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lizbotw · 4 years

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Karasuno popsicle eating competition? 👀👀👀 (i saw you were bored so-)

Karasuno Popsicle Eating Competition

choco omg i loved this concept even though i was definitely not expecting it in the middle of fall, but also, i absolutely get. i spent all night thinking about this so thank you, you successfully cured my boredom, and now here it is, i finally wrote out all of my ideas. please enjoy because i had way too many thoughts about this ♡

Karasuno

100% Nishinoya’s idea.

What? He literally adores Garigari-kun popsicles. A proper popsicle enthusiast and therefore of course it would be none other than him that would come up with such a plan.

You would probably be walking home with the second-years after practice after a quick stop into Coach Ukai’s store to pick up snacks on the way.

Classic meat buns and crinkly packs of chips that always felt like they contained more air than well... chips—that’s what most of you had gotten. But Nishinoya? It was him and his trusty popsicle (soda flavored of course).

You had to stop too many times to keep track of because he kept devouring them before you could even blink and somehow the lucky bastard kept getting the ones with the sticks that qualify you to get another popsicle for free. You best believe he was cashing those in instantly.

You bumped Tanaka with your shoulder to get his attention, not taking your eyes off of the back of Noya as he disappeared up the hill and back to the store. “Why doesn’t he just buy a whole box of them at this point?”

“Mmm,” Tanaka hummed in agreement, hand deep in his bag of potato chips. He stuffed a few more in his mouth, crunching in thought. “Good point.”

Noya was never gone more than a few seconds and you didn’t even get the chance to reply before he came barreling down the hill, blue wrapper in his hand—prize secured it seemed.

The group didn’t resume walking just yet, waiting to see if finally Noya’s reign of exploiting Ukai’s store for free frozen treats would come to an end. (You were hoping the stick at the center of the popsicle would turn out to be blank, not have another cheesy message about how “You won an extra popsicle! Take this stick to any participating retailer to cash it in.”)

“Aren’t you tired of running back and forth?” That was Ennoshita, chewing on his meat bun and looking like he very much wanted to go home.

Noya pulled the popsicle out of his mouth to reply, tongue already stained blue. “Nope! It’s good cardio, plus I get a reward at the end!” As if to prove his point, Noya punctuated the end of his sentence by shoving the popsicle back into his mouth. It wouldn’t be long until he reached the stick and you guys would (potentially) have to wait another five minutes for him to repeat the process all over again.

“It makes sense to buy more than one though. We’re never going to get home at this rate,” Ennoshita grumbled. He was clearly too tired to be dealing with this or he would have dragged Noya away from the store by his ear a long time ago.

Before Noya could bring up the benefits of running up and down a hill in the middle of the night (on a school night nonetheless) again, Tanaka cut in. “Yeah, why don’t you buy an extra one for me, dude. Then we’ll match!”

It was like a switch was flipped and Noya’s eyes lit up, widening. “Dude, great idea!”

“Right? It was (Y/N)’s idea actually.”

“Tanaka, that was not what I said.” You were quick to defend yourself, casting a nervous side glance at Ennoshita who was already glaring daggers at you.

“Either way, I still think it’s a good idea. I’ll be right back-”

“Oh no you don’t.” Ennoshita grabbed a hold of the back of Noya’s shirt to prevent him from running off (he’d already gotten in position to run up the hill—getting two steps in before he’d been stopped—and if Ennoshita had been a second slower Noya would have gotten away completely).

“Even if you did get one for Ryuu, I don’t know if it’d be very fair,” Narita cut in. Clearly he was just being nice and thinking about everyone, but words had a tendency to get twisted when it came to matters like this, especially when the other second-years were involved.

“Yeah, what are the rest of us, Yuu? Chopped liver?” Kinnoshita finished off his meat bun and crumpled the empty napkin he’d been holding it with into a small ball in his hand to throw away later. He was smirking mischievously and you could tell he wasn’t exactly opposed to the idea of free popsicles.

“True. You really should be offering to get all of us one.” Of course Ennoshita was the one to deliver the final blow. The trio could be real menances when they wanted to be and judging by the look they all shared, they were clearly enjoying poking fun at Noya.

And of course Nishonya took their words seriously, a thoughtful expression taking over his features. Sarcasm? Not detachable when it came to popsicles. “You’re right.” Uh oh… Nishinoya having that faraway look in his eyes was never a good sign. “And if I get it for all of you then… I should just get for the entire team!” His voice increased in volume as he spoke until he had the sudden epiphany at the end that he shouted. Energized by the thought, he made to go run towards the store again but seemed to forget the vice grip Ennoshita still had on him.

Nishinoya struggling against the hold and Ennoshita trying to pull him back so you guys could finally go home and work on your excessive amount of homework quickly turned into a yelling match. You should have known it would turn out this way...

It looked like things were about to get messy, so you decided to intervene, speaking hurriedly before someone lost a limb in the scuffle. “I think it’s a good idea. Let’s just all go ask Ukai now if we can have popsicles tomorrow for practice and then we can go home.” You said the last part looking pointedly at Ennoshita—listen, you were also tired so you knew exactly how to get through to him. How Noya could keep going like this after a full day was beyond you.

There were a few more moments of grumbling and arguing but eventually everyone caved and agreed. And thus you six made the trek back up the small incline to the store perched off to the side. (“No, Nishinoya, we can’t ask him to bring only soda flavored ones. Where is the variety?”)

The jingle of the bell had Ukai looking up from the magazine he was reading and he fixed all of you with an exasperated stare. “You six again? Don’t you have homework or something?”

It didn’t take much convincing to get him on board and he waved a dismissive hand, leaning back in his chair, cigarette between his lips, and opening back up his magazine. “Yeah, yeah, whatever. Just get home already. I don’t want to be responsible for you getting back so late.”

He for sure delivered on his promise because the next day at practice you found a cooler hidden away in the storage closet in the gym. About an hour into a grueling practice session, he called for a break and revealed the surprise (thank god because Nishinoya had been buzzing with anticipation all day, almost spilling the secret several times, and you were sick and tired of it, please send help).

To say the team was excited was an understatement. The sweltering heat of the gym wasn’t exactly ideal and everyone was dying to go out into the summer sun—at least in the outdoors you had the chance of a light breeze whispering across your neck and relieving some of the suffocating tension of the weather.

Moving everything outside, you helped set up the cooler in the nearby school field.

Takeda was surprised that Ukai even considered doing something like this out of the blue and you overheard Ukai admit that he had been working the team pretty hard for the past few days and that they deserved a break.

The atmosphere was relaxed as some of the team members took up residence on the grassy field, sitting among the bright green and running their hands over the cushiony ground as they got situated.

Leave up to Nishoinya to completely ruin that.

Parking himself right in front of the cooler near the top of the hill and thus preventing anyone from gaining access to the mouthwatering treats inside, he declared, hands on his hips for emphasis, “We should make this a competition!”

Daichi was not having it. “Nishinoya, get down from there, we are not-”

“Challenge accepted!” Hinata and Kageyama were already glaring at each other, determination written all over their faces. (You’re pretty sure either Tanaka or Nishinoya told him some lie before about how eating an ungodly amount of popsicles would make him better at volleyball.) At this point, they were simply waiting for Nishinoya’s signal to begin.

“Now that’s the spirit! Let’s start!” And with that Noya stepped away from the cooler with a dramatic sweep of his arm, bowing low. That’s all the confirmation Hinata and Kageyama needed before they made a beeline for the cooler—you should make sure not to get in their way during this part because they are taking this very seriously.

Tsukishima would just scoff at their childishness, telling them to hurry up and move because they’re hogging all the space.

Tsukishima would not participate in “stupid competitions” of any kind, although he would take a popsicle (begruidngly so after Yamaguchi kept pestering him to do so; secretly he really wanted one though).

You could probably find Tsukishima sitting on the gym steps, rolling his eyes at Hinata and Kageyama. He was also the perfect distance away to throw snide comments at them without risking his safety. Just adding fuel to the flames from the sidelines—that was his role.

Yamaguchi would be perched faithfully next to him eating his own popsicle and Yachi would be leaning up against the side of the gym building since there was no more space left on the steps, talking with him. She kept getting over excited or focusing too much on the conversation though, so the sticky juice of her melting popsicle would be trickling down her arm before you could warn her.

She gets very embarrassed over the whole thing once you point it out and then when she’s busy flailing her arms in apology, that just gets the juice everywhere and then she feels even worse about it, and it’s a whole cycle from there.

If you wanted to join the trio, Tsukishima would not be willing to give up his spot on the steps, but if you kept bothering him about it, he’ll probably give in eventually to get you to shut up or you could take your chances trying to shove him over.

Yamaguchi would take pity on you and squeeze over a bit so you would have room, even though he barely had any space for himself.

Or honestly just go stand next to Yachi, she would be more than happy to have someone else to talk to. The only thing is you have to keep an eye on her melting popsicle or else the above scenario will probably happen except you’ll be right next to her when it does. I sure hope you didn’t wear your favorite shirt today.

Kiyoko is the unofficial referee for the competition.

She was appointed after a unanimous vote was taken between Tanaka and Nishinoya—yes, only those two got a say in it—and technically she would be the official referee if not for the fact that the official default for Karasuno is always pure chaos. Rules? There were no rules. Was this even a competition anymore? Why is everyone taking this so seriously? Does no one have any ideas for a prize for the winner? Why is Asahi on the floor?

Speaking of Asahi, he’s in charge of giving out the popsicles and supervising them in the cooler.

Noya tried to get him to join in on the real action of competing, but Suga and Daichi were absolutely against it because Asahi just looks like he would win. To them, that was automatically cheating (poor Ashai).

Kiyoko helps him out because she doesn’t have much of a job if the boys are doing whatever the hell they want anyway.

Please go hang out with those two at the cooler. You’ll have direct access to all of the popsicles (you now hold all the power) and you can actually relax and have a calm conversation—perfect for some lounging around in the sun. And if you did want to witness the chaos of the competition? Well you also have a front row seat to that. It’s a win-win situation honestly.

Nishinoya and Tanaka were, of course, a part of the competition with Hinata and Kagayama. Now the debate of whether the challenge was to eat as many popsicles as possible or to just eat a certain amount as fast as possible was up in the air because by God, they were doing both. That couldn’t be healthy.

Daichi originally started off just watching from the sides, shaking his head in disapproval and barking reminders at them to slow down lest they choke while on his watch.

Suga was next to him of course, eating his own popsicle and telling him not to be such a stick in the mud. He was enjoying this a little too much and honestly was already hatching a mischievous plan to join in on the chaos himself. Definitely cheers for everyone in order to rile up the situation further and then elbows Daichi in the gut when he tells him to stop encouraging them.

On one such occasion, as he rubbed at the sore spot on his side that Suga kept hitting, Daichi narrowed his eyes at the popsicle in his friend’s hand, taking special notice of it now. “Suga… what flavor is that?”

“Cherry. Why?” He continued eating innocently, although he had an inkling of where this was going to go.

“Didn’t you have two cherry ones already?”

“...maybe.”

There was a gasp of betrayal. “You know those are my favorite! You’re trying to eat all of them before me aren’t you!”

The bold accusation leads to them sharing a look and a tense beat of silence passing before they both sprint to the cooler, digging among the other flavors for the highly coveted cherry.

“It’s mine!”

“No, you have to learn to share!”

They inadvertently end up in the competition through this alone, grabbing as many cherry popsicles as they can and piling their arms high.

You have to remind them that the popsicles are going to melt if they keep that up and then there will really be none left, which then sends them into a new flurry of ripping open the packages and chomping down on the glistening red treat inside.

If you join in on the competition, I hope you have a big appetite because everyone involved is not slowing down anytime soon. They’ve doubled over due to brain freeze a few times already but that doesn’t seem to be stopping any of them. If you chicken out at some point, you will be socially outcasted. You have been warned.

Ennoshita, Kinoshita, and Narita are actually being normal and sitting a bit away on the grass, eating their popsicles at a normal rate (not scarfing them down like some people) and actually enjoying themselves.

Ideal group to join—lots of space to sit near them and stretch out on the field, good view of the uh… “competition” (can it really even be still considered that? what do you call the absolute chaos that’s going on there? honestly, why is no one stopping them? where are you, coach? isn’t this your job?) but still a safe distance away from the chaos, and lots of things to discuss. That’s right, these three know all the drama going on in school so sit back, eavesdrop on the gossip, and enjoy. You may or may not choke on your popsicles a few times because how do they even know these things.

Lean back on the grass and bask in the sunlight with these three—the good vibes are there. You’ll probably all end up laying down in the grass after you finish eating and just talking, poking fun at each other and rolling around in the grass in laughter at the latest antic or joke you’ve come up with.

Coach Ukai probably should have thought this over a bit more because it’s hard to get anyone back to practice after having this small taste of freedom (also tensions are still high after the competition so no one wants to work with each other anyway—let’s hope the grudges don’t last long), so he basically gives up for the day and dismisses “practice” early (it had already spiraled way past that at this point so the term was used loosely).

Everyone who was involved in the competition either never wants to hear the word popsicle ever again or they’re feral for more once the cooler is empty (Nishinoya).

Who would’ve thought a normal walk home would turn out like this?

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phoenixkadeu · 3 years

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BRUISED FROM THUMB TO FINGERTIP

Red colored uniform clung to his stomach like a second skin and just like a snake, Asra was getting ready to shed it, leaving behind only a hollow carcass on the floor as a remembrance of the past only so that he could continue his life more freely than ever. Yet, it felt bittersweet, with sharp eyes locked onto the grand entrance in the distance, the one that had welcome him for so many years only to spit him out without a second though, with no regards for the bruises on his body, for his time and suffering or for the burn on the palm of his hand running from thumb to fingertip. A memory of his presence was left behind, a useless ring he had worn for the past few years, once shiny piece of precious metals and crystal and once one of his most prized possessions was now filled with only dirt, completely drained from the fight.

He touched the vacant spot where that ring had once made its home, a cigarette burned on his other hand leaving to the wind the task of sweeping the ashes away as his mind started to wander to what had happened an hour ago.

The day for the practical exam had finally arrived, only a few days after the written one that Asra had the pleasure of not succeeding in, however he was sure that this time he would be able to redeem himself, no matter how many happy or sad faces he saw coming out through that mysterious door, he was confident that he would succeed. Unfortunately, he was also wrong.

He had underestimated the wicked mind of his teachers as they stood there waiting for him as he came through that door, eyes focused on gaining a sense of his surroundings instead of the expressions on their faces. The place was enormous, a construction like any other Asra had ever seen and he wondered for a brief second as he looked upwards and sideways, what kind of being had been capable of creating all of this.

The student was standing at the center of the hexagon, a metal grid underneath his feet, fire already burning in the bottom of that pit as he looked down between the metal. The whole perimeter was surrounded by rocks of all shapes and sizes, mud and dirt placed at the bottom of the waterfalls that acted like the walls of what seemed to be a more luxurious fighting ring. Asra stood there for a few minutes, just a bit confused, but ready, waiting for the challenge ahead.

Everything proved to be much more than Asra had bargained for and at the end, he did the only thing that he had promised himself not to do. He surrendered, he gave up, and thus had to see the smiles on several of the teachers' faces as they claimed themselves victorious after witnessing his failure. The harsh truth was that he was at his limit and losing his powers again was not an option, even if he lost (and that was something that he would have to accept over the years) that was still better than damaging his mana channels again or going through the pain of something far worse than shame.

And so, he left. Tired and disappointed with the result, angry at himself and yet, at peace with the prospect of never having to set foot in that place ever again.

Yet, none of this felt right to him and none of it felt good.

However, as much as Asra wanted to continue thinking about what had happened and what he should do going forwards, especially how he should give his mother the sad news, a small voice interrupted that process by speaking up.

“Hello? Excuse me” the voice sounded like it was coming from near him, however Asra chose to ignore it anyways, his eyes still focused on the same point that had been staring at for the last few minutes. He was not in the mood for a conversation and he hoped that this person, whoever they were, would just understand that and go away. Blame the elementalist for thinking that he would get his way with anything today, because the only thing that he heard was some nervous movement as feet moved against the dirty ground as the small pebbles moved from one place to the other and then, this mysterious person decided to press even further, clearly not pleased with his lack of reaction. “I am looking for someone, I think -” there was a small pause in the speech as Asra turned his head to finally see who was talking.

His eyes roamed the figure, accessing it carefully with a rather cold gaze, assuming at first that it was just some annoying person. Instead, what he saw was frail kid, bare foot and dressed in clothes that were clearly too old, too big and too dirty for him. Asra had to force himself not to show any kind of interest, this was no uncommon occurrence in the streets, even in diamonds there were kids and adults like this everywhere, so he simply waited to hear what would come next.

“I think he might be in there” he pointed at The Academy entrance nervously, however his words did not waver, but neither did Asra’s.

“Look, I can’t help you, I don’t go there anymore” there was some disappointment in his eyes as he looked up at Asra and for a moment that seemed to bother the elementalist more than it should have, yet, he continued “and believe me, you don’t want to go there anyways, I don’t know who you’re looking for, but I bet that they would throw you away the moment you step in there” better to tell him the hard truth than build up his hopes, he could not take back the years that he wasted in there, but he could at least prevent this kid from experiencing any more pain.

Asra did not know what to do as he saw the kid standing there looking from side to side, fingers playing anxiously with a piece of paper, with a lost look in his face as if unable to tell where he should go from here after hearing that Asra was not keen on helping him the way he wanted. Asra would have offered to escort him back to his parents or his home, but judging by the state he was in, he doubted he had any of those and then as if to solve all those doubts, the kid reached out abruptly and Asra was shocked at the strength as he pulled on the sleeve of his uniform.

“You have to help me, I’m not going away until I find him” Asra scoffed, he was tired and upset, he did not need some kid bothering him right now, just because he needed to find someone. If he wanted to really find that person then he better do it himself, because Asra really could not give a shit. He was not setting foot in The Academy ever again.

“I already told you I don’t know who -”

Just before Asra could end his sentence, the little brat shoved the note he had been holding so preciously onto his chest, before declaring a simple “There” which left Asra with only the option of opening it. To his surprise the note was pretty simple and one that he knew too well, something that was written by him years ago, one that revealed only his name and species.

“Where did you get this?”

“Yeon Nen, but I wasn’t able to read it until a few months ago” Asra noticed that there was some shame in his voice as he spoke and in return Asra felt shame himself for not having considered that a possibility back when he wrote it, however it did not last long, because another feeling took its place, a much more awful one: responsibility.

He looked back at the kid, that little note in his hand. Asra had forgot about writing this, he had almost forgot that Yeon Nen and the gift he had left to those kids, but clearly the one that had received it had not forgotten and he had come looking for him. “I’m the one that wrote this”

As soon as the words left his lips, he saw the relief on that kid’s face, how his shoulders visibly relaxed even though his posture did not indicate that he trusted Asra completely, yet he did not question him, did not make him prove that he was really the one that had wrote it.

“You’re an elementalist?” Asra asked, receiving a small, even if unsure nod “What kind?”

“Fire”

Asra sighed, throwing his cigarette to the ground after one last drag. Gods, this was really not how he had planned for his day to go. Yet, he believed the kid and decided that for now he did not need much more information than the one he already had. So he simply crouched down, taking off his shoes before offering them. He knew that they would be way too big and not very comfortable, but at least it would be better than walking around barefooted and Asra could give up a little bit of his comfort until they got to his horse and back to his parents house where he prepare a warm shower, find some of his old clothes and give this kid a nice warm meal.

He hoped that his parents would know what to do and Asra really needed to get his shit together.

#bruised from thumb to fingertip #self-para #ok so this is what is happening with asra #this is backdated I just need to figure out the exact date #but yeah asra DID NOT pass the academy exams #and he is not willing to talk about it #also a blast from the past #when he decided to be a good person and help some kid #and now he really came looking for him #acidental adoption #you'll be seeing more of him #I have plans #need to read this over but I wanted to get this out here asap

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intelligentdumbass · 4 years

Text

The Golden Apple Incident but-

(Honestly writing this felt like writing a glorified shitpost, so-)

Olympus’ garden was breath-taking; bioluminescent flowers blooming under Selene’s far-reaching gaze as the immortals were having the time of their lives, drunkenly singing under the serene night sky.

Hermes couldn’t help but subtly gaze back at Apollo every now and then, who was talking with one of the muses, when someone caught him off guard by wrapping an arm around his shoulder. He instantly knew who it was the second he smelled the wine in his breath.

“Jealous?~” Dionysus wiggled his eyebrows.

Hermes scoffed. “Jealous of what?”

Dionysus motioned back to the nine sisters. Calliope had her arms wrapped around Apollo’s neck while the god had just given her a small kiss. Hermes rolled his eyes, but, oh little did he know, he was faintly blushing.

The younger brother sighed.

“Look man, if you’re going to keep this up, then you‘re absolutely hopeless. I mean, at this point literally everyone except the distracted blonde you haven’t confessed to knows that you want a piece of that-”

“Hahahaha, I have no idea what you’re talking about. Anyway, have you seen Eris? I heard she wasn’t-”

“Hey, don’t change the subject!”

“It’s not what you think! I swear I was just slightly… concerned? I don’t know, he seems a lil off and Cal can prolly sense it too-”

“Pft, excuses excuses-”

Then it happened.

The festivities were suddenly interrupted by their father’s voice thundering across the garden.

“AH-” “What’s this?!”

On his hand he held out an apple as if it was made of pure solid gold. The fruit had struck him on the nose while he was chatting with his siblings. It glimmered and sparkled under the ambient moonlight as if it was enticing all of the immortals to come and have a closer look.

“It… has something engraved onto it? Hold on-” He cleared his throat, and now all eyes were on the king.

“‘It is with my greatest pleasure to present this apple to the loveliest god of them all, a trophy that will stand the test of time, a symbol of the lord’s unrivalled beauty and allure.’”

Whispers echoed throughout the venue, jumping from ear to ear. Now, of course, Zeus would’ve gladly declared himself ownership of the gift as it was thrown at his face. However, barely had a minute passed when the apple was already gone; snatched out of Zeus’ hands by the god of love whose wings immediately threw him up into air as he curiously stared at the prize he was about to award to himself.

“Still the same old insolent piece of shit, huh?”

A golden arrow whizzed out of nowhere, fired from a silver bow and carried by the evening breeze. It narrowly missed Eros’ head and pinned the fruit against one of the trees.

Eros flew after the apple as fast as he could, but by the time he managed to grab a hold of it, there was already another hand, from the archer god himself, and neither party seemed willing to let go.

He hissed. “You arrogant bastard.”

Apollo replied with a shit-eating grin. “Oh please, look whose talking.”

There was one single thought in Hermes’ head. ‘Oh boy.’ He tried to get even closer, running to where Ares and Aphrodite were. He just had to see this.

“Wait!” Athena interrupted, as she was a teensy bit worried that those two were about to murder each other. “This all feels a little… off. We don’t even know where that apple came from-”

“Don’t know; don’t care Misses killjoy!” Eros rolled his eyes. “I can assure you that I sense no malicious auras or weird obscure magic so, perhaps this really is just a gift from some fanatic, at which I am extremely flattered-”

Apollo laughed. “Really, you?? Why on earth would anyone give this to a saucy twink who’s barely taller than Hermes?”

The messenger frowned at the mentioned of his height. Ares gave him a few pats on the back while Dionysus, Artemis and a few other gods snickered. Athena just sighed like she gave up and doesn’t want to involve herself any further. On the other hand, Zeus had stopped trying to come up with a scheme to take back the fruit the second he saw his son want it too. Still though, the way Eros’ and Apollo’s fingers twitched, almost like they wanted to break each other’s necks, was starting to get kind of concerning.

“Okay okay please calm down, both of you.” The last thing Zeus wants is someone’s ichor to be spilled in the middle of a goddamn wedding. “How about-”

“Since you’re the king of the gods, that you be the judge of whoever is deserving to have this apple?” Apollo smiled. “What a wonderful idea father!”

Eros took advantage of that brief distraction of Apollo addressing his father to take the apple and throw it towards his dear mother. “Look, I know he’s usually the one who calls all the final shots, but don’t you think it’d be more fitting to let the literal goddess of beauty decide?”

Zeus thought about it, but decided that choosing between his favorite son and the bastard that could make his libido act up again was a terrible idea. Even Aphrodite herself seemed hesitant to choose and handed the fruit over to Ares because he and Hermes wanted a closer look.

“Uhm, no. I think my very obvious biases would make me one of the least fitting judges for that matter; same goes for Aphrodite. How about… let a mortal who is not part of any of your cults decide, and to please swear not to endanger their life over this.”

The two gods gave each other a brief death glare before reluctantly agreeing to Zeus’ suggestion.

“Good. Now, where did that apple go?”

They all turned towards Ares, who didn’t have the golden fruit in his hands.

“Dad.” Eros stared. “Where’s the apple?”

“Let’s just say… I got hungry.”

There was a long pause before Eros continued.

“C-Come again?”

“I said what I said; I got hungry and that apple was right there and I got curious so, yeah. Surprisingly tasty-”

“I’m sorry,” Athena just had to interject. “But did you just admit to eating a lump of gold?!”

“Bold of you to assume that would stop the god that broke a chicken’s femur when he bit into its thigh.”

The goddess couldn’t tell if he was faking it and therefore hiding something or if he was actually very serious. Now she really did give up listening in to this conversation and proceeded to walk off to wherever Persephone and Artemis were. It was probably for the best, as it almost looked like she was losing more and more brain cells the longer this situation went on.

Apollo raised an eyebrow, but didn’t say anything. Meanwhile, Eros was struggling to process what the fuck just happened. He flew over to Hermes who was trying his best not to laugh his ass off.

“Hermes, do you have something to do with this? Did you steal it??”

“Huh? No, why the hell would I want to steal it?? I may be cocky, but not that kind of self-aggrandizing cocky. I don’t have the golden apple with me.”

Eros narrowed his eyes. “How do I know you’re not-”

“Because he isn’t, all of what Hermes just said is true.” Despite the contents of what he said being perfectly harmless, Apollo sounded like he was about to brake Eros’ back the moment he saw the god of love reach into his quiver.

Eros backed off. “Okay okay, but then what? Is that it?!”

The blonde shrugged. “It appears so.”

“Why do you suddenly act like you don’t care??”

“I mean, of course having a pretty golden apple say you’re the best is great, but in my case it’s kind of unnecessary, isn’t it? Like, duh.” There it was again, that shit-eating grin. “Honestly, it was mostly because I didn’t want YOU to have it and gods fucking forbid you use it to constantly annoy me for the rest of eternity.”

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

Despite the incident that had killed the mood a few minutes ago, the party seemed to be back in full swing now that Aphrodite took Eros back to wherever Psyche was. It was almost like nothing had ever happened.

Hermes, however, was interested in separating himself from everyone else as far as he possibly could, and he had dragged Apollo along with him until they were deep in some obscure part of the garden.

The messenger let out a nervous laugh. “Okay I have something I need to tell you.”

“That what Ares said, even though I can definitely see him doing it just to piss me off, was a red herring and that he hid the apple somewhere before giving it back to you once Aphrodite got Eros to go away?”

“Damn, you know me too well huh?” He took off his hat, revealing the luster of gold resting on his brown chestnut hair.

The archer laughed. “I’m surprised you got him to cooperate.”

“Guess I’m just that likeable! Plus, he owed me one after distracting you for… something.”

“You what-”

The messenger grabbed the apple and placed his cap back on his head. “I didn’t steal it for myself though.” He smiled, “It is with my greatest pleasure to present this apple to the loveliest god of them all, a trophy that will stand the test of time, a symbol of the lord’s unrivalled beauty and allure.” and then offered up the prize to the surprised blonde.

Apollo accepted, mildly flustered. “Is… Is there some sort of ulterior motive to this?”

“I… suppose you could call it that.”

He sighed. “What do you want, Herms?”

“W-Well… it’s nothing big.” There was a sudden faint flush on Hermes’ cheeks. “What about… a kiss?”

The archer stared and the messenger almost started backtracking on his request but, well, the blonde cut him off before he could, with a soft peck on his lips.

#apollo #hermes #hehehe #it was hermapollo in disguise all along-#hermapollo #brofriends #golden apple #the olympians #mywritingshit #greek gods #greek mythology

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obaby-me · 4 years

Text

Please Stay

Author’s Note: This is raffle prize fic for @socially-awkward-lvl-over9000! Romance and angst, just as requested. Hope your heart breaks, but in the best way. (This is a continuation of the Anxiety headcanon found here: https://obaby-me.tumblr.com/post/617140937244786688/an-mc-that-has-really-bad-anxiety-but-likes, and https://obaby-me.tumblr.com/post/617232394679894016/anxiety-anon-here-i-love-your-headcanons-they)

When you first came to the Devildom, Levi wasn’t exactly thrilled to have you, to be quite honest. Another normie in his house! Just what he needed, more people to judge him.

And then, Lucifer assigned you to his room! His room! Lucifer didn’t give him any choice in the matter. Not unless he wanted to be hung upside down from the chandeliers for the entirety of your stay. And you’d still be in his room.

In the beginning, you spent your time curled up in his room by the tank, just watching him. Sometimes you’d open your mouth like you wanted to say something, and then immediately you’d clam it shut. It was unnerving to have you stare, but the silence was worse. Especially when he realized it was because you were too frightened to talk.

In his own awkward way, he tried to make conversation with you. And in your own awkward way, you reciprocated. It was a slow going pace, but that was okay. He needed that as much as you, as you two slowly adjusted and became more comfortable together. There was no pressure to impress, no judgement on your part for how nervous he could be—you were in the same boat!

Slowly your conversations began to pick to pick up speed, as commonalities between you emerged. You had a love of the deep blue, that was why you were in his room after all. You took a liking to Henry, and for your respect for his fish, he in turn respected your narwhal, Sparkle. You weren’t quite an otaku, but you certainly weren’t a normie either. You loved anime and you loved karaoke, and you loved singing anime openings and endings in karaoke!

You were a good listener, and never minded when he’d go on and on about his passions. And in the rare instances that you’d get enthused to share yours, he didn’t mind giving you his utmost attention. He rather liked it. You were as in love with things you cared about as he was about his—you understood him in a way his brothers never could.

As you grew closer as friends, the closer you seemed to sit. As days passed, you inched your way closer from across the room to cuddled up beside him as he raided. And he was surprised to find that he was quite comfortable with that. He preferred it.

And then, you started sleeping in his room! It started with naps, and then it became accidental sleepovers where you’d pass out during late night marathons, and then, you just sort stayed and he never asked you to leave. Soon, it just became the new normal. And Levi liked that. He liked you—really liked you, more and more each day.

But he found that it wasn’t just him you were becoming more comfortable with. You were slowly opening up to all his brothers as well, and soon his room because a lounge. Even Lucifer was showing up. Coming by to constantly check in to ask if you’re doing well, and if you’ve eaten, and if you need help with school work. Menial chatter. All the time.

Mammon was an absolute nightmare, barging in at all times without a knock, without a text for warning. Obnoxiously loud, constantly startling him, but worst of all you.

Each and every time he’d have to hold you while you shook and came down from the shock, as he hissed at Mammon to shut the hell up. Bickering in hushed voices until Mammon would huff and get in beside you to chat with you about the scummy scams he pulled. Levi would never understand why you put up with him. He wasn’t worth your time.

But he’d bring you little things, with narwhals or little sea creatures on it and you’d smile and laugh. Levi hated when he did.

Asmo was a frequent visitor, but he never stayed long. He’d come in practically singing to show you catalogues of items to decorate your room. He was so eager to get out of here. And every time you gave him just a little more to add, the more Levi’s heart seemed to drop. Did you really want to get out of here that bad?

Beel and Belphie were definitely a pair he was becoming to despise. The way they draped over you when they’d come to visit! While they were the quietest of the brothers, Levi thought they were worst. To have them come in here and put their hands on you! It made Levi’s blood boil. Belphie curled up into your side as if he were a cat, and Beel sitting on your other side as he munched on treats. And you never fought them on it. You just quietly accepted it, carrying on as if this was becoming your new normal.

But even Beel and Belphie didn’t compare to Satan. Levi was beginning to hate him most of all.

He stops by pretty rarely unlike the rest of his brothers, and when he did, it was always for just an hour or so drink a little tea and eat some biscuits and some light studying—sometimes just to lend a book with you with eared pages and sections he wanted you to read.

Of his brothers, the fact that he was hardly tracking into his room should have been something Levi would be thankful to him for.

But the problem wasn’t him coming into his room. It was taking you out.

Out of Levi’s room, out into the Devildom to libraries, restaurants, shopping centers. Levi offers to take you instead, and he was able to take you out bustling otaku dream strip of anime themed cafes and stores specializing in manga, and figurines, and the arcades—it was the absolute best of the best of the Devildom for any otaku!

But the crowds, and the chatter of so many seemed to overwhelm you. He hadn’t quite planned well enough for this, and so he took a teary you home, feeling rather guilty.

Instead, you now took trips with Satan, strolling through Devildom on perfect itineraries with few crowds, sharing parfaits and cakes. Levi seethed every time the two of you went out.

As the weeks passed, he began to notice more and more that you visited less and less. You still came by, but he found himself feeling somehow lonelier than he’d ever been before meeting you.

He asked you once, when your phone rang off, and you stood to leave, “where are you going?”

“To see Satan! He’s teaching me magic.”

You smiled so brightly, the nervous smiles he knew when you’d first come, just blooming. And not for him, not with him. You were off and out the door.

What broke his heart, the final straw, was the morning he saw you coming out of Satan’s room. Rubbing your eyes tiredly as you traversed the hall to your own to get ready for class. “W-what was she doing in your room!” He wailed.

Satan only smirked. “Nothing at all. She just happened to fall asleep while studying is all.”

He wished he could say he was angry. Angry enough to punch that smug grin of his little brother’s face.

But instead all he felt was an overwhelming weight on his chest—crushing his lungs.

Satan must have been expecting a fight out of him, and he could see his brother’s brows furrow when the brawl never came. “Hey, Levi—” Satan began, reaching out a hand.

Levi was quick to smack it away, and trudge back to his only haven, and lock himself away. He skipped school, much to Lucifer’s disappointment. He ignored texts, and then calls, and his door remained locked, even to you.

But it hurt being in his room. It hurt to think of you. And to think of how much he’d liked you. Of all things he wanted to say and then didn’t. And then of how you abandoned him for his brother—and he couldn’t really blame you. When weighed against Satan, who in their right mind would choose the gross otaku?

Somehow he was more alone in the one occupant room than he had ever been before.

At dinner, when he did not appear, Lucifer came to speak with him. Levi ignored his knocking and requests to open the door, until the prideful avatar was threatening to break it down. Complying, Levi opened the door but a crack, but it was enough for Lucifer to see red, puffy eyes and cheeks stained with trails. Any anger Lucifer had died in his throat.

“Just leave me alone,” Levi whispered. “Please.”

“Levi, why did you skip school today?” Lucifer looked as stern as ever, but his voice was laced with concern.

“I—I don’t want to talk about it.”

There was a pause as Lucifer considered his answer. “How long do you intend to be absent?”

“Until it stops hurting.”

Worry flashed in his eldest brother’s eyes. “Are you injured?”

“No.” Levi said with a finality that Lucifer did not question.

“I will check with you again tomorrow.”

It was three days before anyone other than Lucifer saw or heard from Levi again. He’d been in his room living on the snacks he had stashed in his room.

“Oh! L-Levi!” You called to his as he was raiding the fridge.

He froze, blood running cold.

“You’ve finally emerged,” you tentatively teased as you approached.

“Yeah.” He muttered, avoiding your gaze as he filled his arms with anything not tagged with Beelzebub.

“So, are you uhm, playing a newly released game? Maybe, watching a marathon?” You asked, your voice coming closer.

Quickly he moved away, go the long way around the island counter and towards the door. “Y-yeah, something like that.” He mumbled as he strode past.

“Oh,” you whispered sounding disappointed. “D-do you think maybe I could join you?” Your voice wavered, and he knew, he just knew you were staring into his back with those large doe eyes, and if Sparkle was with you, probably fidgeting with its little horn.

He couldn’t say no to you. It was easier with a door closed, or through a phone. But not like this, out in the open.

Not when you latched on to his arm, and forced him to look down at you.

Damnit.

You watched him play newly download DLC, commenting every so often, cracking jokes, like you used to.

And he let you.

You fed him chips so he didn’t have to let go of his controllers, just like you used to.

And he let you.

You pulled a blanket around you both, and you cuddled into his side, just like you used to.

And he let you.

But it didn’t feel the same. His heart still maintained that flustered flutter that you pulled from him with your every action, but every beat stung.

As the night wound down and he watched the credits roll, you gently ran your hand up and down his arm, a gesture meant to soothe him as you asked a painful question.

“Levi, can you tell me what happened? I mean, it’s okay i-if you don’t want to.”

He couldn’t find a way to answer and fully express himself.

He thought he was special to you. Just like he thought you were special to him.

He thought that you liked him and his room, and his bed.

He left you in silence, during which you fidgeted. “I—I’m sorry,” you whispered, and he felt you detach from him, shifting as if to stand.

His hand was quick to catch yours, faster than his brain had thought it through. You stared at him rather wide-eyed.

“Don’t go.” He pleaded. “Stay here.”

“O-okay,” you promised with a nod and a small smile. “I’ll stay a little longer.”

“H-how long is a little?” Levi shyly asked.

“Well, I have a magic lesson with Satan—”

His arms were suddenly around you and he yanked you into him, his face buried into your shoulder. “Stay here.” He asked again, his voice wavering. “Don’t go to him. Stay with me.”

“L-Levi?” You questioned, nervously, your hand gently rubbing his back. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“I don’t want you to go.” He choked. “I don’t want to have you leave me and go to Satan’s and stay in his room. I don’t want you to choose him over me. I don’t want you to love him. I want you to love me.”

He could feel you warm beneath him. “L-love?” Your voice shook, and your hands stilled.

His heart was sinking slowly into his gut with dread, but his arms refused to loosen, as he tucked his head further into your neck. “Please,” was all he could think to say. “Please stay. Stay with me.”

#obey me #obey me leviathan #leviathan x reader #fic #i'm so sorry it took so long #i re-wrote this like three times #i couldn't decide how i wanted levi to act #finally decided sulky #was the way to go

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thegeekyblondegirlwholovesstars · 4 years

Text

Coming Home Part Three

JJ x Reader

Warnings: Most parts of this series will only go as far as the show does, however, in this part there is be sexual assault and trauma.

Let me know if you want to be added to the tag list :) and thank you for reading I hope you enjoy!!💖

Part 1 Part 2 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9

5 years later

You closed your eyes and let the salty breeze rush over your face. This familiar feeling caused every muscle in your body to relax. You drew in a breath as you shuffled out of your sandals and curled your feet, taking in the sensation of the sand between your toes. Just as you were about to take a step forward and run down to the ocean that you had missed so much your aunt called from the balcony.

“Honey it’s almost nine you have to log on to your class”

You nodded, turning back to the sea and shuffling back into your sandals. As you started to walk back up to the new house on Figure Eight that you now shared with your aunt and uncle you muttered under your breath “How did I get here?”

Under devastating circumstances you returned to the outer banks about a month ago. Seven months ago your parents were killed by a drunk driver on their way home from a date night. Shattering your heart and turning your life upside down for the second time in the sixteen years you had been alive. The death of your parents left your aunt and uncle to be your legal guardians. They allowed you to finish out your junior year of high school, but decided they should move “the family” to a place that was more familiar to you. So they bought a house through a real estate agent named Rose Cameron and once school finished in June you were supposedly coming home to the outer banks. However, your aunt and uncle were extremely successful accountants and unlike you and your parents did not have to work two jobs to make ends meet. Their money meant that you were actually the closest and the farthest from home you had ever been. Sure you were back in the outer banks but instead of your real home on the cut with the Pogues you were now living in figure eight, technically a kook, and had to do summer work to ensure your place at the kook academy in the fall.

The night you got to the outer banks, your real estate agent Rose, who was now a good friend of your aunt’s, insisted on having you at Tanny Hill for dinner. Barely awake after the flight, stressed out of your mind at everything you had to do, and hollow from the loss of your parents and the feeling of being so close yet so far from your best friends you went to your room to get dressed for dinner. Your room had been set up for you before you arrived, it was arranged to mimic the way you had set up your room back in Rhode Island but the space felt the same way you did, empty and isolated. Grabbing a pink polka dot sundress from your massive closet you slid off your sweats and as you slipped into your dress you had a realization. “The pogues won’t want to see me now that I’m a kook.” Fighting back tears at what was your new reality you ran you hands through your long hair and headed to meet the Cameron’s. The dinner was delicious and the Cameron’s seemed to be nice enough. They had a daughter your age, Sarah, who you got along well with. They also had a son Rafe, who was older than you but didn’t take his eyes off you all night. You blushed coyly as you weren’t used to this kind of attention from boys. After dinner that night he offered to take you on a tour of the house and before you left he asked you on a date. You accepted figuring you should start anew and deciding he would be a nice distraction from your longing to see John B, Pope, and most of all JJ.

You were just about to sit down at your desk when your phone buzzed. You retrieved it off your bed and opened it to a text from Rafe:

Rafe😚

Good morning sexy, there’s a kegger tonight at the boneyard. I’ll be picking you up at 3. Good luck with your school work and I’ll see you tonight.

Gm Rafe. Thank you, I’ll see you then!:)

You cringed slightly at his chosen nickname for you. Yet he was sweet, most of the time, and you guys weren’t even official yet so you brushed it off, sat down at your desk, and opened your laptop to begin what you privately called your “kookwork”.

Glancing over at your clock you realized it was 1:30. So you finished up and turned in your last assignment for the day before you began to get ready for the kegger. Before getting in the shower you sat down on your window seat and glanced out the window to see Pope walking down your street. He wore a “Hawards” shirt and carried groceries. You jumped up ecstatic but just as you were about to reach for the handle and open the window, you remembered what you had become. Ignoring the pang in your heart you jumped in the shower and began getting ready.

The mirror reflected a you that you didn’t recognize. You wore a tight white crop top and a jean skirt with brown Ralph Lauren sandals that your aunt had bought you. You straightened your long and normally wavy hair while your face was naturally made up, but your freckles hidden. Glancing down at your wrist you were grounded. On your wrist you wore a gold bracelet with mini shells on it, this was what your parents had given you for your 16th birthday and you wore it every day in memory of them and as a way of keeping them with you. Also on your wrist was several string bracelets your school friends from RI had made for you before you left. In addition to these tokens of friendship, was your most sacred and prized possession, a bracelet that you hadn’t taken off since the night it was given to you five years ago. It was JJ’s bracelet.

You looked up from glancing at your wrist as there was a knock at your bedroom door.

“Come in!”

“Rafe is here!” your uncle said after cracking your door open enough to see you standing in front of your mirror.

“Y/n, sweetheart, don’t you look beautiful. Patty come take a look at your niece.”

“Oh honey bee!!” your aunt squealed as she pushed past where your uncle was leaning on the door, almost knocking him over. She embraced you and then smoothed your hair down.

“Thank you Auntie.” you blushed.

“Mhmm.” your uncle cleared his throat as to say what about me?

“Thank you Uncle.” you turned to him and smiled. “Thank you both, for everything”

“You don’t have to keep thanking us sweetheart. It’s the least we could do after everything you’ve been through.”

You smiled as your uncle chimed in, “Well are you going to keep that boy waiting?”

“Noo...” you said grabbing your phone and turning the light off as the three of you headed out of your bedroom and down the stairs. You opened the door to see Rafe shifting his glance down to you and smiling.

“Hey” he said his jaw agape as he took in your appearance.

“Hey”

“You ready?”

“As ready as I’ll ever be.” you returned his smile, “you look spiffy RC” you said he opened the door to his truck for you.

“Thank you y/n, you look absolutely smoking.”

You laughed at his remark, “Thank you! Let’s get to the boneyard.”

The drive was mostly filled with silence and some singing because Rafe had played your favorite song during the short drive to the boneyard.

“Is Sarah going to be there?” you asked.

“Yeah but she’s gonna be hanging with her fucking Pogue boyfriend. I don’t want you talking to them, so don’t go looking for her.” He spat his jaw tensing and his hand gripping your thigh much harder than he had been before.

“Ow, Rafe!” You flinched pulling your leg away from his grasp.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry! I didn’t mean too.” He responded pulling his truck into a parking spot near the boneyard.

“It’s okay.” You sighed, your leg red and already bruising, you wondered how you were going to explain that to your aunt tomorrow. You lifted your head up to look at him before getting out of the truck.

“What’s your problem with pogues anyways?”

“I DO-“ he corrected his voice and restrained his temper saying “I don’t want to talk about it right now. Let’s just go have a nice night, I’ll go get our drinks you meet Top by the lifeguard chair.”

“Okay” you nodded and mustered a weak smile as you opened the passenger door and started down towards the beach with Rafe.

You were sitting on top of the lifeguard tower, it was much later now. On the verge of midnight you guessed judging by the way that the tide began to rip back away from the shore. You had only had three drinks and were a little buzzed at most. You were never one for drinking unless it was wine or a margarita, you preferred smoking. At this point you hadn’t seen Rafe or Topper for hours. You kept entertained by chatting with some tourons but stayed away from the main area of driftwood, eyes scanning for Rafe and your heart hoping Sarah would come find you. You stole a glance toward the ocean and then towards the fire and driftwood. That was when you saw him. A figure you could never mistake for another. His messy blonde hair was illuminated by the moonlight, you glanced next to him to see Sarah, her arms wrapped around it couldn’t be... “John B” you muttered to yourself “JJ” you smiled.

“What was that sexy?” Rafe boomed. Suddenly standing in the sand below you.

“Nothing, I- I thought I saw something. Where have you been?”

“It doesn’t matter where I’ve been. I want to know what you said.” Rafe demanded.

“I said it was nothing.”

“Yeah alright. I bet.” He scowled as he grabbed you down from the lifeguard tower.

“Rafe. Rafe you’re hurting me!” you scolded.

“I heard what you said. How do you know the names of those pogues? Huh? Do you have something to tell me?” He shouted tightening his grip on you and pulling you towards a hidden alcove in the wall of rock that surrounded the boneyard.

“No. I don’t know what your talking about.”

He stopped dead in his tracks causing you to jolt forward into his arms. He pulled you upright and whispered threateningly into your ear. “Is that so. If you’re not going to tell me what I want to hear. You’re going to show me what I want to see.”

“NO RAFE.” You screamed hot tears were burning down your cheeks now as you realized what he meant. “Please you’re drunk. STOP.”

Once you had reached the alcove, he turned you around and slammed you against the wall. Causing you to shriek in pain. He covered your mouth. Muffling you’re struggle against him.

“Listen. I’m trying to make you the princess of the kooks. But you’re here, by my invitation and you mutter the names of pogues you never met.” he slapped you across the face as you let out a deafening sob. “That doesn’t make much sense now does it s e x y.”

You cringed at the name you hated and continued to struggle against Rafe’s grasp on you.

“You even look like a Pogue with these stupid bracelets.” He grabbed your hand and ripped each one of them off of you throwing them into the sand.

You screamed in agony from his hold on you and from the feeling of your heart breaking as he ripped off the bracelet that your parents had gotten you and then the ones your friends had made and then you struggled the most as he pulled off JJ’s bracelet. That bracelet symbolized every promise you had ever made to JJ and watching Rafe throw it aside out of your sight caused you to go limp as you screamed “NO RAFE STOP M- MY... SOMEONE HELP. HELP!!”

He ignored your cries and sobs, pushing you back against the rock wall so hard you felt the skin of your back break. With you trapped he began to slide his hand up your skirt and begin to stroke your thigh, higher and higher. Before he could undo the top button on your skirt he was suddenly gone from in front of you.

You stumbled away from the wall crumpled to the ground. You tried to look for your bracelets but the burning pain from your now bleeding back and bruised wrists kept you from crawling forward. Through the tears streaming down your face you saw a blur of long dark curly hair.

In a comforting voice the girl said “Hey hey you’re okay. My name is Kie. We heard you screaming from down the beach. What happened? Did he hurt you?”

Between sobs you nodded and turned to reveal your back, the previously clean white shirt was now red with blood.

“Oh my god we need to get you some help. I know where we can bring you.”

“No. NO. He th- threw my b- bra- bracelets in the sand. I need to find them!” You cried you voice was hoarse from screaming and weak from the shock.

“Okay. Umm I’ll help you look. What do they look like?”

“There’s a gold one w- with small gold shells, four string bracelets, and one is made of lea- leather and i- it has th- threE beads o- sea gl- sea glass.”

You and Kie sifted through the sand and you found each of your bracelets except for JJ’s. At this point you didn’t know what had happened to Rafe. You didn’t care. You were just relieved to be free of him and in this moment all you cared about was getting JJ’s bracelet back on your wrist. A few minutes had passed now and you felt like you were about to collapse, you began sobbing harder and uncontrollably, unable to find JJ’s bracelet. Kie came over to you and hugged your head, careful not to touch your back so she didn’t hurt you. She smoothed your hair and comfortingly whispered to you “Shhh we’ll find it. Don’t worry. Take a deep breath, let’s keep looking we need to get you some help as soon as we find it okay.”

You nodded, pulling out of Kie’s embrace, you were now breathing steadier and the two of you began to look once again.

Not even twenty seconds had passed before you heard an unmistakable voice say. “Y/n? Is that you!?”

You turned to see JJ not ten feet from you. Holding the bracelet.

If anyone ever needs anything, wants to give me feedback, or just wants to chat about fandoms please message me and let’s be friends:))

Tag list

@tangledinsparkles @hopelesswritingxd @im-a-stranger-thing @jenahbell

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theonceoverthinker · 4 years

Text

When Will My Life Begin? (Fair Game, 15/?)

Summary: Tangled AU. Clover Callows has been confined to a tower for all of his life, and given the threat that his Uncle Tyrian says his semblance poses to his safety, he accepts that fate. It’s the only life he’s ever known, after all. But when he’s offered the opportunity to fulfill his greatest dream after a chance encounter with a thief -- or bandit, as Qrow Branwen insists there’s a difference between the two -- both Clover and Qrow will discover joys that they never knew life could offer them before.

AO3

Tumblr: (1) (2) (B1) (3) (4) (B2) (5) (6) (7) (8) (9) (B3) (10) (11) (12) (13) (14)

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Clover took pride in the fact that in the three hours since he left his tower, he’d proven himself to be rather brave. He actually left the tower itself by freefalling from the top by Kingfisher’s line, let himself trust another person to guide him to the lanterns, and even confronted that same person over their roguish past.

It couldn’t be said that Clover didn’t have good reason to be impressed with himself.

However, as he stood in Lil’ Miss Malachite’s, watching his guide get trapped in place by the rowdiest people Clover had ever seen in his life, he imagined he could be forgiven for forgetting all that bravery he’d built up.

Everything was so dark, and everyone was so loud, their voices only slightly blurred by the sound of Clover’s heart all but pounding ceaselessly right in his ears with the force of a falling dictionary.

Damn it, Qrow!

What was he thinking, taking them to this place?

Clover imagined Qrow probably thought he could get him to back out of their deal and give him his satchel back by showing him the exact types of people he confessed to fearing most. Well, the joke was on him, because as soon as Clover picked up on that notion, he made it clear to Qrow that he had another thing coming!

But then Qrow brought up a frustratingly good point -- there were sure to be a lot of other people in the capital that acted like these miscreants did. If he couldn’t handle them here in a small little tavern, what would he do then when he was in the larger town?

It was an admittedly good question, one Clover couldn’t really think about before Qrow was captured and Clover was left to fend for himself.

Either way though, one thing was for certain -- Qrow was a jerk.

However, he was also a jerk who knew his way to the lanterns. Clover knew he meant what he told Qrow: He wasn’t going home without seeing them, no matter what.

Besides, though Qrow was a jerk and a thief -- or rather, a bandit, as he claimed -- the sight before him didn’t feel right.

Clover had overpowered Qrow plenty of times today, both physically through his capture and mentally through his hidden satchel and deduction skills. However, for as many times as he defeated Qrow in just that short window of time, Qrow had never made an expression that was anything like what he currently sported.

As Qrow tried to wrestle out of the tight hold imposed on him, there was a helplessness in his eyes, a lack of hope that complemented the sparks of fear that overran his face. It was nothing like the Qrow he’d spent the past few hours with -- instead, one filled with panic that felt cruelly unnatural.

Even outside of his desire to see the lanterns, Clover couldn’t let whatever was causing an expression like that go on.

No, he had to do something.

Raven seemed to have an idea, signaling her view on what they should do by giving Clover’s collar a loose tug towards the door that led out of the tavern.

To that, Clover shot her a deadpan look.

Honestly…

“We’re not leaving him here, Raven,” Clover stated, his tone frank and definite.

Birds couldn’t roll their eyes, but Raven all the same communicated the sensation without even doing it just before letting go of Clover’s collar.

Clover looked at the sight before him.

People were surrounding the kerfuffle being created by Qrow and his captors. Among the many others in attendance, the group that approached Clover when he first entered the tavern were there.

However, while they were absolutely interested in seeing what was going down, they didn’t seem that excited, or even happy about it.

It made them seem so tired, so resigned, so different than what they were like when he first met them.

In fact, looking around the room, Clover could see that no one really appeared in favor of what was happening, not even the woman -- Robyn, he believed her name was -- who led the group who captured Qrow, nor anyone in that group itself.

Weren’t they at least going to get a reward for this, judging by what their boss said? Shouldn’t that have made them just a little more sold on the task at hand?

Clover had to admit, the attitudes towards such an order even in the face of payment seemed a far cry than what Uncle Tyrian had taught him to expect from situations like these.

Then again, Qrow didn’t have a lucky semblance. He supposed there was more empathy his fellow humans were willing to give those who didn’t have so tantalizing a prize within them.

However, as resigned as he was to think about how he was just an exception to this new revelation, Clover had a thought that he chose to focus on instead: Maybe, he could use the reluctance of those around him to get himself and Qrow out of this mess.

It wasn’t going to be easy, and he had no idea how he was going to pull it off, but he also knew he was going to try anyways.

Looking ahead, Clover surveyed his options for those to recruit for help. He couldn’t tell anything about most of the tavern’s other patrons, but some stood out, namely the group he and Qrow ran into when they first came into the place.

Well, they did want to talk to him…

They looked calmer than they did initially now, but all the same, Clover had only talked to Qrow and Raven since he’d left the tower. Raven was his friend and in addition to the advantages and leverage he held over the latter, Qrow proved quickly to not be dangerous -- a jerk, yes, but not a dangerous one. These guys were going to be different. Not only did he not know them -- and what he did know of them was...a lot to handle, but he was in their territory, and there were four of them against himself and Raven.

Clover gave a glance Qrow’s way -- reminding himself of both his moral and selfish obligation to end this -- and made his way over to the group.

With their attention towards Qrow and his captors, the group paid Clover no mind as he approached. That worked out well enough for Clover, who was still trying to figure out just how to initiate this conversation.

Everything that came to mind sounded so stupid. Why would they help him of all people? On top of barely talking to him, he was just some random guy who ran away from them -- he wasn’t sure he’d be so inclined to help himself either after that. And it’s not like he had anything to offer them for their help apart from maybe a good recipe for bread rolls.

He couldn’t do this. Qrow was going to go to jail, and he was going to lose out on his dream forever.

Could he even navigate himself home from here? It wasn’t like anyone could help him, and sure, he put a few landmarks to memory, but that was only going to get him so far.

Uncle Tyrian was right. He never had a chance of surviving outside of the tower on his own.

So much for his bravery…

Suddenly, someone moving from across the bar accidentally pushed Clover to the side, inadvertently knocking him right into one of the group member’s backs. Clover backed away quickly, but the damage had already been done.

Upon being hit, the group member jumped in place, letting out a shapeless exclamation before slowly turning around.

It was the girl from earlier...the especially loud one…

Clover was pretty sure her name was Nora.

“Ooh!” she said upon recognizing him. “Look, guys! It’s that weird stranger from earlier!”

Immediately, the rest of her friends’ turned around to face him.

Clover knew having the group’s eyes on him was something he should have expected if he wanted to enlist their help, but it didn’t make the actuality of it happening any less scary than it was.

Gods, what he would give for some water right now.

Looks like whether he wanted it or not, that very bravery Clover was about to abandon was going to be thrust upon him.

Lucky him...

“Hi,” Clover squeaked.

He waited for a second, hoping one of them was going to say something.

None of them said anything.

Where were the chatterboxes he’d encountered when he first came in here?

Damn it.

“Look, I need your help,” he said, suddenly finding himself able to speak quite a lot, probably as compensation for how quiet they were. “My name is Clover and that guy they have bound up is my guide and I know he’s a thief or a bandit or whatever and it’s going to be really, really hard to save him with all those people in the way trying to get that reward, but I need him to take me to see the lanterns tomorrow because I’ve been dreaming about them my whole life and this is going to be the one chance I’ll ever have to see them up close and in person. I don’t know if you’ve ever had a dream like that, but this one means everything to me, so will you please help me?” Upon finishing, Clover took a deep breath. He was pretty sure he’d picked up the speed speaking, but he got the sense that he got a lot faster than even he thought he did.

Well, at least he didn’t mumble…

Uncle Tyrian could at least be proud of him for that...once he got over every other rule Clover broke today.

For a moment, none of the four of them said anything.

Clover bit his lip. Had he said too much? Did they, in fact, ever have dreams like that? Were dreams even valued by those outside the tower, or was Clover an anomaly in that regard, only admiring them because they were some of the very few things he had to get himself through the lull of repetitive days and years?

The group’s other girl -- Pyrrha, if Clover recalled correctly -- let out a somewhat despondent sigh.

“We know about dreams,” she said. “We’ve been fighting for ours for years now.”

“But to no luck,” one of the boys -- Ren, Clover was pretty sure -- added.

“W-what’s your dream?” The question left Clover’s mouth before he could even think about it, but he dared not take it back, somewhat because he still didn’t know what to make of this group, but mostly because that question allowed him to pursue an opportunity to experience something that didn’t come by his way that often -- someone else talking about their dreams.

Uncle Tyrian had talked about his dreams a bit -- for Clover to remain safe and happy in the tower for all of his days while he took care of him or for a world that didn’t care about semblances -- but it was always so vague and in the former case, it was a dream that they were actually living.

But to hear someone else, and not just one other but four others talk about their unfulfilled dreams was something Clover never knew he wanted until it was something he had the chance to hear for himself.

“We want to defend Remnant from evil!” Nora called out, raising a large hammer in her hand. Quickly, Clover backed away, intimidated by its size.

Uncle Tyrain wasn’t wrong when he spoke of the weapons of those outside the tower. The hammer that Nora held in her hands could probably separate a man’s head from his shoulders, and Clover needed both of those things intact.

However, while Nora raised her hammer, she didn’t attempt to hurt Clover, nor anyone else with it. She was just kind of showing it off before settling its head back on the ground a few moments later and balancing her hands on the base of the handle. Clover had to admit that once his shock had worn off, she looked like a hero from a book yielding such a behemoth. The other’s weapons, still in their sheaths, looked great as well.

Fighting evil, huh?

“That sounds amazing,” Clover said, unable and unwilling to prevent the smile on his face from growing.

“But the only problem is that the royal guard doesn’t consider us ‘couth’ or ‘soldierly’ enough to fight alongside them,” the final member of the group, Jaune, sadly interjected.

“Even though we’ve got the fighting chops,” Nora countered.

“And the desire to help,” Pyrrha added.

In all fairness to their group, the royal guard -- whoever they were -- weren’t entirely wrong. This team that he’d seen in just those short moments they’d interacted with was unabashedly loud, eccentric, and definitely didn’t look all that interested in following rules. No, they just looked like they wanted to do good for the world as they saw fit.

Clover admired that, and right now, that kind of attitude he needed in abundance to fulfill his dreams.

Perhaps it was the attitude that best suited them towards their own dreams, as well.

“Well,” Clover said, “can’t you just fight without them?”

“Fight without the royal guard?” Jaune repeated.

“No one’s fought outside the purview of the general before,” Ren said.

Clover shrugged. “Is there any reason why you can’t be the first? You already have a team, you said yourselves that you’re willing to face evil, and if you’re as good as you say you are -- and with weapons like that, I’d bet you are -- then there’s no reason you shouldn’t be allowed to be heroes of Remnant in your own right! And if the royal guard doesn’t want you, well, then that’s their loss, right?”

Jaune released a hum, followed by Pyrrha, followed by Nora, followed by Ren.

In front of Clover, the group exchanged looks with each other, their frowns slowly rising until they became smiles.

“He’s right, you know,” Pyrrha said, waving an agreeing hand .

“There’s nothing illegal about it, after all,” Ren supplemented.

“General Ironwood’s not going to be happy about it,” Jaune said, all the while sporting a smirk that all but shouted how little he cared about that.

“Well,” Nora replied, shooting her friend a knowing smirk, “then he needs to write some better laws in the future because the Juniper Jaggers aren’t about to let anyone tell them ‘no’ so easily anymore!”

Jaune, Pyrrha, and Ren gave a holler, and even though he didn’t join in, Clover could feel his cheeks pinch from how big he was grinning.

Everyone then turned to Clover, and this time, he didn’t feel intimidated by the action.

“So,” Nora continued. “How about in return for reviving our dream, we make our first mission helping you save yours?”

Clover smirked. “To that, I’d say, ‘what do you have in mind?’”

Nora signaled for Clover and her teammates to look at Lil’ Miss Malachite, who was presently looking at Qrow with a greedy, sinister gaze.

“Robyn and her team aren’t bad, they’re just following their boss’ orders, but without her, they’ll change their tune quickly enough,” Nora said. “If we can get her away from them and Qrow, then we can unleash our secret weapon and get him free.”

“Secret weapon?” Clover asked.

In truth, he was eager to hear about how the Juniper Jaggers would fight them off.

Did they have a team attack? Did they have an ancient trinket or a powerful weapon to exchange for Qrow’s freedom?

“Yup. You.”

Clover blinked.

There is no way he heard that correctly.

“I’m sorry. What?” Clover questioned, begging to the Gods and his semblance alike that he misheard what she’d said.

“You were able to convince us to help you,” Jaune said. “No reason why you can’t do it with everyone else.”

That begging apparently went unheard.

Stupid semblance.

Stammering, Clover tried to come up with an objection.

“I-I can’t-”

“Sure you can!” Pyrrha said, waving a dismissive hand. “Just talk to them! They’re more receptive and kinder than they look.”

“But you guys know them be-”

“They’re not going to listen to us,” Ren said, interrupting him, though blushing immediately afterwards while whispering an apology.

“For some reason, they think we’re annoying, so they just drown out whatever we say,” Jaune explained.

“But you’re new and interesting!” Nora countered.

“And you haven’t worn people out yet,” Ren added.

“Not to mention, you’re kind of good looking with those muscles of yours,” Jaune admitted.

“And you’ve got a good heart,” Pyrrha finished off.

“Guys,” Clover protested. “I could barely talk to you. I almost wasn’t going to until I got pushed into Nora.”

“But even though you were scared, you did,” Ren pointed out.

“You’re braver than you think you are,” Pyrrha promised.

“And you’ve got what it takes to fulfill your dream,” Jaune said.

“So what do you say?” Nora asked.

Well, it was either do this or lose his dream.

There wasn’t much of a choice to be made, and just like the Juniper Jaggers, Clover wasn’t about to let the world tell him ‘no’ so easily anymore.

His resolve didn’t make the deep breath he took any less shaky, but he nodded all the same.

“Let’s do this,” Clover said, however uneasily.

The team nodded at him before bringing him in close and telling him how they’d distract Lil’ Miss Malachite, as well as how much time they theorized Clover had to work with before the guards arrived.

It was going to be hard -- Clover would dare say impossible.

But he had already done a few things today he never thought would be possible for him. What was one more?

In any event, for whatever bravery Clover either had prior to or garnered today, he knew now that it was about to be put to the ultimate test.

#fair game #clover ebi #rwby #qrow branwen #tangled au #jaune arc #pyrrha nikos #lie ren #nora valkyrie #raven branwen

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jalebi-weds-bluetooth · 4 years

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There’s More To Her #3

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Understanding

Akash Raizada was a far cry from his powerful, hot headed, and insanely talented cousin. However, Akash was just as unforgettable for his empathy and altruism .

No man would part with the only token of his beloved, yet Akash gladly parted from the dupatta, his prized possession, for Khushi. It was the one thing that had made the sweet woman smile on that horrid day.

No man would remain kind to their orphaned cousin who took his surname and attention from him. But Akash knew that Arnav had as much right on being a Raizada as he. That working under Arnav was not the same as being in his shadows - he was grateful for being mentored by one of Asia’s biggest fashion tycoons. That Arnav, behind his masks of terror and anger, had been beaten brutally by life to become so.

Anjali might be Arnav’s biological sister, but to Akash Arnav was his brother - not cousin. He knew him better than anyone else.

Did he?

Shame was too small a word. And it was not due to what Arnav had said about the incident at Sheesh Mahal. It was the unsaid that occured after that. The events that Akash was too familiar with; the gossips of his brother letting Khushi fall a floor down, the forced photoshoot, the near accident at the parking lot, the guesthouse mishap.

Akash had doubted his brother’s sentiments for the woman he despised when he bolted off the house on that stormy night. He was not being heroic, he was making amends.

And Anjali, the sister he idolised, was not generous to offer Khushi a job. She was manipulative.

Akash took his spectacles from Payal and took a step back. He could not meet her eyes.

“I can’t say sorry for what my cousins have done. But I am sorry for everything, Payal ji.” He addressed her formally, as if they were back to being strangers - which was the truth. Today proved that neither knew their cousins - so knowing each other was out of the question.

“And I promise that I’ll never ask you to marry me.” He choked at the last word. Payal staggered, physically impacted by the implication of his words. How dare he write the future of their relationship? How dare he not attempt to change her thoughts?

“Please, it’s not a threat. My family has disrespected yours in every way but I want to respect you, by heeding to your request.” Payal knew she was doomed. Akash didn’t turn out to be the man she expected, he turned out to be better than she had ever imagined.

If he hadn’t listened to her, she would have wished he did. And now that he did, she wished he didn't. By accepting her refusal to marry him, he became the man she wanted to marry.

“Thank you.” She whispered, which meant I love you. Akash nodded and walked into the car, opening the car door for her.

Arnav and Khushi, mutely, followed their cousins into the car.

---

Payal sat by the temple, dusting the idol of Shiv Parvati over and over again. Khushi stood by the door, a big bowl in her hand. After fifteen minutes she gained enough courage to meet her sister.

“Jiji, here’s your favorite gajar ka halwa!” Khushi sat by Payal and gave her a generous portion of the dessert.

“To anyone who says that a man’s way to his heart is through his stomach, he must have never seen a woman eat! What not have you forgiven me for this carrot dish! Remember when I spoiled your science project? Or when I stole all the chocolates you got for your birthday? Or to support Salman ji’s friend, Himesh ji, I took you to watch Karzzzz?” Khushi and Payal winced at the memory of the film, it was the most traumatising experience of their lives. Payal could not trust Khushi for two years on film selections post ‘Karzzzz’.

They both burst into laughter recalling how Khushi followed Payal like a puppy, a bowl of gajar ka halwa always miraculously present until Payal relented.

Khushi took Payal’s hand, her smiles overwhelmed by her tears.

“Jiji, today, for the last time, forgive me-” Payal enveloped Khushi into a tight hug. This Khushi was the one Payal had known since forever.

“My sister would talk to me, try to understand me.” Payal broke their hug, wiped Khushi’s tears and handed her tissues before she could blow her nose in either of their dupattas.

“I do understand Jiji, but I don’t know why I thought you were being stubborn. I didn’t want to force you, I just wanted you to know how much Akash ji means to you… I thought you didn’t know how you felt.” Khushi confessed.

Payal kept their dessert bowls aside and held Khushi’s hands, “Khushi, a woman can accept, challenge or deny her feelings, but choosing either means she knows what those feelings are.”

In this turn of conversation about feelings, one can readily forgive Khushi for forgetting her sister’s feelings and remembering hers. To violently deny them though. Especially when a six feet tall, boorish, handsome man was in question.

“I was scared that you were hiding your happiness. That you were doing this for our sake.” Khushi mumbled.

“No Khushi, no matter how much I loved you all, I would never sacrifice my happiness for others. I need a man who can respect my decision.” And with a rue note, Payal realised that Akash had precisely done that.

“Good. Don’t ever sacrifice your happiness for others. It makes living difficult.” Payal would have thanked her sister, had she not noticed Khushi twisting her engagement ring.

For the second time of the day, Payal felt her blood run cold. Those words weren’t of a concerned sister, rather of a broken woman. In all the mess, Payal forgot that her sister was engaged, and to be married in a month if it went by Bua ji’s will.

Payal touched her shoulder. Khushi shook, pulled rudely out of her thoughts.

“Khushi-”

“Jiji, I’ll be back in an hour.” Khushi sprinted off. For a woman who was aware of a cheap metal key, she didn’t even bother when the single cut diamond engagement ring slipped off her finger and fell to the floor with a considerable clank.

Bua ji picked it up and yelled from the end of the hall. She waited until Khushi slowly slipped the ring. Shyam entered the hall and offered to help Khushi with it.

“No, it’s ok.” She forced the ring back and walked away, giving a polite nod to both Bua ji and Shyam.

“Aw, she’s still shy of you.” Madhumati gushed.

“It will all change after marriage Bua ji,” Shyam grinned.

An unsettling fear settled in the pit of Payal’s stomach. Khushi was far from shy, and Shyam’s comment didn’t reflect his earlier unease and patience about marriage. How hadn’t she seen it before?

---

Arnav loved silence, unpredictability and accountability - but not when they were directed to him. Akash said nothing, asked nothing and kept firmly to his business on their way home. He behaved like Arnav, and in any other time or day he would be happy to see his brother aping his best qualities.

Except today. He wanted to talk, explain and be held answerable to the man who was more than a brother. One chance before he was judged, forever.

“Akash, what I did-” Arnav began.

“It’s not about that.” Akash interrupted, “I don’t need explanations Bhai. I know you, maybe not enough to understand your actions, but enough to defend your intentions.” His words humbled Arnav. And he royally failed today to secure the happiness of the one person in his family who expected nothing from him.

He parked in the garage but remained in the car, “I’ll fix this mess.” Arnav promised.

“This is no mess.” Akash saw no reason to debate or blame his brother when he finally saw reason. The thirty minutes of silence gave him enough time to think about what went wrong in his relationship with Payal.

Relationship? Akash recalled all the times when he met Payal. There was attraction, respect, admiration, even love but not relationship.

“I’ll help you clear the misunderstanding.” Arnav offered, his eyes taking the sharp look which formed whenever a successful plan formulated in his head.

It was simple - he needed to go to the Guptas, convince them that they would ideally not find a better deal than that of a matrimonial alliance between Payal and Akash. If there were any doubts, he would guarantee that Akash would financially aid them as well. Akash loved Payal, Payal loved Akash - there was no need to waste further time.

In the society they lived, marriage solved everything. As Akash had said, there was no doubt about Payal’s place in his life - which said more than what Arnav could say for his fianceé.

Akash placed a hand on his shoulder, bringing him back from his thoughts.

“No Bhai, there’s no misunderstanding. Payal ji has said no, and that’s enough.”

“But you love her, you said you won’t regret bringing her in your life.” Arnav protested.

“It’s a marriage, Bhai. A transaction based on mutual interest and possibility of profit for both the parties involved!” Akash got out of the car and slammed the door shut on Arnav’s face.

Counting to ten, he waited for Arnav to join him by the front door.

“Sorry,” Akash mumbled, fishing for keys in his pocket. Arnav gave him a half smile, his brother was forgiven even before he apologised. He rung the doorbell

“Bhai, Payal ji is not just the woman I love. If I’m bringing her to my life, I’m bringing her sister, her aunt, her parents, her values - everything! Tell me she won’t regret living as a Raizada.” Akash quieted as a flurry of footsteps approached the door.

In real life logic and example rarely followed each other in quick succession. To Arnav, Akash’s understanding felt all too sudden, and all too true. But when the door opened to a smiling Anjali, an unsmiling Nani and a confused Lavanya trying to understand the difference between different kinds of rice - Arnav finally understood the logic and the unfortunate example.

Lavanya Kashyap was a force to reckon with. The same could not be said for the to-be Mrs. Arnav Singh Raizada.

Akash has brushed away his discomfort with the modern-turns-sanskari program only because he believed his brother was a righteous, indestructible force who would let Lavanya become her old self once they were married. He had relied on the same shield to gain the courage to marry Payal.

“Do any of you have plans to enter Shantivan?” Anjali chuckled, clicking her fingers before Arnav and Akash. Once they sat in the lounge and had been served their favorite tea and coffee, Anjali attempted to dissipate the silence between the three of them.

“So how was your day?” She asked, preparing a plate of digestive biscuits.

“Di, I pay people to do that,” Arnav grumbled, taking the plate from her.

“I met Payal.” Akash said, keeping his cup of tea aside.

“I asked her to marry me.” Like a wise sister, Anjali kept quiet, not knowing how Arnav would react to the news of Akash and Payal. Like a wiser brother, Arnav nodded to his sister letting her know that he knew everything and did not have a problem. Breathing a sigh of relief, Anjali grabbed Akash’s hands, excitement spilling from her incessant chatter and smiles.

“Thank God Chote! First I thought I’ll have to manage you, then Mami!” She rolled her eyes at the mention of her aunt, “But then since you agree, I can involve you into the plan of getting our younger brother hitched as well!”

“Yes, and marriage means that she’ll be my wife. Her family will be like my own. Her sister, as my own.” Anjali nodded, her traditional instincts proud of Akash’s understanding of marriage.

Arnav loved Anjali too much to question what he had learnt from the Gupta sisters. Akash loved Payal too much to keep quiet.

“Exactly, what did she say?” Anjali asked.

“What any woman would say to a man who’s sister blackmails hers for a menial job.” Anjali stood up, dropping his hands like hot coal. Arnav stood up as well, with all intention to stop Akash. Anjali had to have meant well.

“Khushi ji said she forgave me,” Anjali whispered, unable to look at Arnav.

“Her sister didn’t.” Akash got up and placed a hand on Anjali’s shoulder. It hurt him to see his brother protect Anjali from a scolding she deserved but he could not judge. Arnav and Anjali so often switched between playing each other’s parents that they probably didn’t even realise when they did it.

“Don’t worry Anjali di, it happens,” Akash smiled, “we forget that people have families. Have respect. Self respect. It happens when our clothes cost twice of someone’s ten months rent.” Akash stormed out of the house, leaving a sobbing Anjali and a stoic Arnav behind.

“Chote, I truly thought that-” Arnav shushed her, “It’s ok Di. I just wish that I was the only one who made such mistakes. Now Payal will never understand that Akash-” Arnav stopped. Payal would not understand, unless someone made the effort.

In a flash he picked up his car keys and phone.

“Chote-”

“Di, I’ll be back in an hour,” He stopped on his way and turned around to face his sister, “and Di, I’m not upset that you did whatever you could for my happiness.” Anjali sighed in relief and approached her brother but he raised his hand, gesturing her to be where she was.

“But, I told you that the contract was no longer legally enforceable. And you knew that I didn’t tell Khushi.”

---

Work is therapy. Akash wished that was true. The two hours he spent negotiating the launch of the winter collection only added to his headache.

A wise man once said that words, like arrows, cannot be taken back. Especially the ones said in anger. And Akash was wise, furious and had a choice of words simmering in him all afternoon in the office. Hence he declined every single phone call from Shantivan, Anjali di, and even Hari Prakash, until he switched off his phone.

Unfortunately now someone was at his office door. What can a man do to get one peaceful day!

“Sir, you have a visitor.”

“Rakesh, you know I don’t want any visitors.” Akash said.

“How about a friend?” Khushi Kumari Gupta, disrespecting all beautiful rules of privacy, entered the room and stared eye to eye with a shocked Akash.

“Khushi ji, what a pleasant surprise. Is Payal ji here? No… why should be? Khushi ji, I have decided to understand Payal ji’s no, so there is no yes in the no. You are my friend, but I won’t be convinced. You know how Payal ji is,” This was another case of verbal diarrhea.

Victim, Akash Raizada. Cause, first love and heartbreak syndrome. Previously seen in Khushi Kumari Gupta.

Khushi wondered if this is how she sounded to her family members throughout her life. That would explain her nicknames and her sister’s continuous worry of her health. Right now Akash would faint if not interrupted, as in the case of diarrheas, and her sister would have her head if she inadvertently caused the death of Akash Raizada.

Oh wait, even the Laad Governor would have her head, without any preliminaries, if anything happened to Akash. So, out of pure selfishness, Khushi had to act.

“... Payal ji was right. I had no idea Di had enforced the contract on you. Don’t worry I have understood Payal ji’s no. You do not, please, convince me otherwise-” Akash babbled.

“Stop! Hey Devi Maiyya, who told you I’m here to convince you?” Khushi asked. Akash violently colored and sat on his office chair, to stand up again, show Khushi the office guest chair and sit down back in his chair.

“Oh.”

“No means no. But now that you’ve understood her no,” Khushi began, “don’t you think it’s time you understood her?”

---

“Coming! Khushi if you knock once more-” Payal opened the main door and stopped. Last she remembered, Khushi was not six feet tall, wearing a pompom free and colorless suit, with a beard and a permanent scowl on her forehead. Also, she was not a man.

“You’re not Khushi.”

“So I’m told,” Arnav said.

If there were any doubts on Payal being Khushi’s sister, her inconsequential observation, and the necessity to voice it, removed it. Seldom had Arnav been faced with female attention not directed towards them, especially when he was in their line of sight. But Payal had other plans, and other intentions, as she craned her neck to find the taller, spectacled Raizada.

And even more rarely, had Arnav been pleased by someone’s utter lack of interest and disappointment in his solo arrival.

“Akash is not here.” He informed her. Payal blinked at him in a way that he interpreted as I-was-not-searching-for-him-at-all. It reminded him of Khushi.

“Why are you here?” Payal asked.

“I need to speak with you.” Arnav answered.

“I don’t want to speak with you.”

“What the fu-”

“What?!” Payal glared, knowing well where the last word went.

“Future. Of yours and Akash. He loves you.”

“I have said no.”

“I’m not here to convince you. I’m just saying that - damn it - Payal, not everyone gets the chance to marry someone they love.” Arnav said, his words betraying his inner turmoil. It struck Payal, love, it’s what Khushi spoke about and believed in but her current situation deprived her of the one thing she ever wanted.

“Ok, meet me in Happy ji’s garage, five minutes.” Payal instructed.

“Why Happy’s - his name is happy? - garage?” His question was promptly answered with a loud ‘Hai Re Nandkisore’. Payal raised her eyebrows, gesturing a conversation between Bua ji and him. Arnav was intelligent, he chose his battles well.

“Right, Happy’s garage, in five.”

---

Next Chapter

A/N: Thank you for your great feedback/response. Be sure to stay safe, alert not anxious during this season! Take care

#ipkknd #there's more to her #arnav Singh raizada #khushi kumari gupta #isspyaarkokyanaamdoon #fanfic #fanfiction #story #shortstory

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poor-wifi-uwu · 4 years

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Veil ch.2

The Jiangs... discuss. The Triad Alliance fares no better.

Wei Wuxian tapped his fingers against his elbows, afraid any more visible movements would break the delicate atmosphere in the room. He had never thought silence could be so loud and sharp, unsettling like nails on glass.

He can practically feel his sister’s rapid heartbeat as she tries to maintain her serene smile in the tension. Jiang Cheng just looked down, afraid to meet his mother’s eyes lest he can’t give her a satisfying response. Wei Wuxian had never seen him so still and tight, not missing the delicate tremble of his fists clenched in his lap. Uncle Jiang and Madam Yu had gone from dumbfounded blustering to outright glaring at each other.

Without raising his head, Wei Wuxian cast a glance at the crumpled letter lying pitifully on the floor between them all.

It never ceased to amaze him how much damage a single sheet of paper could cause.

The last thing anyone expected was for the Gusu emperor’s personal guard to come all the way into the enemy capital just to deliver a letter. They couldn’t imagine what contents the letter might contain to go to such extremes. Judging by the specially bred royal courier falcon they left before returning to Gusu, whatever it was required a response.

It was addressed to Wei Wuxian.

After checking it over for any traps, the royal family stared at the letter for a few minutes, debating whether or not to open it. Finally, Wei Wuxian snatched the letter and cut it open before he could talk himself out of it.

Wei Wuxian is a genius, but no matter how many times he read the letter he couldn’t make sense of it. As Wei Wuxian’s face got more and more confused, eventually Jiang Cheng couldn’t take it anymore and grabbed the letter for himself. A moment later he made this choking sound like a dying cat, face growing red from outrage.

Jiang Yanli looked worriedly at the two, holding her hand out hesitantly, “A-Cheng, could I see it?” When he doesn’t react, she gently slips the paper out of his stiff hand.

Jiang Fengmian and Madam Yu move to stand beside her as all three glanced down at the paper with interest. Through his confusion, Wei Wuxian found their changing expressions kind of funny. Jiang Fengmian had this indignant scowl as if watching some pig eat his prized cabbage. Shijie’s smile kept getting wider as her jaw clenched. Madam Yu was like a living lightshow with how many different colors she was going through. I mean, it’s shocking and all but isn’t this a bit much?

It’s just a marriage proposal.

And really, it was a godsend. Within that letter was an offer to end the war in exchange for Wei Wuxian’s entry into the imperial harem. 16 years of war, over just like that. Remembering the Yiling incident Wei Wuxian had to shake his head. This emperor sure was an interesting guy.

Wei Wuxian downed his cup of wine before setting it down firmly with an audible thunk, shattering the silence and whipping everyone’s eyes in his direction, “Well, I can definitely say I did not see that coming.”

Madam Yu bristled, “Speaking with such a tone!”

“Wei Wuxian, this isn’t the time to make jokes!” Jiang Cheng shot an exasperated glare at him.

Wei Wuxian lazily swirled the drop of wine left in his cup, “Why not?” Without moving he lifted his eyes up, “Aren’t jokes common in a celebration?”

Jiang Cheng choked, “Cele—!”

Jiang Yanli took a nervous step forward, “A-Xian, I understand where you’re coming from, but I wouldn’t classify this as a celebration exactly…”

Wei Wuxian raised an eyebrow at her, “Why not? All we have to do is send me to Gusu for one night to lie down and look pretty and the war will be over!” Before even Uncle Jiang could process the words Jiang Cheng whipped his head around,

“Absolutely not! Forbidden! You must stay a virgin till you’re thirty!” Wei Wuxian choked and raised a bemused eyebrow at Jiang Cheng, who was flushing red at his slip. Refusing to look in Wei Wuxian’s direction, he glared at a corner of the wall and bit out, “Anyway, you’re not going. Rejected!”

“Okay, look, it’s not like I want to get married either!” Wei Wuxian huffed, “But think about it, we can’t pass this opportunity.

Madam Yu scoffed, “Of course we can’t, so send Yanli instead!”

Wei Wuxian jerked up, “Madam Yu, the letter is addressed to me.”

Jiang Cheng follows, “And what about A-Jie’s engagement with that Crown Prince Jin that you were trying to restore?”

She glared at Wei Wuxian out of the corner of her eye, “Well clearly that’s out of the question now that the Jin are on the other side!”

Jiang Yanli looked down, “Mother…”

Seeing his sister’s distress Wei Wuxian defended, albeit reluctantly, “Now I really really hate to give the peacock any credit, but he did nope himself out of the war from the very beginning.”

The Jin did not throw even have of their war resources into the Triad Alliance, mainly because the other half belonged to Madam Jin’s faction. Having been lifelong friends with Yu Ziyuan growing up in the Meishan Duchies, Madam Jin would never harm the Jiang Kingdom that she had married into. No one knows exactly why the arrogant crown prince Jin Zixuan would pass up such an opportunity to best his longtime annoyances Wei Wuxian and Jiang Cheng, and end his engagement with a woman he proclaimed unworthy of him. Rumors say he even directly refused to participate to his father’s face.

Wei Wuxian looked at his sister’s crestfallen expression at hearing the news. At least he got that last one.

Madam Yu turned to fully glare at him, “It doesn’t matter. We can no longer rely on a marriage with the Jin, so Yanli should go to Gusu. We’ll have that Wen girl prepare fertility medicine. Whatever the Lan are planning, once she gets pregnant her place in the imperial family will be secure.”

We Wuxian stood up and faced her, “Shijie is not just some bargaining chip! Besides, the letter clearly asked for me. Chances are it’s just a concubine position, too low for Shijie!”

Yu Ziyuan grit her teeth. No one ends a war for a concubine. She seethed, “Even concubine is too high for a servant like you!” Regardless of the number of wives, the first wife always has an advantage.

The doors slammed open as Wen Qing stormed into the room with a pissed off scowl, “Who are you to speak to him like that? Wei Wuxian is the only thing keeping this country afloat!” Once she reached them Wen Qing put her hands on her hips, Wen Ning quietly closing the doors behind her, “And don’t speak about my medical skills as if they’re some kind of commodity.”

Yu Ziyuan bristled, “And who are you to speak to me like that?! Insolent, have you forgotten the debt you owe Yunmeng for saving your lives?!”

In response to her angry shout, Wen Qing just shot her a cool glare, “I know my debts, unlike you. Yunmeng did nothing, it was Wei Wuxian who saved us.” She narrowed her eyes, “If anything, I distinctly remember you protesting his decision.”

Yu Ziyuan eye twitched as she sputtered, too angry at the audacity to form words. Wei Wuxian whistled lowly in his mind. You really have to admire Wen Qing. There are few people in the world willing to speak in such a way to Madam Yu, especially with the difference in power. MianMian is pretty feisty too, having grown confident in the face of authority since defecting from the Jin Kingdom. Suibian hasn’t listened to Madam Yu a day in his life, and A-Qing is a fearless little devil. Actually, even Wen Ning has defended Wei Wuxian to her face before. Then there’s...

Wei Wuxian blinked. Huh. now that he thinks about it, aside from his siblings his entire inner circle stands up to Yu Ziyuan. Ah, those crazy bastards. Wei Wuxian can’t imagine where he would be now without their support. Probably in an even worse place.

Maybe he wouldn’t have made it this far at all.

Jiang Cheng tried to bite back at her but was quickly shut down, never quite able to handle such a strong-willed personality. Instead he trained his glare at Wen Ning, who trembled behind a pillar with the confused eyes of a bullied hamster.

Wen Qing sent him a warning look before schooling her face into its usual professional expression, “And I don’t think the question should be who will go, but if we accept.”

Jiang Fengmian nodded with a pensive expression, “I find it odd that Gusu is requesting A-Xian, the commanding General of Yunmeng’s army, for the marriage. They must know how outrageous that is?”

Wen Qing nodded, “Could be a power play. It’s not Gusu’s style, but the Jin wouldn’t hesitate to push their luck to take advantage of a situation.”

Wei Wuxian retorted, “Maybe if it was from Lan Xichen, but this letter is from the emperor himself. Lan Wangji doesn’t participate in these kinds of mind games.”

Jiang Cheng crossed his arms with an annoyed grumble, “You sure seem to trust that Lan Wangji quite a bit.”

Wei Wuxian shrugged his shoulders, “He’s never given me a reason not to.”

“Yeah, and he’s never given a reason to believe he might want a truce either.”

Wei Wuxian put his hands on his hips, “Well he’s given one now. And we should accept while we still have the chance.”

Jiang Cheng clenched his jaw, “And why would he even offer a ceasefire when they’re at such an advantage?”

Wei Wuxian grit his teeth, “Does it matter? Look, if this were the Jin or the Nie then I would be just as skeptical, but even now the Lan are sticking to their strict war etiquette. Scheming is not their forte.”

Jiang Cheng snapped, “Well it’s not like they’ve been so strict with their allies, have they? Gusu has gone along with the Jin and Nie’s actions before. Maybe they didn’t make this scheme themselves, but what’s to say they’re not just going along with it again?!”

Wei Wuxian tried to calm him down with an easy-going grin, “Say whatever you want about the other Lans, but Lan Wangji is a super stiff, rule-abiding fuddy-duddy. If he wanted to attack me to break through Yunmeng’s defenses, that guy would just charge me from the front in a one-on-one duel.” His smile settled slightly, “He’s never been the kind of guy to want a war. Maybe he wants it all to be over as much as we do.”

Yu Ziyuan scoffed at his naivety, Jiang Cheng following with a rebuke that had Wen Qing bristling with fury. Jiang Fengmian tried to pacify the two, only for Yu Ziyuan to quip about his pacifism. Soon the entire room had gone out of control, with everyone yelling over each other.

Wei Wuxian began to feel nauseous. They don’t have time for this! Can’t they see this is a golden opportunity? Why are they acting this way?!

Wei Wuxian took a shaky breath and grinned, ignoring Wen Qing’s concerned gaze, “Guys guys, haven’t we had enough already? This kind of chance doesn’t come by often. A marriage goes both ways, it’s not like we get nothing out of this. Besides,” his smile faltered for a split second, “what will happen if we don’t accept it?”

Jiang Cheng scoffed, “That makes us sound desperate.”

Wei Wuxian’s grin fell as he clenched his fist, “We are desperate.”

Jiang Cheng looked like he got slapped. Giving the other’s a quick glance, he leaned in to whisper, “If you just use that book, we’ll win in no time!”

“If I had known a treaty was coming I wouldn’t have used it at all!” Wei Wuxian whispered back with a glare.

Jiang Cheng got fed up, “Well you did!”.

Wei Wuxian froze.

Jiang Cheng glared at him, “All those years, all that sacrifice, just to give up like that! What did everyone die for then?!”

Wei Wuxian snapped, snatching the letter off the floor and shoving it in Jiang Chengs face, “THIS! This is what they died for: a way out of this damn war!”

Jiang Cheng knocked Wei Wuxian’s hand away, “And we can do that while winning! Just unleash hell on that damn Triad and this war will be over soon!”

Wei Wuxian glared, Or it can be over now !”

He looked around the room, at his family getting ready to argue back, at Wen Qing’s complicated expression, at his other friends hiding behind the pillars with worried faces, “This war can end right now , no more bloodshed, no more sacrifice. This is our best option right now and you all know it! This isn’t the time to let pride or hatred cloud our judgement.”

Jiang Cheng bit back bitterly, “Yeah, and it’ll end with our loss!”

Wei Wuxian sighed is disbelief, “Oh my god Jiang Cheng, how is it after all this time you still can’t see the difference between them winning and us losing!” He looked back at Jiang Fengmian, “We’re not signing the country away, it’s basically a truce. The Jiang family will still rule Yunmeng. At the very worst we’ll become a vassal state and pay taxes or let them in our ports for free or something. No matter how low the Lan might choose to go, it’s better than where we are now, and it’s much better than where we’ll be if we continue.”

Jinag Fengmian furrowed his brow in worry, “A-Xian, you don’t know that. It is dangerous to assume another’s intentions. What if this is a trap to get you alone and surrounded once you reach the capital? Even if you don’t believe Gusu would do such a thing, how about Lanling?” His voice took on a stern tone of finality, “A-Xian is too trusting, do not be so naive.”

Wei Wuxian couldn’t take it anymore, “And you all should stop fighting!”

The room froze.

“Every day, every damn day of the Yunmeng court’s infighting has led to this situation. How many times have we heard we could’ve won had we just cooperated with each other? How many times did court members make bad decisions just because a person they didn’t like agreed with the right option? Even now, in such a desperate situation, with such an obvious decision, we still can’t agree!”

Jiang Yanli tried to pacify him, “A-Xian, this kind of important decision, how can it be simple?”

Wei Wuxian bit his lip to stop from lashing out at her. Jiang Yanli has been the most understanding so far, her only reservations were with him being asked for specifically. Taking a calming breath, Wei Wuxian looked in her eyes, “Shijie, this war can only end two ways. When we accept this truce… or when one side is wiped out.” his eyes flicked to Wen Ning and Wen Qing for a moment before returning to gaze out at the Jiang royal family, “There is no decision to make.”

Seeing Jiang Fengmian’s complicated expression, Wei Wuxian shoulders slumped with the weight of his sigh. His fingers tightened around the letter in his hand, “Besides, I’ve seen the emperor’s signature and know a forgery when I see one. He signed this. And even if this is some grand plan of the Jin’s, the Lan are infamous for their rules. This is a binding agreement. As long as I reach the Cloud Recesses, they must honor it.”

Jiang Yanli looked down with a small frown, “...But does it have to be you?” Biting her lip she turned pleading eyes on Wei Wuxian, “A-Xian is a General! A leader, an inventor, a free spirit… A-Xian has so much ahead of him, while I can’t do anything. As a princess I have been prepared for this my whole life, so why does A-Xian have to be the one to give up everything?”

Wei Wuxian gave one slow blink, “Lan Wangji is a man of few words.” He met the Jiangs’ confused faces, “He would not have bothered to specify otherwise.”

And with that he turned to leave, only to be stopped by a whip striking the spot in front of him, “Who dismissed you?”

He turned his head sideways to look Madame Yu straight in the eye, “Did I ask to be dismissed?”

Then he took the time Madame Yu stood in shocked outrage to storm out the doors, his friends running after him.

The walk back to his room was quiet, no one knowing quite what to say. The marriage proposal, the arguing, Wei Wuxian’s slip… where do they start? Should they even start... or just let it go?

Meanwhile, Wei Wuxian was berating himself for losing control. Of all the times he needed their full trust in his decisions, and he had to be so emotional. He can’t have anyone doubt him at such a critical point. Wei Wuxian grips the door handle to his room tightly.

It feels as if his life has been nothing but critical points lately.

His room suddenly feels so nostalgic, knowing he’ll never come back here. He wonders if his family will preserve it, or if Madam Yu would repurpose it for something.

He sat on his bed softly.

Feeling himself sink into the mattress, he looked down to notice the bulge of a second futon over his mattress. He stroked the bulge with trembling fingers. Shijie must have set it up for him to rest after sleeping on rough cots for so long. Knowing Jiang Yanli, she must have gone through many kinds to find just the right one.

He wished he had the chance to try it.

Savoring one last moment of comfort, Wei Wuxian hopped off to go pack. He ignored the concerned eyes that followed, maintaining his nonchalant facade. He rolled up his clothes silently for a few moments, taking solace in maximizing his bag’s available space for another journey to a far-off land he doesn’t want to go to. The routine is more numbing than comforting, but anything that calms his pounding heart is welcome.

He turns to look for his shoes, only to see Wen Ning having silently crouched next to him, holding them out to him. He huffs in thanks, only for MianMian to sit on the other side with his writing materials, pointedly not looking at him. Wei Wuxian responds with a wry grin. Soon everyone is helping him pack, the room settling into a comfortable, if melancholic, silence.

Wei Wuxian is opening his travel trunk when Wen Qing asks almost in a murmur, “Are we going with you?”

He doesn’t pause his work, eyes trained on the various knick-knacks inside as he replies equally somber, “No…”

Wen Ning turned pleading eyes on him, “But Young Master…”

Wei Wuxian just continued to pick through for things he could fit in his travel bag, “No, Wen Ning. I need you guys here to take over for me. Anything could happen in the few days until the wedding, and then I’ll be a concubine in the inner palace. I don’t know how much freedom the emperor will grant me, so I need to make sure things don’t collapse while I’m gone.”

MianMian bit her lip, “How are you so sure you’ll be a concubine?”

Wei Wuxian paused his packing and looked up at them, “Because I’m a man.”

It took only a moment for them to understand.

With Gusu’s solidarity at the foundation of their advantages over Yunmeng, Wei Wuxian’s group had collected extensive intel on the inner workings of the Cloud Recesses. One of the ways the Lan prevent infighting is by setting strict rules for the inner court.

The emperor can only marry once, and the heirs must come from the official wife. Any concubine’s children are taken away to be raised as members of the clan in a communal setting to avoid any negative influences from the ambitious women.

By marrying Wei Wuxian, Lan Wangji would essentially be cutting off his own royal line.

Wei Wuxian mused as he continued packing, “At best he’ll make me an Honored Concubine so we can have the wedding. A marriage ending a decade-plus long war needs to display some credibility after all. Official Lan ceremonies have to go through certain traditions to be counted, so it’s not technically breaking any rule.” he huffed a humorless laugh and muttered, “But Lan Wangji has always been a straightforward stickler for the rules. If it says one wedding, then he’ll have only one wedding, Lan traditions or not.”

Looking through his trunk one last time, Wei Wuxian gave up on finding his medicine bag and turned to slump against the bed frame, “Besides, I’m the enemy’s commander. I’m the last person they want seeing the Lan’s inner workings, so this is the only way they can ban me from engaging any politics without breaking their rules against discrimination.”

Wen Qing furrowed her brows, “And you’re still going to go?”

Wei Wuxian looked up at the ceiling with a sardonic smile, “Do I have a choice?”

No one spoke after that.

Lan Wangji clenched the sachet in his sleeve as the dignitaries from the Triad Alliance sputtered in disbelief at his decision. The slightly worn fabric and almost fraying embroidery bringing him comfort in the face of this foolishness.

He made the right decision.

16 years is too long for a war, especially for such a pointless one. These people have the audacity to argue there have been much longer wars before, as if that justifies anything.

He almost regretted informing them of the marriage proposal, if only he wasn’t absolutely sure it was necessary. Although Gusu is the leader, Lan Wangji recognizes the respect that is owed to the Jin and Nie due to their alliance. Even if they are getting on his nerves.

The Jin are sitting with their jaws on the floor, eyes running through the bounties they were after and how this will affect their rewards. Nie Mingjue is holding back his outrage, confused why they would quit when they’re so close to the finish line. Nie Huaisang, who is always brought to these meetings for some reason, keeps opening and closing his fan nervously with a hidden glint of excitement.

His brother is the picture of grace and serenity as always despite dropping such a bombshell. His eyes quickly flicked to Nie Mingjue and Jin Guangyao, before facing forward again.

The tension was mounting among the audience in the room, but Lan Wangji himself was calm. Soon everything would be over and a new era would begin. His ears burned a bit red as he stroked the sachet. An era he hoped to lead with Wei Ying by his side.

“Are you out of your damn mind?”

Lan Wangji paused his ministrations to face Nie Mingjue. He stood strong in the face of the emperor’s attention, but Lan Wangji could see the rigid posture indicative of nervousness. Nie Hauisang went pale and looked like he was about to faint as Lan Xichen turned around to ask for leniency. Lan Wangji would not hold such an outburst against someone in a situation like this, he had always detested that in other rulers. Instead he just raised his hand in pardon and motioned for the king to continue.

Nie Mingjue uncrossed his arms and argued his case, “Why call for a truce now? We’re this close to winning. I would think Gusu more than anyone would be pleased to finally conquer Yunmeng.”

Lan Wangji blinked, “16 years is enough.”

Nie Mingjue narrowed his eyes, “And with 16 years of work, why give up when victory is just on the horizon?”

“Is it?”

The room froze. Of... course it is? Just one look at Yunmeng’s state is enough for anyone to know. Jin Guangyao took the lead to speak, “Your Highness, with all due respect, it is impossible for Yunmeng to win this war.”

Lan Wangji closed his eyes, “ ‘Do the impossible.’ ” The audience blinked at him as Lan Wangji opened his eyes, “Yunmeng’s most treasured belief.”

Nie Mingjue bit back, “What Yunmeng believes and what they can do are completely separate.”

Lan Wangji thought of a sunshine smile in black armor, “Our opponent is not Yunmeng.” He spoke purposefully to the room, “Wei Wuxian.”

Nie Mingjue but back his retort and clenched his fist. What could he say? They’ve been fighting this war for years and yet the enemy is still holding on no matter what they do, all because of one man. A near impregnable defense and a terrifying offense, Wei Wuxian is a one man army with a genius rarely seen in history.

How many times have they heard the only reason Yunmeng has not won is because their court is a train wreck? How many times have they feared the smallest rumors of Wei Wuxian overthrowing the crown and taking charge?

Uniting a divided army, executing insane strategies perfectly, managing social programs, and still somehow having the bandwidth to pop out ground-breaking inventions left and right. Fucking monster. Had Nie Mingjue known about him earlier, he would have adopted the bastard as a Nie prince.

“...Tch!” the Nie King downed his cup of alcohol.

Instead he’s an enemy, somehow the worst enemy the battle-worn Nie Mingjue had fought to date. He should have looked more deeply into the rumors of him and the Yiling Patriarch being the same person. Especially with this last battle.

He lifted his eyes sharply.

But Wei Wuxian is not a monolith, and it shows the state of Yunmeng that they have not rallied under his banner yet. No matter how powerful he is, he’s just one man. A man not even given the honor of his adopted family’s name, no less. Despite holding back three nations by himself, there is only so much Wei Wuxian can do alone. And he told the emperor as such.

Lan Wangji was silent for a moment, stroking the fabric once more as he reminisced, “... The Elephant Formation.”

The Nie delegation flinched. Their country was famous for its use of beasts, and the army was no exception. One of Nie Mingjue’s favorite tactics was to have elephants stampede through the enemy ranks. Either they get crushed or they break formation and enter a panic, unable to group together after having lost their place. That is, until Wei Wuxian noticed how the elephants seemed to only charge in a straight line. So he created a strange new formation where the soldiers step into the spaces between the elephants when they charge. No matter how narrow they made the spaces, even to the point of endangering their own elephant riders, there was always just enough room for the Wei soldiers to slip through. Eventually they had to discontinue the elephant charge method against the Wei army. It was a huge blow to Nie Mingjue.

Lan Wangji narrowed his eyes at Jin Guangshan’s mocking smirk, “The Spring Book incident.”

The entire Jin delegation turned red in shame and embarrassment as Jin Guangyao’s smile faltered. What a humiliating memory…

The Jin relied on numbers to win oftentimes, always a looming presence on Yunmeng who had fewer soldiers than even one of the Triad. And so, Wei Wuxian, with the enthusiastic spirit of a lunatic prankster, devised a scheme to lower that threat.

As most of the soldiers were drafted, they didn’t really want to participate in the war. So Wei Wuxian had a collection of porn books spread throughout the Jin encampments with instructions on how to fake an illness to get sent home written into the dirty talk in the speech bubbles. He even made sure they contained some high quality content so people would keep them hidden. No man would be willing to give up his porn in a barrack.

Droves of people were able to leave the army with those instructions until the Jin finally had to ban the sickness policy. Unfortunately, that kept the truly ill soldiers with the rest of the army and disease spread rampant. It was an absolute disaster…

Nie Huaisang choked back his laugh behind his fan. Wei-xiong always knows how to make things interesting. He was lucky to have saved a copy of the full collection. For historical purposes , of course. And if Nie Mingjue noticed his slip up, well, he was too busy grinning at the Jin to say anything.

Lan Wangji huffed. Only Wei Ying could be so bold and brilliant, yet in such a way you don’t wish to praise him.

The emperor reveled in the memory of Wei Wuxian’s cheeky grin when Jin Zixun confronted him about it. Shameless.

His ears burned.

Then the emperor grew somber as he realized how long ago that had been. How long since he’s seen that youthful energy in his beloved. He looked down, “... The Mountain Pass…”

The room sobered up instantly. That maneuver was a crowning example of Wei Wuxian’s ability to do the impossible.

With a good portion of its territory consisting of mountain ranges, the Gusu armies are masters of navigating those peaks. And being so dangerous, only a fool would challenge Gusu in a mountain battle. Wei Wuxian was one such fool who got himself trapped in a dead end with only a narrow entrance that was quickly being overrun my Gusu’s forces. Lan Wangji himself had joined against the wishes of his brother and uncle.

He knew it would be dangerous, but Lan Wangji had to ensure Wei Wuxian’s safe return to Gusu, albeit as a prisoner of war. He was filled with complicated feelings as he rode through the mountain pass, glad their battles were over yet mourning the loss. So confident were they, that when the Gusu forces could only look around in confusion at the empty clearing. Lan Wangji instantly put up his guard, surveying every suspicious pebble when he heard his name being called. Whipping his head around, he caught the small silhouette of Wei Wuxian waving emphatically at him just before the small tunnel collapsed with a rumble, followed by the mountain pass they entered through. It didn’t take long for the emperor to quell everyone’s panic, but the impact of having been bested in their own territory hit the morale of the Gusu forces more than any number of casualties could.

As it turned out, Wei Wuxian had planned the entire battle. Making use of the Gusu Empire’s pride in their mountain tactics, he had led them into a trap. In a show of pure grit and will, Wei Wuxian’s loyal soldiers spent weeks secretly tunneling through the mountain with a new drill that had Jin Guangshan salivating at the impact it would have on the mining industry. Choosing a location hidden behind a spike jutting out of the ground, it would be impossible to notice without prior knowledge. While the others were preparing for an ambush from above, Lan Wangji realized their goal was a delay tactic to turn back around and recapture the border towns left unprotected and without command.

Animal combat, scheming, mountain ranges, in each case Wei Wuxian had bested them in their own specialties. And these were just a few of the stories of the General’s many feats. No matter how dour, how unlikely, or even how many losses he suffers in between, eventually Wei Wuxian finds a way.

And with that latest battle, why would the future be any different.

Jin Guangshan tutted, “A cornered rat has the sharpest bite.”

Lan Wangji clenched his hands.

Jin Guangyao noticed Lan Xichen’s frown and smiled up at Lan Wangji, “Your Highness is correct.”

Lan Wangji turned to face him, suspicious eyes hidden by his headdress. Jin Guangyao pretended not to notice the pressure, “General Wei Wuxian is a wildcard that cannot be underestimated. Removing him as an obstacle using a treaty would be the best decision.”

Nie Mingjue clucked his tongue at the Jin’s cowardice. Leave it to them to change stances with the readiness of a fickle woman. Jin Guangyao just continued smiling, “However, there are many ways to go about this, including a regular treaty. And Wei Wuxian is loyal to a fault towards the Yunmeng royal family. He would go along with whatever they decide, so why a marriage with the General specifically, when he’s not even a true member of the family?”

Lan Wangji narrowed his eyes, “Lianfang-zun’s meaning?”

Jin Guangyao narrowed his eyes as he smiled, “I mean no offense, Your Highness. I simply noticed how Your Majesty’s decisions regarding the General have been rather… unusual.”

The hurt and confused look Lan Xichen sent his way had Jin Guangyao stepping back, “Forgive this one, Your Majesty. This most recent battle has me fearing the return of,” he looked up,”the Yiling Patriarch.”

The room broke out in whispers as Lan Wangji slumped imperceptibly in his seat. Nie Mingjue rested his head on his clasped hands, “...That green fire hasn’t been seen since the Sunshot Campaign.”

Lan Wangji felt nauseous. Green Fire, a powerful volatile substance that could even burn on water. When lit inside a shell, it forms a destructive bomb that leaves a devastating impact… on both sides. Rumors say it was discontinued for being too unstable to mitigate the risks for its users.

How desperate did Wei Ying have to be to resort to something so dangerous?

Lan Wangji clenched his eyes tightly, hoping to block out the arguing court.

When did their competition of skill become a desperate bid for survival? At what point did Wei Ying begin to dread their meetings?

When did Lan Wangji lose sight of his purpose for all this?

He remembers his first meeting with Wei Ying as Emperor and General. He looked so tired. No matter how well Wei Wuxian may have hidden it, Lan Wangji could see it in the dimness of his smile, in the absence of mischief in his words. He looked thin. Not enough to affect his prowess in battle, but too much for Lan Wangji’s liking. He wished to offer him a meal, had Wei Wuxian not been so wary of the tea. Wei ing didn’t even seem to notice it was the favorite blend of the Yunmeng royal family.

He cannot imagine the pain Wei Ying must have felt to hand over his precious family ribbon for a fault not his own. Lan Wangji berated himself for ignoring the clear distress Wei Ying showed for the split second before handing it over. Had his uncle not known of Canse Sanren, would Lan Wangji have ever learned its meaning? How many other times had he hurt Wei Ying without realizing?

Jin Guangshan’s voice snapped him out of his reverie, “That is why that research should be handled by Lanling, which has the most resources to accommodate its dangers.”

Lan Wangji narrowed his eyes, his radiating fury quieting the room, “A person’s property is not for others to claim.”

He directed his attention at Jin Guangshan, “What is made by the General, belongs to the General.”

Entrusting a group as arrogant and opportunistic as the Jin with such dangerous research was irresponsible at best. They don’t care who has access to it as long it profits them, as evidenced by their new research technician who had been busy making a nuisance of himself in the corner by harassing their youngest attendant. Lan Wangji pretended not to see her smacking his shins with her pole.

Despite being a king Jin Guangshan backs down, intimidated, “Your Highness, we were only discussing the dangers of such inventions. Given His Highness, Prince Lan Xichen’s agreement that the remainders of the Yunmeng army were best left to Lanling’s supervision, it follows that Lanling would be the most suitable for such a serious matter.”

Lan Wangji tilted his chin up, “A discussion between friends equals an imperial decree?”

The Jin King faltered, but Lan Wangji did not give him the chance to recover, “There have been no discussions concerning Lanling. Lord Jin made his neutral stance clear to retain access to Yunmeng’s ports. It is Lianfang-zun who belongs to the Triad.” Jin Guangshan flinched.

Aware of his brother’s growing irritation, Lan Xichen stepped it, “No worries, everyone. The details of the treaty will be discussed in length with the Jiang delegations once the matter of the marriage has been settled.”

Nie Mingjue turns toward him, “What makes you think that Wei Wuxian would even agree to this ridiculous offer?” A wild troublemaker like him, managing the inner court as Empress? He’s more likely to view it as a prison than the once-in-a-lifetime opportunity most would see it as.

Lan Xichen smiled at him, “The General is a smart man who has shown courtesy in even the most dire of situations. With things as they are, he must want an end to this war as much as we do.”

With a final huff from the Nie king, Lan Wangji dismissed the court session and retired to his pavilion, leaving the hosting to Lan Xichen.

When he returned to his rooms, Lan Wanji immediately took out the blueprints drafted of the Red Lotus Pavilion. Already on their seventh iteration, the emperor wanted to ensure his Empress would feel welcome and happy in his new home.

The layout of the complex is different from the rest of the Cloud Recesses, and strange for a noble in general. Wei Ying is known for his inventive nature, always tinkering with some idea. Sometimes things explode. Although his uncle would balk at something so uncouth, Wei Ying would surely appreciate a workshop or three. Lan Wangji has no intentions of stripping his Empress of his hobbies.

A lotus pond is without question. However, the Empress must not be seen without proper dress, many of the changes have been made with the pond’s swimmability in mind. The question now is which breeds of Lotus to insert: the lavender of Lotus Pier, or a red to complement Wei Ying’s style? Or maybe a random selection of many exotic varieties to entertain him?

A puff of laughter made Lan Wangji whirl around to meet Lan Xichen’s teasing smile, “Oh my, will there be an eighth iteration? At this point General Wei may not have a place to live by the time he arrives!” his eyes formed crescents, “Ah, or is that Wangji’s plan?”

Lan Wangji’s ears burned hot, “Brother.”

Lan Xichen leaned over to look at the scroll, “Ah, how accommodating. Uncle will surely be furious once he sees this. Best to build the foundation quick before he can protest!”

Lan Wangji hid the scroll against his chest and turned away, “Brother.”

The prince just chuckled and relented, satisfied for the moment. His smile settled after a few moments, “...That arrangement with A-Yao, I am sorry for not notifying you first. The three of us were debating the best ways to manage Yunmeng to have a plan ready to present when and if the time came. We hoped to avoid any unnecessary conflict so we could begin the recovery process quickly. I did not expect King Jin to take it as a promise.”

Lan Wangji didn’t turn around, “Brother meant no harm.”

Lan Xichen smiled sadly. But you’re upset about it regardless, aren’t you?

His little brother had never felt threatened by Lan Xichen, nor did Lan Xichen plan to threaten Lan Wangji’s power. He trusts his brother, and will always support him. So the only thing that could be upsetting him is…

He walked to stand next to the emperor, “We had that discussion not long before General Wei revived the Green Fire. Does Wangji believe it might be related?”

Lan Wangji was silent for a moment, “Wei Ying has history with the Jin.”

Lan Xichen looked down, “I see.”

The emperor turned to him and reiterated, “Brother meant no harm.”

Lan Xichen sent him a grateful smile, before turning to look out at the scenery with a thoughtful expression. The two stood in comfortable silence, listening to the sound of the rustling leaves in the gentle wind. After some time, they began to quietly discuss the decor of the Red Lotus Pavilion.

An attendant came while they were debating whether or not to include a napping bed in one of the workshops.

The courier falcon had arrived.

#mdzs #mo dao zu shi #wei wuxian #lan wangji #Jiang Cheng #lan xichen #wen qing #wen ning #jin guangyao #nie mingjue #royalty!au #general!WWX #emperor!lwj #arranged marriage au #pining!LWJ

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cmoroneybooks · 3 years

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Unmasking: Part One

Order is the ruling concept of the Andalan faith and the nations that bow before it. Anything done in the name of maintaining order is considered justified, no matter how perverse or cruel. Anything powerful, unpredictable, or free is regulated or destroyed. It is this thinking from which the Dagasi Order, a system of legal assassination was born.

Designed to keep the grudges of the petty and powerful from spilling into open warfare and stealing the lives of the innocent and weak, the Order is a mysterious but widely accepted part of life in the upper echelons of Andalan society. Andalan nobles scoff at the barbarians to the East who call the Dagasi Order and its practices savage. They tut at the unruly and unregulated magics which lie beyond the invisible line that divides the continent between Andalan and other. They worship the Gods of Order and Chaos, but only one affects their judgement.

Georgiana served the Order despite its cruelty. She excelled despite her slight stature and sex. She killed for her freedom and killed some more for her fortune. It was all supposed to end in peace and serenity, but unfortunately for Georgiana she fell in love with an ambitious man and he loves her just as much.

Her dress rustled with every step, the layered black silk whispering secrets to anyone who paused to listen. 𝘐'𝘮 𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦! 𝘐'𝘮 𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦! 𝘐'𝘮 𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦! Even amongst the hubris of the crowded antechamber full of slow-moving aristocrats, petty rulers, and merchant princes, her ears caught every whisper her skirts made. This announcement of her presence brought a prickle of unease between her shoulder blades.

Georgiana clutched tightly to Marcel's arm, perhaps a little too tightly. He had repeatedly glanced over at her as they made their way through the stream of over-decorated butterflies. His face was impassive, green eyes unreadable even to her, but the gesture alone spoke of concern. She loosened her grip and forced herself to relax. At least, she forced her body to relax, over that she had complete control, even now after so many hours spent at a writing desk instead of training. Her shoulders fell back, her torso shifted in line with her pelvis and she curved her lips just slightly, in an imitation of an unconscious smile. Marcel wouldn't be fooled; he would carry the concern all night. A tightness in his jaw, a slight curve of his spine as he walked. Little things only she would notice, but there all the same.

"Relax," he breathed, his words not going past her ears.

Georgiana shot him a look that would have withered up and blown away lesser men, but her husband only smiled.

Balls and upper-class gatherings of all kinds brought up memories of her time in the Dagasi Order as one of Andala's sanctified assassins. Hours spent crouched in shadows, blood splatters on fine fabric and priceless floors, the surprise on each and every face.

Memories Georgiana preferred to repress.

It wasn't remembering the people she had killed that bothered her. In fact, she was proud of several of those assassinations. No, it was remembering how easy it had been to kill them, even the trained fighters.

"We're on hallowed ground,' Marcel reminded her as a stern-faced guardsman, who barely remembered to incline his head in acknowledgement, ushered them through one large, ornate antechamber and into another. "Violence is strictly prohibited."

"So is politics," Georgiana shot back as they moved into a room illuminated by green light. Marcel didn't reply, his attention caught up by the source of the light.

In the center of the room was a portal's whirling vortex within an archway formed of entwined vines of emerald fire. Trailing tendrils of flame crept down the marble pathway that led to the fiery arch as if reaching for the guests. Here the disorganized mass of moving people stopped, being directed through the fiery portal in small groups by two hulking guardsmen.

To the side of the archway, behind the guardsmen, an unusually tall mage stood. His skin was completely hairless, devoid of eyebrows, lashes, or any hair at all upon his head, limbs, or face. His skin was almost supernaturally pale. His eyes had only the barest hint of blue and were nearly colourless. The black band of a slave, glittering with enchantments encircled his neck. She openly stared at him as she passed, but he didn't return her gaze, his disturbing eyes fixed on the pulsating light of the entrance. An albino with power, and a lot of it judging by his bland expression. He was quite the prize.

Perhaps he was a gift from some influential popinjay that wanted to get in Zahra's good graces now that her daughter was The Fire That Sustains. As the spiritual guide of the South she could command the hearts and minds of half the people on the continent -, commons, and nobles alike. A capability that Zahra, by extension, now also enjoyed.

Stepping through the archway burned cold; a breath later and they were through the other side. The warm air was a shock against her skin and the blazing light of hundreds of candles reflected against their crystalline chandeliers burned her eyes. A hand squeezed her stomach painfully as she blinked away blind spots, the skin between her shoulder blades burned, and her chest tightened. Sensing her anxiety Marcel dropped the arm her hand delicately rested on, abandoning formality to wrap his arm around her shoulders instead.

Georgiana pushed back unwelcome memories of dark rooms, burning light, and pain. She clenched her hands into tight fists to help fight off the urge to reach up and touch the two bladed pins that held her hair in place. It was a precarious thing the hairstyle that kept the blades away from her scalp. She didn't want to undo her maid's good work out of mere paranoia.

Once her vision cleared Georgiana recognised the entrance hall of Andefor Manor, some thousand miles away from the corridors of the Hall of Ascendancy where they had been a second before.

𝘚𝘰 𝘮𝘶𝘤𝘩 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘩𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘰𝘸𝘦𝘥 𝘨𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘥.

Despite losing the protection hallowed ground offered against violence, the sight of Andefor Manor's entrance hall calmed her. It was as familiar as the Hall of Ascendancy was alien. It was here that she had completed both her first and final contract for the Order.

Since she had last visited, the manor had been redone in the classical style. Columns of aged marble reached up to support the vaulted ceiling as ever, but now golden vines had been painted around them twining up towards the sky. The floors had been redone in milky quartz, polished to shining, and the walls were draped in lengths of satin. Alternating between the shining gold and crimson emblem of The Fire That Sustains, and the green and black coat of arms of the House of Andefor. Gentle piano music hung in the air and an unseen choir sung a wordless hymn, their voices brimming with reverence.

"A bit much wouldn't you say?" Marcel murmured, leaning in towards her ear as he did. Georgiana repressed a shiver at her husband's closeness, and she felt his lips twist into a smile.

"I preferred the marble floors myself."

"Yes, you would," he said with an exaggerated sigh. Georgiana just smiled beatifically; she had just spent an exorbitant amount of money having the façade of their townhouse in Halossa sheathed in marble.

"I suppose it's difficult to really enjoy the carousing in the Hall of Ascendancy."

"Nothing like being reminded of the gods to turn you off sin for the night," Marcel said. "And a sinless celebration would be something of a failure."

"Especially given the tastes of Iman," Georgiana agreed, thinking of the party she had attended the year before when she had first met the ruler of the Vestika Imperium. Most brothels were a picture of chastity and innocence compared to the debauchery she witnessed that night.

"Apparently he prefers blondes," Marcel said as they navigated the crowds.

"He does," Georgiana agreed looking out into the crowd. There was a disgusting amount of taffeta and satin, which was unfortunate as the next several years in fashion would be directly inspired by what was worn tonight. There was also an unusual number of blonde women whose faces she couldn't put a name to.

"I don't know her," Marcel said, having followed her gaze to the face of a silver-eyed blonde girl, barely more than a child by the look of her.

"I doubt anyone here does."

The many guests, most already familiar with the layout of Andefor Manor, were moving through the open double doors at the far end of the room, which led to the reception hall and ballroom beyond. The reception hall had been redecorated similarly to the entrance hall, but with the added addition of a golden throne set on a raised platform in the very centre of the room.

Georgiana recognised most of the guests that swirled around them, as they pushed further into the reception hall. Courtiers from the Attessan city-states, high ranking priests, wealthy commoners like herself and Marcel, Imperial aristocrats, and the sovereign lord of not one, but nine nations. There was an unusual energy among them all. A thrumming excitement, unseen but unmistakable.

"It's a holy day, they can relax" Marcel said, noticing her staring off into the crowd. "So, can you."

Georgiana would love to believe him, but she couldn't. Her Dagasi price had been inquired after two moons past. She was only lucky her service to the Order meant it was exorbitantly high. Apparently, her would-be murderer couldn't afford it, but that was cold comfort. At the night market in Halossa - known for illegal activity -, a well-dressed man had been asking around for the services of an illegitimate, non-Dagasi, assassin.

Someone wanted her dead.

Someone who was willing to sacrifice their honour and integrity to see it done. Willing to deal with cut-throats and side-step the ancient system, which had kept the continent from dissolving into open warfare for centuries. Perhaps even dirty their own hands. And what better time to catch her unaware than on a holy day?

No, she couldn't relax, especially with Marcel on her arm. Her husband had many talents, but self-defense was not one of them.

They had crossed the breadth of the reception room now and Marcel steered them towards the far corner of the room. The Dominus and Domina of Milkain, a wealthy, aristocratic couple of some standing in the Imperium, were sitting there together on one of the deep purple velvet lounges, a table laden with fruits and cheeses in front of them. The Dominus, Ibrahim, was an intelligent man who shared many of Marcel's drier areas of interest and so, despite his pleasant temperament, was a rather boring man. His wife, Amira, made up for him. She was a vivacious and engaging woman who was considered by many to be the most fashionable woman on the continent and supposedly one of the purest Varani living. She certainly looked it. In a room filled with coffee-brown Estans and ebony-black Varani purists she had the darkest skin of any. No small feat, and her eyes, which lit up with welcome as they approached, were a vibrant purple that was never seen in anything less than pure-blooded Varani. Blessedly, she was in fine linen dyed a soft grey and embroidered with silver flowers. If Amira had worn taffeta, it would have cemented the trend irreversibly.

Ibrahim rose, gesturing for Georgiana to take his place beside Amira. Grateful to get off her feet she sat down beside Amira who flung her arms around Georgiana's shoulders with unembarrassed affection. Georgiana gave her a genuine smile. She didn't often attach herself to people, but Amira had found a place in her heart from their first meeting.

"How did you like the ceremony?" Amira asked in a conspiratorial whisper as their husbands waved over one of the many servants in gold-trimmed livery who hovered around the guests.

"We were seated in the sixteenth row, so we didn't see a great deal. The music was very good, however."

"That is very close for a commoner," Amira remarked. "Marcel must have been pleased."

"He was, especially given the Comte of Avada was in the row behind us."

"The seventeenth row?" Amira looked shocked. "Blood feuds have been started over smaller insults."

"He must have done something to offend Zahra. I'm told she saw to the seating chart personally."

"I imagine he is not long for this world."

"I, for one, will not miss him." It was Ibrahim who spoke, he and Marcel returning to them, a servant following anxiously at their heels, his lips moving soundlessly in some incantation.

"He's a bit of an idiot," Marcel agreed sitting down in the winged armchair the servant had materialised out of nowhere. Purple velvet, a perfect match for the lounge. A twin armchair materialised beside it and Ibrahim dismissed the server with a smile and nod.

"I would have said poorly educated."

"Only because you're a snob."

Ibrahim waved a hand at Marcel dismissively. "You are uncouth."

"I'm shocked to hear you use such language, Your Excellency," Georgiana said with a grin that Ibrahim returned.

"Your husband has been a bad influence on my behavior, I fear, ma'am."

"Naturally," Marcel said with a sly grin. "But you're better for it. So, how was the ceremony from the sixth row? I noticed you two have moved up in the world recently."

"It was -" Amira shook her head, a far-off look in her violet eyes. She leaned in closer. "It was disturbing if I am honest. You could see the spirit take her. One moment a little girl, the next -"

"The Fire That Sustains," Marcel finished for her.

"I only hope that Johanna herself wasn't burnt away in that fire."

"Well, tradition tells us that both the spirit and the bearer are present in that holy union."

"As does our personal experience with Johanna's predecessor," Ibrahim added. "No one could say Nasira lacked for her own, distinct, personality." A servant appeared at his elbow, a golden tray with four glasses of rich, red liquid held out.

"Your drinks Your Excellencies, sir and ma'am."

"I asked for cherry wine and they've got Bavordan vintages," Ibrahim said as they all accepted their drinks from the servant, who bowed when Marcel took the last drink off the tray and quickly scurried away.

Amira held her drink aloft. "The Fire That Sustains, long may she burn."

The rest of them raised their glasses, repeating "long may she burn," and they all took a drink. The wine was tart despite the sweetness of cherries and rich like all Bavordan reds.

As they toasted a hush fell over the room. Georgiana looked over Marcel's shoulder to see Johanna Andefor, The Fire That Sustains, representative of the Mother Creator on earth and spiritual guide of the South standing in the doorway. She was small, even for an eight-year-old girl. The badge of her rank, a crown of fire opals and gold carved into the likeness of roses on a vine, sat precariously on her head. Tilted back so it didn't fall over her face. She was Zahra in miniature, with her silky black braids and delicate features, but her eyes had turned grey where they were once her mother's warm brown. She looked out at them all for a moment and Georgiana scrambled to her feet so that she, like the rest of the assembled guests, could drop to her knees and press her face into the ground.

"Rise," she said, her soft, soprano voice carrying across the room.

Georgiana waited a moment before getting to her feet. There was a delicate balance of ego amongst the more sensitive nobility that she had no interest in upsetting by rising before them. Marcel followed suit. Amira and Ibrahim watched them with amusement, having stood immediately.

"I always forget the two of you are commoners," Ibrahim said as Johanna strode purposefully towards her throne, people melting out of her path.

"I'm also a literal bastard," Georgiana added to a snort of laughter Ibrahim tried to cover up as a cough. "But I'm a rich bastard and that's really all that matters."

"As I am to celebrate my flower day in less than a month I could not agree more," Amira said with a wide smile, linking her arm in Georgiana's. "Rich bastards tend to be excellent gift-givers." Georgiana returned the smile thinking of the purple tourmaline and gold jewelry set, inlaid with outrageously expensive protective charms, she had commissioned for her friend.

"We should probably mingle," Ibrahim said. "Taxation reform is never popular, and I promised His Illustriousness we would try to curry favour for it."

"We?" Marcel asked with a raised eyebrow. "I don't remember Iman offering to pay me."

"Considering the new reforms would let you expand your venture beyond the Attessan states and into the Imperium - "

"Well in that case." The two of them shared a slow, satisfied smile. Amira too was smiling but Georgiana had to hold back a sigh, polite small talk with people who looked down on her wasn't her idea of fun. Reluctantly she followed them further into the room and towards a group of Imperial nobles.

"Do not look so sullen, Georgie," Amira said in a singsong voice. "You should learn to love occasions like this!"

Georgiana opened her mouth, a witty retort on the tip of her tongue, but the words died in her throat as she felt a breeze on her neck and her gut twisted with the primal knowledge she was being watched. Without conscious thought, she doubled over, dragging Amira down with her and neatly avoiding a blade aimed for her head.

A dull, wet thud and a scream. A blade thrown in a crowded room was always sure to hit someone. Georgiana pushed Amira behind her and into the crowd which had erupted in startled shouts and curses. Guardsmen who had before been trying to look unobtrusive now forced the crowd apart, pushing aside aristocrats and priests without care. As she moved, her would -be killer, a middle-aged balding man, made to slam into her only to find empty air. She nearly laughed as she finished the movement she had begun, sweeping her right foot into a wide circle as she spun, her feet never once losing contact with the ground. She slammed her shin into the back of his knee, knocking him to the floor in front of her.

𝘈𝘮𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘶𝘳.

The fear of before was gone. Waiting for an unseen assailant was one thing, but with the violence out in the open she was again in her element. She straightened, hand flying to the ornamental hairpin holding her dark locks in place. That would have been it for him, her instincts told her to kill first and ask questions later. But a second attacker, a young man with taunting eyes, saved him when Georgiana was forced to duck out of the way as he came hurtling towards her. She moved backwards and to her left, letting him barrel past her she slashed her arm. The hairpin caught him in the cheek, and he screamed as blood gushed down his face. Georgiana felt a breeze of movement on her right arm and twisted out of the path of another attacker. A short, lithe blonde woman rushed past her, going further than she planned without Georgiana to slow her momentum. She ran right into the blade of a quicker guardsmen's sword, impaling herself. Georgiana swiveled back to face the man she had slashed, the half-impaled girl already forgotten. He moved more cautiously now but still smirked at her. She wanted to slap that look off his face.

"You're very young to die," her voice was low and husky, as they circled each other, ignoring the shouts and ringing steel as guardsmen and military-minded guests alike moved to engage the other ambushers. They had apparently come in numbers. "Surrendering might save your life."

He didn't answer, rushing her instead. Evade and strike, a memory whispered. She rolled out of the way – her first mistake. Her layered silk dress wasn't designed with acrobatics in mind and the roll tangled her up in it. Her attacker noticed and that obnoxious grin lit his face again and so Georgiana made her second mistake. Her blade shot across the room, following the path of her eyes to bury itself in his throat. He made a retching noise, clutching at his throat and dropping to his knees. The shock on his face was almost worth losing her only weapon, the other hairpin had fallen out of her hair during the fight. She was free for only a second. Just long enough to get to her feet and see that Marcel was safe behind the battle lines the guardsmen had drawn up to entrap the would-be assassins.

Then her fourth attacker was upon her.

He was at a disadvantage, having fought his way to her. Blood stained his brown breeches dark on his right side. His face pale under coffee brown skin, sable eyes very wide. He didn't rush her, holding back from the move that had proved fatal for his compatriots. Instead they circled, the dance of death a teacher had once called it. It was something to be avoided according to that teacher, best to throw them off, give them no time to think. No time to fear. Fear could sharpen or break an opponent. That teaching had been a warning. But in Georgiana's opinion, if wielded properly, fear was a potent weapon.

She pushed her circle out wider, edging herself towards the blade lodged in his comrade's throat. It took him longer than it should have to notice she was getting closer to a weapon. As he stepped in to block her path, she pivoted so that for a second his back was to her. She slammed her elbow and forearm into his shoulder blades and lower neck. He stumbled forward, his sword clattering away out of his grasp. She didn't give him time to regain his balance, slamming into him with her entire body weight and the not insignificant added weight of her dress. He fell, face first into the marble floor. His nose broke with an audible crunch. He'd probably lost teeth. Georgiana went down with him, though her fall was controlled, her weight falling on top of him and winding him again. She didn't give him a chance to catch his breath. She caught his arm, twisting it backwards and forced a knee down onto his cheek, pinning his head to the ground. He struggled, trying to break her balance and grip, but despite the inconvenience of her layered skirts his attempts didn't shift her.

She leaned down close to her prisoner's ear. "Too late."

"What are you planning to do to that man Madame Allegra?"

Georgiana looked up to see the guards had ringed the room, shutting off all exits and separating the crowd from the bloody scene Georgiana found herself in the middle of. There had been two dozen assassins in total, but only four had made it to Georgiana, guardsmen and guests alike cutting them down. Of the four who had reached her, three were dead. Ibrahim's badge of office, a ceremonial dagger with a bloodstone blade and a ruby encrusted hilt, was buried in the back of the middle-aged man, which explained his disappearance. She had killed the second attacker; he lay in a pool of his own blood, unmoving, eyes no longer taunting. The girl had impaled herself. Two others were still living, being restrained by guards. In front of her stood Johanna, Iman and Zahra only a pace behind. The three most important people in Andala had their attention focused solely on Georgiana.

This is part one of ‘Unmasking’ the first installment of ‘The Dagasi Saga.’ The entirety of ‘Unmasking is available for free on webnovel, and the second installment ‘Anathema’ is available for 0.99cents USD on Amazon. If you don’t want to pay don’t worry! Everything will be released on webnovel, it will just take more time. If you don’t want to wait, Amazon is the way.

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khhunniewriting · 5 years

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The Others (1)

[ Mafia/Gang AU ]

When someone dangerous marries someone equally as dangerous there is no room for error. Being the other woman and mother to the other son makes you exactly that.

Warning: None yet...

“Y/N are you alright?” Your landlady asked as she saw you sitting at the foot of the stairs.

You quickly offered a smile that put her old heart at ease. “I’m fine Mrs. Park.”

She noticed the bags of groceries beside you and your slumped shoulders. “This is the third time I find you here. Are you getting enough rest?”

“Honestly, I’ve been so busy looking for a job and can hardly sleep.” You sat up rubbing your lower back and hitting it a few times in the spot that ached most. There was never a need for you to work when you had Dok2. He took care of you financially during your unconventional relationship in exchange for privacy.

“It must be hard with the pregnancy and all...”

You stared at the elder woman like a deer caught in the headlights. “How did you-?” No one knew you were pregnant, you hadn’t told anyone because you yourself had just found out a few days ago.

She offered you a kind smile as she sat down beside you. “I’m old now but I was once a beautiful young woman with a figure that turned heads and hair that had people asking me what shampoo I used.”

Soon you were smiling again, your worries from earlier had been taken away by the nice woman who took the time out of her day to speak with you.

“But five daughters later I’m struggling to keep these strands from leaving me.”

“F-five daughters,” you gasped. “Mrs. Park, you never had a son?”

She sighed, “Sadly, never. Or else I might have skin as beautiful as yours.”

“Mine?”

“Darling your skin is just so beautifully radiant and your hair is shining. You're glowing despite being fatigued. I’ll bet you this apartment complex, you are having a boy.”

“You sound so sure.”

“It’s an old wives tale but it’s true. Girls suck the beauty out of you and take it for themselves. If you don’t believe me compare me and Mrs.Kim on the third floor. She had three boys and is as young and fit as a thirty-year-old while I struggle to get up to the third floor.”

You laughed hearing her reasoning. It had been weeks since you last had a conversation with anyone. Depression was slowly creeping up on you but now you felt refreshed thanks to her. “I’m sorry I’m not laughing at you, Mrs. Park. It’s just-”

“I know,” she put her hand on your shoulder and lovingly gave you a tight squeeze. “I’m glad I could bring back that smile of yours. Lately, you were looking down and I didn’t know what to do. You may think I’m just a nosy old lady but why hasn’t the father been around? He should be helping you out, men nowadays should know better than to leave everything to the woman.”

The question” caused your smile to falter while simultaneously making your heart flutter. You knew it wasn’t right but that was what happened. There was no one you missed more than Joonkyung.

Seeing your reaction Mrs.Park stopped. The longing in your eyes spoke volumes to a wise woman like her who had lived a full life. “Darling if you ever need anything you can come to me.”

“Thank you,” the tears you had held back till now suddenly spilled as you thanked her. “I don’t know what to do Mrs. Park. I’m so scared.” You hid your face in the palms of your hands. The thoughts you had pushed aside for weeks were starting to come back up.

“Y/N you have to be strong for your son. He’s going to count on you for everything.”

“I know,” you whispered. “That’s what scares me, I’m not strong like you say.” If she knew how you threw yourself at a married man you knew her opinions would surely change about you. “I’m not fit to be a mother. I’ve done so many things wrong-”

“We all make mistakes. What matters now is that you learn from them and get stronger because you are everything to that child.”

Her words kept you from crying further. It was like they were making sense of the whole situation for you. She comforted you but at the same time, she kept it real. Of course, you weren’t perfect, so what? At least now you got one step closer. “Thanks, Mrs. Park.”

“No need to thank me just make sure you rest well from now on. Eat properly and take care of yourselves.”

“I will.”

\\\

It wasn’t until several months later that Dok2 contacted you. He didn’t mention the past events, ask how you were, or anything for that matter. He simply texted you a time and location. It was a hotel, as usual. You were pretty sure all he wanted was to get away from his wife. A wife you knew close to nothing about. She was always demanding according to him. Now you figured she would be much more than he could handle.

Carrying a child was no easy task as you had learned so you couldn’t blame her.

Your feet were constantly aching, every afternoon you walked up the stairs it felt like you were walking barefoot on an open flame. On the outside, you looked good and got complimented on your pregnancy glow but you were dead tired. At first, you didn’t believe in those old wives tales. Now that it was confirmed you were to give birth to a boy you found yourself believing.

Looking at the brightly lit screen you felt the urge to reply right away with a yes. You desperately wanted to see him. Even if he never really loved you, you loved him with all your heart.

You knew the risks, you knew where you stood in his life.

He had a wife... he loved her enough at one point to vow the rest of his life to her. He connected with her emotionally and while the physical relationship between them had died down you were no replacement for the years of love and passion they had already shared up to that point.

Now that she was pregnant, his love and attention were solely hers and their unborn baby. You had no one to blame but yourself for the position you were in. You were the only one who got carried away loving a man that was never really yours for the taking.

Compared to her...you would always be disposable.

You knew that now...

You: I’m not coming.

After sending the message there was a rush of regret. This was your chance to see him, to hold him, to show him that you too were pregnant. Your arms wrapped around your protruding belly.

“What luck... to be able to impregnate your wife and your mistress at the same time.” Saying it out loud was the only way for you to internalize the gravity of your situation. It was the only way you could remind yourself how wrong it was for him to be contacting you.

Dok2 stopped midway to his car when he read your response. In three years you had never denied him, even when arguments had ensued.

Dok2: Is something wrong?

He raced to the luxury condo he had housed you in when his text went unanswered. He let himself in only to find It was empty. The place was still intact, all furnishings and even some clothes remained in the closets but it was clear you hadn’t been there for a while. Your prized white orchids had all dried out, their petals scattered on the floor.

Now he was really beginning to worry...

You woke up when your phone wouldn’t stop ringing and flinched at the bright screen when you tried to see who it was. Against your better judgment, you answered full of rage. The one night you had managed to get to bed on time- “Joonkyung its midnight!”

“Why didn’t you respond to my message?”

“I fell asleep,” you lied knowing you purposely chose to ignore it. What you were feeling could not be expressed in a single text. You doubted you could ever explain anything at all to him.

“Why aren’t you here?”

“I told you I wasn’t go-”

“Not at the hotel,” he stopped you.

Your heart sank at the realization, “You’re at the condo.” The condo you had moved out of nearly five months ago after he broke the news to you and subsequently found out you were pregnant.

“Where are you?”

You sighed, “I no longer felt comfortable living there so I moved.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” In the back of his mind, he knew what was going on but he chose not to accept it until you confessed to it.

“I’ve been busy.”

“Too busy to send a text?”

“This isn’t really a conversation to be had by text even now it doesn’t feel right to talk about it through the phone.” Judging by his tone of voice he knew that.

“If you wanted a bigger place I could have found one for you.”

“That’s not-” you pulled the phone away as your eyes glistened with half-formed tears as you used your free hand to lovingly hold your belly. “That’s not the point Joonkyung.” You sighed once more showing how difficult it was for you to voice your thoughts.

Dok2 leaned back against the bedroom wall with a knot in his throat. He wasn’t stupid, this all spelled it out for him.

“By now I know better than to tell you I love you but I really do Joonkyung. Enough to have betrayed my own morals and better judgment. I let myself become the other woman. Knowing that you two had problems made it easier for me to convince myself I did nothing wrong but...” You sighed blinking away the tears. “There is still a chance. Your marriage with your wife still has a chance and I don’t want to stand in the way. I could be the other woman but I can not and will not become a homewrecker.”

He didn’t realize when he had started pacing the black marble floors of the spacious bedroom. He only knew that he stopped when your voice did.

There was silence for a moment as he cleared his throat. Your heartfelt monologue was to blame for the complications he was having to even speak. “Is that really what you want?”

No, but... You steeled your resolve to reply, “It’s the right thing to do.” Your thoughts and actions didn’t exactly sync but with time you were hopeful of moving on.

“The right thing isn’t always the best.”

Your heart filled with hope at the idea that perhaps Dok2 did love you. That he wanted to be with you. But you reminded yourself of what was really at stake here. Your son deserved to live a happy life full of unconditional love, sadly he would not be able to provide that.

“Is she having a boy or a girl?”

Dok2 was taken back by the question but answered nonetheless, “I don’t know.” It wasn’t that he hadn’t asked, she had simply told him it was unclear.

“Say she is a girl, I have no doubt you would spoil her with lavish gifts and treasure her existence as your little princess. Then imagine her as an adult being in my position- what would you say?”

Again silence.

“I’ll answer for you. You would say nothing because you would do anything humanly possible to keep her from ever coming close to this situation. You would see her marry happily and if a problem ever did arise in the marriage you would advise her against adultery, against divorce, against complacency- because that’s the norm. But eventually, one or the other will happen. The best advice you can give her is to do what’s right for her.”

For some reason when you explained it in this manner he felt more affected by his current situation. He felt YOUR pain.

“Leaving quietly is the right thing for me to do Joonkyung. Besides, I know you don’t love me the way you love her.” Your head throbbed with the accumulating pressure of you desperately keeping your composure, keeping from sobbing into the phone. “Goodbye Joonkyung.”

He said nothing as you ended the call.

This was all his fault.

If he had known that someday he would fall in love... he would have never married his wife. After all, their marriage was based on convenience. It was a deal made for the better of their families in a time when he thought himself immune to romance. To keep him away from women that would try to use him for his money and power his family chose someone who already had both.

Along the way, Dok2 felt something for her that made it easier to accept her as his wife in all the meaning of the word. But... it was never this feeling he had for you.

The feeling of wanting nothing more than to see you happy.

This was love.

\\\

You thought that would be the last time you ever utter his name but sadly you were mistaken.

Weeks later you had once again joined the workforce. In your condition, you were grateful to have been able to land the position of spa manager for a luxury hotel.

Overseeing the daily activities of the spa was manageable enough that you did it until you were heavily pregnant and ready to birth your son.

“You should really go on maternity leave already.”

You turned to see the hotel manager making her way past the spa’s receptionist. The woman seemed a serious career-type at first glance but in the course of your time there you had interacted with her plenty of times to know she was more than that. She had become a good friend.

That is why, despite the coldness of her words, you knew she had meant no harm. She was simply concerned for you.

“If I could afford it, I would.”

The receptionist’s brow rose in question, “Manager what about all those luxury bags you gave everyone for Mother’s Day?” The receptionist was a young mom as well, her daughter was only two years old and for Mother’s Day you had gifted her a Gucci handbag she could never in her wildest dreams afford.

You were visibly distressed by her question. “Those were given to me but I had no use for such luxurious things.”

They immediately got the hint that perhaps they were treading into a topic that should be avoided.

“At least consider reducing your hours.”

“Yeah,” the receptionist agreed with her. “Perhaps you can go home early every once in a while.”

There was a sense of relief knowing there were people who looked out for you. “I’ll consider it,” you assured with a smile.

Just to prove you had done just that and left your duties a couple of hours early.

As soon as you stepped foot into the lobby you noticed another equally pregnant woman looking around as if she were in need of assistance. The pained look on her face and shallow breathing indicated something was definitely wrong with her.

“Are you okay?”

The woman’s gaze was full of contempt once she gave your appearance a look over. When her eyes landed on yours it was as if she came to a realization. Her features took on a frigid state.

“Are you Y/N?”

Your body reacted in shock from hearing your name before you could say otherwise. The wide-eyed disbelief giving away the response.

“I have been meaning to talk to you,” she continued knowing she had found her intended audience.

Of all the questions running through your mind, you lost your chance to ask how she knew your name or what she wanted to talk about but you would soon find out. The way she proposed to continue the conversation outside.

The woman pointed out a somewhat busy cafe across the street that would serve well as a place to converse. Normally you would never follow a stranger this way. However, you were relying on her not being a threat simply because she was a pregnant woman.

Besides, something told you this woman would get her way regardless of your cooperation. There was a suffocating air of authority around her that demanded you give in to her command for your own benefit.

Upon sitting down you both released a sigh of relief from being off your feet. It was the only break in the silence since the lobby.

“So... how do you know my name? I don’t think we’ve met before-”

“I am Lee Kylie. Dok2 is my husband although I suspect you know him better as Lee Joonkyung.”

Your eyes shifted down to the wooden table between you two fully grasping the situation now. This was a confrontation between a wife and the other woman. “I always knew this day might come.”

Kylie scowled, “the way you were cautiously cowering away before had me expecting an apology.”

“I am sorry for what I have done,” you began. "But I did not intend to get between you and your husband. That is why I stopped meeting him after finding out you were pregnant.”

A single brow raised in question. Kylie began thinking about her husband’s change in behavior. How he seemed to go out much more recently. That was the reason she found out about you. Yet you say you two no longer see each other?

“The fact that you began seeing him at all is offense enough for me to take action.” Kylie neatly folded her hands on top of the table leaning in towards you. “In the mafia, it is common for men to have multiple women. Some openly flaunt their adulterous ways while others go by a stricter code of conduct that has them hide all traces of their mistress’ from the family. In which case, if the wife were to come by the information... she would be allowed to do as she sees fit.”

“The mafia?” Your heart began to pound against your chest incessantly.

“The fact that you do not know of his business speaks volumes of your relationship.” She shifted to sit back and look down on you now that she felt much better of her standing. “My husband, Lee Joonkyung, is the powerful and wealthy leader known as Dok2 of the Illionaire family.”

You had heard about Illionaire. But things like the mafia, gangs, and the nightlife was never something you wanted to get involved in. Occasionally the jewelry store you used to work at would see an occasional member as a customer. They tended to be the kind of people who bought the flashier expensive pieces. Coincidentally it was how you met Joonkyung.

Now you realized it wasn’t much of a coincidence.

“Tell me, is yours his as well?”

Kylie’s question startled you but you didn’t let it show. Until now you never imagined you would be having such a conversation with Joonkyung’s wife.

“I assume it is but taking into consideration you willingly left... either you are a good girl full of guilt and remorse- obviously unfit for someone like Dok2 who is the head of Illionaire. Or you also maintained multiple relationships resulting in you not knowing the paternity of your child.”

There it was, your way out of this mess.

“I don’t know...”

-end-

A/N: WTF AM I STARTING A NEW SERIES?!! That’s what you’re thinking and I am asking myself the same thing. I guess I selfishly believe that you won’t mind me lagging on the requests as long as I write something to show I am still here. Wishful thinking perhaps????

But did you see what I did there with Dok2′s wife?

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stagcharmed-a · 4 years

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james potter + myer briggs personality

mtbi type : ESFJ ( the consul )

A Consul (ESFJ) is a person with the Extraverted, Observant, Feeling, and Judging personality traits. They are attentive and people-focused, and they enjoy taking part in their social community. Their achievements are guided by decisive values, and they willingly offer guidance to others.

strengths:

strong practical skills. excellent managers of day-to-day tasks . enjoying making sure that those who are close to them are well cared for

strong sense of duty. strong sense of responsibility. strive to meet their obligations, though this may sometimes be more from a sense of social expectations than intrinsic drive.

very loyal. extremely loyal and trustworthy . true pillars of any groups they belong to . people with this personality type can always be relied upon

sensitive and warm. care deeply about other people’s feelings. strong team players.

good at connecting with others. social and well liked. strong need to ‘belong’ and have no problem with small talk or following social cues

weaknesses:

worried about their social statuses: preoccupied with social status and need to be liked.

inflexible: place a lot of importance on what is socially acceptable, and can be very cautious, even critical of anything unconventional or outside the mainstream. People with this personality type may also sometimes push their own beliefs too hard in an effort to establish them as mainstream.

reluctant to improvise or innovate: unwilling to step out of their own comfort zones, usually for fear of being (or just appearing) different

vulnerable to criticism: can become very defensive and hurt if someone, especially a person close to them, criticizes them

often too needy: need to feel appreciated. If their efforts go unnoticed, they will attempt to get reassurance of how much they are valued.

too selfless: sometimes try to establish their value with doting attention. often neglect their own needs in the process

romantic relationships:

Prizing social validation and a sense of belonging so highly, romantic relationships hold a special level of importance for Consuls. No other kind of relationship provides people with the Consul personality type with the same level of support and devotion, and the feelings of security and stability that come with strong romantic relationships are extremely warming.

Consuls don’t do casual flings – they need to know that their partners will always be by their sides offering unwavering support, and marriage and family are the ultimate goal.

Everything about Consuls’ relationships is based on satisfying mutual needs, from creating understanding early on to building mutual respect and support for each other’s opinions and goals. Knowing that they are loved and appreciated has a huge effect on Consuls’ mood and self-esteem.

friendships:

Loyal and warm, Consuls are known for standing by their friends no matter what, and providing a constant source of emotional support and encouragement.

more than willing to spend the time and energy necessary to maintain these relationships.

Consul personalities are also sensitive to the traditions of friendship, seeing the support they offer as much as a responsibility as a pleasure.

Doing everything they can to make sure their friends are happy, and being so comfortable with introductions and small talk, Consuls are naturally very popular in pretty much any environment.

Consuls have a tendency to believe that their friends can do no wrong, always stepping up to defend them regardless of circumstances, and they expect the same benefit of the doubt in return.

great at using their sensitivity to stay in tune with what motivates and drives their friends

#「 JAMES POTTER 」 » headcanon #bio: james #「 QUEUE 」 » offline !

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winterfable · 4 years

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Chapter III Growth of Sparta. Fall of the aristocracies

Section 1. Sparta and her constitution

The dorian settlers from the north, who took possession of the valley of the Eurotas, established themselves in a number of village communities throughout the land, and bore the name of Lacedaemonians. In the course of time, a city-state grew up in their midst and won dominion over the rest. The town was formed by the union of five villages 1 which, after their union, still continued to preserve their identity, as separate units within the larger unity. The city was called Sparta, and took the dominant place in Laconia which had been formerly held by Amyclae. The other Lacedaemonian communities were called the perioeci, or "dwellers round about" the ruling city, and, though they were free and managed their local affairs, they had no political rights in the Spartan state. The chief burdens which fell on them were military service and the farming of the royal domains.

The Spartans were always noted for their conservative spirit. Hence we find in their constitution, which was remarkable in many ways, survivals of an old order of things which existed in the days of Homeric poetry, but has passed away in most places when trustworthy history begins. The most striking of these survivals was royalty; Sparta was nominally ruled by kings.

This conservative spirit of the Spartans rendered them anxious to believe, and others willing to accept the view, that their constitution had existed from very ancient times in just the same shape and feature which it displayed in the days of recorded history. We are, however, forced to suspect that this was not the case. There can be little doubt that the Spartan state developed up to the end of a seventh century on the same general lines as other Greek states, though with some remarkable peculiarities. There can be little doubt that, like most other states, it passed through the stages of royalty and aristocracy; and that the final form of the constitution was the result of a struggle between the nobles and the people. The remarkable thing was that throughout these changes hereditary kingship survived.

The machine of the Spartan constitution, as we know it when it was fully developed, had four parts: the Kings, the Council, the Assembly, and the Ephors. The first three are the original institutions, which were common, as we saw, to the whole Greek race; the Ephors were a later institution, and were peculiar to Sparta.

We saw that towards the end of the Homeric period the powers of the king were limited, and that this limited monarchy then died out, sometimes leaving a trace behind it, perhaps in the name of a magistracy–like the king-archon at Athens. In a few places it survived, and Sparta was one of them. But, if it survived here, its powers were limited in a twofold way. It was limited not only by the other institutions of the state, but by its own dual character. For there were two kings at Sparta, and had been since the memory of men. It seems possible that the origin of this double kingship lay in the coalition of two distinct communities, each of which had its own king. One tribe dwelt about Sparta, and its kings belonged to the clan of the Agidae. The other tribe, we may guess, was settled somewhere in southern Laconia, and its royal clan was that of the Eurypontidae. These two tribes must have united to form a large city-state at Sparta; and the terms of the union may have been that neither tribe should give up its king, but two kings, with coequal authority, should rule over the joint community. The kingship passed from father to son in the two royal houses of the Agids and Eurypontids; and if the Agid kings possessed a slight superiority in public estimation over their colleagues, this may have been due to the fact that the Eurypontids were the strangers who migrated to Sparta. According to a pedigree which was made out for them later days, when the myth of the Return of the Heraclidae had become current, both dynasties traced themselves back to Heracles.

It seems probable that it was partly because there were two kings, the one a check upon the other, that kingship was not abolished in Sparta, or reduced to a mere magistracy. But the powers of the kings were largely curtailed; and we may suppose that the limitations were introduced by degrees during that epoch in which throughout Greece generally, monarchies were giving way to aristocratic republics. Of the religious, military, and judicial functions, which belonged to them and to all other Greek kings, they lost some and retained others.

They were privileged to hold certain priesthoods; they offered solemn sacrifices for the city every month to Apollo; they prepared the necessary sacrifices before warlike expeditions and battles: they were priests, though not the sole priests, of the community.

They were the supreme commanders of the army. They had the right of making war upon whatever country they chose, and penalties were laid on any Spartan who presumed to hinder them. In the field they had unlimited right of life and death; and they had a bodyguard of a hundred men. It is clear that these large powers were always limited by the double nature of the kingship. But at a later period it was defined by law that only one of the kings, to be chosen on each occasion by the people, should lead the army in time of war, and moreover they were made responsible to the community for their conduct in their campaigns.

But while they enjoyed this supreme position as high-priests and leaders of the host, they could hardly be considered judges any longer. The right of dealing out dooms like the Homeric Agamemnon had passed away from them; only in three special cases had they still judicial or legal powers. They presided at the adoption of children; they decided who was to marry an heiress whose father had died without betrothing her; and they judged in all matters concerning public roads.

There were royal domains in the territory of the perioeci from which the kings derived their revenue. But they also had perquisites at public sacrifices; on such occasions they were (like Homeric kings) given the first seat at the banquet, were served first, and received a double portion of everything, and the hides of the slaughtered beasts. The pious sentiment with which royalty, as a hallowed institution, was regarded, is illustrated by the honours which were paid to the kings when they died. "Horsemen," says Herodotus, "carry round the tidings of the event through all Laconia, and in the city women go about beating a cauldron, And at this sign, two free persons of each house, a man and a woman, must put on mourning garb, and if any fail to do this great pains are imposed." The funeral was attended by a fixed number of the perioeci, and it was part of the stated ceremony that the dead king should be praised by the mourners as better than all who had gone before him. Public business was not resumed for ten days after the burial. The king was succeeded by his eldest son, but a son before his father's accession to the kingship had to give way to eldest of those who were born after the accession. If there were children, the succession fell to the nearest male kinsman, who was likewise the regent in the case of a minority.

The gerontes or elders whom we find in Homer advising the kin and also acting as judges have developed at Sparta into a body of fixed number, forming a definite part of the constitution, called the gerusia. This Council consisted of thirty members, including the two kings, who belonged to it by virtue of their kingship. The other twenty-eight must be over sixty years of age, so that the council was a body of elders in the strict sense of the word. They held their office for life and were chosen by acclamation in the general assembly of citizens, whose choice was supposed to fall on him whose moral merits were greatest; membership of the Council was described as a "prize for virtue." The Council prepared matters which were to come before the Assembly; it exercised, as an advising body, a great influence on political affairs; and it formed a court of justice for criminal cases.

But though the Councillors were elected by the people, they were not elected from the people. Nobility of birth retained at Sparta its political significance; and only men of the noble families could be chosen members of the Council. And thus the Council formed an oligarchical element in the Lacedaemonian constitution.

Every Spartan who had passed his thirtieth year was a member of the Apella, or Assembly of Citizens, which met every month between the bridge of Babyka and the stream of Knakion. In old days, no doubt, it was summoned by the kings, but in historical times we find that this right has passed to the ephors. The assembly did not debate, but having heard the proposals of kings or ephors, signified its will by acclamation. If it seemed doubtful to which opinion the majority of the voices inclined, recourse was had to a division. The people elected the members of the Gerusia, the ephors and other magistrates; determined questions of war and peace and foreign politics; and decided disputed successions to the kingly office. Thus, theoretically, the Spartan constitution was a democracy. No Spartan was excluded from the apella of the people; and the will of the people expressed at their apella was supreme. "To the people," runs an old statute, "shall belong the decision and the power." But the same statute granted to the executive authorities–"the elders and magistrates"–a power which restricted this apparent supremacy of the people. It allowed them "to be seceders, if the people make a crooked decree." It seems that the will of the people, declared by their acclamations, did not receive the force of law, unless it were then formally proclaimed before the assembly was formally dissolved. If the elders and magistrates did not approve of the decision of the majority of the assembly, they could annul the proceedings by refusing to proclaim it–"seceding" and dissolving the meeting, without waiting for the regular dissolution by king or ephor.

The five ephors were the most characteristic part of the political constitution of Sparta. The origin of the office is veiled in obscurity; it was supposed to have been instituted in the first half of the eighth century. But we must distinguish between the first institution of the office and the beginning of its political importance. It is probable that, in the course of the eighth century, the kings finding it impossible to attend to all their duties were constrained to give up the civil jurisdiction, and that the ephors or "overseers" were appointed for this purpose. The number of the ephors would seem to be connected with the number of the five demes or villages whose union formed the city; and perhaps each one of the ephors was assigned originally to one of the villages. But it cannot have been till the seventh century that the ephors won their great political power. They must have won that power in a conflict between the nobility who governed in conjunction with the kings, and the people who had no share in the government. In that struggle the kings represented the cause of the nobility, while the ephors were the representatives of the people. A compromise, as the result of such a conflict, is implied in the oaths which were every month exchanged between the kings and the ephors. The king swore that he would observe the laws of the state in discharging his royal functions; the ephor that he would maintain the royal power undiminished, so long as the king was true to his oath. In this ceremony we have the record of an acute conflict between the government and people. The democratic character of the ephorate appears from the fact that any Spartan might be elected. The mode of election, which is described by Aristotle as "very childish," was practically equivalent to an election by lot. When the five ephors did not agree among themselves, the minority gave way.

The ephors entered upon their office at the beginning of the Laconian year, which fell on the first new moon after the autumnal equinox. As chosen guardians of the rights of the people, they were called upon to watch jealously the conduct of the kings. With this object two ephors always accompanied the king on warlike expeditions. They had the power of indicting the king and summoning him to appear before them. The judicial functions which the kings lost passed partly to the ephors, partly to the Council. The ephors were the supreme civil court; the Council, as we have seen, formed the supreme criminal court. But in the case of the Perioeci the ephors were criminal judges also. They were moreover responsible for the strict maintenance of the order and discipline of the Spartan state, and, when they entered upon office, they issued a proclamation to the citizens to "shave their upper lips and obey the laws."

This unique constitution cannot be placed under any general head, cannot be called kingdom, oligarchy, or democracy, without misleading. None of these names is applicable to it, but it participated in all three. A stranger who saw the kings going forth with power at the head of the host, or honoured above all at the public feasts in the city, would have described Sparta as a kingdom. If one of the kings themselves had been asked to define the constitution, it is probable that he would have regretfully called it a democracy. Yet the close Council, taken from a privileged class, exercising an important influence on public affairs, and deferring to an Assembly which could not debate, might be alleged to prove that Sparta was an oligarchy. The secret of this complex character of the Spartan constitution lies in the fact that, while Sparta developed on the same general path as other states and had to face the same political crises, she overcame each crisis with less violence and showed a more conservative spirit. When she ought to have passed from royalty to aristocracy, she diminished the power of the king but she preserved hereditary kingship as a part of the aristocratic government. When she ought to have advanced to democracy, gave indeed enormous power to the representatives of the people, but she still preserved both her hereditary kings and the Council of her nobles.

Sect. 2. Spartan conquest of Messenia

In the growth of Sparta the first and most decisive step was the conquest of Messenia. The southern portion of the Peloponnesus is divided into two parts by Mount Taygetus. Of these, the eastern part is again severed by Mount Parnon into two regions: the vale of the river Eurotas, and the rugged strip of coast between Parnon and the sea. The western country is less mountainous, more fruitful, and blessed by a milder climate, nor is it divided in the same way by a mountain chain; the hills rise irregularly, and the river Pamisus waters the central plain of Stenyclarus where the Greek invaders are said to have fixed their abode. The natural fortress of the country was the lofty rock of Ithome which rises to the west of the river. It is probable that under its protection a town grew up at an early period, whose name Messene was afterwards transferred to the whole country.

View from the top of the mountain Ithome (Voulkanou, Βουλκάνου), the mountain nearby Messene, down into the plain of Messenia

The fruitful soil of Messenia, "good to plant and good to ear," as a Spartan poet sang, could not but excite the covetousness of her martial neighbours. It is impossible to determine the date of the First Messenian War with greater precision than the eighth century. Legends grew up freely as to its causes and its course. All that we know with certainty is that the Spartan king, under whose auspices it was waged, was named Theopompus; that it was decided by the capture of the great fortress of Ithome; and that the eastern part of the land became Laconian. A poet writing at the beginning of the seventh century would have naturally spoken of Messene or Pherae as being "in Lacedaemon." When the Second War broke out towards the end of the seventh century, it was either history or legend that the previous war had lasted twenty years. Legends grew up around it in which the chief figure was a Messenian hero named Aristodemus. The tale was that he offered his daughter as a sacrifice to save his country, in obedience to the demand of an oracle. Her lover made a despairing effort to save her life by spreading a report that the maiden was about to become a mother, and the calumny so incensed Aristodemus that he slew her with his own hand. Afterwards, terrified by evil dreams and portents, and persuaded that his country was doomed, he killed himself upon his daughter's tomb.

As the object of the Spartans was to increase the number of the lots of land for their citizens, many of the conquered Messenians were reduced to the condition of Helots, and servitude was hard though their plight might have been harder. They paid to their lords only one-half of the produce of the lands which they tilled, whereas in Attica at the same period the free tillers of the soil had to pay five-sixths. The Spartan poet Tyrtaeus describes how the Messenians endured the insolence of their masters:–

As asses worn by loads intolerable,

So them did stress of cruel force compel,

Of all the fruits the well-tilled land affords,

The moiety to bear to their proud lords.

Emile Laporte. 19th Century bronze sculpture of the poet Tyrtee (Tyrtaeus)

For some generations they submitted patiently, but at length, when victorious Sparta felt secure, a rebellion was organised in the northern district of Andania. The rebels were supported by their neighbours in Arcadia and Pisatis, and they are said to have found an able and ardent leader in Aristomenes, sprung from an old Messenian family. The revolt was at first successful. The Spartans fared ill, and their young men experienced the disgrace of defeat. The hopes of the serfs rose, and Sparta despaired of recovering the land. But a leader and a poet arose amongst them. The lame Tyrtaeus is recorded to have inspired his countrymen with such martial vigour that the tide of fortune turned, and Sparta began to retrieve her losses and recover her reputation. Some scraps of the poems of Tyrtaeus have been preserved, and they supply the only trustworthy material we have for the history of the Messenian wars; and he won such fame by the practical successes of his art that at a later time the Athenians sought to claim him as one of their sons and gave out that Sparta, by the counsel of an oracle, had sent for him. The warriors advanced to battle singing his "marches" to the sound of flutes, while his elegies, composed in the conventional epic dialect, are said to have been recited in the tents after the evening meal. But we learn from himself that his strategy was as effective as his poetry, and the Messenians were presently defeated in the Battle of the Great Foss. They then retired to the northern stronghold of Eira on the river Nedon, which plays the same part in the second war that Ithome played in the first, while Aristomenes takes the place of Aristodemus. As to Eira, indeed, we possess no record on the contemporary authority of Tyrtaeus, whose extant fragments notice none of the adventures, nor even the name, of the hero Aristomenes. Yet Eira may well have been the place where the last stand was made; for the Spartans had rased the fortifications of Ithome, which is not mentioned in connection with the second war. At Eira the defenders were near their Arcadian supporters and within reach of Pylos which seems not to have been yet Lacedaemonian. But Eira fell; legend says that it was beleaguered for eleven years, Aristomenes was the soul of the defence, and his wonderful escapes became the argument of a stirring tale. On one occasion .was thrown, with fifty fellow-countrymen, captured by the Spartans, into a deep pit. His comrades perished, and Aristomenes awaited certain death. But by following the track of a fox he found a passage in the rocky wall of his prison and appeared on the following day at Eira. When the Spartans surprised that fortress, he made his escape wounded to Arcadia. He died in Rhodes, but two hundred and fifty years later, on the field of Leuctra, he reappeared against the Spartans to avenge his defeat.

Aristomenes fighting his way out of Eira.

Those Messenians who were left in the land were mostly reduced again to the condition of Helots, but the maritime communities and even a few in the interior remained free, as perioeci, in the possession of their estates. Many escaped to Arcadia, while some of the inhabitants of the coast-towns may have taken ship and sailed to other places.

At this time Sparta, like most other Greek states, suffered from domestic discontent. There was a pressing land question, with which Tyrtaeus dealt in a poem named Eunomia, or Law and Order. This question was partly solved by the conquest of the whole land of Messenia, and doubtless the foundation of the colony of Taras in southern Italy was undertaken for the purpose of relieving an excessive population.

The Messenian war, as recorded by Tyrtaeus, shows us that the power of the privileged classes had already been undermined by a great change in the method of warfare. The fighting is done, and the victory won, by regiments of mailed foot-lancers, who march and fight together in close ranks. The secret had been discovered that such well-drilled spearsmen –hoplites as they were called– were superior to cavalry; and much about the same period in Ionia, we find the infantry of Smyrna holding their own against the Lydian horsemen of Gyges. The recognition of serried bodies of foot, as a useful weapon in battle, can be traced in the later parts of the Iliad; but it was in Sparta first that their value was fully appreciated. There they became the main part of the military establishment. The city no longer depended chiefly on her nobles in time of war; she depended on her whole people. The progress of metalsmiths in their trade, which accompanied the general industrial advance of Greece, rendered possible this transformation in the art of war. Every well-to-do citizen could now provide himself with an outfit of armour and go forth to battle in panoply. The transformation was distinctly levelling and democratic; for it placed the noble and the ordinary citizen on an equality in the field. We shall not be wrong in connecting this military development with those aspirations of the people for a popular constitution, which resulted in the investment of the ephorate with its great political powers.

From Sparta, where it was brought to a perfection which in the days of Tyrtaeus it had not yet attained, the institution of the heavy foot-lancers spread throughout Greece, and its natural tendency everywhere was to promote the progress to democracy. It is significant that in Thessaly, where the system of hoplites was not introduced and cavalry was always the kernel of the army, democratic ideas never made way.

Sect. 3. Internal development of Sparta and her institutions

In the seventh century one could not have foretold what Sparta was destined to be, Her nobles lived luxuriously, like the nobles of other lands; the individual was free, as in other cities, to order his life as he willed. She showed some promise of other than military interests. Lyric poetry was transported from its home in Lesbos to find for a while a second home on the banks of the Eurotas. Songs to be sung at banquets, at weddings, at harvest feasts, and at festivals of the gods, by single singers or choirs of men or maidens, were older than memory could reach; but with the development of music and the improvement of musical instruments the composition of these songs became an art, and lyric poetry was created. The lyre of seven strings was an ancient invention, but it was attributed to Terpander of Lesbos, who was at all events an historical person, and both a poet and a musician. He visited Sparta, and is said to have instituted the musical contest at the Carnea, the great festival of Lacedaemon. His music was certainly welcomed there, and Sparta soon had a poet, who, though not her own, was at least her adopted, son. Alcman from Lydian Sardis made Sparta his home, and we have some fragments of songs which he composed for choirs of Laconian maidens. Sparta had her epic poet too in Cinaethon. But this promise of a school of music and poetry was not to be fulfilled.

When Sparta emerges in to the full light of history we find her under an iron discipline, which invades every part of a man's life and controls all his actions from his cradle to his death-bed. Everything is subordinated to the art of war, and the sole aim of the state is to create invincible warriors. The martial element was doubtless, from the very beginning, stronger in Sparta than in other states; and as a city ruling over a large discontented population of subjects and serfs, she must always be prepared to fight; but we shall probably never know how, and under what influences, the singular Spartan discipline which we have now to examine was introduced. Nor can we, in describing the Spartan society, distinguish always between older and later institutions.

The whole Spartan people formed a military caste; the life of a Spartan citizen was devoted to the service of the state. In order to carry out this ideal it was necessary that every citizen should freed from the care of providing for himself and his family, The nobles owned family domains of their own; but the Spartan community also came into possession of common land, which was divided into a number of lots. Each Spartan obtained a lot, which passed from father to son, but could not be either sold or divided thus a citizen could never be reduced to poverty." The original inhabitants, whom the Lacedaemonians dispossessed and reduced to the state of serfs, cultivated the land for their lords. Every year the owner of a lot was entitled to receive seventy medimni of corn for himself, twelve for his wife, and a stated portion of wine and fruit. All that the land produced beyond this, the Helot was allowed to retain for his own use. Thus the Spartan need take no thought for his support; he could give all his time to the affairs of public life. Though the Helots were not driven by taskmasters, and had the right of acquiring private property, their condition seems to have been hard; at all events, they were always bitterly dissatisfied and ready to rebel, whenever an occasion presented itself.

The system of Helotry was a source of danger from the earliest times, but especially after the conquest of Messenia; and the state of constant military preparation in which the Spartans lived may have been partly due to the consciousness of this peril perpetually at their doors. The Krypteia or secret police was instituted –it is uncertain at what date– to deal with this danger. Young Spartans were sent into the country and empowered to kill every Helot whom they had reason to regard with suspicion. Closely connected with this system was the remarkable custom that the ephors, in whose hands lay the general control over the Helots, should every year on entering office proclaim war against them. By this device, the youths could slay dangerous Helots without any scruple or fear of the guilt of manslaughter. But notwithstanding these precautions serious revolts broke out again and again. A Spartan had no power to grant freedom to the Helot who worked on his lot, nor yet to sell him to another. Only the state could emancipate. As the Helots were called upon to serve as light-armed troops in time of war, they had then an opportunity of exhibiting bravery and loyalty in the service of the city, and those who conspicuously distinguished themselves might be rewarded by the city with the meed of freedom. Thus arose a class of freedmen called neodamõdes, or new demesmen. There was also another class of persons, neither serfs nor citizens, called mothõnes, who probably sprang from illegitimate unions of citizens with Helot women.

Thus relieved from the necessity of gaining a livelihood, the Spartans devoted themselves to the good of the state, and the aim of the state was the cultivation of the art of war. Sparta was a large military school. Education, marriage, the details of daily life were all strictly regulated with a view to the maintenance of a perfectly efficient army. Every citizen was to be a soldier, and the discipline began from birth. When a child was born it was submitted to the inspection of the heads of the tribe, and if they judged it to be unhealthy or weak, it was exposed to die on the wild slopes of Mount Taygetos. At the age of seven years, the boy was consigned to the caret of a state-officer , and the course of his education was entirely determined by the purpose of inuring him to bear hardships, training him to endure an exacting discipline, and instilling into his heart a sentiment of devotion to the state. The boys, up to the age of twenty, were marshalled in a huge school formed on the model of an army. The captains and prefects who instructed and controlled them were young men who had passed their twentieth year, but had not yet reached the thirtieth, which admitted them to the rights of citizenship. Warm friendships often sprang up between the young men and the boys whom they were training; and this was the one place in Spartan life where there was room for romance.

At the age of twenty the Spartan entered upon military service and was permitted to marry, But he could not yet enjoy home-life; he had to live in "barracks" with his companions, and could only pay stolen and fugitive visits to his wife. In his thirtieth year, having completed his training, he became a "man," and obtained the full rights of citizenship. The Homoioi or peers, as the Spartan citizens were called, dined together in tents in the Hyacinthian Street. These public messes were in old days called andreia, or "men's meals," and in later times phiditia. Each member of a common tent made a fixed monthly contribution, derived from the produce of his lot, consisting of barley, cheese, wine, and figs, and the members of the same mess-tent shared the same tent in the field in time of war. These public messes are a survivial, adapted to military purposes, of the old custom of public banquets, at which all the burghers gathered together at a table spread for the gods of the city. Of the organisation of the Spartan hoplites in early times we have no definite knowledge. Three hundred "horsemen," chosen from the Spartan youths, formed the king's bodyguard; but though, as their name shows, they were originally mounted, in later times they fought on foot. The light infantry was supplied by the Perioeci and Helots.

Spartan discipline extended itself to the women too, with the purpose of producing mothers who should be both physically strong and saturated with the Spartan spirit. The girls, in common with the boys, went through a gymnastic training; and it was not considered immodest for them to practise their exercises almost nude. They enjoyed a freedom which was in marked contrast with the seclusion of women in other Greek states. They had a high repute for chastity; but if the government directed them to breed children for the state, they had no scruples in obeying the command, though it should involve a violation of the sanctity of the marriage-tie. They were, proverbially, ready to sacrifice their maternal instincts to the welfare of their country. Such was the spirit of the place.

Thus Sparta was a camp in which the highest object of evey man's life was to be ready at any moment to fight with the utmost efficiency for his city. The aim of every law, the end of the whole social order was to fashion good soldiers.Private luxury was strictly forbidden; Spartan simplicity became proverbial. The individual man, entirely lost in the state, had no life of his own; he had no problems of human existence to solve for himself. Sparta was not a place for thinkers or theorists; the whole duty of man and the highest ideal of life were contained for a Spartan in the laws of his city. Warfare being the object of all the Spartan laws and institutions, one might expect to find the city in a perpetual state of war. One might look to see her sons always ready to strive with their neighbours without any ulterior object, war being for them an end in itself. But it was not so; they did not wage war more lightly than other men; we cannot rank them with barbarians who care only for fighting and hunting. We may attribute the original motive of their institutions, in some measure at least, to the situation of a small dominant class in the midst of ill-contented subjects and hostile serfs. They must always be prepared to meet a rebellion of Perioeci or a revolt of Helots, and a surprise would have been fatal. Forming a permanent camp in a country which was far from friendly, they were compelled to be always on their guard. But there was something more in the vitality and conservation of the Spartan constitution, than precaution against the danger of a possible insurrection. It appealed to the Greek sense of beauty. There was a certain completeness and simplicity about the constitution itself, a completeness and simplicity about the manner of life enforced by the laws, a completeness and simplicity too about the type of character developed by them, which Greeks of other cities never failed to contemplate with genuine, if distant, admiration. Shut away in "hollow many-clefted Lacedaemon," out of the world and not sharing in the progress of other Greek cities, Sparta seemed to remain at a standstill; and a stranger from Athens or Miletus in the fifth century visiting the straggling villages which formed her unwalled unpretentious city must have had a feeling of being transported into an age long past, when men were braver, better, and simpler, unspoiled by wealth, undisturbed by ideas. To a philosopher, like Plato, speculating in political science, the Spartan state seemed the nearest approach to the ideal. The ordinary Greek looked upon it as a structure of severe and simple beauty, a Dorian city stately as a Dorian temple, far nobler than his own abode but not so comfortable to dwell in. If this was the effect produced upon strangers, we can imagine what a perpetual joy to a Spartan peer was the contemplation of the Spartan constitution; how he felt a sense of superiority in being a citizen of that city, and a pride in living up to its ideal and fulfilling the obligations of his nobility. In his mouth "not beautiful" meant contrary to the Spartan laws," which were believed to have been inspired by Apollo. This deep admiration for their constitution as an ideally beautiful creation, the conviction that it was incapable of improvement –being, in truth, wonderfully effective in realising its aims– is bound up with the conservative spirit of the Spartans, showing so conspicuously in their use of their old iron coins down to the time of Alexander the Great.

It was inevitable that, as time went on, there should be many fallings away, and that some of the harder laws should, by tacit agreement, be ignored. The other Greeks were always happy to point to the weak spots in the Spartan armour. From an early period it seems to have been a permitted thing for a citizen to acquire land in addition to his original lot. As such lands were not like the original lot, inalienable, but could be sold or divided, inequalities in wealth necessarily arose, and the "communism" which we observed in the life of the citizens was only superficial. But it was specially provided by law that no Spartan should possess wealth in the form of gold or silver. This law was at first eluded by the device of depositing money in foreign temples, and it ultimately became a dead letter; Spartans even gained throughout Greece an evil reputation for avarice. By the fourth century they had greatly degenerated, and those who wrote studies of the Lacedaemonian constitution contrasted Sparta as it should be and used to be with Sparta as it was.

There is no doubt that the Spartan system of discipline grew up by degrees; yet the argument from design might be plausibly used to prove that it was the original creation of a single lawgiver. We may observe how well articulated and how closely interdependent, were its various parts. The whole discipline of the society necessitated the existence of Helots; and on the other hand the existence of Helots necessitated such a discipline. The ephorate was the keystone of the structure; and in the dual kingship one might see a cunning intention to secure the powers of the ephors by perpetual jealousy between the kings. In the whole fabric one might trace an artistic unity which might be thought to argue the work of a single mind. And until lately this was generally believed to be the case; many still maintain the belief. A certain Lycurgus was said to have framed the Spartan institutions and enacted the Spartan laws about the beginning of the ninth century.

But the grounds for believing that a Spartan lawgiver named Lycurgus ever existed have been questioned. The earliest statements as to the origin of the constitution date from the fifth century, and their discrepancy shows that they were mere guesses, and that the true origins were buried completely in the obscurity of the past. Pindar attributed the Lacedaemonian institutions to Aegimius, the mythical ancestor of the Dorian tribes; the historian Hellanicus regarded them as the creation of the two first kings of Sparta, Procles and Eurysthenes. The more critical Thucydides, less ready to record conjectures, contents himself with saying that the Lacedaemonian constitution had existed for rather more than 400 years at the end of the Peloponnesian war. Herodotus states that the Spartans declared Lycurgus to have been the guardian of one of their early kings, and to have introduced from Crete their laws and institutions, But the divergent accounts of this historian's contemporaries, who ignore Lycurgus altogether, suggest that it was only one of many guesses and not a generally accepted tradition. It may be added that if the old Spartan poet Tyrtaeus had mentioned Lycurgus as a lawgiver, his words would certainly have been quoted by later writers; and therefore it is argued that he knew nothing of such a tradition.

Hence the theory has arisen that Lycurgus (Lyco-vorgos) was not a man; he was only a god. He was an Arcadian deity or "hero,"–perhaps some form of the Arcadian Zeus Lycaeus, god of the wolf-mountain; and his name meant "wolf-repeller." He was worshipped at Lacedaemon where he had a shrine, and it is conjectured that his cult was adopted by the Spartans from the older inhabitants whom they displaced. He may have also been connected with Olympia, for his name was inscribed on a very ancient quoit –the so-called quoit of Iphitus– which was preserved there, and perhaps dated from the seventh century. The belief that this deity was a spartan lawgiver, promoted by the Delphic oracle, gradually gained ground and in the fourth century generally prevailed. Aristotle believed it, and made use of the old quoit to fix the date of the Lycurgean legislation to the first half of the eighth century. But while everybody regarded Lycurgus as unquestionably an historical personage, candid investigation confessed that nothing certain was known concerning him, and the views about his chronology were many and various.

Statue of Lycurgus, Lawgiver of Sparta, at the Law Courts of Brussels, Belgium on December 30, 2013.

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Sect. 5 The supremacy and decline of Argos. The olympian games

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The Olympiads

When king Pheidon held his state at Olympia, the most impressive shrine in the altis was the temple of Hera and Zeus; and this is the most ancient temple of which the foundations are still preserved on the soil of Hellas. It was built of sun-baked bricks, upon lower courses of stone, and the Doric columns were of wood. The days of stone temples were at hand; but it was not till two centuries later that the elder shrine was overshadowed by the great stone temple of Zeus. The temple of Hera is supposed by some to have been founded in the eleventh or tenth century; it is hardly likely to be so old; but it was certainly very old, like the games of the place. The mythical institution of the games was ascribed to Pelops or to Heracles; and, when the Eleans usurped the presidency, the story gradually took shape that the celebration had been revived by the Spartan Lycurgus and the Elean Iphitus in the year 776 B.C., and this year was reckoned as the first Olympiad. From that year until the visit of Pheidon, the Eleans professed to have presided over the feast; and their account of the matter won its way into general belief.

It is possible that king Pheidon reorganised the games and inaugurated a new stage in the history of the festival. At all events, by the beginning of the sixth century the festival was no longer an event of merely Peloponnesian interest. It had become famous wherever the Greek tongue was spoken, and, when the feast-tide came around in each cycle of four years, there thronged to the banks of the Alpheus, from all quarters of the Greek world, athletes and horses to compete in the contest and spectators to behold them. During the celebration of the festival a sacred truce was observed, and the men of Elis claimed that in those days their territory was inviolable. The prize for victory in the games was a wreath of wild olive; but rich rewards always awaited the victor when he returned home in triumph and laid the Olympian crown in the chief temple of his city.

Stadium at ancient Olympia.

It may seem strange that the greatest and most glorious of all Panhellenic festivals should have been celebrated near the western shores of the Peloponnesus. One might have looked to find it nearer the Aegean. But situated where it was, the scene of the great games was all the nearer to the Greeks beyond the western sea; and none of the peoples of the mother-country vied more eagerly or more often in the contests of Olympia than the children who had found new homes far away on Sicilian and Italian soil. This nearness of Olympia to the western colonies comes into one's thoughts, when standing in the sacred altis one beholds the terrace on the northern side of the precinct, and the scanty remains of the row of twelve treasure-houses which once stood there. For of those twelve treasuries five at least were dedicated by Sicilian and Italian cities. Thus the Olympian festival helped the colonies of the west to keep in touch with the mother-country; it furnished a centre where Greeks of all parts met and exchanged their ideas and experiences; it was one of the institutions which expressed and quickened the consciousness of fellowship among the scattered folks of the Greek race; and it became a model, as we shall see, for other festivals of the same kind, which concurred in promoting a beling of national unity.

Decline of Argos and rise of Sparta

The final success of Sparta in the long struggle with Messenia marks the period at which the balance of power among the Peloponnesian states began to shift. In the seventh century, Argos is the leading state. She has reduced Mycenae; she has annihilated Asine: she has made Tiryns an Argive fort; she has defeated Sparta at Hysiae. There can be little doubt that Pheidon's authority extended over all Argolis; moreover his influence was felt in Aegina, and the Laconian island of Cythera may have been an Argive possession, as well as the whole eastern coast of Laconia. But his reign is the last manifestation of the greatness of the southern Argos. Fifty years after the subjugation of Messenia, the Spartans become the strongest state in the Peloponnesus, and the Argives sink into the position of a second-rate power-always able to maintain their independence, always a thorn in the side of Sparta, always to be reckoned with as a foe and welcomed as a friend, but never leading, dominant, or originative.

Sect. 6. Democratic movements. Lawgivers and Tyrants

Demand for written laws and early lawgiver's (7th century)

It is clear that there is no security that equal justice will be meted out to all, so long as the laws by which the judge is supposed to act are not accessible to all. A written code of laws is a condition of just judgment, however just the laws themselves may be. It was therefore natural that one of the first demands the people in Greek cities pressed upon their aristocratic governments, and one of the first concessions those governments were forced to make, was a written law. It must be borne in mind that in old days deeds which injured only the individual and did not touch the gods or the state, were left to the injured person to deal with as he chose or could. The state did not interfere. Even in the case of blood-shedding, it devolved upon the kinsfolk of the slain man to wreak punishment upon the slayer. Then, as social order developed along with centralisation, the state took justice partly into its own hands; and the injured man, before he could punish the wrong-doer, was obliged to charge him before a judge, who decided the punishment. But it must be noted that no crime could come before a judge, unless the injured person came forward as accuser, The case of blood-shedding was exceptional, owing to the religious ideas connected with it. It was felt that the shedder of blood was not only impure himself, but had also defiled the gods of the community; so that, as a consequence of this theory, manslaughter of every form came under the class of crimes against the religion of the state.

The work of writing down the laws, and fixing customs in legal shape, was probably in most cases combined with the work of reforming; and thus the great codifiers of the seventh century were also lawgivers. Among them the most famous were the misty figures of Zaleucus who made laws for the western Locrians, and Charondas the legislator of Catane; the clearer figure of Athenia Dracon, of whom more will be said hereafter, and, most famous of all, Solon the Wise. [...]

Political struggles: democratic movements

In many cases the legislation was accompanied by political concessions to the people, and it was part of the lawgiver's task to modify the constitution. But for the most part this was only the beginning of a long political conflict; the people striving for freedom and equality, the privileged classes struggling to retain their exclusive rights. The social distress, touched on in a previous chapter, was the sharp spur which drove the people on in this effort towards popular government. The struggle was in some cases to end in the establishment of a democracy; in many cases, the oligarchy succeeded in maintaining itself and keeping the people down; in most cases, perhaps, the result was a perpetual oscillation between oligarchy and democracy –an endless series of revolutions, too often sullied by violence. But though democracy was not everywhere victorious –though even the states in which it was most firmly established were exposed to the danger of oligarchical conspiracies– yet everywhere the people aspired to it; and we may say that the chief feature of the domestic history of most Greek cities, from the end of the seventh century forward, is an endeayour, here successful, yonder frustrated, to establish or maintain popular government. In this sense then we have now reached a period in which the Greek world is striying and tending to pass from the aristocratic to the democratic commonwealth. The movement passed by some states, like Thessaly, –just as there had been some exceptions, like Argos, to the general fall of the monarchies; while remote kingdoms like Macedonia and Molossia were not affected.

The tyrannis

As usually, or at least frequently, happens in such circumstances, the popular movement received help from within the camp of the adversary. It was help indeed for which there was no reason to be grateful to those who gave it; for it was not given for love of the people. In many cities feuds existed between some of the power-holding families; and, when one family was in the ascendant, its rivals were tempted to make use of the popular discontent in order to subvert it. Thus discontented nobles came forward to be the leaders of the discontented masses. But when the government was overthrown, the revolution generally resulted in a temporary return to monarchy. The noble leader seized the supreme power and maintained it by armed might. The mass of the people were not yet ripe for taking the power into their own hands; and they were generally glad to entrust it to the man who had helped them to overthrow the hated government of the nobles. This new kind of monarchy was very different from the old; for the position of the monarch did not rest on hereditary right but on physical force.

Such illegitimate monarchs were called tyrants, to distinguish them from the hereditary kings, and this form of monarchy was called a tyrannis. The name "tyrant" was perhaps derived from Lydia, and first used by Greeks in designating the Lydian monarchs; Archilochus, in whose fragments we first meet "tyrannis," applied it to the sovereignty of Gyges. The word was in itself morally neutral and did not imply that the monarch was bad or cruel; there was nothing self-contradictory in a good tyrant, and many tyrants were beneficent. But the isolation of these rulers, who, being without the support of legitimacy, depended on armed force, so often urged them to be suspicious and cruel, that the tyrannis came into bad odour; arbitrary acts of oppression were associated with the name; and "tyrant" inclined to the evil sense in which modern languages have adopted it. For the Greek dislike of the tyrannis there was however a deeper cause than the fact that many tyrants were oppressors. It placed in the hands of an unconstitutional ruler arbitrary control, whether he exercised it or not, over the lives and fortunes of the citizens, It was thus repugnant to the Greek love of freedom, and it seemed to arrest their constitutional growth, As a matter of fact, this temporary arrest during the period when the first tyrannies prevailed may have been useful; for the tyrannis, though its direct political effect was retarding, forwarded the progress of the people in other directions. And even from a constitutional point of view it may have had uses at this period. In some cases, it secured an interval of repose and growth, during which the people won experience and knowledge to fit them for self-government.

The period which saw the fall of the aristocracies is often called the age of the tyrants. The expression is unhappy, because it might easily mislead. The tyrannis first came into existence at this period; there was a large crop of tyrants much about the same time in different parts of Greece; they all performed the same function of overthrowing aristocracies, and in many cases they paved the way for democracies. But on the other hand, the tyrannis was not a form of government which appeared only at this transitional crisis, and then passed away. There is no age in the subsequent history of Greece which might not see, and did not actually see, the rise of tyrants here and there. Tyranny was always with the Greeks. It, as well as oligarchy, was a danger by which their democracies were threatened at all periods.

Ionia seems to have been the original home of the tyrannis, and this may have been partly due to the seductive example of the rich court of the Lydian "tyrants" at Sardis. [...]

Pitttacus holds office of aesymnetes (first years of 6th century?)

In Lesbian Mytilene we see the tyrannis and also a method by which it might be avoided. Mytilene had won great commercial prosperity; its ruling nobles, the Penthilids, were wealthy and luxurious and oppressed the people. Tyrants rose and fell in rapid succession; the echoes of hatred and jubilation still ring to us from relics of the lyric poems of Alcaeus, "Let us drink and reel, for Myrsilus is dead." The poet was a noble and a fighter; but in a war with the Athenians on the coast of the Hellespont he threw

away his shield, like Archilochus, and it hung as a trophy at Sigeum. He plotted with Pittacus against the tyrant, but Pittacus was not a noble and his friendship with Alcaeus was not enduring. Pittacus however, who distinguished himself for bravery in the same war with Athens, was to be the saviour of the state. He gained the trust of the people and was elected ruler for a period of ten vears in order to heal the sores of the city. Such a governor, possessing supreme power but for a limited time, was called an aesymnētes. Pittacus gained the reputation of a wise lawgiver and a firm, moderate ruler. He banished the nobles who opposed him, among others the two most famous of all Lesbians, the poets Alcaeus and Sappho. At the end of ten years he laid down his office, to be enrolled after his death in the number of the Seven Wise Men. The ship of state had reached the haven, to apply a metaphor of Alcaeus, and the exiles could safely be allowed to return.

Bust of Pittacus, Roman copy of a Greek original of the Late Classical period, Louvre

[...]

Sect. 7. The tyrannies of central Greece

[...]

Cypselus: legend of his birth and name

The ruling clan of the Bacchiads at Corinth was overthrown by Cypselus, who had put himself at the head of the people. A characteristic legend was formed at an early time about the birth of Cypselus, suggested by the connexion of his name with κυψέλα, a jar. His mother was a Bacchiad lady named Labda, who, being lame and consequently compelled to wed out of her own class, married a certain Eětion, a man of the people. Having no children and consulting the Delphic oracle on the matter, Eetion received this reply:–

High honour is thy due, Eetion,

Yet no man doth thee honour, as were right.

Labda thy wife will bear a huge millstone,

Destined to fall on them who rule alone,

And free thy Corinth from their rightless might.

The prophecy came to the ears of the Bacchiads and was confirmed to them by another oracle, So, as soon as Labda's child was born, τhey sent ten men to slay it. When the men came to the court of Eetion's dwelling they found that he was not at home, and then asked Labda for the infant, Suspecting nothing, she gave it to one of them to take in his arms, but, as he was about to dash it to the ground, the child smiled at him and he had not the heart to slay it. He passed it on to the second, but he too was moved with pity and so it was passed round from hand to hand, and none of the ten could find it in his heart to destroy it. Then giving the infant back to the mother, and going out into the courtyard, they reviled each other for their weakness, and resolved to go in again and do the deed together. But Labda listening at the door overheard what they said, and hid the child in a jar, where none of them thought of looking.Thus the boy was saved, but the men falsely reported to the Bacchiads that they had performed their errand.

El niño Cípselo conmoviendo a los sicarios con su sonrisa, pintura de Franc Kavčic.

[...]

Dithyramb

While the most succesful of the tyrants, like Periander, furthered material civilization, they often manifested an interest in intellectual pursuits, and did something for the promotion of art. A new form of poetry called the dithyramb was developed at Corinth during this period, the rude strains which were sung at vintage-feasts in honour of Dionysus being moulded into an artistic shape. The discovery was attributed to Arion, a mythical minstrel, who was said to have leaped into the sea under the compulsion of mariners who robbed him, and to have been carried to Corinth on the back of a dolphin, the fish of Dionysus.

[...]

Tale of Lycophron, son of Periander

Judged by a modern standard, the government of Periander was strict, though in accordance with the practice in other cities and with the Greek views of the time. There were laws forbidding men to acquire large numbers of slaves or to live beyond their income; suppressing excessive luxury and idleness; hindering countrypeople from fixing their abode in the city.

Bust of Periander bearing the inscription “Periander, son of Cypselus, Corinthian”. Marble, Roman copy after a Greek original from the 4th century.

In his home-life Periander was unlucky. He married Melissa, the daughter of Procles, who had made himself tyrant of Epidaurus. It was believed that he put her to death, and this led to an irreconcilable quarrel with his son Lycophron. The story is that Procles invited his two grandchildren, Lycophron and an elder brother, to his court. When they were departing he said to them, "Do ye know boys, who killed your mother?" The elder was dull and did not understand; but the word sank into the heart of Lycophron, and henceforward he showed dislike and suspicion towards his father Periander, pressing him, discovered what Procles had said; and the affair ended, for the time, in a war with Epidaurus in which Procles was captured, and the banishment of Lycophron to Corcyra. As years went on and Periander was growing old, seeing that his elder son was dull of wit, he desired to hand over the government to Lycophron. But the son was implacable, and did not deign even to answer his father's messenger. Then Periander sent his daughter to intercede, but Lycophron replied that he would never come to Corinth while his father was there. Periander then decided to go himself to Corcyra and leave Corinth to his son, but the Corcyraeans were so terrified at the idea of having the tyrant among them that they slew Lycophron in order to foil the plan. For this act Periander chastised them heavily.

[...]

Sect. 8 The sacred war. The panhellenic games

[...]

Corinthian Gulf

The Amphictions espoused warmly the cause of Apollo and his Delphian servants, and declared a holy war against the men of Crisa who had violated the sacred territory. And Delphi found a champion in the south as well as in the north. The tyrant of Sicyon across the gulf went forth against the impious city. It was not enough to conquer Crisa and force her to make terms or promises. As she was situated in such a strong position, commanding the road from the sea to the sanctuary, it was plain that the utter destruction of the city was the only conclusion of the war which could lead to the assured independence of the oracle. The Amphictions and Sicyonians took the city after a sore struggle, rased it to the ground, and slew the indwellers. The Crisaean plain was dedicated to the god; solemn and heavy curses were pronounced against whosoever should till it. The great gulf which sunders northern Greece from the Peloponnesus, and whose old name "Crisaean" testified to the greatness of the Phocian city, received, after this, its familiar name "Corinthian" from the city of the Isthmus.

[...]

Growth of Hellenic unity

These four Panhellenic festivals helped to maintain a feeling of fellowship among all the Greeks; and we may suspect that the promotion of this feeling was the deliberate policy of the rulers who raised these games to Panhellenic dignity. But it must not be overlooked that the festivals were themselves only a manifestation of a tendency towards unity, which had begun in the eighth century. We have already seen how this tendency was promoted by colonisation, and confirmed by the introduction of a common name for the Greek race. About the middle of the seventh century, we meet the name "Panhellenes" in a poem of Archilochus, and the phrase "Panhellenes and Achaeans" occurs in a passage, which may be still earlier, in the Homeric Catalogue of the Ships. The Panhellenic idea, the conception of a common Hellenic race with common interests, was encouraged by the poetical records of the heroic age. The Trojan war was remembered as a common enterprise, in which northern and southern Greece had joined; and the ancient poets had called the whole host "Achaeans" or "Argives" indifferently. The Homeric poems were a bond among all men of Greek speech. and the memory of Troy was an ingredient in a sentiment which, though we cannot call it national, was distinctly a sentiment of community. The feeling of community was also displayed in the recognition of the Pythian Apollo as the chief and supreme oracle of Greece. The growth of the prestige of the Delphic god might almost have been used as a touchstone for measuring the growth of the feeling of community. As a meeting-place for pilgrims and of envoys from all quarters of the Greek world, Delphi served to keep distant cities in touch with one another, and to spread news; purposes which were effected in a less degree by the Panhellenic festivals. The tendencies to unity were also shown by the leagues, chiefly of a religious kind, which were formed among neighbouring states. The maritime league of Calauria is an instance; the northern Amphictiony of Anthela is another; and we shall presently have a glimpse of the Ionic federation of Delos. Early in the sixth century we find the cities of Italy bound together by a sort of commercial league, which was indicated in the character of their coinage. We shall soon see Sparta uniting a large part of the Peloponnesus in a confederacy under her presidency.

These tendencies to unity never resulted in a political union of all Hellas, The Greek race never became a Greek nation; for the Panhellenic idea was weaker than the love of local independence. But an ideal unity was realised; it was realised in those beliefs and institutions which we have just been considering. They fostered in the hearts of the Greeks a lively feeling of fellowship and a deep pride in Hellas; though there was no political tie. And it is to be noted that the Delphic oracle made no efforts to promote political unity, though unintentionally it promoted unity of another kind. If it had made any such efforts, they would certainly have failed; for the oracle had little influence in initiation. Greek states did not ask Apollo to originate or direct their policy; they only sought his authority for what they had already determined.

[...]

— John Bagnell Bury

Obtenido de “A History of Greece to the death of Alexander the Great“. pps. 113-153

#Sparta #Periander #Cypselus #Solon the wise #Lycophron #Tyrtaeus #Aristomenes #Plato #Olympiads #Pittacus #Lycurgus

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bleached-d-soul · 5 years

Text

Bad Gone Worse

The 30$ commission for @the-wayward-arc. If you wish to see a story written by me for you, be sure to contact me for details!

____________________________________________________________

When you are a kid, gettin called to the principal's office could have meant a lot of things. Detention, expulsion, award, praise, and many things in between. But it was almost universal for all the students to experience this growing sense of dread as they stepped inside the room and were asked to sit down.

And although Jaune was a teacher himself, the same heavy feeling remained at the pit of his stomach.

"Jaune, do you have any idea how much trouble you are in?"

Mr. Alabaster, or Alan as he asked everyone to call him, wasn't what Jaune would call your typical principal of a prestigious academy. Where you'd expect the man commanding respect and authority, the elderly headmaster was rather soft-spoken and nonconfrontational man. Though, Jaune figured, it came with the territory of being in charge of the school as prestigious as this one.

You had your usual elite schools and then you had Atlas Academy. The place was the school for the highest of the elites, compared to which the other fancy places might as well have been inner city. Politicians, celebrities, business titans and tycoons all had their kids enrolled in this place. And, needless to say, everyone, his present company included, was intimidated with the sheer power some of the students wielded here.

"Alan, I-"The man silenced him with a raised hand, eyes and voice tired. Judging by a small glass of expensive whiskey by his side, the man had already had his ears told off. The man offered Jaune a glass of his own and he accepted it. He never liked alcohol much, but the situation seemed appropriate for it. With both glasses empty and the tension in the air a little bit thinner, Jaune began to speak.

He told Alan of the circumstances which led to the incident. How one of his students, Oscar Pine, had approached him about the multiple instances of bullying. Without much investigation, Jaune determined that it was at the hands of his classmate, Cardin Winchester. Jaune wanted to resolve it as peacefully as possible. He had to make it clear that bullying would have consequences. And, for a while, it seemed that Winchester actually understood that. Bullying stopped and Oscar seemed to act just a little bit less anxious.

But as it turned out, all of that was just leading to the punchline of a very cruel joke.

Jaune sighed as he recalled the events of weekend's trip to the Emerald Woods. The massive and thick forest was a frequent site for the locals. Nice thick woods with a giant lake full of things for young men and women to enjoy. They were supposed to stay there till Monday, but circumstances didn't allow for that. It happened so fast. A peaceful day relaxing near the lake was interrupted with the cry for help. Oscar was drowning, begging for someone to save him.

Jaune wished he could say it all ended after he pulled Oscar out, but he couldn't. The danger passed but the question of circumstances leading up to the incident remained. So Jaune demanded to know what Oscar was doing in the middle of the lake. Especially after he spent the whole time staying away from water.

Unsure and doubtful, the boy pointed at Cardin. And as the boy described how he had been grabbed and thrown into the lake, the bigger guy didn't even try to deny it. Once the truth was delivered, Jaune turned to Cardin, expecting... Y'know, something. An apology or at least some show of regret. Instead, the bully just scoffed and gave Oscar a wolfish grin:

"The day ain't over," Jaune stood in shock as Cardin cracked his knuckles. "Plenty of chances to get the job done."

The next few minutes were a blur. All Jaune can remember is how he was on top of Cardin, his fists slamming into the bastard's face with all the viciousness he didn't know he had. Then he was being pulled off by the students. And the next thing he knew, he was taken by the police. He only got out today and the first thing he got this morning was a message from Alan, which brings him back to now.

The elder man sat silent before downing another glass. As he offered Jaune a second one, he could faintly hear the principal softly curse under his breath.

Jaune chuckled at that, albeit humorlessly. His situation was, to put it lightly, was shit. He knew he had done the right thing. But right or wrong, it mattered little when you assaulted a minor. In the eyes of the law, everything was painfully simple: A teacher assaulted a student. A student with quite rich and influential parents, who had their own powerful friends. Jaune was still surprised they hadn't pressed charges against him yet.

"This is very serious, Jaune," the man sighed. "You know that, as teachers, we must never lay a hand on a student. Especially in this place!"

Not when the parents of students could squash you like a bug. He knew that, "I remember the guidelines, sir," Jaune said with a bit more bite than he intended. He apologized, quickly reminding himself that the principal wasn't at fault. Bigger men than him would be cowed under the pressure this place had. Still, it didn't make him hate the situation any less. "I just don't think that Winchester deserves to be let off that easily after endangering another student's life. He must learn that there are consequences."

Oscar was a good kid. A talented young man, wise beyond his ears. He was honest and cared for others. Wasn't this the kind of people they wanted the future leaders to be? Wasn't it the reason why Jaune became the teacher in the first place? If not any of those things, then what did he work so hard for?

After a few minutes of silence, Jaune decided to cut the chase. He knew, from the very first night in the slammer, that he wouldn't be defending his case today. He knew that the reason why the principal invited him was not to hear his side of the story.

"I suppose my resignation is already filled in, huh?" Jaune chuckled as the man placed the form before him. A simple piece of paper, but it meant giving up on teaching here. The place had it fair share of spoiled brats, but there were just as many good kids as well. Pyrrha, Velvet, Ren, Ruby, Oscar and so many more of the people he would never see after signing it.

But what else could he do?

"It's not as bad as it might seem, Jaune," Alan said. He actually sounded like he believed it. "Many of your students were ready to back you up if needed. They respect you, something you should be proud of. To have your students respect you... Most of us never achieve that in our entire careers. But unfortunately, Winchesters are petty and prideful. Even if your students testified against Cardin Winchester, his family would make sure to ruin you otherwise. If you resign, they agreed to let the issue go, with their signatures and all."

And didn't that sound just generous, Jaune frowned. He could have done something about it. Go to social media and expose Winchesters for what their son and, by extension, their entire family was. Jaune doubted he could actually win against them, not when Winchester Network pretty much ran the news. He could hurt them. He could get people to criticize them or even call for Cardin's expulsion.

But in the end, it didn't matter. The daily life was filled with so many controversies and scandals that his would be forgotten within a week. That is, if Winchesters didn't use their PR team to spin the tale and paint him as a deranged child abuser. With a final stroke of his pen, Jaune handed in his resignation form and extended his hand, "Thank you for everything, sir. I am sorry for causing you so much trouble."

"Don't apologize. You did the right thing, Jaune," the man smiled sadly. "I just wish we all could do the right thing as well."

BGW

"I am sorry, but we don't think you'd be a good fit."

"You lack experience."

"There are no available positions right now."

And countless variations of the same rejection were all that Jaune thought about these days. He tried at every school he could find but was met with rejection every single time. Was he really that inexperienced ot inadequate that he couldn't teach at any school in this area? A small part of him hissed that it had to be the work of Winchesters. Saying they wouldn't do anything was one thing. But honoring that agreement was another.

Jaune sighed in exhaustion as he fell on the couch in his new apartment. Smaller but cheaper, the only thing he could afford right now without proper job on hand. Was it how his teaching career ended? Over not even two years in because he wanted to do the right thing? Was it universe telling him that he should search for his calling somewhere else?

He could always try and find a job at some company. He could learn how to do the job there and it would pay his bills better than the odd jobs he'd taken up in time not spent getting rejected. All he needed to do was to give up on his dream. After all, who needed teaching anyway? It was hard job with zero respect for it. Unless you mentored the next Nobel Prize winner, who'd care about you? Who needed the job where, for all the time anf effort you put, people would always look down on you because of different paychecks. Who needed any of that? Who wanted any of it?

Jaune did.

And no matter how much he might have hated some parts of the job like grading exams or assigning detention, he just couldn't imagine himself doing anything else. He wanted to be a teacher. It wasn't just the job for him, but rather his passion. He wanted to share his experiences with the younger generation and make an impact in their lives.

That was what being a teacher meant to him.

But he could get back on track? Should he change his name? Maybe change his hair and wear glasses? He could always try and look for the job in another state. Yes... He could do the last one. Winchesters might have been powerful but there had to be a limit to even their reach. And once he found it, he could go back to doing his job. Yes, all he needed to do was just hold on a little longer.

He would find a new job. And then he would forget all about this black line in his life.

All he needed was...

A phone call.

"Huh?" Jaune picked up his phone, confused by the unknown number. Let alone at this hour. "Hello?"

"Mr. Arc," not a question. A statement. Done in the voice and tone that sent shivers down his spine. "My name is Cinder Fall, I am calling you on behalf of Grimm Academy. Are you free to speak to right now?"

"Of course," Jaune answered, sounding a bit more eager (and desperate) than he wished to. "I am free to speak."

"Your resume has impressed our Headmaster, and she wanted me to conduct an additional interview with you. Will you be available this Monday, 8 AM?"

"I can there at 7," he joked, feeling relieved at the invitation. When the woman on the other end didn't laugh, he coughed awkwardly, "I mean, I will be there on time."

As he wrote down the address and her contact number, Jaune felt the confidence return to him. He reminded himself not to get too full of it quite quickly. The others also invited him for an interview only to turn him down there and then or, in some cases, by a phone call. The job at Grimm Academy might be his last shot at teaching without moving somewhere far away and he was sure not going to waste it.

Even if he didn't quite remember applying for it.

"Must be all the stress from job searching," Jaune reasoned with a deep sigh. There was no way the school would contact him if he didn't apply. And anyhow, he didn't have time to check if he did. He had the whole weekend of preparing for the interview. Whoever this Cinder was, she sounded like someone who would judge him from the very moment she saw him.

He had to make sure that interview went perfectly.

No doubts. No distractions.

BGW

The place was full of distractions.

Jaune buried his face in his phone, trying very hard not to look at any of the girls passing through the hall. Which wouldn't be much of a problem if every single one of them didn't look like the most gorgeous person he'd ever seen. Jaune was proud to say that, in all his years working as a teacher, he never looked at his students like that. He loved them, but in the same way he felt about his sisters.

Never more than that.

The girls here were different. Not just in the way they looked, but they way they carried themselves. There was something powerful - something dangerous - about each girl who passed him by. And by Gods, he could feel their eyes on him. Some were amused. Some were indifferent. Some judged him. Some looked at him like a prey - a lamb to the slaughter.

Maybe he was better off leaving?

"Mr. Arc. Punctual, I see."

Too late. He couldn't run now.

"Miss Fall," Jaune smiled, doing his best to look confident. "Pleasure to meet you."

And he wasn't lying. From the voice, Jaune knew that the woman was young, hardly older than him anyway. But he didn't expect the woman to look like this. Long silky black hair, the skin that seemed so smooth and pure of any flaws, the hourglass figure hugged tightly by her suit. But above it all, her eyes were the true focus of his attention. Full of the cold fire and burning ambition, even from behind her glasses, those eyes seemed to peer deep into his soul.

And she didn't seem impressed.

"Pleasure is all mine," the woman said, not sounding particularly sincere. "Shall we go to my office?"

He nodded and followed silently, not daring to speak lest he says something wrong and gets in trouble. As they walked towards her office, Cinder decided to give him a brief tour and history of the Grimm Academy. And Jaune found himself more and more surprised by how rich the school's history was despite how he found nothing about it on the Internet the night before.

It was an all-girls boarding school. And, similarly to Atlas, it was the school for the society's elite. The daughters of the rich and powerful. He was surprised by that, seeing how little resemblance there was to the students back at his old school. And how high the truancy and delinquency were here. You'd think that the kids at such elite school would be more concerned with keeping up reputation and whatnot.

"Now, let's begin the interview."

Jaune took a deep breath and relaxed himself. The questions were, surprisingly, ordinary. Where did he study? Beacon University. What classes had he taught priorly? Literature and Drama. Why did he want the job? He chose to omit the fact that he wasn't being hired by anyone else. The interview went on like this for good fifteen minutes before Cinder made the last mark on her checklist.

Taking her glasses off, the woman stared into his eyes long and hard. The brief few seconds the eye contact lasted seemed to stretch into hours of her searching his very soul for something. A flaw. A leverage. A weakness to exploit.

"One last question, Mr. Arc," the brunette finally said. "How good are you with women?"

What?

"What?" he said out loud. "W-What do you mean?"

"Exactly what I said," Cinder smiled. A smile that didn't quite reach her eyes. "How well are you with women?

Jaune sat silent, waiting for Cinder to tell him it was some joke. When she didn't, he wrecked his brain, looking for a way to answer that question without sounding like a pig of some sort of sexual predator. "I-I would say I am quite good at that. I grew up with seven sisters so I know a lot about most of the stuff girls have to go through today. I am also a pretty good listener so I would say I am pretty good with women."

Cinder looked him up and down, eyes again searching for something. Something he didn't quite understand. And, judging by the way her lips curled into a small smile, she found exactly what she was looking for.

Though Jaune's wasn't sure whether it was a good thing or not.

"Congratulations, Jaune," the woman smiled, this time with her eyes as well. "You are officially hired. Welcome to Grimm Academy."

He let out a sigh he didn't know he was holding back. "Thank you so much, Miss Fall. You won't regret it, I assure you," he said. Quickly though, he decided to ask the question of his own. "If it is not a secret though, why did you ask the last question?"

"You may call me Cinder. As for your question," Cinder smiled, this time her smile much more mischievous and amused. A smile that a villain had when the heroes fell right into their trap. "Tell me, Jaune, what do you know about our school?"

He raised an eyebrow in confusion, reciting the information Cinder gave him along with what little pieces he found on the Internet. An elite school. High salary. Away from the big city. Cinder seemed amused by it so he asked, "Is there something that I missed?"

"You are quite correct, Jaune. But you did miss one thing. There are countless boarding schools for society's elite, but only Grimm Academy provides the parents with what they are seeking. Do you have any idea what that is?" he stood silent. Cinder answered for him, "It is secrecy."

"Secrecy? Like from paparazzi?" It would make sense. The school was pretty secluded in this area, guarded by walls and some very intimidating-looking guards. One of the bigger challenges was keeping media away from them. Somehow though, the extent to which they went didn't fit in with that thought. "I am missing something, aren't I?"

"Not exactly. You see, Jaune, Atlas, Vae and Mistral are the kinds of schools the elite send their kids to uphold family honor and reputation. Those who graduate from there will enjoy all the positive presumptions that come with the diploma of the school," the brunette smiled. "Grimm is the other side of the coin. We do not Parents send their kids here to preserve what honor and status they have. We are the school where parents send rebellious and disobedient girls to make sure they don't hurt their reputations. In short, we are-"

"The delinquent school," Jaune whispered in shock. That explained the attitudes and the general atmoesphere in this place. "All the girls here are delinquents..."

Delinquents with money, power and connections, Delinquents who could squash him on a whim.

"They might be very handful," Cinder smiled. This time, her smile spoke of all the pleasure she took in his horror. "They have gone through quite a lot of teachers before you. Which is why I am looking forward to working with you."

Her eyes flared dangerously. Hungrily.

"For however long you may last."

BGW

"Alright, settle down, class," Miss Fall said with the voice that accepted no disobedience. "Let me introduce you to our new Literature teacher, Jaune Arc. Please, make sure he feels welcome here."

While Jaune didn't expect any actual warmth in welcome, he at least counted on a few complimentary claps. No such thing, apparently, as the gathered girls simple sat silent, either staring at him or busy with their own things.

"Well, my job here is done," Cinder said as she left the class, "Don't eat him too fast, girls."

Jaune honestly didn't doubt that they could. After a moment of awkward and defeaning silence, Jaune said, "Alright class, I know, the Fall Semester just started and you already have a new teacher. So how about we use today's class to get to know each other better? Back in my last school, we had this game which really helped in this. So, who is up to play?"

The girls gave him a collective look, some annoyed, some apathetic and some actually interested. Not good kind of interested, however. Rather, it was the same interest one watched a person fall down the stairs. Then, as if connected in a single hivemind, the girls exchanged glances and the identical smirk spread on their lips. This didn't seem good. One of the girls, with short brown hair and fox-like grin, raised her hand and spoke, "Cool, we'll play. What are the rules?"

His instincts told him to forget the game and run. To get his things in the car and get the fuck away from this place. Then again, if he was the type to listen to his instincts, then he wouldn't be in this mess in the first place. He was in too deep now. He couldn't just run away. He had to push through this class and establish himself as a trustworthy and open teacher.

And hey, just how bad could this backfire on him?

"Well, the rules are pretty simple. You say your name and tell a fact about yourself. Something fun that could let us know each other better. And in exchange, you may ask me a question to which I must answer," Jaune smiled, seeing that some of the girls perked up at the idea. Maybe it wouldn't be so bad. "Of course, whether the answer or the fact are true ot force depends on both of us. But I really would like if we spoke only the truth here. Any questions? No? Then let's begin."

A couple of hands rose. The girls here seemed more open about this kind of stuff. He could still remember how awkward the kids back in Atlas were around him when he suggested this game. Poor Ruby quite literally froze when he picked her to answer.

"You," he pointed at one of the twins, the girl with a red feather in her headband. The girl stood from her seat and smiled charmingly. "Your name is...?"

"Miltia Malachite," the girl curtsied, getting a few laughs from the class. Ah, nothing like good friendly ribbing. "The fact about me is that I really like submissive guys. I enjoy making the guys moan and cry and beg for a sweet relief. So are you Dom or Sub, Mr. Arc?"

He choked on his spit as his brain processed the question. For a brief moment, he wondered if it was his ears playing with him. Surely, a student couldn't ask her teacher such question in broad daylight in front of her classmates, right? Right? However, as he looked at the room, he saw neither surprise nor shock, only the growing amusement the girls had at his expense. All eyes on him, Jaune couldn't help but feel naked. Naked... Along with the classroom full off such attractive young women... "Shit, stay down, boy! Now is not the time...!"

"I guess I am neither?" Jaune managed to blurt out awkwardly. "I-I mean, uh... Next question, please?"

More hands were now up in the air. And now they didn't seem that innocent. Or harmless. Still, he had to continue. Eyes searched through the classroom, Jaune purposedly ignoring Miltia and her sister. After a couple of minutes, his eyes landed on the girl with bright orange twintails with neon blue highlights, "How about you?"

"Hi, my name is Neon! And I like partying, the harder and longer the better" the girl grinned cheekily, fully aware of the words she had just used. "What about you, teach? You like partying long and hard?"

Shit, was everyone's mind in the gutter here?

"Sure," he did his best at hiding any embarrassment as he answered. "I am not much for raves but hey, if the party is decent enough, I will surely join in!

"Even orgies?"

Jesus Christ!

"Next question, please!" Jaune begged not so subtly.

More than the half of the hands stood proud and eager, no doubt waiting to ask him their own embarrassing question. He knew that whoever he asked next would pull the same stunt. The best he could do right now was minimize the damage. Eyes desperately scanned the room, looking for someone innocent. Or the closest thing to innocent among the girls here.

Finally, he saw the small girl with hair of pink and brown. She looked innocent enough. "You. Yes, your question?"

The whole room fell disturbingly quiet. The air suddenly felt heavier and colder. Some girls even gave him sympathetic and pitiful looks. The girl stood up from her seat and walked over to him. And with each tiny slow step she took, her smile grew wider and bigger, filling him with dread. As the tiny girl stood in front of him, Jaune felt infinitely smaller than anyone here.

She started typing something on her phone. A second later, female monotone spoke, "Hi, my name is Neo...," Jaune stood in surprise as he listened. Was she mute or just shy? Probably mute. No way a shy girl would get that kind of reaction out of her classmates. "I love ice cream, clothes, knives and night city life. Now for my question, Mr. Arc..."

Her grin turned devilish.

"How big is your dick?"

Jaune groaned in frustration as some of the girls whistled and laughed, "It is average, Neo. Now go back to your seat." It was clear that his game didn't work. He'd need another way of breaking the ice with the girls here if he wanted to have a proper influence on their lives. Preferrably, one without such exploitable rules. "Now let's change the-

"You mind if I check for myself?"

The voice came out of nowhere. Was it Neo's? He turned around fast, but not fast enough. Just as he was about to say something, Neo was behind him, her hands firmly on his belt. The shock - the sheer disbelief at what was happening to him right now - stalled him enough for the girl to unbuckle his belt and, in one swift motion, pull his pants along with his underwear down to his knees.

In that moment, Jaune's entire brain just froze as he started to think over where his life had gone so wrong. Or how much worse it could become now. Nobody would care if he was pantsed by the girl. Hell, he would be lucky if anyone actually believe that the girl half his size managed to to do it without him noticing. One call... It would take one damn call and he would be led out in handcuffs before locked away for God knows how long.

His life... was over.

"E-Excuse me," Jaune choked out as he shakily pulled his pants up. The bell rang but none of the girls moved from their seats. Figures, they were probably wondering when he would run. Well, he wouldn't give them the satisfaction! "Time for lunch so... Have a nice meal."

He kept his face as straight as he could as he watched the girls slowly leave. Once he was all alone in the class, he let the mask slip and shatter as he felt his spirits crashing down. Feeling like he would collapse any second, Jaune went to the teacher's lounge. There was no point in waiting for the next period. The girls no doubt had already called the police on him. If he was going to be taken by them, he might as well have some nice rest. One final power nap before being locked up in a cell in shame and humiliation.

Coming here... was the biggest mistake of his life.

BWG

There were many things Vernal disliked. Rules, authority figures, that Yang bitch who thought she was some tough shit, the list went on and on, being extended every time Vernal found something new to feel angry or pissed about. But the top spot on that damned list could only belong to one thing and one thing only.

Boredom.

It was just a tough fucking luck that she ended up here in the first place. She had a great thing going on before. With her mom, one of the biggest punk rock stars, she has been free for most of her life. Mom drank, took drugs and slept around, never listening to anyone or anything. And, by extension, Vernal was free to do the same. It was a good life. Freedom and hedonism incarnate.

But then he came along and had to ruin everything. That man - that fucking snake - invaded their lives and talked her mom into placing her in this damned school to try and reform her. Said that she had to do better. Be better. Fucking asshole, who was he to talk to her like that when he was just a lawyer? Hell, her mother's scandals were pretty much why dickbags like were needed in the first place.

Needless to say, she used any and every opportunity to stir up some trouble if only to annoy that old fart and show him he couldn't control her. Unfortunately, none of that went as viral as she could hope, seeing that the bitch that ran the place had vice grip on what made its way out of here. And in her free time? Vernal was just looking for something to entertain herself with.

"Holy shit, did you see the size of it?"

"How the fuck is he walking straight with that thing between his legs?"

And it seemed she found herself something new. Vernal was no virgin, of course. One of the first things she chose to do to piss off her dad was getting fucked as soon as she could by the first guy she found. Said guy was all that her dad hated about guys: loud, rude and one leg in a juvie. Needless to say, the guy turned out to be just talk and nothing more than that.

The guy was loud, quick and weak. It didn't help that he thought her choosing him made them an item. As if. Even if she was looking for some long-term thing, it wouldn't be with some toothpick.

Especially now that she had found herself a nice meat rod around this place.

When she first heard they were getting a new teach, Vernal wasn't all that excited, just like the rest of their class. They had gone though so many of them that it wasn't fun anymore. Ignore them. Sit in your phone. Or play the same game they did with the blondie. Eventually, they all quit and ran in tears. But it got boring and old really fucking fast. So when the fresh meat walked in, she gave him around a month before he ran home.

Then Neo showed that nine inch long four inch thick meat popsicle. And now Vernal planned to make sure he stayed around. She was just getting tired of all the toys she managed to sneak in. Plus, the guy looked like a total wuss. She could have him as her personal dildo with legs without any mushy stuff. Which is why he needed to stay. It wouldn't be any good if she lost such catch.

"You think we should gang up on him?" Melanie suggested, licking her lips in anticipation. "I mean, everyone loves twins~"

"Oh, we definitely should," Miltia agreed and did the same, clearly imagining being rammed in by that thick cock. "But how do we do that? The guy seemed really shaken up. No surprise if he runs off the moment the class is over."

It was a problem, Vernal mused to herself. For a guy that big, this Jaune certainly lacked the confidence or any self-esteem. He seemed idealistic, which was dumb, and honest, even dumber. Not someone she was looking to hook up with for something serious. She needed a real man. The kind who knew how to do things right and kept his head high.

Then again, she wasn't looking for anything more than a living dildo right now. Now, all she needed to do was claim him first.

"Think we should wear matching panties?"

"How about none at all?"

And that meant making sure the twins didn't even come near him anytime soon.

"Eh, I don't think he would go for that," Vernal said simply, putting just enough disinterest to make it seem like a random comment instead of planned one. She sat silent for a few moments before she 'noticed' the twins were waiting for her explanation. "I mean, have you seen that guy? Hell, have you heard the guy? He looks like he wouldn't kiss you till your third date or something. I doubt he'd have the balls to fuck any of his students."

All true, if anyone asked. But to Vernal, it didn't matter if he had balls for it or not. She would get that dick for herself regardless of that.

"So what do you think we should do?" Miltia asked annoyed. "Sing him a serenade or some shit?"

"I think you should start slow," Vernal smirked at how the girls seemed to eat it up. Yes, getting fucked by that log would be nice. But doing so while leading the others on a wild goose chase would make it even better. Like eating the last dessert after telling the girls they were out. "Apologize for those questions and play perfect little students this guy dreams about. Turn in your homework in time. Show eagerness to learn and shit like that. I bet he'd fall in love with you in a month or so. And then you could have your way with him."

When Vernal got up from her seat, the twins were still in deep thought. Could they really wait for months until they got that thing inside of them? Was it worth the wait or holding out? In the end, it didn't matter to Vernal.

Because she was planning to stake her claim tonight.

BGW

"Is that what's bothering you, Jaune?"

He sighed as he took a cup of coffee from Cinder. He couldn't keep silent and confessed. Surprisingly though, Cinder offered to listen to his side of the story and, if possible help him out. So he talked and now he waited for her to say what he could do.

"I think you should show them you are not to be messed with," Cinder said, without a hint of joke or sarcasm. "The girls here are as problematic as they come. Soft approach will not work with them. Trust me. many have tried and failed. The only way to succeed here is to be ruthless."

Ruthless? But he was nothing like that. "And how can I do that?"

"Try it on me," Cinder suggested, a strange fire dancing in her eyes. "Give me an order."

An order? "Uh... Raise your hand?"

She rolled her eyes, "Seriously?"

"Sorry, never tried that before," he took a deep breath and focused. "Cinder, raise your hand."

She smiled.

"No."

What?

"And what are you going to do about it?" she asked, getting closer. Her soft silky breath tickling his neck. "What are you going to do now that I have defied you, Jaune? Will you back down and surrender? Or will you push through and conquer those that disobey?"

"Conquet," he whispered, inching closer to her. "I will make them listen."

"I don't hear the confidence, Jaune," she pressed herself against him. Her body was hot, his own heating up. "Show me how you will do it. Show me how you will dominate those girls!"

Everything happened in a blur. Her clothes were torn off and thrown away into the corner. Like a wild animal, Jaune descended upon Cinder, attacking her neck with his mouth. Biting into her soft smooth skin felt intoxicating, but not as mindblowing as was locking tongue and lips with her. His hands were left free to explore every inch of her body. Her supple breasts, her toned and firm ass, her drenched and dripping pussy.

He was surprised when she pushed him onto the sofa. Eyes burning like that of a predator, Cinder licked her lips before mounting him. He watched her push herself down his cock, the soft and heated moans escaping her lips. Very soon, she was thrusting herself up and down his cock with wild fevor.

"Oh yes! Oh yeah, just like that! Don't you dare stop! Keep going!"

Jaune grunted and moaned as Cinder rode him like there was no tomorrow. Her toned ass slapped against his crotch, the sound of their unrestrained sex filling the whole room. The tight walls of her pussy burned like wild fire, her hissed pleas and challenging to fuck her even harder making it impossible to hold on for long. After what must have been an hour of constant fucking, Jaune felt his cock throb.

"Cinder, I am going to-"

He was close. So close. Any second now he would-

"Wake up!"

A harsh slap and Jaune was back to reality. Vision fuzzy and head slightly ringing from the sheer force behind it, Jaune forced himself to look at the person in front of him. It was Cinder, but not as naked or horny as in his dream. Dreams... Oh Gods, he wasn't talking in his sleep, right? "Uh... Hello? Is everything okay?"

Amber eyes narrowed, "Okay? No, everything is not okay. Do you have any idea what you've done?"

What he has... Oh right. Guess it was time to face the music. The police was probably waiting outside for him. Might as wellleave with as much dignity as he could. But not before saying his piece, "It was an honor working here. I really wish you the best of luck in the future."

Cinder looked confused for a second before scoffing, "Oh please, don't be so dramatic, Mr. Arc. You wouldn't be fired over such small thing. Honestly, it used to happen to me a lot as well."

W-What? Jaune looked at Cinder, for a brief moment imagining her without her skirt and panties, standing in front of the whole class. Damn it, not now, libido! "What do you mean?"

"Teaching by its nature is not an easy job. You try to give each and every student as much focus and effort as possible, but even then some slip through your fingers. The mental strain that comes from trying to get and keep them interested in the class is nothing to laugh at either. And the girls here can be particularly exhausting with some of their antics. Plus, I am aware of how the circumstances of your resignation took tool on you," Cinder nodded in understanding. "So it's natural you fell alseep in here. It happens to the best of us as well."

Fell... asleep? Did that mean she didn't know about him getting exposed to the whole class? Wait, the girls had an entire lunch period to tell someone or post about it on social media. And if they didn't, did that mean they had no intention of doing so? But why? They didn't seem to particularly like him, so wouldn't getting rid of him one of their main priorities right now?

Guess he only could find out for himself.

"Yeah," he said, feeling much less weight on his shoulders. "Sorry about causing trouble, Cinder."

"No problem," she smiled candidly. "But do keep in mind: this was your first, last and only warning," the warmth left her voice, eyes drilling into him without mercy. "While I may understand your situation, it is no excuse to slack off here. You've been given an opportunity to be an educator once again. Make sure to not waste it."

He felt like he had done that already.

BGW

Jaune was not a pervert. Sure, like pretty much all the guys he knew, he watched some porn. And yes, he did have a dirty fantasy about a girl or two he had known. But he was not a pervert.

So was it him or were the girls in his class acting sexy all of a sudden?

"So when the protagonist chooses to sacrifice himself, is he truly being selfless?" Jaune talked, hoping the lecture would distract him. That he would get so swallowed up in one of his favorite stories by Ozma Oum. Didn't work. He gulped as his eyes stayed on girls a little longer than he would feel comfortable telling anyone about. Did they always keep four buttons loose? And was it him or did some of the girls wear shorter skirts than before?

"Keep in mind that, at this point, he has lost his allies and home. His name is stained and the world is against him. So is his sacrifice final act of his selfless life or is he just putting an end to his life in the only way he knows he will gain recognition?"

He looked away and up from their blouses and skirts. From their exposed cleavages and thighs. He would focus on their faces. That's right! If he kept his eyes on their faces, there was nothing suggestive that he could find. Just focus on their eyes. And mouths... Sucking and chewing on the pencils and pens.

"Mr. Arc?" one of the twins, Melanie, asked in concern. A genuine, which was even more surprising. "Are you okay? Do you need a glass of water or something?" Her sister nodded, which was strange. Good kind of strange though. The girls acted different from how they acted before, which should have worried him but didn't. "We could bring some medicine if you want."

"N-No, thank you though," he smiled. "Really, thanks."

The bell rang. The class came to an end. And so did the torture and testing of his limits. "For your homework, try to analyze the ending of the book and come up with your stance on the main characters' fates. No need to write anything but be prepared for very intense discussion."

The class dispersed, though not without some of the girls swaying their hips on the way out. He paid that no mind, instead focusing on getting his things and going back home as soon as he could. He was just about to leave when someone tapped him on his shoulder. It was the same girl who asked him about the rules of the game he tried having this morning.

Vernal Wennbar if he remembered right.

"How may I help you, Vernal?"

The girl massaged her neck awkwardly, the look that clashed with the rough appearance she had. Maybe he was just assuming? "I was just having some trouble with the material, sir. I mean, I can understand what the book is all about but it is really hard for me to express it in words. And we have the paper to write on it so I wanted to ask if you could, y'know, tutor me on it a bit?"

Jaune wanted to say "No", if only because he hardly had any strength left with all the stress of the day. But one look into Vernal's honest pleading eyes... How could he, as a teacher, refuse his student the help in improving herself? It was always hard to ask someone for help with the schoolwork. Let alone your own teacher, ironically enough. Which is, why, ignoring a very bad feeling in his stomach, Jaune agreed.

BGW

"Well, here we are. Welcome to my place."

Vernal smiled politely as she entered the dump he called home. It wasn't small, but it wasn't exactly the kind of places people like her were used to. Not that Vernal complained. She wasn't like Weiss or Coco or any other one of those bitches. She knew what she came here for wasn't his apartment or some other shiny stuff. Vernal was here to get means of getting regularly laid.

Nothing more. Nothing less.

"Alright, let's start."

Even if that meant listening to his annoying drivel. He was passionate about the book, at least. Without his notice, she carefully added a couple of drops of the special mixture into his water. Nothing that would hinder his ability to satisfy her. Just a little of help to rip his inhibitions apart. The blondie was so into teaching her that he never realized what was happening.

Good. Just as she liked it.

He was excited enough to talk and help her through all the stuff she presumably didn't understand or struggled with. Passionate enough to miss her turn on the phone and place it on the table. Excited enough to miss her get closer to him until it was too late. She watched his face grow hot and his eyes stay on her cleavage and legs just a tiny little bit longer before he hurriedly turned them away.

Impressively enough, he actually managed to keep himself in control for almost two hours. Two hours too long before she finally decided waiting was no longer an option. If she were to seize control of him, she had to do it now.

"Vernal? Is everything okay? Why are you loo-"

She smashed her lips against his. Her tongue pushed past his lips till it managed to reach his own. He was slow and passive, too shocked to properly react. Vernal smirked to herself, enjoying the moment to seize as much control as possible. Without much carem she pinned him to the floor and began removing her clothing. The sight of her naked tanned skin seemed to shake the teacher out of his shock.

"S-Stop!" he pushed her back, not enough to push her off the top of him though. "W-What... What was that?"

"A kiss," her frowned. "What, don't tell me you never kissed a girl before. Or were you saving it for the marriage?"

"I am serious," Jaune glared. He managed to slip from under her. Clearly pissed off, he started gathering her things. "Seriously, I think that the day couldn't get any crazier and then you decide to do this. Damn it, why couldn't it be just a normal school?"

A normal school, huh? She wished it was like that too. In normal high school, she could just bribe a teacher to let her skip class or whatever. Plus, she could cause much more trouble and piss off that bastard even more. Yeah... Going to a regular high school would be a bliss.

"Seriously," Jaune scoffed as he handed her all the stuff she brought. "I understand that you are young and think it was funny. But trust me, at some point you will have stop with pranks like this. If you keep acting like that, you will only get yourself in unnecessary trouble."

Vernal felt the hand grip her heart. Cold, ugly and deformed hand was wrapped around her heart so tight she could barely breathe as she looked at Jaune. His eyes, so lost and awkward before, were now similar to the eyes that man had. Similar in all the ways that pissed her off.

"What kind of child are you? Do you have any idea how much trouble you have caused me and your mother? If you don't stop fooling around, you will never be anything more than a troublemaker."

Nothing more than a troublemaker, huh? Fine by her.

"Y'know, teach," Vernal said, dropping all that innocent girl facade. "You shouldn't talk about being responsible and shit like that... Not when you have been nothing but a naughty little pervert yourself."

Before he could even ask, Vernal showed him the picture she took with her phone. It was shaky and somewhat blurry around the edges, but it painted a very juicy picture. A student with only her shirt on her back and the teacher with his hands all over her. Their lips locked. Their eyes closed. And both looking to be enjoying their state. A picture could say a thousand words, indeed.

"Combine that with girls' testimonials of you flashing them today and what we have is an open-n-shut case of a perverted teacher trying to sink his claws into poor innocent girls," Vernal sniffed mockingly. The blondie looked deathly pale. Good, that would show him how to talk down to her. "From what I heard, you got fired for hitting your student too, right? That certainly doesn't paint you in the best of lights now, does it?"

"Y-You are the one who kissed me!" he pointed out. "You are the one who attacked me. I didn't even do anything!"

"And you think it will matter? All that could or would be said is on the photo here. And this doesn't look good at all. Not for you, at least."

He moved to take her phone.

Too slow and too sluggish. She didn't stop him though, "Deleting it won't matter. It's all on my Dust Disk now. So unless you know how to hack into my account before I can do anything with it, you should be a good boy and listen to whatever I say."

The teacher gritted his teeth but did little more. Good, he seemed to understand. "Why are you doing this?" he asked with the heavy dose of frustration in voice. "You want me to quit teaching? Or give you a better grade? Cause I can do the former but not the latter."

Oh, an idealist, how cute.

"Nah, I don't care about getting A's," she looked him in the eyes and smirked, "Though I am interested in that D of yours you showed us today."

"W-What?"

"You heard me," she kneeled before him, giving him a wolfish grin. "Take off your clothes. Now."

After a few silent minutes, Vernal watched him follow her order. It was nothing like in porn where the dude would rip off his clothes or even take them off sexually. He did it slowly, awkwardly and unsure. Obviously, he wasn't used to the stuff like that. Too bad for him, of course. She enjoyed how vulnerable he looked quite a lot. Finally, mhe stood before her in all his naked glory.

Now to get to the fun part.

"You know, teach, you are a really lucky guy," she said as she wrapped he rfingers around his hardening member. The heat it radiated sent arousal down to her very core. The fact that actually struggled to get it in her full grip certainly didn't help her growing excitement. "With this bitch breaker between your legs, all the girls in our class are dreaming of getting fucked by you."

And that was their class alone. Wait till the rumors spread and the senior heard all about him. Not that it would matter, of course.

"Too bad for them, cause I am claiming you tonight."

Hard and hot, his meat rod stood proud, easily big enough to cover her face. What would intimidate or even scare off the other girls only intrigued Vernal further. Her mouth watered and her loins burnt in anticipation of receiving all that dick inside, but she forced herself to keep it under control. She would have him begging her to fuck him first. So that by the time she was done with him, their teacher was properly house-broken and obedient little dildo.

"Do you like it?" she whispered into his ear, dragging her hand up and down his shaft, occasionally pausing to play around with the head of his cock. "I bet you jerk off when thinking of all your female students. You probably imagine them fucking and sucking you till you cover them in your hot thick cum every single fucking night, is that right?"

"I don't!"

She squeezed harder and moved her hand faster, making him groan and grunt and pant. "Liar," she smirked as she felt his cock throb. "Aw, you are close to cumming now, aren't you?"

The teacher protested weakly, a signal for her to crank it a bit higher. Removing her shirt and bra, she wasted no time in wrapping her breasts around his cock. Or trying to. She wasn't as flat as that washboard Weiss but she doubted even Xia Long cow could properly get this monster between her tits. And it seemed to be working as he struggled to not cum from the contact with her bare chest.

He failed not even five minutes after she started titfucking him. With a groan, he started releasing one thick rope of semen after another, covering her face and chest in his cum. She scooped some of it up and brought it to her mouth. Salty, bitter and sour, her first instinct was to spit that shit out. But not even a second after that, she found herself hungry for more. Dragging her fingers all across her chest and face, she wasted no time in devouring as much of it as she could while it was still hot.

And by the time she was done, the teach was ready to go again.

"Do you want to cum again, teach?" Mumbles. Barely audible whispering. He refused to look her in the eyes. "I can't hear you, speak the fuck up!"

"Yes," he moaned as she mounted herself on the top of him. Her wet, dripping cunt burshing right above his hardened meat rod. Just an inch separated the two, the heat from their respective organs enticing and intoxicating. "I want to fuck you... So Vernal, please..."

She smiled, "Good answer, teacher! Here is your reward!"

And with that cry, she slammed her hips down. She felt his cock pierce all the way inside, stretching her pussy to the limits. Vernal gritted her teeth as the wave of delightful pain washed over her. Again and again, the insane mixture of pain and pleasure coursed through her body, sending her mind into a frenzy. Her body covered in sweat, she grinned down at the teach.

"So? Still think you can talk down to me?" She was about to say more but then she realized something as she looked below herself. The blondie's cock pierced its way right up to her womb... But she still had good five inches left to go. "Shit..."

"Vernal, don't push yourself," the teach groaned from under her. "Y-You proved your point, okay? Now how about we calm down and talk it out? Seriously, you shouln't be doing this sort of thing with-"

"Shut the fuck up!" she slapped him across his face, cutting him off. Who did he think she was? Some damn pillow princess? A no good virgin? "Just shut it and be a good fucking dildo with legs, will you?"

She could do this. She could totally do this. She could fucking take this cock and break him in. Just fucking watch her.

Vernal took a deep breath as she forced herself further down his cock. She felt her breath get stuck in her throat as she took one inch after another, her body shaking as she struggled to stay sane. Finally, she managed to get all of that meat inside her now much more crammed insides. She did it! She had it all inside!

But she couldn't move.

Vernal could tell that if she moved even a little, she would break. Body and mind, she would end up breaking like some damn virgin. But she couldn't show that weakness in front of him. The moment she showed it, the damn teach would try and take over. She couldn't let that happen. She just needed a few minutes to catch her breath, "So how does it feel, teach? You love my pussy wrapped all around your cock? I bet you are going to cum any second now. Too bad that I have no interest in weak spineless guys like you... If you beg me enough though, maybe I will let you be my fuck slave!"

The teach gritted his teeth as he tried to get her off. Fuck, he must have seen she was losing control. She needed to reestablish her dominance now. And do it fast, "Why are you fighting back, huh? I bet your only experience was just some pity sex! Or maybe you were just a virgin, huh? I bet you never even touched a woman. Feel grateful that you get to have sex with me, you spiiiiEEEEH!"

Suddenly Vernal was on her back, the teach towering over her. It was only now that she realized that his muscles weren't just for show. Unfortunately, she found that only by struggling and failing to break his hold on her. Shit! Oh well, she was nothing if not resourceful. Teach might have enjoyed a momentary advantage over her, but she could crush it without any trouble.

"Is that it, Arc?" she sneered, throwing a vicious glare his way. "What now, you are going to fuck me? Make me pay for treating you like this? Well, go right ahead, cause after that you are the one who is screwed!" There was a change in his eyes. He seemed shaken. Hesitant and fearful. "That's right, now you understand, don't you? So if you know what's good for you, then you better get back down on your knees and do as you are told."

She felt his grip loosen and now she patiently waited for him to assume his position on the floor. One minute, then another... Why the hell was he still not on his damn knees? Before she could rip into him again, she felt her body pulled forth. Her cry of surprise was quickly muffled with the teacher's lips. A part of her resisted and screamed at her to bite his lips off.

But that part was small and quiet compared to the rest of herself that revelled in the sudden surge of pleasure. It grew even smaller and quieter as he invaded her mouth with his tongue. As he examined and tasted every single bit of the inside of her mouth. His tongue felt like the living fire, sorching and boiling her from the inside. She could feel her boyd tremble as she came closer to orgasm from this kiss.

From the damn kiss alone!

But what her body was going through was nothing compared to the things this bastard was doing to her mind. Little by little, but her defense and drive to dominate over the blondie was crumbling to dust. The desire to have him under her was slowly falling apart, burned down by the growing flames of something more. Something so much stronger...

She felt cold. Suddenly, all that fire and lust were gone, ripped away from her core without mercy or warning. She stared at the teach in shock, breathless and paralyzed by the sudden cold that now was in her body, "W-What... Why- What gives, teach?"

Her words came out much weaker and less demanding than she was used to or comfortable with. Somehow, she didn't care all that much. She just needed to cling to that warmth that had been stolen from her.

"C-Come on, you are not mad, are you? I was just fooling around, you know. So how about we just forget about the threats and enjoy our time together? I promise I will make it worth your while," she let out a small needy whine, burning up in shame and arousal as she refused to let go of his shoulders. When the blondie said nothing and just looked down on her, she felt her temper flare up again. "You fucking piece of shit... You think you are some tough shit? I can destroy with a word and a damn photo, so you better go ahead and start fucking me, you bast-!"

She was silenced once more. This time, though, much more roughly. The teach was more confident and bold as his hands started freely roaming all over her body. He kneaded and squeezed her breasts, making her moan against his tongue in weak and clingy moans. He moved his mouth to her neck, covering her tanned skin with sorching kisses and licks. She gritted her teeth in a desperate attempt to retain some semblance of control over what was happening.

It all broke apart once his hands went to her ass. Her eyes widened in shock as she felt his fingers trace around her tight little asshole. The fear set in, making her shake as she cried out, "W-Wait! Not there, please! Time out, please time ou-!"

Her pleas fell on silent ears as the teach mercilessly plunged two fingers of each hand inside and spread her apart. The sudden simulation proved too much for her as her whole body shook in orgasm. Her eyes rolled back to the back of her head as she struggled to keep her mind intact. All a failure as her brains turned to mash, an idiotically wide smile across her lips.

"T... This was fucking amazing...," Vernal thought as she rested her head on Jaune's shoulder. Without much thought, she started breathing his smell in. Her head spun as she found herself growing intoxicated with the smell of his body. Without more said, Jaune placed him down on the sofa. Taking the cue, she laid back and spread her legs, exposing her dripping pussy. "Go on ahead, teach... Finally fuck me for real!"

Her shirt landed on her face.

"I think you should go now."

Wait.

"What?" she rose to her knees, throwing the damn shirt away. She wasn't planning on wearing it. Not unless she got fucked into a damn coma before. "You are not fucking serious now, are you? You think you can just make me cum once and send me back home. Well, think again you dipshit cause I-"

"Quiet." She instantly fell silent, surprised by herself. Moreso, she was shocked by the sheer power in his voice. And how much pleasure listening to him brought her. "Give me your phone."

A small part of her rose in protest. This was her sole leverage and only means of keeping him under her. If she gave it away, she wouldn't hold any ground. Their school would cut any dishonest claim down and prevent her from harassing him into obedience! She had to hold onto that damn fault at all costs.

"Here you go, sir," she said without a hint of sarcasm. That small part of her whined and cried out in despair as she stared at him in anticipation of another command. Obedience was a new experience. Following someone's commands and doing so without snark or bite... She would stab herself in the throat before she admitted it but it felt good. Or rather, it felt to obey Jaune...

She watched him delete any evidence she had on him. Then he tossed a phone back to her, "Now you may leave."

She didn't want to. She couldn't do it!

"T-Teach... Sir, please, let me stay," she got down on the floor. Without taking her eyes off his face, she crawled up to him, making sure to sway her hips as seductively as possible. Jaune appeared unimpressed, which made getting his praise all the more important to her. "I am really sorry about earlier... Please, let me just show you how sorry I am! Okay? Please?"

At this point, she was pressing her face against his hardened cock, intoxicated by the smell alone. She salivated, drool dripping down from her mouth as she fought the urge to just swallow it all in and skullfuck herself on that meat ro of his. But she would wait. She had to wait if only to prove she could be good for him. So she whined and cried and begged and humiliated herself, all but humping his leg at this point.

"I think I finally figured you out," Jaune smirked as he cupped her face in his hand. His grin was wolfish, the kind of grin a predator had before playing with its prey. He pushed her on her back, hand roughly pressed against her swollen cunt. "For all your talk, you are just a masochistic pig, aren't you? Is that the reason why you talked shit to me? To try and push me? Well, mission accomplished!"

Without a warning, he plunged his fingers inside her, spreading and playing with her insides. She winced and wriggled in her place, suppressing the pathetic whining that was about to emerge from her throat. SHe was amazed by how easily he could bring her to the brink of orgasm. How little effort he took when it came to bringing her under his control.

Maybe he was right? What if she was just wishing for someone like him to come along and take control of her, To make her obey...

"Ah, no cumming yet, Vernal," Jaune chided as he squeezed her breast. "You are not going to cum without my permission. Not if you want me to eve fuck that needy little cunt of yours ever again."

She obeyed and fell silent, trying to focus on not cumming. She held on for the good five minutes before she was close to breaking into tears. As if to mock her unberably growing arousal, his cock stood tall, hard and fat, the precum leaking and dropping inches away from her mouth. She tried to lick some of it up but a harsh slap conveyed a silent rule against doing so.

And so she laid, Jaune playing around with her body like his personal toy, as his precum kept teasingly dropping on and dripping down her face. It wasn't long before her mind was rotting away, ripped into shreds as she focused solely not cumming her brains out. Not until she got fucked by Jaune. But the longer she held onto this orgasm, the harder it became to not lose it and go insane.

But she could wait only for so long before she was reduced to a sobbing mess.

"S-Sir," she looked at him up with tears in her eyes, body trembling in the need for release. She had to cum. She wanted to cum now! She needed to cum or she would go crazy! "Please, just let me cum! I am begging you, please, let me cum just this once! I swear to God, I will be your good little girl if you let me, please!"

And she meant it. Every goddamn fucking word. If only he let her cum, she would do whatever the fuck he wanted. She would be a good students and a good little fucktoy. Whatever he wanted, whatever he needed, she would give him all that he asked of her. Just one little orgasm. Just one chance to cum, that's all that she was asking for.

"Very well," Jaune finally chuckled as he kneeled before her. Without much care, he spread and pressed her legs down. She was shaking with excitement, barely keeping herself from cumming there and then. It became much harder the moment she felt his tip brush against her swollen leaking pussy. "Make sure not to cum right away though. Otherwise, I might throw you away,"

And he meant it, she knew that. With a cock like his, Jaune could have any slut at his beck and call. And, as much as she hated to admit, no guy would pick one girl over the whole damn school of hot bitches. But she wouldn't give up on him that easily. She was first and she had the right to his cock. To hell with whatever shit others would throw his way, she had to make sure Jaune saw her as his number one.

"Nghh!" she grunted as Jaune drove his cock inside her. Inch by inch, he took his sweet time in penetrating her already sensitive pussy. All in another show of dominance and control over her. To remind her how easy it was for him to drive her to the edge and keep her there. "Ah... Ah... Sir, please... Hurry up and fuck me, please! I don't think I can hold on any longer!"

"Is that so?" he asked, twisting her nipple between his fingers. He pulled and squeezed it, enjoying her pathetic moaning. He was grinning as he listened to her incoherent cock-drunk pleadings. "Then why should I keep you around, huh? If you can't handle that much, then shouldn't I look for someone who can? What good are you if you can't even satisfy me properly, you little whore?"

Vernal groaned and moaned as he slowly fucked her. Torturously slow, he drove his cock in and out of her slopping cunt. She bit her lips as with each slow thrust, Jaune was reaching and piercing all the way right to her womb. And with each one of those thrusts, he was breaking her already vulnerable psyche even further, feeding her addiction to his cock.

"Do you love it, Vernal? God, you are so tight, did you want my cock that much?" she refused to answer, all too lose in the pleasure. Her brain was melting as she tried to drink in every single bit of the experience. She cried out as Jaune pulled her up by the hair till she was facing him. "Hey, answer when I am speaking to you. Or do you have nothing but cocks on your mind?"

"Cock..." Vernal moaned desperately. "Faster... Please. faster... Fuck me with your cock faster... Faster and harder... Please!"

Vernal care little for how she sounded at this point. She didn't care if Jaune fucked her senseless or treated her like a walking fucktoy. As long as she got fucked by him without mercy and care, she could live with that. And it seemed that her pathetic whining got the desired result for the next moment Jaune slammed all the way inside her. She felt the breath ripped out of her as he pulled her closer to his chest.

"Yes! Just like that, sir!" she cheered as Jaune rose to his feet, his cock lodged deep in her crammed pussy. In any other situation, she would be eager to take the inititiative, but with Jaune, Vernal found herself the happiest when she gave up on any semblance of control. "Please, teach me a lesson in obedience! Fuck the proper discipline into this useless little brat! Hyaaaa!"

Vernal cried out as Jaune's palm swiftly landed on her ass. She yelped in surprise as the teach continued to fondle her toned ass, painfully squeezing it until she was moaning in sweet pain. Then, without as much as a warning, he proceeded to rain down merciless spanking on her now much more sensitive ass. That only drove so much closer to the orgasm she was despertely holding back. And now she felt she could no longer restrain herself.

"S-Sir, please! Wanna cum! Let me cum!" She felt his cock swell and twitch inside of her. She could tell he was close. A warm feeling swelled in her heart at the thought of cumming together. "Please, let's cum together, sir! I wanna cum with you! Please, please, please!"

"Let's do this," Jaune whispered into her ear as he slammed his cock inside all the way through. "Better not spill a drop!"

Her back pressed against the wall, Vernal felt Jaune erupt inside of her, his hot thick semen filling up her womb. Her head was spinning now, she drunkenly reached for Jaune's mouth with her own. She had no strength to beg now, having screamed her lungs out by now. She was only lucky that the teacher was all too accepting of her, locking lips and tongue with her.

His cock still inside her, their mouth still locked in passionate makeout session, the two went to Jaune's bedroom. They exchanged hot hungry kisses as they laid on his bed. Vernal reluctantly let go of her teacher's mouth. She didn't wish to lose that warmth but she was so hungry for some semen in her mouth she couldn't wait anymore. Carefully, she cralwed back till she was in front of his flaccid cock.

Even soft, it was still too big to fit inside her mouth. But as long as Jaune was satisfied, she would happily conquer this challenge. And so with, eyes locked on Jaune's expression. Her heart grew warmer when she saw a smile. It soared even higher when he rested his hand on her head, like an owner would praise his pet for following commands properly.

"You are hard again, sir" she mewled, taking a long lick up his shaft. Sweaty and bitter, tasting of the mixture of her own pussy juices and his semen, the flavor was all too strong to resist. "Just how long can you go on for?"

"Wouldn't you like to find out?"

Oh, how she would. It took her a gargantuan effort to open her mouth wide enough to fit the thing inside. It took even more time and effort to force the cock down her throat. It hurt and scratched the insides but with each pang of pain she was growing wetter and hornier. By the time she managed to swallow his cock, she felt dizzy and was about ready to pass out.

But Vernal was nothing if not stubborn. So she pushed through the pain and exhaustion and willed herself to start deepthroating him. She started slow, Jaune gave her all the time she needed to get used to it. Not that she planned to take too long. Eyes still locked on Jaune's face, she started moving her head faster, tightening her throat around his cock even further.

She didn't care for pain and discomfort as her mind focused solely on the small but honest smile on Jaune's face. Obeying him... Pleasuring him... It felt so much better than when she was trying to bring him under her command. Her heart swelled when his hands rested on her head... and froze as she was pushed all the way down on his cock. Her vision blurred and mind swam as Jaune started dragging her mouth up and down his thick girthy cock, treating her as nothing more than a hole to fuck.

And by Gods, wasn't it the hottest thing ever!

"You and the rest of the girls... Teasing and pushing me the whole day, you came here just to get fucked into a mess, didn't you, Vernal?" he lifted her up, holding her mouth inches away from his swollen head. "Admit it!"

"Yes, sir!" she cried out, eyes frantic and hungry for more. More pain. More pleasure. More humiliation and disciplining. "I really needed to be put in my place, sir! Thank you for fucking me, sir!"

More rough and heated skullfucking followed, her mouth stretched and jaw practically unhinged in a desperate attempt to accomodate his cock. She was running short on air and her nostrils flared in undignified pursuit of oxygen. Jaune chuckled as he lodged himself all the way in her throat, his cock throbbing and pulsating in a warning of upcoming release.

"Gagkhnhhh!" Vernal choked and gagged, the violent burst of semen flooding her throat. The hot sticky thick goo cascaded down her throat, burning down and away any and all memories of other tastes. Food or drinks, no mater how delectable and rare, vanished from her mind as Jaune's semen took the main place as her favorite flavor for everything. "Ahhh..."

As Jaune pulled out of her mouth, Vernal started frantically licking around her lips, desperate not to waste a single drop of his delicious cum. As she did so, her eyes wandered off and landed on the mirror in the room. In its reflection, the girl that defied any and all authority was nowhere to be found. In her place, naked and sweaty and covered in drops of cum, was a woman living for the pleasure of her man. Broken, degraded and des[erate for more humiliation and abuse at the hands of the man holding her head.

And she loved every single thing about that woman.

The makeup smeared all over face. Her hair, disheveled and covered in sweat and cum. The shameless expression on her face, mouth wide open with the tongue out. And the eyes that spoke of nothing but pleasure found in obedience.

"Hey, don't space out, slut."

Jaune gave her a scornful playful look before throwing her down. She whined in desperation, fearful of being denied another good dicking. Not a case, she caught on quickly, as Jaune pressed her into the mattress, head down and ass up in the air. He pressed his thumb against her puckered asshole, roughly massaging the growingly sensitive spot. Was he going to- Oh Gods!

"Oh, so you were a virgin down here, huh," Jaune chuckled as he no doubt watched the blood trickle down her legs. "I thought a slut like you would have fucked in the ass a ton of times by now."

The verbal abuse shook het to the core, the desire to agree and degrade herself with words rising to the top but failing to be voiced. Vernal was unable to answer, her mind abuzz with all the sensations her body was going through. The mere pulsations and heat from Jaune's cock spread through her entire being like the wildfire, scorching her already burning flesh even more. Shaking and twitching, barely holding onto whatever remained of her brain, Vernal turned to Jaune and whimpered pathetically, "P-Please, sir... B-Be gentle, please!"

Jaune smiled at her. A false reassurance since the next second he tore through her without mercy, care or pity. Vernal let out a shriek, mind going blank as her body spasmed and shook with the violent squirting. Orgasms rocked and shook her body as she desperately and unsuccessfully tried to stop herself from cumming like a faucet. The seemingly endless squirting didn't stop or even slow Jaune down as he mercilessly thrusted into her at the pace one could only call mindblowing.

He was going to fuck her brains out. He was fucking her brains out already! Her pussy and womb were by now shaped solely for him, addicted to the pain and the feeling of him inside of her too much to ever be satisfied by anyone else. Her breasts and ass burnt whenever his hands were no longer squuezing or spanking them, so needy for his rough and rude treatment. And as for her heart and soul?

She had given up on them the moment she tasted his cock.

Now she was only embracing it.

"Beg to cum, Vernal!" Jaune ordered her, his hot breath scorching her neck. "Beg for it like a apthetic little whore you are!"

And she was happy to obey.

"Please, sir, please cum inside me! Mark me as your little pet! Please, I want your cum inside me!" she mewled and cried, thrusting against his cock, trying to get him as deep inside as she could. "I am your whore! Your pet! Your cum-addicted student! So please, sir, mark me as your own forever!"

Jaune kept thrusting but gave her no permission.

"Please! I will be good! I will be whatever you want, sir!" she grew desperate, feeling her own orgasm build up to the breaking point. "I will be your little fuck slave until the rest of my days! I will be your obeident little student if you want! I will be the best cock whore you could wish for, just please let me cuUUUUM!"

Jaune came with a final grunt, marking her asshole as his with his hot semen. With this, all three of her holes now belonged to him. Vernal let out one final moan as she collapsed onto his bed, the cum oozing out of her abused asshole. Her eyes wandered off to Jaune and saw that he was fast asleep. Perhaps that little medicine she used made him overexert himself? Not that it mattered, really.

Crawling over to him, Vernal laid by his side. Jaune showed her that he was the dominant one. And, with all the pleasure she received under him, it wouldn't be anytime soon when she decided to challenge him on that one. But, as submissive as she might have been with him, she remained an Alpha among the girls. And she planned to keep it that way.

"Smile for the camera, sir," Vernal purred as she planted a kiss on his cheek as she snapped a quick picture. Admiring her work, Vernal threw her phone off to the pile of clothes on the floor. Too tired to walk back to the dorm and not very willing to do so anyway, Vernal covered Jaune under the sheets before cuddling next to him. His body was still hot and sweaty from their intense fucking. And she pressed harder against him.

Maybe making it a long-term thing wasn't such a bad idea, after all? Jaune wasn't exactly as rough or confident in his daily life as she would like. But if his actions in bed were any indication, maybe she could bring it out? Yes, that sounded great. It would taker some time and effort, but hey, all things worth something did. He already was a beast in the sheets, now she needed to make sure he showed that outside his bedroom.

And make sure none of the other girls sunk their claws into him.

"Sweet dreams, Jaune."

She knew she was going to have them.

BGW

"I bet you jerk off when thinking of all your female students. You probably imagine them fucking and sucking you till you cover them in your hot thick cum every single fucking night, is that right?"

Neo let out a silent moan as she came for what must have been the tenth time by now. Her skirt and panties were long since discarded, now lying in the puddle of her juices on the floor. She didn't care for the clothes, far too focused on drinking in every moment of what she had just watched. A shame that Vernal got to him first. A real damn shame, if you asked Neo.

She was the one who showed his cock. And, technically, she was the one who saw it first in the class. Hell, if not for her, none of them would know about that bitch breaker he had between his legs. It was her right to break him in first. To make him into her obedient little pet. And for that flat whore to just swoop in and try to steal him? Neo had half a mind to publically punish the bitch.

"Please, teach me a lesson in obedience! Fuck the proper discipline into this useless little brat! Hyaaaa!"

It seemed, however, that the teacher did more than good on that frontier. As much as Neo would love to leash and lead that bitch around campus, watching her try and be a Dom only to get fucked into submission was so much more satisfying. The poor little Vernal who thought herself Alpha Bitch bit off more than she could chew, that's for sure.

"I am your whore! Your pet! Your cum-addicted student! So please, sir, mark me as your own forever!"

And now Neo had just the kind of blackmail to bring that bitch under her heel.

With that kind of leverage, she could have both Vernal and Jaune as her personal little toys. Oh, how exciting it would be. She had no doubt that, with her experience, breaking Jaune down would be a piece of cake. And she would hae Vernal watch it all. Hell, that Wennbar whore would be lucky if Neo ever let her be fucked by a dildo again. For all those times they butted heads together, Neo would reduce Vernal into the lowest of the low, her own bottom bitch who'd do whatever she was told.

Yes... That sounded just nice.

"I really don't like the look on your face. Thinking of doing it all by yourself, again?"

Neo huffed and pouted, throwing an annoyed glance towards the other two in the room. Or rather, the only one of those two whose voice mattered.

"Bite me, Fall," Neo snapped, masturbating even more furiously to the sound of Vernal's pathetic whining and begging. "If you don't like it, then you should leave me alone."

The raven-haired teacher smiled, though her eyes promised her harm if she spoke like that again today. No matter, she knew she could take her in a fight if necessary. "You sure are talkative today, aren't you? Do I need to remind you who set up those cameras in his apartment so that you could rub your brains out like a needy little whore?"

"The slut eating you out like it's her last meal?" Neo raised an eyebrow, pointing at the mocha-skinned kleptomaniac. Emerald didn't pay any mind though, too absorbed in eating out her owner and mistress. Like a starved dog, she was lapping up Cinder's juices, her tongue exploring every inch of the woman's folds. "She is so pathetic I can't even watch it."

"Is that so?" Cinder smirked before snapping her delicate fingers. Like she was burnt, Emerald rose to her feet, showing off her naked body. Neo would lie if she said Emerald didn't have a nice body. She wasn't thing like Cinder or muscular and toned like Arslan, but she wasn't unattractive either. She had fat in the right places, just enough to squeeze and pull and play with. "Emerald, bring me some of the toys. I am feeling playful right now."

The girl obeyed, eagerly nodding. Not even a minute or two after, she presented Cinder with thick black strap-on and a whip. Her favorite combination, no doubt. Neo was about to get back watching Jaune fuck Vernal into submission when she got hit with a strap-on of her own, bright pink and as big as Cinder's. Emerald looked at Neo, fearful and worried. Like a puppy lost, she was so afraid of bigger dogs.

As she should have been.

Turning up the volume of the video, Neo pushed Emerald onto the floor, pressing her head down with her foot. She could see the mocha bitch leak down there in shame and humiliation she loved so much. She tried to hide her face from Neo, but the fake silent girl knew how much she was enjoying it. What a masochistic pig!

"Aaaargh!" Emerald cried out as Neo started violently slamming her hips against her ass, pushing the plastic cock all the way down there. Emerald was shaking violently, obviously resisting the orgasm in something stupid show of loyalty to her mistress. Good, she wanted to beat that orgasm out of her anyway. "Cinder! Mistress, please make her stop! It hurts! It hurts! It hurtsssss!"

She came, squiting all over the place. Eyes rolled back and face melted in an absolutely stupid expression, she kept pathetically calling for Cinder to forgive her. Her legs trembled and shook before she orgasmed again. And again and again, obviously messed up from all the weeks of denial Cinder put her through to train her into a fully-obedient little slut.

"So what was this about?" Neo asked as she kicked Emerald in her still drenched twat, making the little piggy masochist squeal and moan before cumming again. "Trying to get me under you?"

"Not quite," Cinder smiled as she walked up to Neo. Emerald, smelling the aroma of her Mitress' dripping cunt, stumbled and crawled up to her. On her knees, hands out like dog's paws and tongue out, Emerald was whining for attention. For the chance to earn forgiveness of her Mitress. Not that said Mistress cared one bit. "That was a demonstration of what you could get with me on your side. Did you enjoy fucking my little pet here like that? Or maybe you enjoyed watching her serve me every whim and command?"

Neo said nothing. Both were quite hot indeed. She often imagined Cinder just as broken and pathetic, with herself in the role of the Mistress.

"I have the means to make sure Vernal and the others will be like that. All I need of you is to work for me. You do as you are told, and trust me, in a couple of weeks, Vernal will be at your beck and call, ready to humiliate and degrade herself for your amusement."

The images of that scenario started popping in her mind. Neo could imagine the school life with herself in charge. Making the girls in the entire class walk around the school with fist-sized dildos up their asses and cunts. Pathetic little whores like Vernal and Ciel and Coco being reduced to sobbing messes as she kept them denied for weeks or even months. How those older bitches would step over each other in a desperate attempt to win her favor.

She would the Alpha Bitch of the school, the top of the fucking food chain. And with that kind of power, it would be also natural to bring some of her influence later in her life once she graduated. As for Cinder... She knew that the Deputy Headmistress was always looking out for her own interests. And she would discard her if the opportunity presented itself.

But if Neo managed to grab control over Jaune... She could imagine Cinder, broken and pathetic, smiling like an idiot as she was being fucked into submission by her blonde hunk. Yes... She could totally pull that one off.

"In that case," she smiled and extended her hand, stepping on Emerald's fat ass in the process of walking to the teacher. "You got yourself a partner, Cinder."

And soon an owner and mistress.

"Let's get to work then."

#rwby #rwby fanfiction #Jaune Arc #Vernal #jaune x vernal #rogue knight #commission #Bad Gone Worse au

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