agony as she stalked to the bone ladder.

She couldn’t help the whimper that escaped as she raised her arm to the bone rung, but at least she could move it again. Each step up the ladder was pure torment, but eventually Feyre was able to pull herself back into the labyrinth. She was gasping, mostly in pain, as she silently stumbled back through the labyrinth. Feyre knew she probably had more injuries, disguised by the tingling remains of adrenaline pumping through her veins.

She reached the edge of the trench and beheld Amarantha, sat high on her platform. Feyre still had a long bone clenched in her fists and she knew exactly what she planned to do with it.

“Well,” Amarantha said with a little smirk. “I suppose anyone could have done that.”

Feyre took a few running steps and hurled the bone at Amarantha with all her remaining strength, wincing against the pull at her shoulder.

The bone embedded itself in the mud at Amarantha’s feet, splattering filth onto her white gown.

The faeries gasped again. Amarantha stared at the still wobbling bone before touching the mud on her bodice. She smiled slowly. “Naughty,” she tsked.

But Feyre smiled right back, all teeth. Defiantly, tauntingly. Just enough to demonstrate her assuredness. This was the only task Amarantha had a chance of defeating Feyre in; now she was practically sitting in her own coffin. Feyre wanted to hint it to her, just a little bit, just enough to make her regret underestimating a human.

Careful, Rhys warned, but there was pride shining in his voice.

“I suppose you’ll be happy to learn most of my court lost a good deal of money tonight,” she said, picking up a piece of parchment.

Congrats on your earnings, she purred to Rhys. What’s my cut?

Hmm, we didn’t negotiate anything, but I suppose I owe something to my Champion. How’s a ring sound?

“Let’s see,” Amarantha went on, reading the paper as she toyed with Jurian’s finger at the end of her necklace. “Yes, I’d say almost my entire court bet on you dying within the first minute; some said you’d last five, and—” she turned over the paper—“and just two people said you would win.”

Two people? Feyre frowned, but then her eyes found Lucien in the crowd. Despite the punishment he’d be facing for his outburst, he was grinning at her ferociously, pride gleaming in that russet eye. She was touched.

Don’t tease me. There’s only one ring I have my sights on, and I wish it could be acquired so easily as killing a Wyrm.

Ah, yes. But once you do acquire it, it’s yours.

Feyre tried not to smile at the implication of his words. They’d made everything she’d just endured, twice over, more than worth it.

Amarantha frowned at her list, and she waved a hand. “Take her away. I tire of her mundane face.” She clenched the arms of her throne hard enough that the whites of her knuckles showed. “Rhysand, come here.”

Red hands grabbed Feyre as Rhys started to prowl forward. She couldn’t stay long enough to hear what was said to him, though she longed to. She hoped he wasn’t in too much trouble. It seemed Amarantha had tightened his leash since her arrival.

Stay safe. Please, she begged him as she was hauled away. Say whatever you need to say. Throw me under any current you need if it keeps your head above water.

I’ll come see you soon, was all he said.

Feyre couldn’t even look back as she was dragged, none too gently, back to her cell. Her shoulder throbbed in pain and as the adrenaline wore off, she felt her other injuries slowly waking up. A sharp sting in her right thigh, a biting pulse in her ankle, and plenty of sore, aching muscles.

She collapsed in a heap as soon as she was thrown into her cell, succumbing herself to sleep before the pain won over.

Taglist: @cretaceous-therapod @feybaenc @uniquelyboringmusings @imsecretlyaherondale-blog @rhysandswingspan

#A Court of Faded Dreams #feysand fic #feysand #acotar #acotar fic #acotar fanfiction #fanfiction #pro feyre #pro rhys #UtM #first trial

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rena-te · 3 years

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I’m gonna throw some random thoughts/predictions about NEO at the wall. Mostly bc I’ve been thinking about this stuff for a while and need to shout into the void about it. (It will get into the Game’s Opening Sequence as well as any information that’s come out so far, just to mention it in case you were avoiding that content.) Join me for a lot of this down below the cut!

First of all, Tsugumi. In A.N.D we see her in a destroyed Shinjuku. Along with the visions of the future she gives Neku there are these messages.

“Everyone’s gone away..... All that’s left in the world is me.” (City being destroyed.)

“I can’t hear a thing...” (Tsugumi is walking the streets alone.)

“Hello? Is anybody there?” (Joshua shooting.)

“Somebody... Anybody... Can anybody hear me?” (Rhyme dying to (purple) shark noise.)

This last one isn’t a vision. It happens after Coco shoots Neku and he vanishes. Which leads me to think, since it is mostly a repeat of the first two future visions, it’s actually happening in this moment. It could be Tsugumi calling out one last time...... Before she’s overtaken by something?

“Too late... It’s all over...” (Same as first two. Tsugumi’s eyes notably turn red more than before.)

How is she giving Neku these visions? (It seems that she’s just calling out to anybody, and for some reason Neku heard her.) To send visions like that I’d think that Tsugumi is either Shinjuku’s Composer or maybe an angel? Or something else we’ve not seen? And they’re all visions of the future. Is Tsugumi speaking into the past as well as projecting those images? (We’re assuming that the reason for Shinjuku Reapers being in Shibuya is bc the UG in Shinjuku has been destroyed. So are the visions congruent with Shinjuku being destroyed or is the city being destroyed in the future, likely sometime between TWEWY and NEO?) The possibility of time travel makes things a million times more complicated.

Or maybe Tsugumi wasn’t quite sending him visions at all, and it was a kind of side effect of being linked to a Composer (since they are somewhat omniscient, and bc some of those visions were not really related to Tsugumi.) She was just trying to communicate with him, but some of that power leaked through their psychic bond and gave Neku a bit of clairvoyance?

If Shinjuku’s UG got destroyed, does that leave the Composer alive? We know that the Composer killing themselves would effectively shut down the UG, but if it happens the other way around? The Composer still exists, but would there be no consequence for losing an integral part of themselves? If the Composer’s connection to the UG is so pivotal, maybe the UG being gone is the reason why Tsugumi seems so...empty? (Is she so vacant that someone else is pulling the strings at this point?) It’s odd for Tsugumi to call out to Neku for help, but target him in NEO. (Given orders to target him.)

Also maybe the UG being destroyed but the Composer still existing explains Joshua’s....odd reaction to her? “How fortunate she managed to escape erasure.” Said when he was just in a position of wanting to kill himself in order to destroy his UG. He doesn’t use that sprite often ya know. It could explain the expression he has and the mumbled speech bubble used. Joshua said that he needed to get rid of His UG bc it could negatively tamper with the other grounds. To discover that could be done without killing himself... (And without him knowing of the apparent side effect of a “vacant Composer” Assuming that theory is true in the first place.)

But why does she have a Mr.Mew doll? Uhhhhh.... There’s also some time shenanigans happening too. And that throws many “what-ifs” into the mix, so I’ll avoid going down that rabbit hole. Basically I have no idea, the possibilities are kinda endless with time travel.

Another thing. This guy is also important. Very important apparently. I had a vague idea about him at first, a guess kinda outta left field, but I mean....I’m liking what bits I’ve scraped together for my guess theory by now. Onto speculating about Mr.Kubo here......

In the game’s opening sequence he walks right past Tsugumi (so connected to her in some way), leans in towards the camera, looks at you and does his little eccentric pose.

The only other characters who sorta look into the camera for the opening sequence are Shiba and Shoka, BUT in Shiba’s case it’s more like the camera is centered on him looking forward, and Shoka is more so interacting with Rindo with the way her scene was done. Here Kubo is just walking alone, stops and his eyes lock with the camera...... so wtf does this mean, you’re probably asking. It’s just a funky game introduction, it’s just this dude being weird. Yes, that is all true.

I know that he’s introduced in the line up as a Shinjuku Reaper, along with everyone else. But... I think this guy is Shinjuku’s Producer. If Tsugumi is Shinjuku’s Composer it makes sense for him to follow Her into Shibuya, he’s basically tasked to watch over Her.

Compared to the other Shinjuku Reapers, his color scheme is more...grey scaled. The girl has a grey suit, but Kubo doesn’t have any colors to his outfit at all. His clothes are plain compared to everyone else in this lineup. His facial expressions are the only...unique thing to his appearance. In the little bit of English dialogue we have of him so far, it seems that he’s giving us some kind of advice? And Fret looks to be put off with his eccentric (I can’t think of a more accurate word for it) demeanor.

So the middle aged man with an eccentric personality, with a tendency to give advice (?), pretending to be involved in the game in ways they are not, clothes styled in only neutral colors, and the funky little watch they’re wearing....along with the light poking at the fourth wall (Mr.H- “You mean those teasers?”) both Kubo and Hanekoma fit that bill.

Tbh Hanekoma is a bit eccentric, we’re just so used to how he is by now. The watch is just a minor thing that’s a fun little similarity in their designs don’t worry about it. Don’t tell me the watch isn’t important it ties everything together. Also after a quick goggle search, one website is telling me that Kubo’s name means “sunken ground” in Japanese and this other website is telling me what the individual kanji means, (I do not know Japanese in any way and am assuming that the internet is right about all this. I feel like it tracks with him being a Producer though.)

And just to cap it off, maybe Shiba was Shinjuku’s Conductor. If he rose through Shibuya’s ranks so quickly he’s gotta know what he’s doing. Did he throw Shinjuku out of balance and get rid of the UG so the Composer would be an empty puppet (like Tsugumi kinda seems to be.) Is that why he’s doing all this? Does he plan to become the Conductor (right hand man of the Composer) and then erase the UG, rendering it’s Composer vacant and take control? Shiba wouldn’t know about the Producer, naturally. Is that what it’s all culminating too? Will Joshua be in danger at some point from this guy? I’m wondering when the Higher Plane would step in, but this might just be Kubo’s job since Shiba was Shinjuku’s Conductor (and Hanekoma’s job, since it’s happening in Shibuya now) unless it gets completely out of control. They don’t seem to interfere much, just letting the assigned angels do the groundwork.

So that’s all my thoughts about stuff. I wouldn’t go into the game heavily expecting much of this though. As fun as theories are I’ll be fine enjoying the game for whatever happens. The world-building in twewy is just extremely fascinating to me and I love it so much. This is just my take on a “‘what if” situation anyways so nothing close to this may happen, hahaha. But speculation is very fun and I love to flex my twewy knowledge (it’s been next to useless for like 10 years. Finally twewy is relevant.

#neotwewy #neo the world ends with you #ntwewy #Neo twewy #twewy #the world ends with you #analysis #Neo predictions #I said there’d be PepeSilvia vibes to this #it feels like it makes sense- but it could also be a complete jumble of nothing #idk very fun to make the post though- relieved to get it outta my head a bit #Kubo #A New Day #tsugumi matsunae #Kubo twewy #Kubo neotwewy #mine #I’m glad I figured out how to do ‘readmore’s on mobile and with how long these posts have gotten I’m sure other ppl are glad too

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abeautifulblog · 3 years

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Ideas for Jaskier's music in the Warlord AU

i.e., what Jaskier gets up to as Geralt's one-man propaganda machine

(Most of these didn’t make it into For the Asking, but imagine they’re there in the background.)

Sir Swears-a-Lot

A song about Lambert that (ironically) does not have a single bad word in it. It does that thing—I don't know what you call it—where it sets up a rhyme and then yanks out the bad word at the last minute and substitutes something inoffensive that doesn't rhyme. (Making it very clear what was *supposed* to be there.)

He'll give you lip, he'll give you sass,

But when push comes to shove

He's there to save your sorry ........hide.

Or--

And when the battle's over

and All's been put aright

You try to say, “Sir, thank you!” and get--

“I ain't no f...flipping knight!”

(I expect he also rhymes “witching” with “bitching” at some point.)

Not really propaganda, except in the sense that it's humanizing witchers—the message being that Lambert is foul-mouthed and grumpy, but a genuinely Good Dude underneath it.

I expect this one is popular with kids, because it has the titillation of saying swears!! but they can't actually get in trouble for it.

My Lover is a Witcher

Does what it says on the tin—an incredibly raunchy song that frames itself as a woman extolling to her friend all the myriad benefits of fucking a witcher, including but not limited to:

Can't get you pregnant

Can't give you the clap

Isn't gonna make you marry him

Muscles for days

Incredible stamina

Huge dick

Decades of experience

Did I mention the stamina?

Because Jaskier is a bro and a true wingman and has turned his talents to helping witchers get laid on the Path. It works exceedingly well—too well, say the witchers who aren't trying to hook up but are now being plagued by hordes of extremely persistent admirers.

(Gweld: Jaskier. For the love of all that’s holy. Serrit has nearly stabbed four different women because they wouldn't stop hitting on me. You are a menace.)

Meanwhile everyone in Kaer Morhen is like, Buttercup, that is way more than I ever wanted to know about how Geralt fucks.

Jaskier: ...I didn't say I was writing from personal experience!

Geralt: [hides face]

Jaskier: I'm just saying it's very accurate.

Beneath the Linden Tree

An explicitly anti-war song. It's framed as a young woman singing to her sweetheart, who's been conscripted to fight against the Wolf; she's urging him to keep his head down and surrender the first chance he gets—that there's nothing cool or heroic about war, and everyone knows (hah) that the Wolf treats POWs honorably, so her lover will be safe there until the fighting is over.

I care not for the deeds of war,

I'd have you home with me

And feel your lips on mine again

Beneath the linden tree.

(The linden tree being a repeated motif in the song symbolizing home and love and peace. And you get 1 internet point if you can guess what song I was referencing when I made it a linden tree. ;D)

This is one that I think Jaskier would not claim authorship of—instead, Yen's agents seed it throughout neighboring territories to make it appear a grassroots movement rather than a top-down propaganda push.

As a propaganda song, it's notable in that it doesn't directly try to sing the praises of the Wolf—instead its message is, I don't care who sits on the throne, that has nothing to do with us, I just want you home safe. It's a subtle attempt to erode popular support for wars against the Wolf, by painting them as pointless and unnecessary, with a cost that falls disproportionately heavy on the common people.

(Because it wouldn't surprise me if the overtly pro-Wolf songs become a hanging offense in rival countries—so Jaskier has to come up with songs that push their message but slip the censors.)

Does it work? Hard to say, but Geralt likes it.

Miscellaneous educational songs—that a lot of his songs about the (mis)adventures of various witchers are doing double-duty, not only introducing that person to the public, but also packed with information about the identifying characteristics of whatever the monster-of-the-week was, and (if possible) telling the audience what is and isn't effective when it comes to protecting themselves from it.

He has a lot of these, there's practically a formula for them:

Monster appears in village. (Description of monster and what it does)

A local attempts to kill it, or drive it off, or sneak past it into the woods for a midnight rendezvous, or whatever, something that gets them killed or nearly-killed. (The cautionary tale.)

Witcher arrives on scene. (Heroic introduction. This is the part that the witcher's buddies will regale him with mercilessly from now until the end of time.)

Witcher tells the people what kind of monster they have (opportunity to give more information about it, if necessary) and tells them how to keep safe while he kills it (defensive measures).

HEROIC BATTLE! (Emphasize that you should not try this at home, kids.)

Village thanks witcher, witcher leaves. Whatever emotional hook Jaskier had used for the song (justice being done, rescuing someone, reuniting a pair of lovers, etc) gets resolved. The end.

Because the faster people can (correctly) identify a threat, the faster they can get a properly-equipped witcher out there to deal with it—and if protecting themselves in the mean time is as simple as “don't go out after dark” or “put salt on your doorsteps and windowsills,” the fewer people will get hurt while they're waiting for help to arrive.

These are the equivalent of catchy pop songs, not epics, and Jaskier makes sure to put the most salient information into the most ear-wormy part of the chorus, so if people remember nothing else, they'll remember that.

#witcher shit

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askcherrypie · 3 years

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“My Little Pony Gets Political” - saywhatnow?

I have not bothered to see the new MLP movie for the same reason I haven’t seen ANY of the MLP movies throughout the existence of the franchise - they always manage to dumb it down (even the ones made for Gen3). MLP’s problem, prior to Gen4 (Friendship is Magic), was that Hasbro almost invariably wrote insipid material aimed at an audience they didn’t think very highly of - pre-teen girls. Gen4 broke that mold by treating its target demographic as thinking (albeit young) human beings, which meant NOT smacking them over the head with blunt, trite, saccharine nonsense. Sometimes, Gen1 and Gen 2 managed to do the same thing even though they hadn’t been blessed with the initial direction of someone like Lauren Faust.

Unfortunately, Gen5 appears to be reversing Lauren’s course.

The new movie (WELCOME TO SPOILERSVILLE, POPULATION: YOU) was apparently written by people who did not watch Gen4 even though Gen5 is supposedly a sequel. In Gen4, the “three tribes” had legendarily distrusted and feared one another in ages past, a state of affairs which almost got them all killed by an emotionally-predatory species called Windigoes. The resolution to this problem, the unification of all three tribes into a single nation, became celebrated as the pony version of Christmas, complete with gifts and pageants.

So, at some point in the apparently distant future relative to G4, absolutely all of that is forgotten and thrown out the window with not a single reason given. The movie never explains it, although it does take pains to make clear that the heroines of G4 have legendary status - which only one pony seems to know about. The closest we get to an explanation is that magic just stopped working one day for no apparent reason, and BECAUSE of that so did friendship. Which, again, is something that happened in G4 when all the tribes had their magic taken from them AND THEY FIXED IT BY REFUSING TO STOP BEING FRIENDS.

So you have this incredibly pointless situation which appears to have no rhyme or reason and exists solely to give the one pony who remembers G4 even happened a goal: reunite the tribes in friendship.

Um. We did that already. Multiple times.

And then we have a bunch of special morons out there who have decided that anytime there is the appearance of a “military dictatorship” - which itself apparently is a matter of somepony wearing a military uniform (hello, Wonderbolts, hello Commander Spitfire, guess G4 Pegasi are Nazis now) and other ponies standing in ranks as though part of a military organization (hello, entire Royal Guard, guess the Earth Ponies and Unicorns in the Guard are also Nazis now and Celestia was running a military dictatorship the whole time).

youtube

idk if the generalissimo is “supposed to be” Trump or not, but if he is that’s even more retarded on at least five levels, starting with the fact that Trump didn’t use military troops to lock down the Capitol out of fear he would be ousted from power by American citizens: Biden is. You know, that whole “insurrection” that the FBI ended up saying never actually existed.

But it’s not just retarded because the (apparent) target is misplaced: it would be just as idiotic of a move to make the character a parody of Biden. Contemporary politics never age well, often because more information later comes to light, making such on-the-nose attempts at portrayal fall flat with future viewers. In the current year, it’s not considered socially acceptable to air or even watch cartoons which propagandized the Axis powers of World War 2. Including actual Nazis, on the argument that laughing at cartoon Hitler getting pied in the face somehow denigrates the Holocaust.

Even more retarded is the argument going around that ANY of this is “fascist imagery”. Those sorts of takes are from people whose only understanding of “fascism” is a style of uniform and a general tendency towards militarism.

It would be more accurate and appropriate to say these are indicators of totalitarianism. Instead, we are told that the following are full-throated displays of Fascism (directly from one of the schmucks trying to make this argument):

* a leader fearmongering

* dressing in military attire

* use of propaganda posters

* the military marching and assembling

* big posters of the villain being shown during the leader’s speech

Problem: all of these criteria also directly apply to Communist governments throughout history. A Soviet-era May Day Parade is hardly what one would call Fascist, but any number of those Parades matched up with every single item on this list.

Nor is this the first time there was an argument in the fandom about “Nazis” and “Commies”. Fans trying to push their real-world politics on other fans insisted this video was all about either/or - depending on which bunch of totalitarians they wanted to be the “real” villains “the show was speaking against”.

youtube

In G4, they were smart enough NOT to try and wedge IRL politics into the show. All of this is specific to circumstances revolving around an attempt at a social revolution in Equestria, where all ponies would lose their “destinies” (as determined by their “cutie marks”), and thus be free and equal to pursue whatever future they “really” wanted.

But Starlight Glimmer never promoted National Socialist ideology, nor Communist ideology. She just wanted to take over Equestria using psychological abuse and mind control.

The new writers don’t appear to be that creative or intelligent. Instead, they’re just trying to map current-day social commentary onto Gen5, at least according to outlets like the New York Times . These were the same sorts of imbeciles who previously claimed MLP fandom “has a Nazi problem” (The Atlantic) or was a haven for school shooters (Rolling Stone).

Don’t let the bastards win. Screw ALL the totalitarians, and when the people insulting you screech that Stalin did nothing wrong, mark them in the same pot as the folks who say Hitler was on the ball. If that ends up including the writers for Generation 5, well, there’s always Generation 6..

#MLP #mylittlepony #generation5

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andoqin · 3 years

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Mouse Ep 1

What is it with kdramas and needing to have plot elements in episode one that are fucking ludicrous.

So the structure of this episode is all over the place, we kind of jump backwards and forwards with no rhyme or reason and while it’s still manageable in terms of watchability it does feel herky jerky and makes the plot a bit hard to follow.

I don’t know much about how South Korea does (or used to do) decisions on approving laws, especially laws that infringe on human rights, but the basic premise of the show seems to be that most psychopaths share the same gene which turns them into psychopaths (research on that is inconclusive as of yet, yes there is a genetic component but as to how far it influences us, there is nothing certain yet). Like, one of the main characters in the first ep is a scientist (up for a Nobel!) who figured this stuff out and has a test that gives you a 99% accuracy as to whether your child is going to be the next Ed Kemper/Charles Manson/Ted Bundy.

I mean ... yeah... okay. So anyway he gets called to SK because of a string of serial murders and presents his findings to a small committee? of eight parliament members (I’m presuming), spouts his 99% accuracy test findings, but the 1% left over means that they might be a genius instead bc he also can’t tell the difference between psychopath and genius (which strikes me as a hilarious contradiction) and the committee votes on whether to force abortions on pregnant women where fetal dna testing points to the fetus having this kind of gene. The drama even points out that South Korea has banned abortions normally! So we’re right in eugenics-landia from the get go.

The committee deciding as to whether they SHOULD ADOPT THIS LAW!!!! is split 4-4 (hilariously accurate to me though is the fact that there’s like 10 men in the room and one woman, that tracks) and the tie breaking voter votes against it, because his wife just got pregnant (as he reveals in a later scene) and then he gets told "you stole your baby's right to live in a world without crime or wars" by another woman.

Anyway that’s not even the most ludicrous portion of this episode.

That happens when a 5 (6 at most) year old child witnesses his family’s murder, which his slightly older brother barely survives, gets taken to a hospital, SEES THE MURDERER ON A POSTER IN THE HOSPITAL, NABS A SCALPEL, STOWS INTO THE POLICECAR ON THE WAY TO THE SUSPECTS HOUSE (they gotta go there bc one of the officers’ daughters was taken), AND TRIES TO STAB THE MURDERER!!! I repeat, this is a 5 year old child who just had pretty much the most traumatic experience that could happen to anyone. Good god, no wonder the serial killer got away with it so long the police are fucking inept. And then they FIND THE KIDS’ MOTHER’S HEAD IN A SNOWMAN (which is only revealed because of the stabbing attempt). I... what?????????

And then the police is forced to let him go bc... the court doesnt believe the witness (the kid i guess) and apparently they believe the hilarious excuse that the murderer says “oh idk how those snowmen got there, i didn’t build them”. Only for the (heavily pregnant DUN DUN DUUUN) wife of the murderer to go “here’s a fucking polaroid of you building the snowmen you asshole”.

OH AND!!! our nobel nominated doctor is/used to be besties with serial killer, so when he tests the wife and the test comes back positive, she is distraught and wants to abort immediately, but she’s in her last trimester, so it’s a no go.

And then to set up the plot we have another woman whose fetus tested positively but she doesn’t want to abort, bc her child is what she has left of her late husband and he could never hurt a fly (nvm the fact that it’s much more likely that she is the carrier of this gene, but that’s not science the drama is interested in).

We then see a kid 5 and 10 years later clearly with APD issues (but also suffering from abuse at home?) and he’s killing animals, tries to murder his brother for tattling on him and gets strangled by a woman yelling “i never should have given birth to you” (but we dont see which woman it is).

Why do dramas do this? Do better.

#mouse #mouse tvn #can you just stop kdramas #please #kdrama

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