#but the truth is i have to hand in my assignment in 5 hours and I haven't even started

[liviusofpella]

all the stars in the sky and he would still look at her

tyril x reyna inspo board

#youd think i have so much free time if i do stuff like this #but the truth is i have to hand in my assignment in 5 hours and I haven't even started #tyril > assignment tho #NO RAGRETS #tyril starfury #tyril x mc #blades of light and shadow #blades of light and shadow 2 #choices blades #choices bolas #playchoices #choices book club

[snowfll]

Miss Me; Coriolanus Snow

pairing - young!Coriolanus Snow x capitol!reader summary - Coriolanus is too busy making his way up in the Capitol to spend time with you. All you want is for him to miss you, like you miss him. words - 2.71k warning - coriolanus snow! note - I really wanted to make this a lot longer than it is, but I already rewrote it 5 different times and wasn't getting very far. I have a hard time when it comes to writing snow so I hope you like it! Oh! i changed my theme, but kept the same username! my other fics in the work should be out soon! until then, stay safe, ily 🦋

“Could you miss me for a moment?” You shouted at the man standing before you. “I’m constantly making time for you, Coryo. How is it that you are always late?”

“I have so much to do and so little time; this is my life now.” He responded, explaining the perpetual busyness that seemed to keep him at a distance.

Upon his return to the Capitol, a palpable shift occurred in the dynamics between you and the once-familiar boy—who now asserted himself as a man. However, the shifting dynamics of your relationship had been set in motion long before Coryo’s reinstitution in the Capitol.

As he embarked on his assignments in District Twelve, you remained a constant presence in his life through the written words that bridged the physical distance. Each week, your letters became a lifeline, painting vivid pictures of the life he missed and offering him a connection to the world he left behind.

In an unforeseen twist, he penned a final letter, a bittersweet gesture granting you the freedom to explore other connections during his prolonged absence. However, despite the newfound freedom, you found yourself tethered to the belief that Coryo was irreplaceable.

The connection you shared, woven through shared memories and the emotional landscape of your history, seemed to defy the notion of easy replacements. Even with his permission to explore others, the gravity of his absence and the unique bond you shared lingered, creating a complex tapestry of emotions.

Your prayers echoed with the fervent desire for the day Coryo would return, a day when everything would seamlessly revert to the way it once was. In the sanctity of your hopes, you envisioned the revival of late-night dates that stretched into the early hours, the days where you stood by his side, and the warmth of shared dinners with his family.

However, as the day of his return finally arrived, the reality that unfolded in the streets of the Capitol shattered those hopeful expectations. The person you longed for, the one you envisioned in your mind, stood before you, yet the familiarity that once defined your connection seemed elusive.

At that moment, the Capitol streets became a metaphorical crossroads, and the realization struck that the journey ahead might not seamlessly align with the nostalgic dreams of the past. Rather than confronting Coryo directly in the bustling streets of the Capitol, you chose a different path.

Walking right past him, you could sense his gaze lingering on you, and a subtle double-take betrayed his surprise at your unanticipated move. The decision to withhold direct acknowledgment was a silent rebellion against the expectations you had harbored, a momentary attempt to regain control over the emotions that had surged within you.

As you made your way to work, the weight of confusion and hurt accompanied each step. Seeking solace, you confided in a friend, sharing the unexpected encounter with Coryo. To your dismay, your friend revealed a disheartening truth—Coryo had been home for almost a month, a fact that had been hidden from you.

With the day unfolding with a semblance of normalcy, the echoes of the unexpected encounter with Coryo reverberated within you. However, the evening brought a sudden twist as a knock echoed through your apartment. Opening it revealed Coryo standing there, a bouquet of flowers in hand.

Once you let Coryo into your apartment, he extended the bouquet toward you, a silent offering to bridge the emotional gap that had widened during his prolonged absence. His voice carried a mix of surprise and regret as he confessed, “Hey... I, uh, didn’t expect you to just walk past me earlier. I’ve been back for a while, and I didn’t mean to keep it from you.”

You met his gaze, your eyes reflecting a sense of hurt and frustration. “It was more than that. I've been writing to you, waiting for your return. And today, when I saw you, it felt like all those moments were forgotten.”

Coryo’s expression softened, remorse evident in his eyes. “I never forgot, not for a second. I’ve been back for weeks, and I got caught up in trying to make things better for us. Time slipped away, and I messed up.”

The weight of your emotions hung in the air as you processed his words. “I wish I wasn’t so forgettable.”

“You’re not forgettable. You are the reason I’m doing all of this.” Coryo assured, his sincerity cutting through the tension. “I brought these flowers as a small way of saying sorry.”

Examining the bouquet in your hands, you acknowledged its beauty. “They’re beautiful, Coryo. But they aren’t enough—I need you to make an effort to be present, to not let us slip through the cracks.”

He nodded in understanding, a determination settling in his gaze. “I promise, from now on, I’ll be here. I want us to navigate the Capitol together—like we planned.”

His pledge to be present echoed in the air, creating a tentative bridge between past grievances and the possibility of a renewed connection. Despite the lingering doubts, a small glimmer of hope emerged as you decided to grant Coryo a chance to prove himself. The journey toward rebuilding trust required both vulnerability and resilience, and you were willing to tread cautiously along this tentative path.

“I know you’re busy, but you promised you would be here.”

The weight of the argument lingered in the air as you sat on the couch, the room heavy with the echoes of the heated exchange that had lasted through the night. The tension between you and Coriolanus had reached a breaking point, leaving the aftermath evident in the room. You found yourself pleading with him, exhausted and disappointed at the fact you were going over it again.

The promise he made on the day he came back had been broken long before this argument. The repetitiveness of these arguments weighed heavily on your shoulders, each broken promise creating a rift that seemed harder to mend. The one vibrant connection you shared during your academy days had unraveled, replaced by a stark reality that left you yearning for the Coryo from before the Hunger Games.

The argument slowly died down, leaving a heavy silence in its wake. Coryo, in a moment of reconciliation, made another promise—one he claimed he wouldn’t break. In that fragile moment, exhaustion blurred with a glimmer of hope, and you found yourself, once again, believing in the possibility of change.

Foolishly, you allowed yourself to be swept up in the promise, despite the history of unfulfilled commitments. The room held a fragile peace, but the unspoken tension lingered, creating an undercurrent of uncertainty. As you navigated the aftermath of the argument, the promise hung in the air, a delicate thread that would either mend the frayed edges of your relationship or further deepen the wounds of disappointment.

The familiar frustration bubbled up, and the echo of broken promises rang in your ears. It seemed the pledge to be present was just another fleeting promise. As you read the note, a sinking feeling set in, overshadowing the warmth of the anniversary you had envisioned.

The realization hit hard—perhaps your one mistake was believing in Coryo’s ability to change. The echoes of past letdowns resonated, casting doubt on the sincerity of his promises. The bond you had hoped to celebrate on this anniversary seemed to fray at the edges.

The anticipation had been building all day as you prepared for the first anniversary of the rekindling of your relationship with Coryo. Determined to make it special, you embarked on a shopping adventure to gather the finest ingredients for the celebratory dinner you had planned.

As you roamed the aisles, selecting the items with care and excitement, thoughts of the evening ahead filled you with warmth. The memories of the past year, the struggles you both overcame, and the promise of a shared future fueled your enthusiasm for the night you had envisioned.

The disappointment settled in as you returned home, groceries in hand, to find Coryo absent once again. The carefully planned evening to celebrate slipped through your fingers, replaced by a note explaining his absence due to an important candidate meeting for the upcoming election.

As the evening unfolded in solitude, the flickering candlelight highlighted the void left by Coryo’s absence. The apartment, once a haven of shared moments, now felt like an empty shell. The Capitol streets, once envisioned as a path to navigate together, seemed like a lonely stretch.

Laying on your couch, a familiar place of solace, exhaustion had finally taken its toll, lulling you into a restless sleep. As you drifted into slumber, the anticipation of Coryo’s return lingered in the air, a silent hope that he would fulfill the promise he made after the intense argument.

In the quiet of the night, the creaking of the door announced Coryo’s return. He entered cautiously, the weight of the broken promises etched on his face as he saw you peacefully asleep on the couch. The soft glow of the dimly lit room highlighted the tired lines on his face.

As he stood there, a debate waged within him—whether to gently wake you up and guide you to bed or to let you rest on the couch. He pondered over the fragile state of your relationship, unsure of the right course of action. The roses he held in his hand seemed to carry the weight of unspoken apologies, a peace offering to bridge the gap that had widened between you.

Eventually, Coryo decided to wake you up, his voice a gentle whisper in the stillness of the room. “Hey, wake up,” he said, holding the roses out in an attempt to mend the strained connection between you.

Your eyes fluttered open, the dim room coming into focus as you saw Coryo standing there with the roses. Confusion briefly clouded your waking moments, but as the events of the night flooded back, a surge of frustration and disappointment overcame you.

“Where have you been, Coriolanus?” You screamed at him, frustration and anger punctuating each word as you sat up from your position on the couch.

Coryo was taken aback, not by the intensity of your anger but by the fact you called him ‘Coriolanus’. In all the years you had known each other, not once had you addressed him by his first name. From the day the two of you met, it had always been ‘Coryo’—a name that held the echoes of your shared history and the intimacy of a connection that had weathered the storms of time.

In a mix of exhaustion and raw emotion, you went off on him, unleashing a torrent of words that had bottled up during the hours of waiting. The importance of the date, the broken promises, and the repetitive cycle of disappointment fueled your outburst.

Coryo stammered in response to your outburst, his eyes reflecting a mix of surprise and mild panic. “I was busy with a meeting; I thought I wrote a note?” he offered, the uncertainty in his voice betraying the realization that he might have overlooked a crucial detail in communicating his whereabouts.

“Oh, I saw the note, but really? On our anniversary, you just had to be busy on our special day.” The words tumbled out of your mouth, a mix of disappointment and frustration lacing each syllable. The weight of the occasion and the significance of your anniversary seemed to amplify the impact of Coryo’s absence and lack of a more personal gesture.

Coryo, faced with your pointed words, could only offer a remorseful expression, realizing the gravity of the situation. The note, which might have been intended as an explanation, now felt insufficient in the face of the emotional void left by his absence on such a meaningful day.

“I understand that you are busy, but don’t you see that it leaves me busy being hurt?” You continued, the vulnerability in your voice cutting through the air. Your breathing patterns became a palpable rhythm, the heaviness of your breaths echoing the weight on your chest.

The room, once a space of shared moments and comfort, seemed to be closing in on you. The familiar surroundings that had provided solace now felt suffocating, the air thick with unresolved tension. The weight of disappointment and hurt seemed to manifest physically, making it harder to breathe.

Everything was spinning as the reality of the moment sank in. The couch, once a haven, now felt like a confined space where the complexities of your relationship played out. The emotional storm unleashed by the missed anniversary swirled around you, leaving you breathless and disoriented.

“Hey,” his voice softened, a gentle murmur cutting through the emotional storm. “Take a second and breathe; smell the rose.” Coryo’s tender words carried a soothing tone, and he pushed the bouquet of roses closer to your nose, an offering of fragrant calmness amid the turmoil.

“Why don’t you understand, Coryo? It’s the time, not the flowers, that I want.” Your voice carried the weight of unmet expectations and the longing for meaningful connection. The bouquet of roses, though a well-intentioned gesture, seemed inadequate in the face of the emotional void left by his absence on your anniversary.

Coriolanus tried to make another promise, his voice tinged with remorse and desperation: “I swear, I’ll make time in my day for you; I’ll change, I promise.”

But you, weary from the cycle of broken promises, couldn’t bring yourself to accept it this time. The weight of disappointment had become too much to bear. “No more promises, Coryo. I can’t keep going through this. It’s not just about time; it’s about trust, and that has been broken too many times.”

A breaking point had been reached, and you couldn’t endure the hurt any longer. In a surge of frustration and anger, you yelled at him to get out of your apartment, the words hanging heavily in the air like a verdict on the fate of your relationship. The once-familiar space now felt charged with the culmination of unresolved emotions, the walls echoing with the impact of your declaration.

He hesitated, unwilling to accept the finality of your words. “Please, just give me one more chance. I’ll prove it to you,” Coryo pleaded, his desperation laid bare.

As he lingered, you raised your voice, the intensity of your anger escalating to the point where it scared him. “I can’t keep living like this! I’ve given you chances, and each time, it’s the same story. I need more than promises; I need actions.”

Coriolanus, realizing the gravity of the situation, began to fumble for words. “I love you, and I don’t want to lose you,” he admitted, his vulnerability evident on his face.

In a desperate attempt to salvage the situation, he refused to leave. “We can work through this; we always do,” he insisted, his voice tinged with a mix of hope and desperation.

But faced with your escalating emotions, he felt a growing unease. “I just need some time to think,” you asserted, the strain in your voice clear.

That’s when you dropped a bomb, threatening to reveal the truth about his actions, potentially ruining his chances of becoming president. The weight of the threat hit its mark, and a momentary panic set in. “You can’t do that. It’s not just about us; it’s about my career, about everything I’ve worked for,” Coryo protested, his anxiety palpable.

Coriolanus, realizing the potential consequences, turned to leave. However, as he retreated, a chilling declaration escaped his lips, “This isn’t over. You are mine and always will be.” The ominous words lingered in the air, leaving a sense of foreboding and uncertainty in their wake. The door closed behind him, the once-shared space now a silent witness to the shattered fragments of a relationship that seemed irreparable.

#coriolanus snow x fem!reader #coriolanus snow fanfiction #tbosas #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #coriolanus snow #tom blyth #coriolanus snow x reader #coriolanus x you #coriolanus x reader #the hunger games #coriolanus snow imagine #angst #coriolanus x y/n

[nosesitter]

Boss!Joel Miller

3.3k words

boss!joel you’re out on the town, looking slutty, 6 vodka crans in, your tits are practically out, walking all sloppy, talking very loud and who do you run into? Your very hot boss Joel who’s only ever seen you in business attire.

a/n: I think I have a thing for having sex in trucks this is second time I’ve written about that. I love some mean Joel love me some mean men that I can make cum and then they start acting right. Going to be writing part 3 of helpful Joel miller just need to think some more. Pls interact, reblog, comment and tell me what you think I love feedback!!

⚠️: mean!joel, name calling(baby,slut,whore), reader is drunk as a skunk, alcohol consumption, public semi voyeur, p in v, spanking with a belt!!, choking, finger sucking, sex in a truck, Joel has a truck that has those blinding headlights, thick dick Joel, SMALL cum play, m!receiving oral, swallowing cum

As the seconds slowly count down to 4 o’clock you’re sitting at your desk thinking about how you’re going to lie to your boss so you can leave work early, it’s your friends birthday and you just want to go home get ready and pregame. It’s not a problem for you to lie, but to Joel? Nah, something about your boss makes it extremely hard, seeing him just makes you want to tell the truth, get on your knees and beg for his forgiveness. Your boss, Joel Miller, is extremely attractive, always wearing the tightest button down shirts to show off his broad shoulders and sculpted muscles in his arms. It’s very contradicting whenever you walk into his office and he’s just man spreading, yelling questions about the assignments he’s given you. Slacks bunching around his thighs you just wanna lay over his lap and have him spank you until your skin is blistering red, begging him to stop.

As you’re sitting there, 5 minutes into the new hour, trying to think of lies and finishing up the latest project that Mr. Miller has given you your office phone rings without having to look at the caller ID you know it’s your boss. “Yes sir?”

“Come into my office we have to talk about your recent turn in.” The last assignment you’ve turned into him was about 30 pages long and contained all his business contacts organized by the most recent ones he’s worked with. You tried to organize it more better but Joel was on vacation so you used your best judgement with handling it but sounds like it was wrong.

As you walk to his office you stop by a big glass window. You can see your reflection and take this time to straighten yourself out. A lot of the other ladies in the department you worked in wore very low cut blouses and tight pencil skirts. You just wear an all black blouse, slacks, and cardigan. He has made comments about the way you dress, especially here in Texas he almost expected you to show skin around the office just like the others but they do that for his attention. You already have his attention unbeknownst to you.

“Just come in!” He bellows out from the other side of the door. You push the door open and there he is sitting behind his desk for a change while a younger looking man stands next to him. “Please take a seat.” He says through gritted teeth, he seems upset. The younger one begins to talk.

“My names Tommy, I’m Joel’s younger brother. We were just going over the assignment I gave Joel last week and looks like it wasn’t done by Joel it was done by you.” Tommy says coming over to sit right next to you. Everyone in the office knows Joel slacks off, but turns out his brother and superior didn’t know about that. Your gaze shifts to the older Mr. Miller and he’s just rolling his eyes at his brothers choice of words.

“It was fantastic! I absolutely loved how you set it up and so did a lot of people higher than me.” He tells you happily causing the anxiety in your stomach to settle and your shoulders to relax as you soak in the compliment from the younger nicer brother. He leans forward and sets his hand on your thigh.

“We’d love to get you up here in your own office, working right alongside Joel and I.” His brother is also very attractive but he doesn’t have that ruggedness and frightening edge like Joel. Tommy’s thumb is rubbing small circles into the side of your thigh. Joel notices this.

“We can get you moved in right now-“ The older one begins talking again but you cut him off. He also notices that.

“My grandma needs me to help get her from the hospital-“ you stand from your seat and try to distance yourself from the angry looking older brother.

“Please go, I’m pretty sure we can get someone to help Joel move your things into the office next door.” Tommy is very nice, handsy, but nice nonetheless. You begin to excuse yourself from the room but not before looking back at Mr. Miller who waves you off angrily from behind his happier younger brother.

——

It’s 9 o’clock by the time you finish getting ready. Knocking out some errands beforehand so you’ve had time to relax before getting absolutely hammered. You’ve decided on some tight black pants and a black lace corset. Definitely a change from your normal clothes but you’re celebrating so you can look slutty for the night.

Grabbing your wallet and phone you head out to the Uber you’ve ordered and head over to the strip of night clubs near your apartment. When you get there you can see all your friends at the first club on the block. With that y’all start the night off.

——

It’s 30 minutes after midnight and half of your friends have gone home. It’s just you, the birthday girl, and her friend. They keep talking about wanting to go home but you’re at that point where you could have another drink but you know it’ll be a bad idea but it sounds so fun.

“I’m going to another club!” You’re slurring your words so drunk you can’t even think about anything else. As you’re stumbling to the next club you hear your name being shouted probably your friends yelling for you. You show the bouncer your ID and once again your name is being called from outside. Ignoring it you head right in and straight to the bar

“Vodka cran!” You yell to the bartender and he goes right to making the drink. As you’re standing there waiting for the drink an arm comes around your waist. You follow the hand to the body and it’s Mr. Joel Miller. You stand there for a moment and just stare at him. He’s wearing a silk shirt the first three buttons undone, gold necklaces sitting so pretty on his neck god damn he looks fucking good. No one breaks eye contact as the bartender puts the drink in front of you along with the bill. Joel sets his debit card right on the counter then leans forward, his beard scratching the side of your cheek, lips right on your ear. It feels wrong but it sends electricity through your body. You’ve been caught by him.

“How’s grandma?” You can hear the condescending tone in his voice. He’s enjoying seeing you act dumbfounded by his appearance here. You grab your drink and just walk past him heading to the patio best believe he’s following behind. Feeling the cold night air hit your face to take a breath and a big sip of your drink to regain the drunk confidence you desperately need to get through this.

“This definitely looks bad and I’m sor-“ He’s not paying attention to anything you’re saying but instead staring you down with intense sexual hunger. All those times he’s yelled and put the fear of god into you for not getting work done faster fades away as he sees your nipples poking from behind the lace of your top.

“You should wear stuff like this at work, I’d be in your new office everyday baby.” His fingers reaching out to touch the lace that’s stuck to your chest. He knows what he’s saying and doing is highly inappropriate and you could definitely get him fired for this but you have to admit the attention sends a lighting bolt of feelings to your core causing you to clench around nothing. You take another big sip of your drink.

“You man spreading while yelling at me is inappropriate, how can you scold me and not expect me to feel turned on seeing you like that.” People walking all around pushing the both of y’all closer together. His right hand moves forward to grab your waist. His touch causing goosebumps to rise of your skin from excitement, brown eyes blown out with lust he can’t keep his eyes off your chest. He takes the nearly drink from your hand and finishes it off, he sets it to the side and leads you closer to the speakers, you can feel the bass in your chest and your tongue in your throat as Joel takes your hand with his big one. The both of you facing each other standing near the back under red flashing lights. He guides your arms around his neck, your fingers tangling in his damp neck hair.

One of his hands searching for your bare skin, the spot between your corset and band of your pants, you feel extremely hot he can definitely feel the heat radiating off your body as his other hand moves down from the strap on your shoulder and over the curve of your fleshy breast poking out of the lace cup. You can feel yourself clench around nothing again the feeling you have in your clit is numbing. You want nothing but his big tanned hand on you rubbing circles while his salt and pepper beard scratches your neck.

The music is so loud it’s deafening only focusing on each others wondering hands. A bold feeling probably from the alcohol comes hurling up from you, causing you to pull yourself into Joel’s lips. There’s no hesitation from Joel whatsoever he welcomes your cranberry stained lips and vodka flavored tongue into his mouth. Both his hands sneak into the band of your pants and over the curve of your ass brushing past your thong his hands so greedy for skin to skin contact he just wants to bruise your skin, hot flesh spilling through the gaps in his fingers as he kneads your ass. Pressing yourself onto him you can feel his erection stop against your zipper. He feels extremely thick you couldn’t imagine him inside of you.

You break away from his mouth and attach your lips to his neck, salty from sweat you couldn’t care less. You can feel the vibrations in his neck from him groaning, it makes you excited and you immediately want to hear more. Grabbing his hand again you head to the exit door that leads out into an alley. The cold air hits your skin and you catch your breath but not for long as Joel pulls you out the alley and down the street into a parking garage.

He skips the elevator and pushes the emergency stairs door open and leans back against it to stop anyone else from opening it. Joel’s hands go straight for his belt pulling the buckle off then pulls the whole thing out from the loops with one forceful pull.

“Pull your pants down and put your hands on the rail.” There’s no doubt you’re wet. You can feel yourself spill over the small surface of your thong and onto your thighs it’s all too much and he hasn’t even began to touch you fully. You comply without a second thought pulling your pants down under your thighs. Joel hissed at the sight before him he leans forward from the door and walks closer to pull at the top of your thong causing the strap to snap back onto you. His hand coming down and grabbing your ass, jiggling the skin with the contact. He had you so relaxed with his touch that you almost forgot about the belt in his hand. Until he spanked you with it. The sound of leather on skin makes an echo all through the stairwell. A soundless scream leaving your lips it brings you back to reality. Brings you back to your dick boss with his hands on you leaving welts on your skin in a public place.

“I’d rather have you over my lap but that can wait till next time, sweetheart.” He grabs your pants and pulls them back up for you then motions for you to start walking. As you walk out of the stairwell and into the more public eye Joel digs in his pocket for his key and points it at his truck. The bright lights come on causing to to turn your head and shield your eyes. Before you can touch the door handle Joel sneaks up behind you and wraps his arms around your neck turning the both of y’all around.

“Let’s not waste any time, get in the backseat with me baby.” He pulls you back onto him and his hard cock then opens the back passenger door no one can see what you’re doing but they can definitely see the pairs of feet standing over each other under the door. His right hand going to your neck making your head fall back onto his shoulder. Left hand is heading for your screaming core. Your clit begging for his rough fingers to rub circles into it.

“Fucking slut, look a’cha dripping for me?” He’s so damn cocky, having you in a position like this and still being so mean. His middle finger moving from your clit to dip down and gather more of your wetness. He growls into your neck as his two middle fingers push into you causing you to moan out and clench around him. Joel moves his hand from your neck to your lips shoving his middle finger into your mouth making you suck it. Tongue swinging around the digit. His two fingers curving up into the squishy part of you, so much stimulation at one time you squeeze your thighs together feeling his hand squish in between them.

Both of his hands rip away from your body and push you up into his backseat, your body falls backward onto the seat he uses this to take your pants off tossing them behind you and then climbing into the truck. He slams the door and squeezes past you his hands going quick for his zipper. As you’re sitting up you look at his cock that he’s pulled out already, so girthy, looking at it sobers you up a little. His head leaned back against the seat, eyes hooded as his hand strokes himself. Pulling his hand away he opens the palm and spits right into it not breaking eye contact with you.

“C’mon baby, hop on.” He looks intoxicating like this, so desperate looking begging for you to be wrapped around him. Swinging your leg over his lap and lowering over him he holds himself steady as you sink onto him. You look at his face as you lower but he’s looking at your hungry cunt stretch over him making his cock disappear into you. Your clit makes contact with the patch of black and gray pubic hair and it makes your sensitive clit tingle. You can hear his legs unstick from the leathery seats as he lowers down to hammer into you. Bracing for the beating your pussy is about to get you grab his shoulder and the handle above the door.

“Princess too good to bounce on my cock, havin’ me do all the work.” His accent so thick he’s staring to slur his words together. His hand slaps your ass as he stops moving and just lays there.

“Ride me don’t make me ask again I won’t be nice.” You don’t dare disobey him you need to cum you lay back onto the drivers seat and move your hips in slow motions, he’s buried deep inside of you the tip of his cock hitting deep squishy areas and the girth of him stretching you so nicely. It’s steaming inside his truck precipitation all over the windows, every once and a while a car passing by shining their headlights into the truck no doubt seeing what’s going on even shielded behind the drivers seat.

Joel’s hands pulling the cups of your top down ripping the lace in the process. His fingers pinching and pulling your nipples. This causes you to clench around him. A intense chilling sensation ripping right through your lower abdomen.

“Oh shit my cock poking through stomach .” Joels a mumbling mess he can’t even make coherent sentences with you clenching so hard around him. His warm hand goes flat above your pubic bone as he presses on himself with your organs. You lean forward, hands going to his cheeks and lips smashing into his, and begin to use his cock for your own pleasure. The truck is shaking no doubt, people walking past drunkly to their cars cheering as they see steam covered windows and your loud moans coming from the vehicle.

Your thighs are shaking as you bounce on him moaning through the pain as your knees begin to buckle your hands grabbing his hair and pulling it in different directions. “I’ma cum inside you!” He’s loud, breathy and moaning his words into your skin. You can feel him gush inside of you feeling him coat your insides with his seed. It happened so hard you can taste the feeling of his spent in your throat. Bodies sticking to each other, you’re dripping wet causing his leg hair to stick and mat against his thighs. He leans forward and grabs a water bottle from the middle console behind you.

You lift yourself from his lap and wince as he falls out of you. Sitting right next to him you can feel the mixture of each others cum dripping out of you. “Not on my leather seats, whore.” Joel says and moves his hands over to slip a finger inside of you pushing the combination of spent back into you. His finger having no effect on your stretched walls the way his dick did. You see his limp dick twitch a little in his lap and decide to give it a kiss. Opening your mouth and giving the tip an open mouth kiss you can taste the tang of the both of y’all on your tongue. Joel gives you a little groan as you mouth lowers over him cleaning his cock off. He twitches inside your mouth as he hardens again. His body so sensitive to his release that he begins to clench his thighs and jerk his cock deeper into your mouth.

P-please, baby stop ill cum again I know it.” You decide to push him to his limit after all those times of him giving you stupid work that was his all along you keep sucking hallowing your cheeks and swirling your tongue around his shaft. It’s not long before his hand presses on the back of your head and he’s sputtering what little he had left into your mouth. He’s gasping now, immediately soft in your mouth you pop off and swallow what’s in your mouth.

“When you come in Monday morning I’m bending you over my desk and eating you out.” You sit there proud with yourself and your actions and for once excited to go into work.

————🥴🤭😈

reblog, like, and validate me🫶🏻

0711

#joel miller smut #dark joel miller #mean!joel miller #joel miller one shot #pedro pascal smut #the last of us #joel x female reader

[navstuffs]

Hey....i like your right first;) and second Can I ask for dead island Leon in the morning seeing his s/o at 5am in the window seeing the sunrise,so he wants to get her back to sleep coming behind before they wake up to their mission and break (the reader is an independent scientist and spy)

Sunbeams

Pairing: Death Island!Leon Kennedy x GN!Reader

Author's Notes: heey, though you mentioned reader as she, i'm only writing for gn!reader at the moment for my requests. this pure fluff and short, so i hope i understood you correctly, and you enjoy this!

Leon Kennedy should be used to waking up early at this point, but he isn't. His hands search for your warm body, moaning when they find an empty space. Leon opens his eyes slowly, the room's curtains barely open, but enough to disturb his vision with the timid sunlight peaking in. You are sitting in front of the massive window, your back against him.

Leon groans a little louder for your attention, but if you hear him, you don't demonstrate. Leon sighs, his back against the mattress, facing the ceiling. He fumbles on the nightstand for his watch and brings it to his face. 5:02 am, to be exact. He groans one last time, rubbing his face, and gets up from the bed, stepping in your direction, still barely awake.

He passes his arms around your shoulders, giving a single long kiss on your head. You hold into his hands, opening a slight smirk. His voice sounds so sleepy and seductive as Leon Kennedy whispers in your ear for you to return to bed.

"Comeee oooon, let's go back to bed. It is still so early," Leon sounds whiny, and you can't help but chuckle. How does that badass and powerful agent could become just a big baby? You bring his hands to your lips, giving a few kisses.

"Just thought I could watch the sunrise today," You reply.

The truth is you barely have any chance to watch the sunrise and, much less, to spend good quality time with your boyfriend lately. In your field of work, there were few times for relaxation and not to be high alert. So when you woke up that morning, Leon's arms holding you tightly, a sense of peace suddenly filled your body. You left the hotel bed and roamed to the chair to watch the sunrise.

"Pleeaaasseee?"

"Fine, you won, Leon." You sigh, getting up from the chair. Leon is right anyway: later, you would have to say goodbye to him, embarking on a new task, and wouldn't see him for days or even months, depending on your assignment.

Leon celebrates, fisting into the air before dashing into the bed. He lies facing you and taps your side of the table, inviting you back. Leon looks like a big child now, and you can't help but smirk back. You lay at his side, immediately surrounded by his arms and warmth.

"Just a couple of more hours," You remind him as he yawns, relaxing on the pillow.

"Yeah, yeah."

Leon almost instantly falls asleep, and you rub his serene face, your heart full of love. For now, this is more than enough.

"Sweet dreams, my love."

#leon kennedy #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x you #leon kennedy fluff #leon s kennedy #leon kennedy fanfic #leon kennedy fanfics #leon x reader #leon kennedy imagine #leon kennedy imagines #ask #asks #request #requests

[carefulfears]

so i really love whenever you call mulder & scully best friends. wanna talk about your top 5 favorite moments of their friendship?

DO I EVER

1/ little green men

they have a secret code. they have their own language.

when mulder gets to his desk that morning, the photo of samantha is tipped over, and he knows that this means to meet scully at the watergate. which, first of all, is unbelievably dorky. these two work in the same building. these two have cell phones.

but they have been split up and reassigned and it is not a phase you guys it is the end of the world!!!!

when he arrives in the parking garage, he asks what she wants, and she responds, "to know that you're alright."

they have a secret code and their own language and for nothing more than to check in.

(shoutout to the depression hair era, they are so funny for both getting bangs the moment they were separated. that's how you know things are really bad for the girlies.)

when he sinks down to the floor and tells her the george hale story, she crouches down next to him, listens, tells him not to give up.

you can tell that it makes her uneasy to see him defeated, to see him doubting himself and what he believes in. she's almost trying to convince him of aliens in that moment, telling him that he's seen so much and reminding him of samantha. trying to spark something in him.

they have a secret code, they have their own language, and when he leaves town, he buys the plane ticket under a name that only she will recognize. she cracks his computer password in three tries.

earlier, after skinner questions scully, he tells CSM that she's telling the truth, she really doesn't know where mulder is. "because if she knew, she wouldn't be so worried about him."

they aren't as hard to decipher as they want to believe.

PAUSE!!!!! this is the cuntiest thing he's ever done. the sunglasses, the denim, the boots, the dangerous lack of exit strategy...anyway

she interprets his clues, she follows without obligation, they go back together. hand in his hair, not giving up, just like she started the episode.

in the end, they have nothing. the hail mary trip resulted in empty tables and silent tape recordings.

one thing i didn't notice until i rewatched this one the other day is that it's not when he says "i still have you" that she takes his hand.

it's when he switches the tape from the record of his failed excursion to his actual assignment, hours of listening to slimy men talk about strippers.

she listens with him for a moment before shaking her head, and squeezing his hand. she does understand that this isn't what he wants to be doing, and that it's disheartening.

2/ tooms

i could list every season one episode here. i could do a whole other post just about season one. i could do a whole other post just about season one, and include every episode. but i guess i will settle for this one.

this is my favorite season, and this is my favorite MSR.

him waving the pine tree air freshener in her face when she said he smells 😭😭😭

squeeze was all about the choice between climbing the ladder and the "out there" but "good" work of the basement, with all of the ridicule and consequence that come with it.

its sequel episode is about the aftermath of that decision, what it means to choose the side of the victim, to stop reaching for personal success.

(this shot is so beautiful, her face through CSM's smoke)

tooms opens with scully in a negative performance review, skinner (in his very first scene!! we love you skinman) going over her reports, CSM lurking in the corner.

the two share a look, then warn scully against having too much of an open mind, telling her that it is her "responsibility to see that these cases are by the book"

"by the book" becomes the theme of the episode, with the phrase repeating multiple times throughout.

this isn't the first time that the show has explored this topic, with young at heart also centering a debate of “by the book” protocol, what it really means, and who it really serves. ending with this final dialogue:

SCULLY: Mulder, I know what you did wasn't by the book.

MULDER: Tells you a lot about the book, doesn't it?

“by the book” isn’t an easy order to follow when you have a partner who doesn’t believe in it, and you aren’t sure you do either.

it’s not an easy order to follow, for the navy captain’s daughter who worships authority.

she does try though, and she's initially frustrated with mulder's behavior in the case. she tells him that he "sounded so....." at the trial, and she's reluctant to pursue his methods without approval from the bureau.

ultimately, when she comes to bring mulder something to eat on his unauthorized stakeout, she tells him that what he's doing is not proper surveillance protocol, and he good-naturedly accuses her of peddling "the book."

she responds, "this is not about doing it by the book, this is about you not having slept for three days." and tells him that he is inevitably going to get hurt.

to her, it's not about following the rules or pressure from the bureau or respecting authority, it's about making sure he's okay.

when she tells him to go home, that she'll take over the stakeout, he smiles and shakes his head (it's almost the same look that he gives her years later in redux ii, when she tells him to lay it all on her. just less tears.)

and i know that we tend to focus on the next part of this scene, but this line stands out to me too, as he declines because he doesn't want her to get "in trouble."

he doesn't want her to break the rules or disobey authority, and he still believes she'll be head of the bureau someday.

it kinda makes me teary, this stupefied look on his face at her response. when she looks at him unflinching and says, "mulder, i wouldn't put myself on the line for anybody but you."

they are so kind to each other. they really don't care about official reprimands in files or welfare protocols; they each just want the other to get some rest, to have a bright future.

he relents, allows her to take over, on the condition that she calls "if anything happens. immediately. i'll be here." and suggests she catch the sports talk radio show

she bends down to give him one last smile and eye roll as she exits the car

and makes a joke to herself while walking back to her own. best best best friends.

3/ tempus fugit

HAPPY BIRTHDAY DEAR SPECIALAGENTDANAKATHERINESCULLYYYYY

what better way to celebrate life than annoying the hell out of your best friend on her birthday?

the way he clearly gave the waiters her name and this snowball and sparkler and sang "special agent dana katherine scully" while they all sang "happy birthday dana" is one of his most embarrassingly extra moments and it never fails to make me laugh

she rolls her eyes at him, but the way she stares when he's not looking says so much. they both know why this year gets sparklers and song when last year didn't. they both know there might not be a next year.

he's literally never been more irritatingly overjoyed lmao. and he brought presents! ("oh, you've got to be kidding me" "just something that reminded me of you")

he said "i didn't know it was your birthday, scully!" with a wrapped gift in his pocket, always prepared with a smile and a cover story

he does this same thing in memento mori, after getting the call to come to the hospital, when his first words of the episode are "i stole these from some guy with a broken leg down the hall. he won't be able to catch me." about the flowers we watched him come through the front doors holding

he clearly puts thought into these gestures, but everything is so fragile. neither of them are comfortable with what too much sincerity would mean, how limited it all is.

but they find little ways to give to each other anyway, they hang out in bars and roll their eyes and discuss the meaning behind a keychain.

if this is the last birthday, maybe it's worth a little vulnerability (and annoying song and dance), that he did it up right.

4/ one breath

another Mulder Gift™️ entry. god, the sweetness here is just overwhelming. he is so strange and tries so hard.

this whole scene is one of my favorites of the series, but i love this little moment so much.

it's so inadequate, in the end. to see someone that you thought you'd lost, your most important person, who was gone for so long, and have nothing more to give them than a shitty VHS sports tape.

but what else can you do? he's so quiet and self-conscious in this moment. he raced to the top of mountains and stood on broken cable cars and choked a man and wore her necklace around his neck for months and wept on the floor. he had the strength of her beliefs, and he prayed. he held her hand by her bedside after they pulled the plug.

so much goes unsaid between them, because how can you say it in words? how can you do anything but smile and buy something stupid at the gift shop?

she makes a joke while he smiles at the floor, but it's not a joke, not really. he's there and he's giving her whatever he can and he's cracking jokes, and she knew there was a reason to live. that's it right there.

5/ detour

GO, GIRL!

this is a best friends episode. this is a "we survived that hospital and we refuse to spend our one wild and precious life at the annual FBI teamwork seminar, if you need us, we'll be lost in the forest" episode.

look at her trying not to laugh while he's making sarcastic comments at her in the backseat. can you imagine carpooling with these two? they are forever passing notes and whispering behind backs.

she is not making it to the teamwork seminar. she is not getting her wine and cheese, either. she is looking for mothmen in western florida.

they think they're so much better than that communication exercise, just to make vague innuendo in a motel room.

they tell each other all about native species and how ticks can halt their metabolism and the livestock that was killed in a town 30 years ago. she teases him about his filing system.

neither of them tire of bashing the hell out of that teamwork seminar.

they talk about death. about searching for meaning in life. about which flintstones character they relate to the most. they swap dirty jokes.

she fusses over his grave injury (a dislocated shoulder) and holds him. sings to him so that he'll know she's still there.

a few years down the road, she'll sing that same song to their baby, on one of her last days with him. she'll sing to him about this night, about his dad, about her favorite memories.

sitting there together in that forest in florida, they have already started to carry the weight of near-misses. of lost time, of almosts, of purposeful disease.

they have come a long way and taken on a lot, in the years since the parked car outside tooms' house and the garage at the watergate.

but they have yet to be separated longer than 90 days. they have yet to lose a child. they have yet to plan funerals and prison breaks.

there's something about that time, that ability to just sit in the woods and talk about everything, looking for mothmen, that is so precious and so special.

and when she tells him that night that she had struggled to find meaning, that's where it is.

#thank you for this #dream assignment #they ARE best friends #and it's my favorite #msr #asks #little green men #tooms #tempus fugit #one breath #detour #kae meta

[nishithedevil]

As promised, part 3!

Capital Prince and District Princess

Lucy Gray x capital gn reader

part 1 part 2 part 4 part 5

The next day, we mentors were escorted to a large circular building, informed that we would be required to convene with our assigned tributes and devise strategies for the impending games. As we stepped into the room one by one, the tributes were already present. The setting featured small metal tables with two chairs each, arranged around the railing on the second floor. In the center was a sizable hole offering a view of the lower floor. The tributes sat on chairs facing away from the railing, handcuffed to the metal tables, while an empty chair was positioned in front of them.

We were instructed to stand a few paces away from these vacant chairs, positioned in front of our designated tributes. Upon entering the spacious room, my attention immediately fixed on Lucy Gray – her vibrant, colorful dress made her unmistakable. All I wanted to do was rush to her and envelop her in an embrace, shielding her from the harsh and cruel realities of this chaotic world. She occupied the table positioned to the right of the entrance.

When I positioned myself as told, I saw Corio a few tables to my right, doing the same in front of Jessup. Professor Highbottom soon walked in alone, took a few steps towards us and began talking.

"In spite of yesterday's tragic events, our president has decided that the show must go on. Show everyone the capital is not afraid of such acts of terror. To which end, doctor Gall wishes you to preview the arena this afternoon with your tributes. Later this evening, there will be a special televised presentation of each tribute to our audience to, y'know, get to know them. You have an hour to come up with a strategy."

We were all turned towards him, watching and listening to him as we spoke. He stood there for a few more beats, then turned around and walked back to the entrance. Though he stopped in his tracks and pulled out a tiny vial with, presumably, his favorite alcoholic drink, and downed it in one go. As he pocketed it he spoke out loud again, "You may begin." when he noticed we were still standing.

We all did as we were told and went to sit down in the empty cold chair. I realized something I didn’t before - a very thin small notebook on the table with a pen on top of it. Most definitely put there for us to write down what we agree on and possibly use it for the news later on.

Lucy Gray was the first to speak up, "I'm so sorry about your classmate."

In response, I offered her a small, tight-lipped smile. "Thank you," I replied, and then, after studying her for a moment, I mustered the courage to ask, "...Are you okay?"

She grimaced at my question. "Wearing my mom's dress is the only thing keeping me together. It's like she's..." she sucks her breath in through gritted teeth before continuing, "wrapping her arms around me." then looked down at her handcuffed hands.

I couldn’t think of anything to say in this situation that would sound even mildly comforting, so I decided on speaking a bit of truth. "My mother, she used to smell like roses. She died in childbirth." At that I feel a few tears forming in my eyes. "We were going to have a third twin."

"Are... are both of your parents gone?" Lucy Gray asked, her gaze still directed downward. I could only nod in response, my fingers fidgeting with the pen in my hand. "So you're an orphan, like me," she concluded, her voice lowered. The atmosphere around us suddenly changed, and it felt…uncomfortable. Turns out Lucy Gray’s past was a tough conversation for her. I didn’t press further.

Instead I tilt my head to the side, in silent understanding if not a bit of disbelief. It’s interesting that despite having such different backgrounds we still had some things in common like that.

Not knowing how much time we had left, I knew that we at least had to discuss something about the games. "So, I came up with a few ideas,” I began, “every new one more absurd than the other. But for now before I can fully complete one, I need one favor from you. That's all."

Lucy Gray lifted her gaze, anticipating my request. "I just need you to sing. In these interviews.” Before letting her get a word in, I continued, “It's just, the night before the games is your last chance to win people over. I can't send you gifts in the arena without their money."

She looks to the side, seemingly in thought, and then back at my fidgeting hands, "Maybe a guitar can persuade me.” then she leaned forward a little bit and with a warning tone says, “Maybe.”. She leaned back on the chair and asked, "You really wanna take care of me in that arena, Y/N?"

I lift my head up from looking down at my hands that I unconsciously put in my lap and turned my gaze right at her. She leaned in on the table, I followed suit and said, "Start by believing that I can actually win."

I was struck speechless for a second, "N-no, Lucy Gray you misunderstood me I-'' But I was cut off by the professor calling out, "Snow, let's go." I lift my head up in confusion but then I see my brother walking towards the professor with one of our classmates, to which my confusion subsided and I turned back toward Lucy, gathering my words to clear this.

I grab her hands in mine, giving her a squeeze as she looked down at them with a puzzled expression before lifting her head up to look at me. "Of course I believe you can win Lucy Gray. If you want to so badly, I will do everything in my power to help you from outside. But my plans don't involve you winning the game. My plan just involves you surviving the first 3-ish days."

Now she looked at me even more puzzled, but this time with thoughtfulness and a surge of confidence. "What do you have in mind, my little rebel?" she smirks, leaning ever closer to me.

The only thing I could feel in that moment was my beating heart going faster and faster, and I began being hyper aware of my surroundings. Especially on how soft her hands were, despite how she has been treated these past few days. It felt as though I was holding a very delicate flower and one sudden move can make it collapse and crumble in my hands. They were soft as silk.

The professor suddenly turned towards us, "Alright, time's up, that was enough planning. Now let's see how well you can put that in practice." I didn’t even realize he was near because of how close Lucy Gray was. After his words, the peacekeepers escorted us out before returning their attention to the tributes and harshly beginning to uncuff them and push them out. I let go of Lucy Gray’s hands and with one last glance I mouthed, ‘I’ll see you’ before turning away from her.

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

As they lined the tribute I was to the side with my classmates when I almost lost my balance and awareness before my eyes landed on Lucy Gray, which somehow grounded me and I walked up to her when I realized they were all lined up and waiting. All mentors positioned themselves next to their tributes, behind me Jessup stood alone. I almost started wondering where the hell Corio had gone to, but then I heard footsteps running, and when I turned I saw him adjusting himself standing next to Jessup. Thankfully he arrived before we started moving.

As we walked towards the very dark tunnel entry, all the tributes were looking around, trying not to freak out. I do gotta admit, it did look very eerie. Walking through the bars, a woman's voice echoed around us, speaking "Enjoy the show" in a very monotone way.

When we passed the security bars, without looking anywhere but in front of me, I took a hold of Lucy Gray's hand, not sure if I was seeking comfort for her, or trying to give her some. Lucy Gray looked down at our intertwined hands, but I could not see her reaction due to the darkness. Not long after walking in though, we saw two cameramen close by to our right, so we had to let go of our hands, hoping the camera did not catch our small act of affection.

Nevertheless, that didn’t stop Lucy Gray from moving closer to me, bumping our shoulders gently, seemingly looking for comfort now more than ever.

As we were moving around, a guy with curly hair walked up to the cameramen and grabbed them, asking them to turn their cameras to his tribute. Suddenly we hear a loud noise from behind and realize that the doors have been shut. But then around us big windows started to be revealed, shut behind big metal slides. Light began pouring inside the arena. My body turned towards Lucy Gray, though she probably didn’t notice me in that moment as she was looking at the surroundings..

Then we heard a booming male voice, "Welcome to the arena of the 10th annual Hunger Games. Tributes, mentors, you have 15 minutes to survey the space and discuss strategy."

Everyone around us was doing their own thing. Some mentors were telling their tributes a strategy, some were still looking around. Lucy Gray turned to me slowly, "Please, don't let me die in here tomorrow, Y/N.” her voice was becoming smaller and more worrisome as she spoke, “Please." This was nothing like the Lucy Gray from before. Seeing her in this state brought a chill down my spine at how uncomfortable I was for having her put in this situation, even if I had no choice in her being here. But I had to ground myself, no time for regret. Now it’s time to find a way to get her out of here alive.

Just as she said those words, on the far end of us an explosion occurred. The impact of the explosion blew us away and we all fell. Suddenly the arena was exploding from every side possible, and instinctively I tried to crawl towards Lucy Gray, to cover her with my body, thinking that that would do something to protect her from the flying debris everywhere around.

Unfortunately, I wasn’t able to do that since the impact from every new explosion blew us away in a different direction, so me and Lucy Gray just stuck together on our hands and knees trying to find a way to escape. As we stood up an explosion from above came and all I could think about in that moment was Lucy Gray. So I pushed her away as everything fell from above.

I tried to run in her direction, but I got knocked down, a big pillar landing on my lower half, trapping me underneath it. I tried crawling out from under it, but it was to no avail. I managed to wheeze out, "Help me" to anyone who could hear me, thinking this was going to be my end. I could barely breathe from all the smoke and dust everywhere.

As I slowly lift my head towards the light, the entry tunnel, I heard voices yelling for everyone to get a move on and get out of there. All of a sudden, through the dust all around, I could slowly make out a figure coming towards me. As it got closer and closer I soon realized it was none other than Lucy Gray, running to my aid. She stopped for a second above me, looking at the situation, before she went to the side and with all her might tried to lift up the pillar.

At that moment Jessup came rushing from behind her, putting a hand on her shoulder and sliding down in front of her, "C'mon, the gate is open." He gets on his hands and knees and grabs her by the hand, "Cmon! They wouldn't have saved you!" He exclaimed frantically before giving up and standing up. Without one quick glance back at her, he starts sprinting towards the exit.

Two other tributes follow him but then they are suddenly shot at by peacekeepers behind us. Lucy Gray instinctively leans down on the ground so they don't see her.

As they run towards the two tributes, Lucy Gray starts lifting the pillar with all her might, managing to lift just enough for me to slide out from.

Just as I turn on my back and exhale, we smile at each other through the dust. Out of nowhere a peacekeeper comes and grabs Lucy Gray by the arm, lifting her up and taking her away. We extend our hands to grab a hold of each other, Lucy Gray struggling against the peacekeeper, but it’s to no avail, and she is taken away from me as I gradually slip into unconsciousness.

#lucy gray baird x reader #lucy gray x reader #gn reader #x reader #the hunger games #the hunger games ballad of songbirds and snakes #the hunger games x reader

[underforeversgrace]

title: the walls you hide behind (I saw the truth inside the real you)

words: 2,142

Story Summary: Jazz is tired of the ghosts, tired of her parents not doing enough, tired of Phantom's recklessness and her brother's persistent exhaustion. When she yells all of her frustration at her parents after nearly getting killed by a ghost, she gets sent to Vlad's mansion in Wisconsin for the weekend - where she's offered a chance. She could have the ability to fight back, protect her brother and her town. Jazz leaps at the prospect. When she returns to Amity Park at the end of the weekend, it's with abilities and strength of her own, and she's fueled by anger and disdain. And she's got her eyes, first, on Danny Phantom.

Chapter 5 of 10: Same Black Holes and Black Mistakes

AO3

Tumblr Chapter One

Tumblr Chapter Six

Beta by: @probably-dead

(Also, check out the AO3 link for some really awesome art by @englandamericaitaly!)

~~~~

“My grades are fine!” Jazz shouted, pushing herself from the breakfast table and standing.

“Jazz, yes, technically they’re still good, but -“ Maddie started and Jazz’s jaw clenched in anger.

“I don’t have a single grade below a 95! Seriously?” She asked, crossing her arms defiantly over her chest.

“You used to be consistently over a hundred,” her father pointed out. She glared at him and he withered slightly. He’d never been able to handle Jazz when she was angry, and Jazz was furious.

She wanted to scream at them for all of the sudden remembering they had kids, that they needed to give their kids attention. Why did they have to decide to start paying attention now, when Jazz was getting used to balancing her normal life and the life of a vigilante? She already was irritated she’d felt the tug of a ghost recently and hadn’t been able to go chase it!

“High school is harder than middle school, okay?” Jazz lied. In all honesty, she found them both to be child’s play. The lowered grades were more due to her running out of class so often and homework assignments being done, just not done with her previous Type A personality kind of work.

“Jazz, you’re in eleventh grade. You did wonderfully in ninth and tenth grade. I just don’t understand what’s happened this year. Danny’s grades have fallen as well.” Maddie said, worry aging her face.

Jazz glared at her mother. She had to fight to keep the nanobots from reacting to her, even as they burned up her back, vibrating in tune with her rising mood. “I don’t know, Mom. What happened at the start of this school year?”

The parents shared guilty looks and Jazz knew she’d won this conversation.

She sighed, letting some of the anger dissipate, the tech in her skin cooling down as she did. “It’s time for school. I’m going to go get Danny.” Jazz spun on her heel and marched upstairs, taking down her ponytail and redoing it in a braid to give her hands something to do as she went through some slow, meditative breathing. She knocked on the door with her elbow so as to not lose her place with her braid. “Danny!” She yelled. She wanted to have a talk with Danny about how he wasn’t in class yesterday, but it was the Violet Trapper who saw him, not his meddling older sister, and she wasn’t willing yet to confess her secret to her brother.

When Danny didn’t respond, she groaned, tying off the half braid she’d managed. “Danny!” She yelled again, pushing the door open. “It’s time to go!”

Silence met her again and Jazz’s face scrunched in confusion as she realized his bed was empty. At that moment, her phone buzzed in her pocket and she pulled it out. Sometimes she swore Danny had some kind of psychic powers - like now.

From: Danny

I left early 2day 2 meet up w sam n tuck for some studying. C u @ school

Despite the reassurance, she frowned. When had Danny left? Her and her parents had been in the kitchen for over an hour and she could’ve sworn she’d heard Danny roll over in his bed when she first went downstairs. How had he gotten out without her seeing or hearing him?

She shrugged, she’d see him at school and he - unlike her - actually needed to study. She didn’t wish her parents goodbye as she left the house, getting into her car and heading to school.

She wished she could just fly to school, if she was being honest. It was exhilarating. Even if she ever grew to regret the ghost hunting, she didn’t think she’d ever regret the nanobots that allowed her to soar above Amity. She had almost told Danny a few times, just so he could fly too - she just knew he’d love to, he’d always had his head in the stars. But she couldn’t - not until the ghosts were handled, not until she was sure she could fly without being attacked.

Jazz yawned as she made the short drive. She’d been woken up four times by ghosts last night, and then the conversation with her parents this morning just had her exhausted. Still, she had a meeting with Lancer this morning, one he’d requested.

The fact she was who he reached out to with concerns over Danny instead of their parents spoke volumes about her family. But he sounded worried and Jazz was not fighting ghosts on a nightly basis just so her brother could continue to fall behind. Not with all the scrapes and bruises she had so often, not with the injuries that should’ve had her out of commission for weeks and instead healed in hours, courtesy of the technology in her veins. No, she was not letting her own life fall to the side just so Danny’s could do the same.

So she headed straight to Lancer’s office once she got to school, grinning at the banner above the entrance proudly proclaiming Spirit Week Centennial: 100 Years of Casper Spirit. Again, she debated telling Lancer the truth - he was the vice principal, and her grades had started to fall, plus she knew he wouldn’t risk telling her parents news like this, as studiously as he avoided them. If anyone could get her the accommodations she needed, it would be him. She honestly didn’t have a good reason she wasn’t telling him. She knew the reason she kept it was childish, but still, she held her secret close.

So what if the only reason she didn’t tell Lancer was because it was fun being a superhero with a secret identity? Her other goals were noble enough, she was allowed her fun, too!

His door was already open when she arrived, but she knocked politely anyway.

Jazz wasn’t sure what she was expecting from her teacher this early in the morning, but it certainly was not her probably-in-his-fifties year old teacher hopping around the room with pom poms, chanting the spelling of Casper.

“Jasmine!” Mr. Lancer said with a grin when he saw her, setting his pom poms down on his desk. “Sorry, I was just getting ready for Spirit Week! I do love it so much. The pomp, the circumstance, and especially the spirit sparklers! Did you know I was a cheerleader when I attended Casper?”

“Really? Uh, no, had no clue. Anyway, you wanted to speak with me about Danny?”

“Ah, yes, young Mr. Fenton,” Lancer said, his tone shifting back to one of a bored English teacher. Jazz had to hold her tongue to keep from fuming at him. Danny was continuing to be bullied and the school was doing absolutely nothing about it - it didn’t help that Danny had apparently been right that first night she got back and his bruised nose had healed by morning. “Can you walk with me, Ms. Fenton? There is someone I’d like for you to meet.”

“Sure thing, Mr. Lancer,” she said, following the balding teacher out of the classroom and down the halls.

“Now, Jasmine, I do want to talk to you about your brother. I taught him in eighth grade last year, do you remember?”

Jazz nodded. “Yeah, this is your first year at the high school.”

“Correct. Now, I do remember your brother. He was quiet, didn’t get into trouble, was quite intelligent when he applied himself. He’s changed, noticeably, since then. I will admit, Jasmine, I am worried for him. Sudden behavioral changes like this… well, it’s raised more than a handful of red flags, you understand?”

“What’re you saying, Mr. Lancer?” She asked, frowning.

“Is it possible your brother has gotten involved with… illicit substances? I hate to even ask, but I am at a loss. Normally I’d bring my concern up to the student’s parents…”

“But my parents are as likely to blow up a wall as they are to talk to Danny,” Jazz sighed. As they walked, her ghost radar went off, pointing in the direction they were going. 

Lancer smiled apologetically at her. “Ah, unfortunately. I decided perhaps you were best to talk to, at least first. You see, we’ve finally got a school guidance counselor and -“ He opened the door and paused, his calm demeanor morphing into one of shock, the ghost she was sensing rapidly disappearing.

Jazz’s jaw dropped as she took in the scene - her brother, surrounded by destroyed furniture and damaged equipment. He stared at them like a deer in headlights.

Danny facepalmed. “Good one, Fenton. You let him get away, you idiot!”

Jazz rubbed her temples as Lancer began to lay into her brother. “Mr. Lancer,” she finally spoke up when her headache showed no signs of abating. “Look at this. It had to be a ghost attack. We’ve had enough of them by now. That desk is still smoking.”

“Yeah, Mr. Lancer, it was a ghost!” Danny added, looking at her in relief.

“But,” she continued and Danny’s relief wiped away to betrayal the more she talked, “if we’re getting a guidance counselor, I do believe Danny would benefit from seeing them.”

“Jazz!” Danny said indignantly. “I don’t need a shrink!”

Jazz was interrupted before she could snap back.

“Oh dear, what has happened in here?” A red-haired woman said as she walked into the room, immediately dropping the temperature from Cold to Colder. Jazz saw Lancer and Danny shiver and she mimicked them, despite not feeling the cold anymore. She felt a slight buzz in her chest, but it wasn’t focusing in any one direction. Jazz frowned. That was the feeling of her ghost radar, why wasn’t it solidifying?

“Ah, Ms. Spectra, welcome,” Lancer said, holding his hand out to her. “Apologies, there was a bit of an… incident this morning.”

Spectra smiled warmly, seemingly completely unbothered. “No worries, Mr. Lancer, it happens!” She said cheerily. “And who are these two?” She added, gesturing to the teens.

“This is Jasmine and Daniel Fenton,” Lancer said, gesturing to the two of them as Spectra tidied up some of the wall decorations. “Jasmine is an exemplary student, I was actually going to ask her to do the spirit speech at the assembly next week. This is her brother.”

The look on Danny’s face told her he didn’t miss how Lancer sang her praises while barely acknowledging him. He seemed sad - hurt, even - but he quickly smoothed his face back to one of irritation.

“She’s also a fink,” he grumbled, glaring at her. Jazz did her best to ignore it - if only he knew how hard she was trying.

“That is enough, Mr. Fenton!” Lancer admonished. “Get to class now. We’ll let you know when your first session will be.”

Danny scowled at Jazz, stomping away with a huff.

“Anyway, Miss Fenton, what do you say to being the keynote speaker at the spirit-a-thon? Ms. Spectra has already agreed to handle the preparations for the assembly, so you can come to her with any concerns.”

“I don’t know, I’m busy with homework, and my college entry papers…” Jazz said, resisting the urge to rub her chest as it felt like she had irritated bees in her rib cage.

“Don’t worry about it, Jasmine!” Spectra said with far too much cheer. “I’m sure we can find someone else with more school spirit!”

This woman is a licensed therapist? Jazz wondered. While there was nothing technically wrong with what she’d said, it rubbed Jazz the wrong way. Still, Jazz pretended to smile. “Thanks, Ms. Spectra. I’m sure there’s other students who are just as capable as me.”

“Not a problem!” Spectra said, patting Jazz’s shoulder once. A frown crossed over the woman’s face for just a moment, gone so quick Jazz wondered if she’d imagined it.

“Are you sure, Miss Fenton?” Lancer asked. “You really are our best and brightest.”

“I’m sure, Mr. Lancer. This ‘best and brightest’ student is focusing on college right now.” And ghost hunting.

He sighed sadly but didn’t push. “Certainly. Go ahead and get on to class, then, Ms. Spectra and I will get some sessions scheduled for your brother.”

Jazz hesitated before she left, studying the new counselor. Technically, Jazz didn’t have any reason to dislike her, the woman had been perfectly friendly - maybe she was just too friendly and that’s why Jazz felt off about her? She was sure Lancer and the school board had thoroughly vetted Spectra before hiring her, after all. So despite her reservations, she nodded. Danny needed help that her parents couldn’t give and that he would never speak to her about.

He could be mad at her later, she determined as she left the office, Lancer and Spectra’s conversation muffling as they closed the door behind her.

The buzzing didn’t settle down until several hours later, and her discomfort with Spectra was forgotten.

#grace writes #danny phantom #jazz fenton #danny fenton

[dcbbw]

The Commoner’s Wife--Chapter 6: Three Blind Mice

It has been one long, hot-ass hour since I have updated this series (Chapter 5 was posted 8/4/2019), but it’s back. This is not a drill, not a one-off while I fart around with a kajillion other stories. Chapter 6 is FINALLY here, and there are so many people to thank:

@moodmusicmonday and their annual #Luck of the Draw event; the song I was assigned, Just Say When by Nothing More, spawned so many story ideas but Commoner’s Wife kept popping up the more I listened to the lyrics.

@sfb123 for her patience with me and my erratic schedules

My WhatsApp crew for their (loving) hounding, harassment, and encouragement

My hand-holding crew: @ao719, @bebepac, @angelasscribbles, and @umccall71

So, what happens now that Drake unequivocally knows the truth? Buckle up and find out!

THANK YOU to all who will read this story; if you are new to the hot mess that is TCW, you can catch up on this “one-shot” here. Please excuse any and all typos, missing/extraneous words, and/or grammatical errors.

MS Editor rates this fic as 99% error-free.

It has been soooo long since the last chapter, I have no idea who, if any, of the original story fans are around, and if they are even still interested if they are. Using my current tag list and encouraging you to tell a friend.

Rating M for Mature (adult themes, cursing)

Pairings: Liam x Riley; Riley x Drake

Book: TRR/TRH

All characters belong to Pixelberry.

Song Inspiration: Just Say When, Nothing More

Word Count: 6,336

Highlights from Chapter 5:

Drake x Riley

“Just tell me, Brooks. Is our marriage a thank you to me or a fuck you to Liam?”

A deep sigh. A shaky voice. “Both.”

“We need to talk, Drake. I know…. I know I’ve been difficult and closed off, but I’m ready to talk.”

Drake was rummaging in the cupboard for the bottle of liquor. I know you aren’t being completely honest. I also know Liam isn’t either. What I don’t know is….is it out of fear of hurting me, if you think you’re that smart, or if you don’t have answers yourselves.

“I can’t deal anymore with half assed answers, Brooks. I can’t deal with the thought of being in a marriage based on pity or revenge. I just … can’t deal anymore.”

Princess Marguerite

Once she had Gunner out of his outfit, she ran her hands over the latex suit. The feel of the material sparked curiosity and lust within her, and she felt herself becoming wet. I have to see it.

“Do you have any medical or sensory issues?” She was now at the library desk, opening the top drawer; earlier in the day, she had placed an extremely long, extremely wide dildo and a remote control there.

Marguerite sighed as she pushed herself away from her desk. It was time to make yet another trip to Cordonia. She wouldn’t inform anyone about it; Liam couldn’t ignore her if she was standing in front of him.

Liam x Riley

Liam heard the knock on the door but ignored it. He had Riley so close to the edge; he was closer. Besides, the door was locked. Except it wasn’t.

Riley’s moans and low screams filled his ears. Stars exploded behind his eyes as he followed her over the edge. His seed spilled into her. His forehead rested against hers as the real world slowly came back into focus.

And the first thing he heard was Drake’s voice roaring obscenities, followed by a tearful gasp. But not from Riley. Marguerite.

Liam closed his eyes and bit his lip as he slipped out of Riley. Time had run out.  

Chapter 6:

Presently, in the study

The room held both an electricity that crackled with tension and a stillness; as if the very air had been sucked from it, leaving the occupants in a vacuum devoid of everything but harsh emotions.

Liam

Liam’s forehead pressed against Riley’s, his breathing heavy and uneven. His eyes were closed, the last of the bursting stars behind his eyes fading into black. He inhaled deeply; he smelt the flora and fruit of expensive fragrance, and a slight musk from the sheen of perspiration on Riley’s skin. As he slipped out of her entry, he felt her arms tighten around him as her legs slid off his back.

His arms tightened around her in return as the world came back into focus. He heard Drake yelling What the fuck? and I KNEW it! He heard Marguerite’s gasp, but nothing else from her. Perhaps Drake’s thundering baritone was drowning everything else out.

Except the incredible remorse Liam felt.

Drake deserved better than to find out this way. Hell, they all deserved better.

What the bejesus just happened? Drake was supposed to be at the cabin today and returning to Valtoria tomorrow. And Princess Marguerite … why was she even in Cordonia?

Drake

When Drake opened the study door, he was stunned. He stumbled backwards a few steps, feeling an almost-physical sucker punch at the sight of Liam’s naked ass, and the sounds of the King … his best friend … fucking.

Fucking Drake’s wife.

He wanted to cover his ears to muffle Riley’s moans as her back arched her off the sofa. He wanted to close his eyes so he wouldn’t see the convulsions as his wife’s body entered le petite mort.

Looks, sounds, actions that were supposed to be reserved for Drake because he and Riley had vowed to forsake all others.

He wanted … no, needed to hit something, but instead settled for screaming his disbelief as his fists clenched and unclenched.

This was beyond anger, beyond hurt. His vision was clouded and blurred, as if someone had painted the room and all its occupants red. Yet, for all his fury, there was a tiny piece of him that was not surprised. That wondered why it took any of them so long to speak the truth they all shared.

Drake knew it was not yet even 10am, but a strong drink was absolutely essential. He needed to numb himself. He needed to stem the tide of answers flooding his brain. As he swiftly strode past the sofa, he wanted to avert his gaze away from the irrefutable proof of the betrayal committed by his wife and best friend.

But he couldn’t.  

When he saw Riley tighten her hold on Liam’s nude body, pain pierced Drake’s heart despite the weight of his anger.

She’s clinging to him. She doesn’t care that I’m here, that she’s caught in all of her lies. She doesn’t care that she is filling the hole in my heart with salt.

Tears stung the corners of his eyes as he shook his head in sorrow and disgust.

She just does not care.

GO TO HELL, Riley Brooks!

Riley

Riley was cresting the wave of her orgasm when she heard Drake’s voice boom throughout the room.

OH MY GOD! What is he doing here?

She wanted to stop her body from responding to Liam’s touch, Liam’s tongue, Liam’s cock … but she was too far gone. Liam was as well. She closed her eyes tightly as she felt the trembles of Liam’s body through the shaking of her own before Liam slipped from inside of her.

Maybe if I can’t see Drake, he can’t see me.

Riley felt waves of guilt and shame wash over her, and as her erratic breathing tried to slow down, she instinctively pulled Liam closer to her. She needed his protection, his validation that she wasn’t an adulteress whore. Her breathing eased when Liam responded by tightening his hold on her, but she couldn’t wipe away the tears falling from her eyes.

The Duchess of Valtoria had no idea what to do. Hell, what could she do? She lay naked and sated in the arms of her lover, while her husband watched. She wanted to get dressed; clothing would make her less vulnerable, but her frock was scattered somewhere on the floor.

She had heard a woman gasp and was curious who the person was. A Lady of Court? A staff member?

In either case, Riley needed all the advantages she could get, and right now she had none. She heard Drake’s heavy thuds as he moved past them; she bit Liam’s shoulder to keep her sobs inside.

I never wanted you to find out this way, Drake. I swear it. I know you don’t believe me, but I do have love for you. I do want your happiness. I always have. It’s just my love for Liam is stronger and … and I think he may be my happiness.

Marguerite

Marguerite stood in the study’s doorway, her wide eyes darting everywhere. The gasp had come out so suddenly, she couldn’t stop it. She managed to cut it off because the laughter that was following it was highly inappropriate at best. It was obvious Liam’s partner was the Duchess of Valtoria, Drake Walker’s wife.

Dear God, could this King get any more cliché?

The gasp came out sounding tearful, which worked in her favor. Her eyes continued to take in the scene.

There was Liam with his naked ass on display for all to see. The Princess knew firsthand that it was firm and muscled; what she didn’t know was how … chiseled it was. Her lips lifted in a small smirk as she imagined pushing a dildo up his puckered hole, perhaps flogging his cheeks if he chose to be insubordinate.

What the Princess of Monaco wanted to do was make her way to Liam’s desk to sit in his oversized chair and slide her hand down the waistband of her skirt. She exhaled a low sigh as she imagined her fingertips stroking her clit.

Instead, she drew closer to the naked couple, marveling at how they clung to each other.

Desperately.  

Her eyes narrowed as she caught sight of the side of a brown breast and chocolate nipple pressed against the pinkish white of Liam’s chest.

I wonder if I can convince her to flash me.

Marguerite mentally shook her head.

Back to the matter at hand. This can play in your favor so well.

Everyone was jolted from their inner thoughts when Drake angrily tossed Riley’s dress at her; it landed on Liam’s back.

“PUT YOUR FUCKING CLOTHES ON!” he thundered before crossing the doorway and slamming the door heavily behind him.

With a last lingering look at the disgraced lovers, Marguerite ran after Drake.

She hadn’t had angry sex in the longest time, and this Drake Walker person may be up for a revenge fuck.

After they heard what Liam and Riley had to say.

Group Chat

By unspoken agreement, the quartet were gathered in the West Wing’s library. No one was speaking.

Liam sat behind the desk, his elbows on the polished wood and his hands steepled beneath his chin.

Riley sat ramrod straight in a ladderback chair which was angled in a corner between the desk and an oxblood-colored leather sofa. She kept her head turned away from the others, causing the sunlight pouring through the window to cast her profile in a half-shadow.

Drake sat in an armchair across from the desk; his eyes were fixed on the bottle of French cognac he held in one hand. He wondered how much he would have to drink to erase this morning from his memory.

Marguerite was sipping a mimosa as she sat on the end of the sofa furthest from Riley, her well-rounded legs crossed at her ankles.

The Princess tilted her full glass towards Riley, her gaze locked on Liam. “Is she why you could neither accept nor return my phone call?”

Liam’s jaw tightened. “I was busy, Marguerite. I do run a country, you know. The better question is, why are you here in Cordonia?”

“I came to see why you were ignoring me.”

Drake choked as he swallowed straight from the bottle. “You came 800 miles to see why he didn’t answer your call?”

This chick is cuckoo.

An unfazed Marguerite sipped her drink. “Yes. He texted me yesterday proposing a second date; when I called him to suggest he visit Monaco, his assistant informed me that he would return my call at his earliest convenience. He never did. So, I decided to pop in, thinking we could discuss matters over breakfast; if I had known tart was on the menu, I would have arrived earlier.”

Liam’s eyes went to Riley; the Duchess stared at her hands which were loosely clasped in her lap. Her lips were thinned, and her jaw slightly tensed.

They both looked up at hearing a heavy thud against the Persian carpeting.

Drake rose so suddenly and violently out of his chair, it had toppled over. The bottle of expensive brandy lay on its side, amber-colored liquid spilling as it spread across and stained the priceless rug.

“SHE IS STILL MY WIFE!” he hollered, his cheeks darkening with rage.

“Who’s fucking the King right under your nose,” Marguerite snapped. “She may have had the good sense to know her place and wed a fellow commoner, but the fact remains she’s a disloyal harlot and unworthy of anyone’s devotion.”

I’d still suck her tits was the unspoken portion of her statement.

Liam looked between Drake and Marguerite, choosing his words carefully. The entire room was already a powder keg; the Princess was a loose match. A lit loose match.

“I appreciate your obvious…. attraction to me, Your Highness, but my heart and affections have been claimed by another.”

“You mean your best friend’s wife? Listen to me, Your Majesty….no royal or noble worth their salt will accept a divorced commoner as Queen. Your court will be the laughingstock of Europe and you…. you’ll be the biggest scandal since King Edward VIII. At least he was lucky enough to choose love over Crown, but you don’t have that luxury, do you? Your brother beat you to it.”

“What I do with my personal life, especially when it takes place in Cordonia, is no one’s business but mine.”

“Even when it involves fucking other men’s wives?” Marguerite arched an eyebrow.

“If you wish our countries to remain in good standing, you will stop talking,” Liam growled.

The Princess lowered her eyebrow when Liam’s eyes narrowed dangerously. This was not working well in her favor. She still needed to make an advantageous match; despite being obviously pussy-whipped, Liam was the best of the lot. When she spoke again, her tone was more conciliatory.

“Darling, I’m offering you not only a union, but an alliance … a chance to rule over two countries, not just one. I don’t require what others would; I have my own coffers, my own lands, and my social station is secured.

“We don’t need to be in love and arrangements can be put in place, but only one of us can be scandalous; I’ve already claimed dibs on that.”

The Princess smiled brightly before downing the remainder of her beverage. She looked around the room before setting the champagne flute on the table in front of her and gathering her purse.

“I’m sure the three of you have much to discuss; I’ll see myself out,” she spoke to everyone and no one.

She began rummaging inside her bag, murmuring to Liam that he could email her a non-disclosure agreement. “As juicy as this morning has been, I wouldn’t tell anyone; however, I understand the need for assurance.”

Marguerite rose, a plastic keycard between her fingers which she offered to Drake.

“Retaliation fucks can be most satisfying. I have a standing room at the Savoy Five Kingdoms. They have an excellent bar and even better room service. Drop by anytime today; I fly out in the morning.”

Riley’s face twisted with anger; this brazen hussy was coming on to Riley’s husband IN HER FACE, yet the Duchess was the harlot. Her eyes held a flicker of fear; what if Drake accepted?

Why did she still care if he did?

Liam’s head fell into his open palms. Marguerite was the mistake that kept giving. With one breath she was proposing to Liam; with the next, she was propositioning Drake. The irony of her actions versus what he and Riley had done to Drake was not lost on the King.

Drake stared blankly at the key before raising his eyes to the future monarch of Monaco.

Is she flippin’ serious right now?

“Fuck you,” he spat.

Marguerite looked baffled as she tucked the key into his jacket’s breast pocket.

“That’s the entire purpose, darling.”

Detour

Marguerite stepped swiftly down the immense hallway, her cellphone pressed to her ear as she and the guard Liam had assigned to accompany her off the property studiously ignored each other.  She huffed impatiently as she heard the number she had dialed ring for a third time.

The Princess was most definitely going to tell someone about her fiasco of a morning; if details about a certain Cordonian King were revealed, so be it. There was no nondisclosure agreement in place yet.

“Ullo?” a woman’s husky, sleep-filled voice greeted Marguerite just as she heard heavy, dragging footsteps make their way up the marble stairs of the main west wing staircase.

“Cecily! Why in God’s name are you still sleeping?” Marguerite demanded incredulously.

“Because I haven’t had a drink or a drug in two days, and it’s 5am where I am.”

“Well, you need a sip, a sniff, and a new time zone, darling.”

“Why are you calling me? Good gossip?” Cecily asked in a voice filled with annoyance and nosiness.

“I’m in Cordonia, that dreadful teeny tiny country in the Mediterranean and my morning … is about to get better. Call you back.”

Marguerite slowly removed her phone from her ear while her eyes took in the sight before her.

Leo Rys, the prodigal firstborn son, stood in front of her, peering at Marguerite through bloodshot eyes. His blondish-brown curls were tousled, his impressive chest and abs on display thanks to his unbuttoned dress shirt which was half-tucked into a pair of navy-blue pants. His belt hung from his neck; his tie was partly stuffed into a front pocket.

“Marguerite?” he questioned in a disbelieving tone.

The former Prince and the Princess had a history of random encounters that were exotic, erotic, and always with Leo needing a chiropractor afterwards.

“LEO!” Marguerite sauntered up to Liam’s brother, planting an open-mouthed kiss on his lips.

“What the hell are you doing here?” he asked disbelievingly as he rubbed the back of one hand across his bleary eyes; the other gripped her firm ass.

“I could ask you the same,” she countered.

“I’m here for a scotch and some shuteye before heading to your corner of the world later this afternoon, but my plans could be flexible,” Leo smirked.

“Flexible is my favorite word. Lead the way,” Marguerite instructed as she looped her arm through Leo’s.

Three Blind Mice

While Marguerite pulled the massive door shut behind her, Drake leant over in his chair to retrieve the dropped bottle of brandy. Riley stood to open the terrace doors to help rid the room of the sweet, oaky smell permeating the room.

A fresh breeze drifted into the library, ruffling her hair and riffling the loose papers on Liam’s desk. Her heels tapped sharply against the blonde hardwood as she returned to her seat. Her eyes darted between her husband and her lover.

“Thank you,” she said quietly. “Thank you both.”

“Don’t speak to me. You no longer have the RIGHT to speak to me!” Drake growled as he tilted the half-full bottle to his lips.

Liam rose from his seat, and stepped around the desk; the monarch threw Drake a reproving look as he continued to the bar cart.

“There is no need to speak to the Duchess in such a tone, Your Grace.”

Drake rolled his eyes. “You need to shut the fuck up, Your Majesty.”

Liam’s body tensed at the words, and he stilled his movements for the briefest of moments. “I understand your disappointment and frustration,” he replied in a controlled tone.

“DO YOU?” The question exploded from Drake, causing Riley to jump slightly at the harshness in his voice. “Obviously you don’t, judging by your choice of words! Because this is so much more than disappointment. THIS is undiluted heartbreak! THAT woman,” Drake pointed to Riley, “was my sum total of EVERYTHING!”

His shoulders slumped as ragged sobs tore from his throat. His fingers brushed away the stream of tears streaking his cheeks. Riley’s mouth fell open and she rushed to Drake’s side. He held his hand up to stop her.

“Don’t,” he pleaded in a broken voice.

Riley shook her head in either defeat or denial; none of the trio knew.

“I’m so sorry. So, so sorry. I didn’t mean …”

“For me to find out or to get caught?” Drake finished for her.

“Drake, she’s attempting to apologize. Can you at least hear her out?” Liam entreated as he added ginger ale to one of the two tumblers of scotch he had poured.

The bottle of brandy shattered against the wall closest to Liam. The monarch continued to prepare drinks, seemingly unperturbed.

“NO! NO, I CANNOT HEAR HER OUT! Do you know when I wanted to hear her out? When I was willing to listen to BOTH of you? WHEN I WAS ASKING ABOUT MY MARRIAGE! And you both LIED TO ME! TO.MY.FACE!”

“It wasn’t supposed to go on as long it did,” Riley explained, her voice trembling. “It was only supposed to be until Liam found a Queen.”

Drake looked disbelievingly between his wife and best friend. “So, the King here is supposed to date and get to know someone intimately … to the point of making her his wife and this country’s Queen … by fucking his best friend’s wife?”

Liam stood beside Riley, pressing the scotch and soda in her hand. She glanced at him gratefully as she took a steadying swallow of the liquid courage.

“Your emotions are directed at the wrong person, Drake. I asked her to be my lover. I … I am in love with her, and I simply could not move forward in that aspect of my life knowing Riley was right there.” Liam’s gaze took in Riley, who was staring ashamedly at Drake.

“You couldn’t tell me? We’ve been lifelong friends, and you couldn’t tell me you were in love with my wife?”

“I wanted to tell you, but Riley wished to spare your feelings for what was supposed to be a brief fling. I have neither excuse nor explanation for my lack of actions. I was … I am a coward and a cad.” His blue eyes held Drake’s wrath-filled gaze. “And I regret nothing.”

Drake’s gaze shifted to Riley. “I begged you, I asked you, I damn near got on my knees to get you to talk to me! WHY DIDN’T YOU?”

Riley stared at the floor, a helpless expression on her face. “I’m still in love with him, Drake.”

“I TOLD YOU; you didn’t HAVE TO MARRY ME! But NOOOOO … YOU insisted!”

“YOU KNEW! YOU FUCKING KNEW and married me anyway!” Riley flung back.

“Because you lied to me. YOU lied to ME about everything!  Hell yes, I had doubts but I chose to believe the words coming out of YOUR mouth! And somehow, this makes it all my fault?”

Drake took a step towards Riley; Liam moved swiftly and protectively in front of her.

The Duke let out a derisive snort. “Oh, this is FUCKING RICH! The caught lovers putting on a united front. Before the husband no less, who so happens to be the injured party here.”

His eyes fell on Liam. “When she was trash-talking your ass, I DEFENDED YOU! I told her she needed to give you a chance, that you were in love with her. AND SHE STILL ASKED ME TO MARRY HER!”

Dark chocolate eyes went to Riley. “Just tell me this, if there were no Liam … could you have loved me the way I needed you to?”

Hesitation before the Duchess nodded.

Silence as no one looked at the other and Drake paced the room.

“Marguerite said Liam reached out to her yesterday, but he never followed up. Riley, you called me at the cabin, saying you wanted to talk.”

Riley nodded in agreement. “Yes. I called to make sure you weren’t injured or ill, and to find out when you were coming home so I could tell you about the affair and that I wanted to end the marriage.”

“The question becomes: where were you when you called me? Were you in Valtoria or here at the Palace? Because as batshit crazy as that Princess is, she wouldn’t fly 800 miles UNANNOUNCED for absolutely nothing. There’s a reason she feels comfortable enough to show up without notice, and there’s a reason Liam put her off.”

“I asked Riley to join me here. She arrived after she spoke to you,” Liam answered as he refilled his glass.

“And you knew she was going to ask for a divorce.” It was a statement.

Liam nodded stiffly. “She has discussed it with me on several occasions but nothing ever came to fruition.”

A flash of pain crossed Drake’s features at the revelation. “So last night was a celebration of sorts.”

Silence. Neither Liam nor Riley could tell Drake that their time together was about them, and that he was merely a guilty afterthought.

“How did you meet Marguerite?” Riley asked curiously, her voice small.

“I wasn’t cheating on you with her, if that’s what you’re asking. We met coming into the Palace this morning. I was going to seek Liam’s advice and counsel before returning to Valtoria.” Drake shook his head as his palms ran down his face. “I definitely got more than I bargained for.”

Liam’s brain churned as thoughts tumbled about:

Riley was being truthful with her husband, but there wasn’t enough … conviction behind it. She was, in this moment, a naughty child who had been caught, telling the truth to avoid discipline or punishment.

Liam knew Drake wanted to make his marriage work, but he hadn’t realized just how deeply his friend was in love with Riley; his guilt intensified. He still regretted nothing that had transpired, but Riley had left Liam of her own volition; she had taken up with Drake with no outside influence.

It was because of Liam she was willing to destroy Drake. She said it herself.

The King cleared his throat before putting distance between him and the Duchess. Riley looked at him curiously, but he was staring at Drake.

“I realize the role I play in this and am beginning to understand the depth of your pain. It is obvious that I am the obstacle preventing you two from having a happily ever after. Drake, I will stand aside and leave Duchess Riley alone if you two wish to salvage your marriage.”

“WHAT?” Riley screeched.

He can’t do this to me again!

Drake stared at his old friend before bursting into hysterical laughter. “NOW you want to step aside? Now that the damage is done? Dude, THAT is a coward move!”

“LIAM, what are you DOING?” Riley began punching his arm.

“Let me help the two of you out right here,” Drake said as he advanced on Riley.

He held his hand out, palm up. “Give me back my ring,” he ordered in a tone that brooked no argument.

Riley’s nonplussed gaze snapped towards Drake. “WHAT? NOOOO! It’s my WEDDING ring, Drake!”

“It’s my grandmother’s ring. Meant for my wife, not the woman who’s fucking around and has TOLD ME she wants to end our marriage. I’m doing you a favor.”

“NO!” Riley replied stubbornly.

Liam watched the couple, a stoic expression on his face. Riley’s reaction confirmed he had made the right decision, as painful as it was.

“Return it willingly, or I’ll snatch it off your finger,” Drake threatened through narrowed eyes.

“There’s no need for this behavior, Drake,” Liam stated, attempting to de-escalate an out-of-control situation. “Riley, if you are being honest about your feelings for me and a future for us, return Drake’s ring.”

Riley shrank away from both men. She felt emotionally attacked.

“There was no need for ANY of this shit, but here we are,” Drake countered, his eyes still trained on Riley. “My ring,” he repeated.

When the Duke left the Palace five minutes later, he had his grandmother’s ring. His wife was sobbing and arguing with Liam. When he reached his truck, he unlocked the doors and slid behind the wheel, realizing he had nowhere to go.

Megs and Old Man Harold were at his cabin; Drake was not in a headspace to either entertain or explain.

Valtoria was out of the question.

Ramsford was a possibility, but again … his headspace.

His palm patted his jacket pocket where he had placed the ring, and felt the hotel key the Princess of Monaco had given him.

Drake pulled it out, staring at it thoughtfully before starting the truck, and pulling off.

Valtoria

Darkness had fallen; save for live-in staff, the Duchess was alone in the Great House. It was a blessing and a curse. After the events of the day, Riley needed the alone time; she needed to process the words, the actions, the accusations.

But her thoughts were too loud, the rooms too empty.

On the ride back to Valtoria, Riley was silent. She stared at her now-bare ring finger, finding it hard to swallow over the thick lump of tears lodged in her throat.

Her marriage was over.

The one man who had faced death for her, whose love wasn’t predicated upon duty and appearances and secrets had wrenched the symbol of their union from her finger.

Riley had wanted to fall in love with Drake; she thought she was in love with Drake. But Liam … their connection, their chemistry was so strong. It was as if he were a magnet, and she were metal.

But only in the shadows.

Her love affair was once again sinking under the quagmire of Liam’s nobility and guilt. The man who had been so willing to share her under a cloak of deception was once again kowtowing to doing the “right thing” just when they could finally be open with their love and relationship.

Now … NOW, Liam was willing to step aside if Drake and Riley decided to try and salvage their marriage.

How ironic that the one thing she admired most about Liam was also what she loathed the most.

Liam was a huge ass what-if whose love she couldn’t trust. She never could.

Liam was why she couldn’t leave Drake.

When the Duchess arrived home, she gathered her staff, explaining that the Duke was away for an indeterminate amount of time. Riley then dismissed all staff who lived off-site, telling them to return in three days’ time. Staff who resided at the Great House would be on-call as needed. She then retired to her chambers after requesting ingredients for dinner be brought from the pantry to her chambers.

Riley stood in her kitchen wearing nothing more than a white silk slip as she washed dishes. She had prepared curried lamb and vegetables, jasmine rice, sweet corn-on-the-cob, and a garden salad for the evening meal; it was one of Drake’s favorites minus the salad. It now sat in Tupperware containers in the refrigerator.

The Duchess did not partake of the meal; a bottle of Lythikan wine had been her supper.

She had cooked dinner thinking Drake would return, if only to pack his things. But there had been no visitors, no phone calls. The woman who not 12 hours earlier had a husband and a lover, had no one.

Tonight was the beginning of their end.

The Duchess placed the last pot in the drying rack before she wiped down the countertops and swept the floor. She extinguished the kitchen light, grabbed her silent phone, and wandered through the quarters turning off lights as she went.

Despite feeling no overt effects from the potent libation, Riley’s steps held the slightest hint of unsteadiness.

The great room, where her fingertips ran along the grosgrain black leather recliner that Drake liked to sit in. His buffalo plaid blanket was neatly folded and draped along the back of the furniture. His gaming console where he and his nephew Bartie played Minecraft and Mario Brothers on weekends. The bearskin rug he insisted on placing in front of the fireplace.

Riley bit her lower lip as she turned the lamp switch off, plunging the room into shadow.

She passed through the informal dining area where a vintage hutch took prominence; it was filled with his mother’s china and a few figurines and knick-knacks bequeathed by his grandmother. A stereo system complete with a record player sat in a corner. Riley leaned down, peering at the vinyl record protected beneath a glass covering: Johnny Cash’s Hurt.  

In their bedchambers, Riley looked around as she exhaled a shaky breath. Pictures of her and Drake, Drake’s parents, their friends, Savannah and Bartie littered bookcase shelves and the nightstands. His robe was balled up on the settee at the bed’s footboard.

Her vanity was crowded with cosmetics, expensive fragrances in elegant bottles, and a painted, wooden box overflowing with jewelry.

All gifted to her by Liam.

Portraits of Cordonians long gone, with pale faces and thin lips, lined one wall. She and Drake had been planning to put them in storage and decorate with brightly colored abstracts and nature scenes.

They were going to build a life together.

Riley grabbed his pillow and pulled it next to her body; she lowered her head to inhale his scent imbedded in the fabric. Tears pricked her eyes but refused to fall.

The Duchess was acutely aware of the largeness of the space and how empty it felt without Drake’s presence.

In the house given to her by Liam.

The closing of a door was loud enough to be heard over the hushed roar of the waterfall. Riley frowned as she lifted her head; more than likely it was Gladys coming to check on her.

“I’m fine, Gladys,” the noblewoman called out in a quavering voice.

No answer as the footsteps came closer.

Riley let out an annoyed sigh. She didn’t want company; she didn’t want to answer any questions, regardless of how well-meaning they were. She tossed the pillow onto the bed as she rose, ready to waylay the majordomo. The doorway filled, and her breath caught in her throat when she saw him. His face was flushed and his breathing slightly heavy, as if he had run through the entire manor to reach the rooms.

“What …what are you doing here?” Riley stammered in a dull tone. She was too emotionally exhausted to muster up anger, surprise, relief … anything.

His brow furrowed in confusion at her question. “I love you,” he replied in a low voice as he shrugged out of his jacket, tossing it onto an antique rocking chair.

She ran her fingers raggedly through her short curls. “I ... I made dinner.”

He flashed her a quick smile. “Good. I’m starving.” The smile faded. “We need to talk about … earlier.”

Before Riley could respond, her phone rang; the sound of it was shrill and slightly jarring. Curious as to who it could be but also grateful for the distraction, she turned away to answer it.

Her eyes widened and her heart dropped into her stomach as her gaze went from the caller ID to the visitor, and back again.

The Palace

Leo and Marguerite stood beneath the shower head, warm water rinsing away soap bubbles as it pelted their skin. The former royal alternated between wincing and grimacing from the pain radiating from his lower back as he struggled to stand upright.

“SweetJesuscomepleaseus, Marguerite,” he ground out through clenched teeth. “Where the hell did you learn that new shit?”

The Princess was behind him, washing his back; she paused her motions to press the pad of her thumb into the offended area; Leo let out a relieved groan.

“At least there are no rope burns this time,” she consoled as the washrag slipped from Leo’s shoulder to the wet floor beneath them.

“Thank God for small favors,” he muttered as his palms splayed against the damp-tiled shower wall.

“Why are you coming to Monaco?” Marguerite questioned.

“International Baccarat Tournament in Monte Carlo. Staying three days, then off to Greece for a Mediterranean cruise aboard the Jewel of the Sea.”

Her lips pursed in thought as she stooped to retrieve the washcloth. Her palm slapped one of Leo’s ass cheeks before her index finger jammed itself into his puckered orifice as she rose. He yelped in annoyance and pain.

“GET YOUR FINGER OUT MY ASS!” he yelled.

“Darling, why don’t we return to Monaco and get married?” the Princess proposed as her finger twisted inside of Leo.

It wasn’t an arbitrary question; nothing was ever random with Marguerite. Leo was a fine piece of man: tall, handsome, intelligent. He may no longer hold a royal title, but that was an advantage. Not having a moniker meant one country, one sovereign. Royal blood still flowed through his veins, and he held land ownings in both Cordonia and its provinces, which would satisfy her parents. And Leo could never threaten her with severing governmental relations as Liam had done earlier.

Over a commoner slut.

With amazing tits.

“YOU ARE STILL IN MY ASS!” Leo retorted.

Marguerite removed her finger, sticking it beneath the overhead stream of water.

“Well?” she demanded.

Leo shook his head, droplets from his hair flying in the air. “Look, I enjoy our times together, but I can’t have sex like this every day, multiple times a day.”

“It’s like exercise, your body has to become acclimated to it,” the Princess explained as she stepped in front of him to shampoo her hair.

“And there’s a reason I abdicated my own throne.”

“Thanks to Anton Severus, that reason is now six feet underground.” She exhaled a petulant sigh. “If only Anton hadn’t attempted to kill Liam, the man would be a hero throughout all of Europe and not in a prison cell.”

“That reason is still my father, Marguerite!” Leo spat angrily as he stepped out of the shower. “You need to leave.”

“If I’ve said anything untrue, I will rescind my offer and leave immediately. But I haven’t. You simply haven’t healed and don’t have enough liquor in your system to bandage the pain.”

She twisted her honey-blonde hair, squeezing the excess water from her tresses. “Marry me and re-discover the joy of being a royal again. You won’t be the ruling monarch which gives you all the rewards and none of the responsibilities. It’s a win-win darling.”

She sauntered out and up to Leo who was avoiding her gaze, her wet body glistening. He was combing his hair, purposely avoiding Marguerite’s gaze. Her arms snaked around his neck before she stood on her toes to kiss him.

“Be a good sport, luv,” she urged.

“My cruise …”

“Our honeymoon!”

A half-hour later, the pair slipped through the rooms’ doorway with Leo lugging two suitcases. They both glanced down the hall, seeing the sliver of light beneath the closed door to Liam’s library.

Tagging: @jared2612 @ao719 @marietrinmimi @queenjilian @indiacater @kingliam2019 @bebepac @liamxs-world @mom2000aggie @liamrhysstalker2020 @neotericthemis @twinkleallnight @umccall71 @superharriet @busywoman @gabesmommie1130 @tessa-liam @beezm @gardeningourmet @lovingchoices14 @mainstreetreader @angelasscribbles @lady-calypso @emkay512 @princessleac1 @charlotteg234 @queenrileyrose @alj4890 @yourfavaquarius111 @motorcitymademadame​ @queenmiarys @choicesficwriterscreations @moodmusicmonday​ @katedrakeohd​

#dcbbw writes #the commoner's wife #mood music monday #luck of the draw #liam x riley #riley x drake #writers of tumblr #writeblr

[cafeinthemoon]

Ruins - Chapter VI

Chapter 6/?

Wordcount 3,5 k

Title Part VI

Fandom Shuumatsu no Valkyrie / Record of Ragnarok

Pairing Hades X reader

Previous chapters

1 . 2 . 3 . 4 . 5

Symbols ⭕ . ➕ . 💛

Warning (s): none

Tagging @darling-imobsessed (if you want to be tagged in any of my stories, just send an ask or a message 😉)

N. A.: So I've been trying to deal with a creative block at the precise moment when y/n-chan was supposed to finally connect the dots and figure out the god's identity, which made me so insecure about this chapter that I almost gave up on posting it to rewrite it from the first line, but I decided that the way she ends up solving the mystery matches what is expected from a fairy tale or a myth, where most things happen by coincidence or by a superior force's will. The complete line of thought that led her to the solution will be revealed in the next two chapters if everything sets as planned, but for now I hope you enjoy how things are going rn :)

The days after the party’s announcement passed like a dream, blended in just one big, vague memory of excitement, anxiety and countless activities. All the girls had much work to do, but they were never seen tired or complaining: the cleaning of the spaces that were going to be used as dining room and dancing hall; the decoration; the rehearsals for the presentations and in which order they should happen… there were so many things to worry about that the few hours of free time were used only to rest and cheer. 

You, on your part, were excited as well, but other things occupied your thoughts.  

Days have passed since Hermes stopped you on your way to the Library. You’ve been following his advice about analyzing your conversations with the mysterious god as best as you could, but no matter how you recalled them, nothing came to your mind in order to help with the enigma. And, despite not being able to make an exception and allow you into the Library, he could have at last brought you a book or two, right? As far as you knew, there were no rules against it. But it was like he wasn’t willing to move a finger in this sense. You were starting to think that Hermes was the one who didn’t want you to figure out the truth. But what would he gain by acting that way? 

As if I’d be able to understand... 

One day, after lunch, you were so tired that you almost gave up on going back to the room where you’ve been assigned to work just to stay alone for a moment. You lied on your bed and closed your eyes, sighing.  

This way, I'm not going anywhere. I won’t be able to keep my word and give him the answer when we meet again.  

The day of the festivity was the deadline you established for yourself, for you were sure the next encounter would happen during it: from the Gardens to the corridors, the kitchen, the rooms and everywhere you girls were allowed to stay at, there was no sign of him; it was like he was waiting for this occasion as well. 

Unsurprisingly, Hermes was keeping silence about his disappearance since that day at the Library’s corridor, but though you didn’t talk to him concerning the case anymore, he kept an eye on you as he’s been doing since the start, always checking if you were eating and sleeping well just as he did to the other girls. 

Speaking of them, you also noticed that none of the apprentices seemed to know about the god’s existence: you’ve heard no conversations about a man with his description or anything that might have had the slightest connection to him; your little meetings also seemed to be known only by you and Hermes-sama, and you were never questioned about your lonely wanderings. Yes, you’d certainly hate to invent stories to maintain your privacy or to tell the truth and become the perfect target to gossip, but the man’s invisibility didn’t make it less strange. 

On the other hand, you couldn’t say you didn’t have your cheering moments: many times – more than you’d like to admit – you caught yourself wishing to see the party’s day finally coming, the moment you would enter the decorated room, observing the people around you, the talking, the laughter, the smells of the food and the drinks, and among all these elements confusing your senses you would find him, his beauty, his calm, deep aura taking over his surroundings, attracting eyes of surprise and fear as he would make his way to you… or he would be faster and appear behind you, greeting you with one of his gentle smiles, but having fun watching your startle. Yes, you were even eager to see the other girls’ reaction when they would first see him, hear his voice, sense his power; you found yourself giggling at the idea. 

But, regarding your connection, what was going to happen after you give him the answer? Would he be willing to continue the sequence of light, polite talks you started just a few days ago? Or would he be just interested in seeing if you were wise enough to decipher this mystery, and wouldn’t mind leaving you aside in case you didn’t match his expectations? No, it couldn’t be. It didn’t fit him, didn’t it? 

You smiled to the air. 

It’s so funny how I’m suddenly full of certainties when it comes to him. 

Was all of this right, or even healthy? You weren’t sure, but for a girl raised with other people’s wishes and expectations tossed at her regardless her will, thinking of this as the only wish you wanted to carry with you was tempting, enjoyable. Thinking of him was like granting yourself permission to feel safe. 

It’s not bad. So that for now, I’m giving in to it. 

*** 

 

 

 

The day of the festivity came at last, but no insight came to you with it. Your deadline was almost over, but you still had no answer to the god’s enigma. 

 

 

 

In the morning, most of the girls were out of their beds a few minutes after the sun rose up. However, even when they left the rooms after that, they didn’t let the others sleep for a little more, for they came back right after breakfast to give the news: each girl was going to receive a jewel to wear during the event, accessories specially designed by Weland, Athena (who apparently wanted to reestablish her connections to Valhalla) and Vulcan as a request from the girls’ divine tutors. 

You were one of those who stayed in bed for a little longer and despite choosing to not participate in the conversation, you couldn’t help paying attention to it. 

– Hermes-sama said that each jewel was made according to our preferences and personality – a girl sitting on the bed on the right side of yours was explaining to the one lying on it – Even the colors were carefully selected! 

– And they’re of many types! – a second apprentice replied from the door – Some of them are necklaces, and others are earrings! 

This excited the presents, provoking loud and multiple replies. 

– Really? I love earrings! 

– Do you think our master chose a jewel with a purple stone for me? I remember mentioning purple as my favorite color once… 

– I think our group will receive matching jewels. What do you think? 

Many other questions of this kind were made and repeated until you understood you wouldn’t be able to go back to sleep, so you stood up and went to take care of yourself. 

In the bathroom, Amalia, the girl who slept in the bed at the left side of yours and who also couldn’t find a tutor, told you additional details about the jewels that she heard at the kitchen. 

– Apparently, we who have not guardians will receive jewels as well – she was saying while brushing her hair – But ours will be in the form of hairpins or something like that. Honestly, I prefer hairpins. What do you think, y/n-san? 

You couldn’t care less about wearing a jewel on your hair or neck, but in respect to Amalia you replied with honesty. 

– I don’t have specific preferences, because I’m not used to jewels, but I’m sure they will send us beautiful things – you finished drying your face – So I’m happy with this. 

Amalia laughed at this answer. 

– Sometimes you sound so modest that I can’t believe a word you say! 

And that was your turn to laugh. You didn’t see yourself as this modest; you just thought you were conscious about your own limits. This attitude might have stolen the fun from you in some occasions in the past, but saved you in many others, and you believed you could live with that. 

And with such challenge under my responsibility right now, my limits are as clear as day. 

*** 

 

 

 

The room was as crowded and as noisy as a lodge for dozens of girls getting dressed to a big party could be that evening. The elves who served at Valhalla have brought the clothes, shoes, make up and many other necessary items earlier, and now everyone was occupied in using them to become the best version of themselves among the sounds of rustling skirts, the regular noises of high heels being tested as their owners walked between the beds, little screams, laughter of excitement, gossip spreading across the space and exclamations of anger and frustration for makeup and hair styling mistakes that were promptly fixed. 

 

 

 

The girls without tutors, as expected, were given dresses that resembled each other as if they belonged to the same category – and maybe it would work as a strategy to make them easy to identify among the gods – but each piece was still unique, especially due to the variety of colors. 

You, on your part, received a long, flowing dress with a high collar and a discreet front with no cleavage, but loosen sleeves that would leave your shoulders at sight, and an elastic stripe at your waist’s height. The fabric was of a soothing shade that you would describe as dusty, old pink. You looked at yourself in the mirror while brushing your hair and ended up satisfied with what you were seeing: it was impressive that, though you were never invited to have your measurements taken, they made everything your exact size. 

They must have spent an abnormal amount of time studying us. 

The sound of firm, regular knocks on the room’s large doors caught the attention of all the girls, who stopped what they were doing as one of them went to answer the call. By the rhythm of the knocks, all of you knew who was waiting on the outside. 

– Hermes-sama! – the girl who opened the door to the god took a step behind, as to open the way for him. 

Hermes walked in with a cheerful smile to greet you. 

– I can see you’re all doing your best to look presentable, children – and passing his eyes all over the room – As you can suppose, I came to call you to receive your gifts. 

The girls let out exclamations of joy, understanding that he was talking about the jewels. 

– I’m going to call you individually or in groups, according to the number of disciples of each deity – Hermes explained – Then, an elf will lead you to the room of the festivity, where the gods are waiting. Now, the ones who are ready, please, take a step ahead! 

The girls elevated their voices in approval, and the Olympian began to call the groups according to their guardian, starting by the most important ones such as Shiva, then passing to the minor deities, nymphs and elves that inhabited Vallhala. Hermes would indicate the place where the apprentices should meet their guide and receive their gifts, then come back to the room and call the next ones. The girls without guardianship would be the last ones and would be called in groups. 

That was a long process since the room you were lodged were one of the most crowded that year, so some of the girls took the chance to give a final touch to their looks. You were ready, so you sat on your bed and took a moment to take one last look at your notes. Your fingers trembled upon the pages. 

I’m sorry, my Lord. But I guess I won’t be able to keep my promise. 

The girls who were under the minor gods’ wings had more time to take care of the minor details on their looks, but as time passed, they grew impatient, so that mistakes were made. 

By the time Hermes came to call the last group – so that only you and the others without guardians were left – two girls were in front of a mirror trying to fix one’s makeup: apparently, an asymmetry was noticed in the eyeliner of the girl who was sitting in the vanity by her friend and this latter offered herself to fix the problem, but the excessive use of water caused an accident that made the other desperate. 

– I told you it was too much water! – she was crying out – Now look at my state! I’ll never conquer anyone with this appearance! 

You were close enough to hear the conversation and to observe the girls, and one look at the weeping one convinced you that the mistake was not impossible to be fixed, but you doubted that she would listen in case you said that out loud. You were still with your notebook open on your lap, but forgot it for a moment as you paid attention to the girls’ interaction. 

The girl managing the water recipient, standing beside the vanity, wasn’t the type who just listens to complains in a passive way. 

– If you stood still when I told you so, that would never happen! – she was scolding her friend – Now, stop screaming and let’s try again! 

And after the other’s reluctant agreement, she restarted her work. 

– What if Hermes-sama calls us first? – the girl with the messed make up asked with genuine preoccupation. 

– In this case, we can simply ask him to call us later. There must be no problem in this. We’re all going to receive our jewels, right? – she sighed, speaking more to herself than to her partner – Please, stand still… Heavens, will you never learn? 

You stared at the small bowl full of water as those last words echoed inside your head. 

Learn… When was the last time I thought about this? 

The water was stirred when the girl put the wiper on it again, and you remembered the conversation at the secret garden. 

When I was a child, our house was near the coast. I used to sit at its entry and observe as the ships would come and go… 

Why looking at the water should make you think about your house by the sea? You didn’t know, but decided not to interrupt the stream of thoughts. 

There are… so much knowledge I want to gather… 

You said that to him. You said how much you wanted to learn, to live an exciting life just like the people who traveled on those ships. Because the more one would learn, the more they would grow. 

Grow? 

A scary, sudden idea cracked inside your brain at that word. 

You looked down at your notes again. According to the enigma, the third brother’s domain inspired love and fear, and through these feelings it educated humanity. What were the exact words used by the god on this part? You searched for them with a nervous finger slipping through the paper. They were… 

Through it the men will grow. 

Yes, those were the words! Through his domain. Through… 

Water! 

So, the third brother ruled above water… above the seas! Of course! Traveling through them has led men to expand territories, gather knowledge and reach prosperity. The sea has made men grow in many senses, but while men loved the water, they knew that perils and tragedies were waiting for them in it, leading to a justified fear. Love and fear were united in the human heart when it came to the sea. And who was the Lord of the Seas? 

Another Olympian, known by Hermes-sama. 

Poseidon-sama! 

And in this case, the other brothers should be… 

Zeus-sama, Lord of Heaven, where only a few were allowed. Adamas-sama, God of Conquer, who doesn’t possess a physical domain, but it was publicly known that he lived with one of his brothers in his kingdom. And this brother... 

The advice you received from Hermes the day you showed him your notes emerged at that moment. 

I know there are precious details you can recall from your encounters with him. 

Your conversations then came back to you in shattered pieces, as to prove him right. 

This place… is the same of my own dreams… And it is part of Hellheim... 

The soil of my domains is not appropriate for the species... 

A way to soothe my yearning for these lands… 

Yes, you’ve studied about this once. The Greek pantheon has four ancient brothers whose power is unparalleled, and you have met the fourth, the eldest one. The god with the most terrifying of the divine domains under his command. One to where the men will always go, sooner or later. 

Right when they die. 

You closed your notebook suddenly and startled, having to gather all your strength to not scream, not only because of your discovery, but also because you heard your name being called from the door, maybe not for the first time. 

You raised your eyes to the room’s entry and felt your face burning in embarrassment. 

– You seem a bit distracted tonight, Y/n-chan! – Hermes was saying with his usually calm, modest smile – I understand your anxiety, but can you please collaborate and come to receive your gift? 

Your response was to give him a clumsy apology and hide your notebook in a drawer under your bed, then approach the door with trembling hands. A quick exchange of looks between you as you passed the doorway and both of you knew that something was about to happen. 

Only after leaving the room, you realized how strange it was being called separately instead of accompanying the other girls without guardians, but you didn’t question your guide about this: he might know what he was doing. 

Instead of leading you to an elf as he did to the previous girls, Hermes walked with you to another corridor, out of the other girls’ reach, and put a small, black box with fine, delicate ornaments in silver and red stone, in your hands; he pressed a little button to open its cover, and the interior revealed a hairpin made of noblest, polished silver that would end in a splendid couple of two flowers – narcissus – with the same reddish stones of the outside as petals. The leaves around them, also made of silver, had a sharpness on their edges that made you think they were gathered to form a weapon more than a hair accessory. 

Your eyes widened at the sight of the object, and even knowing it was made for you, you didn’t try to touch it. 

– It’s... beautiful beyond description, Hermes-sama… 

The man giggled. He has been observing your reaction since the start and, apparently, was having fun with it. 

– An appropriate gift… don’t you think? 

You raised your eyes to him, not taking long to understand. Hermes put in words what you didn’t dare say: 

– Yes, he sent this to you. Unlike the other jewels that were made by the Artisans, he made this himself. He personally collected the silver and the gems formed in the caves of his domain and used his abilities to create a replica of the narcissus you saw on the fields of Valhalla. 

So... he still remembered the brief chat you had about Valhalla’s narcissus and why they were in bloom regardless the season and created a version of them using precious materials. 

Silver and gems… from Hellheim. 

You didn’t reply to that. Hermes took the hairpin from the box and went behind you to do your hair. Only then you gathered courage to speak about your discovery. 

– Hermes-sama. 

– Yes? 

– The enigma. I solved it. I figured it out. 

You sensed when his hands stopped moving for a second before he replied. He wasn’t as surprised as you expected. 

– I see. It happened moments before I called you, didn’t it? 

– Yes. 

He finished his work, taking a moment to observe the result, making small adjustments here and there. 

– Perfect – he spoke more to himself than to you. 

You closed the box in your hands and gave it back to him when he took his place before you again. 

– So… are you ready to go, Y/n? 

You nodded, but gave him no verbal response. He frowned in preoccupation. 

– How are you feeling? Are you alright? 

– Yes, yes, I am – you shrugged – I just don’t know exactly what I’m feeling, and I fear what I’m going to feel once I… 

Hermes smiled. 

– Once you see him and give him the answer? 

You made an affirmative gesture. He thought of it for an instant. 

– Hm… In this case, allow me to tell you a secret – and lowering his tone as to be heard only by you, – He is eager to meet you again and to have your answer. The last time I saw him today, he was anxious as yourself. 

At heat came up to your face when you heard that. A god – an ancient, powerful god like the Ruler of Hellheim – was anxious to meet you? Could you believe that, or was Hermes just being dramatic? 

He might have noticed your disbelief, for with a giggle, he offered you his arm and held the box with the other. 

– Allow me to lead you to the festivity’s place, child. Hades-sama is waiting for you.

#shuumatsu no valkyrie #shuumatsu no valkyrie x reader #shuumatsu no walkure #record of ragnarok #record of ragnarok x reader #snv x reader #ror fanfiction #ror x reader #shuumatsu no valkyrie hades #record of ragnarok hades #ror hades x reader #snv hades x reader

[romiswired]

HARASHIMA vs. Yuki Ueno (c) (DDT Judgement 2024 - 5 Hour Special in Korakuen)

Watch and learn.

Whenever I see someone like HARASHIMA taking someone like Yuki Ueno to a whole other level in a pro wrestling ring I usually smile because there's hope for wrestling as a sport and as a struggle. In fact, wrestling has been falling apart in that aspect at least in the West because many people just reject the idea of in-ring storytelling or are not trained well to see it with their own eyes and without some guy screaming shit on a microphone.

This match is in essence the perfect way to prove pro wrestling is more than just wrestling, and the perfect example of a wrestler who, in an attempt to build his opponent as a credible threat, shines in a performance of his own. Guys, HARASHIMA is like 50 years of age, he shouldn't be wrestling at this level and he shouldn't be a guy who could have one KO-D title reign right now and no one will complain. Ueno on the other hand is the New Ace in DDT, and he has grown as a wrestler in comparison to where he was standing in 2020 and 2021, where his matches (while good) didn't seem to hit me like his recent work does.

I think that's because Ueno has comprehended the absolute truth behind pro wrestling and the secret for it to be good: It needs to be a struggle. You need to suffer because suffering is the only universal thing any person can understand. After all, it hits us the same, and while Ueno suffers like hell in this contest, I can't help but focus on HARASHIMA's subtle but excellent character work. He's now the veteran making sure the young guys have what it takes to carry with the company, he's no longer DDT's Ace like he was before and as he reaches 50 years of age, there's an eternal struggle with the fact the only rival he can't beat is time itself.

That written fate he's doomed to live is the thing that resonates in his body and just makes him continue wrestling at this pace, even if his body is hurt and he can't do the same things he was able to do years ago. HARASHIMA's current work can be compared with the likes of Hiroshi Tanahashi's 2018, where he understood the assignment and saw the potential hidden in one last big run as the Ace of the Universe. HARASHIMA is not having a big run, but nonetheless, people support him in this match because he's that damn good and because that's the dynamic that follows. You can't hate a good Old Ace vs New Ace match.

Don't get me wrong, Ueno is a solid contender for Wrestler of the Year in my books, but he's not the protagonist in this match, and I will dare to say he's the antagonist because there's something cocky behind his attitude that I can't seem to get out of my head. I don't know if it's the shitty smile, or the idea Ueno does not take this match seriously for the first 10 minutes, but I can't seem to believe Ueno is essentially the hero in this one, and it's harder to even consider that option when the literal HERO of DDT is standing across him in the ring.

I don't know, maybe I'm a sucker for true and honest babyfaces. Maybe I want someone to make me hope for a better future. Maybe I relate to HARASHIMA's struggle in this match because I'm also attached to my past and parts of me yearn to go back, but time will not allow me to do so, therefore, I have to live in the present and face the wrath of the almighty Father Time, who is always reminding me I'm growing and things are getting hard by the hour.

I'm still an 18-year-old who's learning to live and love again, and I'm not the most fitting person to understand or sympathize with HARASHIMA's struggle as a 50-year-old veteran who's just fighting with his heart and soul for one last big run where people realize he's still their Ace, but god damn if there isn't something so contagious about his resilience that inspires me and makes me want to be like him. A hero for his people. An inspiration for his peers.

Needless to say, this is my Match of the Year, and I don't think any match will hit me as this one because of everything that happens in between. Just last week I saw a match that people considered the best match of the year and I gave my honest opinion on it and how it was not better than this one. I decided to rewatch this one to see if I was just biased with my opinion: But I was right. The reason behind its superiority is the basic premise of selling.

Wrestling matches just work better when you give a fuck about the fundamentals and continuing a narrative in the ring.

HARASHIMA's selling in this match is top-tier, and I think I've been saying that for the past 5 years, but I can't talk about this match without praising Ueno's explosiveness and delivery in some of his moves and offense. There's this joke about him being an Ibushi clone, but that's not right because he's plainly better. He was not that good years ago, but he has improved more than any other young wrestler who's aiming to be an Ace in a Japanese company. I will not say I'm talking about Kaito Kiyomiya.

I don't usually pray for people to watch a match, but please, go out of your way to see this one. I don't know how many times I need to repeat DDT is the best wrestling company in the world today but if I have to do it 100 times for you to watch this one and engage in the same spectacle as I did, I will get on my hands and knees for you to live this experience and see how a true Match of the Year looks like.

Is it better than Bryan Danielson vs Will Ospreay?

Absolutely, and as I said, it's not better because it has more moves and sick spots. It's good because it has selling and two wrestlers who are cooperative with the other and are not trying to get their shit in for the sake of it. Neither Ueno nor HARASHIMA is an Ospreay-type wrestler who just wants to get over and pop the crowd in the emptiest way possible, but two athletes who understand the importance of telling a story in the ring and the obligation wrestlers have to look vulnerable when needed. That makes the match so good. It's honest, and that's something needed.

#ddt pro #yuki ueno #harashima #ddt judgement #ddt wrestling

[dolciume]

okay so the reason i was upset w friends bc is bc i was rly rly rly rly insane person stressed and i told my friend eve everything abt the situation at work that i had a childs life in my hands 5 a week and i’m just a first year new para 😬 basically i was assigned to a very very very dangerous suicidal 14 year old child and i got so insane in an e-mail to 4 people that they took me off the case 😬 on friday i emailed my middle boss, my head boss, the child’s care manager, and the other para assigned to the job. i said i will not ever take this child for 10 days by myself. they wanted us to do a 2 week (10 day) rotation of just this child for 6 hours no break at all. like just me and her all week. they wanted me and 2 other adults to do this rotation schedule. in my email i was so fucking crazy and unprofessional but i wasn’t mean i just said like I CANT DO 10 DAYS IN A FUCKING ROW as calmly as i could 4 times. i also told the truth: i do not eat or sleep well anymore and i come to work with my hands shaking and sweating every single day. 5 days a week and on the weekend i agonize about going in work on monday. this child is very ill and i cannot take her case. i am cutting myself really really severely. i am drinking and doing drugs severely. i cannot live like this. i cannot care for myself none the less a suicidal child who i sincerely believe could die any day now. i believed for some time that it was God’s penance, and while i still believe that i MUST escape it.. i must be free… :,(

but even though i DID GET TRANSFERRED OFF HER CASE!!! i’ve still been crying since i know the issue is not resolved… she is still an abused child

i don’t think things will get better… i have no one to lean on or support me… i really wish i was dead

#diary #i’m drunk and high

[st-kitten]

pt.1, pt.2, pt.3, pt.5

after their incident, a few days later, she came by earlier, at around 4 pm, hoping the change in time would make her study better. but to no avail

when kiyoshi entered the cafe at 5pm, she awkwardly greeted him and he asked her to come to the back in the storage room. hoping it wouldn't be another discussion about the incident, she followed him. standing in front of him as he dug through his locker, she looked around. it was like a storage room combined with a resting area and a washroom

kiyoshi pulled out a book from his locker and handed it to her. it was her own textbook, but a few editions older "i have it on my laptop tho" "trust me. a paperback may surprise you" she found it strange that he'd go to this length to help her with studies he wasn't even familiar with. but she took it anyway

she began reading it instantly. she found out several differences between the content and she was surprised to notice a great deal of censorship in certain chapters due to contemporary politics and grey-shade conflicts. it suddenly gave her a boost to turn her argument around and put in a crutch of corruption and illicit blanketing in the sociopolitical evidence of the foreign affairs in her syllabus. the old edition was somehow more truthful than the internet and she had never been more inspired to dive and dig deep into her discipline. kiyoshi watched her throughout her study. she was extremely engrossed in her work and he could hear her type furiously, taking down notes from the tattered book he'd found in a library after bullying imayoshi to find it for her from her university. boy was he glad he found it. or rather imayoshi did. he didn't want to see y/n's defeated appearance after the hours she put in her work

even after he'd left, leaving hyuuga to close the cafe, y/n worked on her assignment until midnight, when hyuuga reminded her that the cafe was about to be closed. she couldn't take her eyes off the damn book and begged him to let her stay. hyuuga couldn't agree so easily and eventually asked her to go to her dorm or something. she argued saying it was a little too late to go back on the campus as the university had curfew. hyuuga sighed and invited her to his apartment. he had a twin bed in his room as it was the bigger one out of the two. it was meant for imayoshi or sometimes their friend izuki who came by and stayed over when he had work around the area. y/n thanked him a million times, her nose buried in the book throughout the drive to his apartment. hyuuga actually found it charming. he was sure that he liked her studious side. if only he was more interested in academics like y/n, hyuuga would be able to spend more time with imayoshi on a book or two instead of panting and damn nearly killing himself dribbling balls behind his overly cunning bf with a stamina of ten horses

hyuuga welcomed her into the apartment, showing her his room. she thanked him. being a weekend, she was expecting to take a well-serving all-nighter to study and actually type a proper draft of her assignment instead of just random points. what she wasn't expecting was to run into a half-naked kiyoshi in the washroom, a toothbrush dangling in his mouth, when she opened the door to wash her face, preparing for her night studies

"you? here? what... how?" she asked, trying to be modest and not check him out kiyoshi nearly swallowed the toothbrush seeing y/n in the bathroom. spitting the paste out and rinsing his mouth, he looked back at her "I live here." "okay... guess hyuuga forgot to mention that... sorry, I'll let you get back to your... uh... routine"

"i'm done. you can use the bathroom… there's a spare toothbrush somewhere, I think." kiyoshi was just as awkward as her. but he left the bathroom and rushed into the kitchen to down a glass of water, spilling some on his chest.

he needed a moment to think. he was sure that he had feelings for her and he was terrified of the fact that despite being with riko, he wasn't feeling guilty of it at all. in fact, every time he and riko went out, he could barely focus on her. he kept thinking of y/n and the kiss they'd shared. kiyoshi didn't even bother to remember y/n's bf, someone he'd already rivalled against. now that she was in his apartment, kiyoshi didn't know what to do. he could just leave her be, but knowing that she was one room away from him, that too in hyuuga company made him a bit jealous. not that he didn't trust his friend

kiyoshi fought back against interrupting them and simply went into his own room, sinking in his bed, trying not to think of y/n. hours passed and he couldn't sleep. he felt hungry and got up to get some leftovers from the fridge. the kitchen diagonally faced the living room, so when he entered, he saw y/n sprawled on their couch, her laptop, placed on the coffee table, illuminating her face in the dim light. she was still reading the book he'd lent her. kiyoshi blushed hard and hid his face in the refrigerator, eyeing a box of leftover pizza and some soggy fries

he took them out and was about to head back into his room when he saw y/n almost fall of the couch trying to reach a pen. he scurried to her side trying to catch her, but she fell nonetheless, the book hitting her face. kiyoshi stopped just before her, but his feet skid on the carpet and he too fell down, his torso hitting y/n face next

"bitch, fuck! how much do you weigh?" she groaned

kiyoshi chuckled, getting off her and sitting on the floor, back resting against the couch. she still lay on the floor, the book covering her face. kiyoshi's eyes rested on her abdomen, which was bare open as the shirt had risen up due to the fall. he'd cut his hands off before he thought of touching her. or so he thought. he pulled her shirt back on her stomach, covering it properly

"get up. you'll sprain your neck," he said

she simply looked at him from above the edge of the book. "kiyoshi..." 

his name from her mouth was the most beautiful sound he'd heard

"mmm?"

"can I keep this book forever? it's perfect," she asked

kiyoshi laughed. "imayoshi would kill me"

she got up and sat beside him

"this book is amazing. i wrote nine pages, kiyoshi. nine! that's the best I've done this month!"

"that sure is something. how much is left?" he asked

"oh i finished the assignment two hours ago"

"hah? then wyd rn?"

she gave him a cheeky smile "i love this book. I'm dissecting it. for curiosity"

"fuck… you really love studying don't you" kiyoshi sighed to himself

"i love putting effort into learning."

"that's very nice… aren't you sleepy?"

"no. I've never felt more awake. ik i keep talking about the book but you have no idea how much it means to me".

"glad i know now."

they sat in silence for a while. kiyoshi asked her if she wanted pizza. her response, a classic, was that all the knowledge had made her full. he snorted and got up to pick up the plate

while he ate, she narrated some of her observations in the book he'd given her versus the book she was using before. kiyoshi didn't understand a single thing. but the sight of her being eager to talk to him made him feel as if he could learn the law in a single night

y/n realised that she'd been rambling about her notes to a man who probably was asleep by now. when she peered at him, she found him staring at her with a small smile. an innocent, humble, and warm smile. it was then that she noticed how peculiarly gleaming his eyes were. it changed his whole appearance. his hair, perhaps due to the tossing in bed, was more wild than usual

"did i bore you?" she asked,

"you could never," he said in a raspy voice. his head was resting on his elbow that dangled on the seat of the couch, showing his long, attractive neck

"so you were actually listening to all of it?"

"yes"

"oya? then tell me how the anthropomorphic backdrop of a nation's political identity helped shape its legal functioning regarding individual rights and freedoms?"

"tomato garlic pepper. that's what happened."

y/n grinned at his pathetic description of a pizza. but who was she to complain? she swatted his chest, which was covered by a soft pink hoodie. pink looked good on him, she thought. he laughed heartily

"sorry for keeping you awake, kiyoshi."

"I'm not. talk more if you want to."

y/n softened at his comment. how could he be so kind? for a fraction of a second, she thought about how hanamiya, despite being so smart, never bothered to listen to her worries or comments. whether it be about her studies or in general. sure, he was affectionate, but he wasn't considerate. y/n didn't always want the expensive dates and overpriced gifts. hell, one time she wanted a mug of coffee and hanamiya ended up taking her to a french bistro, ordering a platter of fancy french delicacies. y/n indirectly sought the decent comfort she found in the cafe at other places. she knew now that it wasn't entirely the cafe. it was kiyoshi. kiyoshi teppei made her feel comfortable and at ease with herself, no matter where they were. she noticed how he matched her energy effortlessly. if she was studying, he'd turn the music low, adjust the temperature, and quietly place her coffee on the table. if she was taking a break, he'd replace the coffee with a glass of water, placing a small snack or two. she noticed how the window seat table was never occupied unless she sat there. when y/n wasn't studying, kiyoshi would try his best to keep her company or asked hyuuga to do so. she didn't realise how comfortable and nice these little acts were until she couldn't find them anywhere else, with anyone else...

I'm deadass writing a novel here... next part coming up!

#kiyoshi teppei #kiyoshi #teppei #kuroko's basketball #hanamiya makoto #y/n #fluff #coffee #pizza

[abraxos-and-ataraxia]

Crown of Ash and Blood

Chapter 5

Pairing: Eris x Original Character

Word Count: 3.2k

Warnings: none

Summary: Eris is cool, calm, and collected.  He’s not known for the fire in his blood, but for his cold manipulation of truth and lies.  Until he meets his match.  Literally.

A/N: I really wish I could show the IC conversations happening behind the scenes, but you’ll just have to use your imagination because we’re starting on the daneris drama mwahaha

Masterlist

The halls of the Forest House were always empty.  It was partly due to Beron’s requirement that all servants remain invisible, and partly due to the fact that few guests stayed longer than absolutely necessary.  Eris included.

His father sent word that morning.  Eris was required to attend breakfast in the main dining room.

The sound of his boots on the flagstone was overly loud.  The others were already waiting, no doubt an intentional move by his father.  No one spoke until Eris had taken his seat, just to the left of his father.  “Where have you been?”  Beron had no use for pleasantries.

“I thought I smelled Night Court spies, so I took my hounds to the Winter border.”  Not a lie.  He had, in fact, found Azriel near the border last month.

“And?”

“Nothing.  If anyone was there at all, they’re long gone.”

Beron gave a huff of disappointment.  “The half-breed has been sniffing around too much.”  Danger averted, Eris picked up his cutlery at last.  Across the table, his mother met his gaze.  Her hands were still in her lap.

“It seems the Night Court took our insults to heart,” Dion chuckled, taking a swig from his glass.  No doubt filled with wine, despite the hour.

“Eris did the most damage,” Castor intoned.  “Why must you insult your former fiancée at every opportunity?”

Beron’s knife clattered against his plate, and everyone fell silent.  “Enough,” his father said, leaning back in his chair.  “You can continue your squabbles elsewhere.”

“I was under the impression that we were this morning’s entertainment,” Loren said, his smile sharp.

“Father was just talking about how he couldn’t find you last night,” Castor added, leaning forward with a bloodthirsty look in his eyes.  “I wonder why.”

“I could have sworn I saw you sneaking around yesterday,” Loren slashed back.  Eris shot him a warning glare, but his brother ignored it, as always.  “Care to share with the group?”

“Father entrusted me with an assignment.  That’s what happens when you can keep your mouth shut around whores,” Castor said, showing too many teeth for a true smile.

“At least I can clean up my own messes.  What kind of male needs his father to do his killing for him?”

Castor seethed, but Eris watched his mother, whose face was rapidly paling.  He looked over at Beron, whose expression was a little too pleased.  Fools.  His brothers were giving too much away.

“I can’t speak for Castor, but I was patrolling the border yesterday.  Such fine weather, it seemed a waste to spend the day indoors,” Eris said, calmly cutting into his breakfast sausage.

Beron waited until he took a bite.  “I sent Castor to find you last night.  He was…unsuccessful.”

Eris forced himself to swallow.  “Apologies, father.  It seems I never trained him well enough in tracking.”  He ignored the implications of Beron’s statement.  The knowledge that his brother was only hot-tempered when in pain.

“Perhaps I should have sent him with the guardsmen at a younger age,” Beron mused, eyes narrowed on them all.

“Perhaps,” Castor gritted out, sitting ramrod straight.

“But then,” Beron went on.  “Not all of my sons are destined for greatness.”

They spent the remainder of the meal in grating silence.

* * * * *

All morning, Eris kept one eye on the shadows, waiting.  He knew he didn’t have to wait long.  The inner circle had no doubt received news of his dramatic exit last night, so it was only a matter of time before they demanded his presence.

He was more than happy to oblige.  The best information came from one’s interrogator, after all.

Eris was combing through paperwork in his private residence when the note came.  Setting aside news from the coastal cities, Eris accepted the slim roll of parchment from the stable hand, tossing a coin for his silence.

Sure enough, an immediate summons.  He smirked, turning back to his reports.  He’d leave, but not until he was finished.

Eris swaggered into the Hewn City ten minutes late.  Before the meeting room door had even shut behind him, Rhysand pinned him to the wall with a star-flecked wind.  “Boring,” he wheezed, rolling his eyes in spite of the chokehold.  “You forgot to preface your torture with a poetic speech.”

Rhysand’s power disappeared so suddenly, Eris stumbled.  “Please, sit.”

Adjusting his jacket, Eris selected a chair and settled in before addressing the members of the Night Court’s inner circle.  Everyone was there, save the silver-eyed demon.  “Well?”

“I am going to ask you a few questions,” Rhysand said, his smile serpentine.  “And you are going to answer them.”

“Ah, an interrogation.  You forgot to mention that in your letter.”

“My mistake.”

“I always look forward to receiving your little love notes, Rhysand,” Eris said with a smirk.  “Next time, send me flowers.”  He made eye contact with Morrigan, irritation coiling in his stomach when she looked away.

“Is this how you normally behave while being interrogated,” Feyre asked, lip curled in disgust.

“Hardly.  My father does a better job, doesn’t leave much time for flirting.”  No one looked particularly surprised by that little gem.  Interesting.  So Cassian had shared—such a good dog.

The shadowsinger spoke up from the corner.  “Neither do I.”

“You look like you’d enjoy a good flirtation, though.”

Cassian snarled, stepping closer like he planned to pin Eris to the wall again.  “Where did you take the female?”

“You’re going to have to be more specific,” Eris drawled.  “I’ve taken quite a few females, and I haven’t gotten any complaints.”

Rhysand seemed to be the only one capable of containing his temper.  “Witnesses saw you take an Illyrian female out of the Hewn City.  What did you do with her?”

“Correction, witnesses saw a female holding a fork to my throat, demanding that I winnow her to safety,” Eris said, brow raised.  “I have to admit, it wasn’t my finest moment.  But I certainly didn’t take her.  It’s more accurate to say she forced me to help her.”  For a moment, no one spoke.  Eris frowned, leaning forward slightly.  “Two of you are daemati, surely you’ve already seen this.  Why the show of force?”

“Where did you take her?”  Rhysand was like a dog with a bone.

“I didn’t take her,” Eris reiterated.  “I winnowed her to the Middle and left her there.”  Rhysand and his cronies flinched in surprise, and Eris pounced.  “My question is this: why was she in the Hewn City to begin with?”

“She disappeared from her room,” Feyre said, mouth pursed like she’d tasted a lemon.

“She ran away,” Eris smirked.

Feyre frowned at him, all the confirmation he needed.  “If she accidentally ended up in the Court of Nightmares, it makes sense that she was scared and needed help,” Feyre tried to explain.

“Come now, Feyre,” Eris crooned.  “You know she wasn’t afraid of a few Darkbringers.  The female was determined to flee the Night Court, not just this mountain.”  He watched them fidget, their tentative web of lies falling to pieces.  “Since none of you are racing to the Middle to rescue her, I assume you’d prefer her dead.  Perhaps that’s why she was so desperate to leave.”

Feyre gasped, “No, we—”

“Did she tell you anything else?”  Rhysand’s face was bland, but Eris knew a loaded question when he heard it.

“You aren’t denying it, Rhysand,” Eris commented, his smile growing.  “Interesting.  And yes, now that you mention it, she did say a few things.”

“Such as,” Rhysand ground out.

Eris watched them carefully for a reaction to his words, “She said the night court is on the brink of civil war.”  Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Cassian twitch.  Eris withheld his smirk.  “Could her escape have something to do with that?”

“I don’t know what you mean,” Rhysand said smoothly.

Eris shrugged, relaxing into his chair.  “In Autumn, when someone tries to instigate rebellion, we kill them.”

“We have no interest in sharing our plans with you,” Morrigan spoke at last.  “And we definitely don’t appreciate the implication that we would sink to your level.”

“Are you uncomfortable because I haven’t lied yet, or because you can’t tell if you’re telling the truth anymore?”

Rhysand’s expression was a dark thundercloud.  “Where is she?”

Eris shrugged again.  “I told you, I left her in the Middle.”

“Won’t be the first time you’ve abandoned a female,” Morrigan muttered.

He pinned her with a firm stare.  “Believe it or not, I went back for her later, but she was already gone.  Though I know how you like to lay the Night Court’s misdeeds at my feet.”  Azriel snarled soundlessly, his scarred hand reaching for the knife at his side.  “Leash your pet,” Eris said, watching Morrigan flinch away from the potential conflict.  Still unable to face harsh truths, despite her gift.  Or perhaps because of it.

Feyre and Rhysand were still as statues, having some private conversation.  He decided to keep Danae’s current location a secret for the time being.  Better to save that bargaining chip for later.  Besides, he didn’t believe in showing his hand all at once.

Eris moved to stand, but Cassian barred the door with his body.  “You leave when we tell you to.”

“I don’t heed instructions from bastards above their station,” he mocked.  “In case you’ve forgotten, we are allies.  I am not your pet.  And the second you think to treat me like one, know that I possess enough information to ruin you however I choose.”

Rhysand looked up at last, eyes glittering.  Eris could practically see the thoughts churning, wondering what else the female told him.  Fortunately, Eris’ reputation managed to do most of the work for him, confirming Rhysand’s fears.

“For now, we are allies,” he said again.  “I suggest you learn how to act like it.”

Feyre sat quietly, the plots seemingly beyond her capacity.  Eris suspected that Rhysand was feeding her what she needed to understand.  He couldn’t help remembering her helpless face during Amarantha’s trials.  She’d needed help then, too.  Not much had changed.

“Allies,” Rhysand said, voice low.  “We promised to help your bid for power in exchange for your silence.  Now you want more?”

“I have offered you aid and information whenever asked, and in return, all I have are threats to reveal our alliance to my father,” Eris said, smiling faintly.  “I find that I’ve tired of feeling like an accessory to your court.  It’s time to return the favor.”

“Our gift wasn’t enough?”  Feyre gestured to the Made blade on his belt.

Eris didn’t bother to respond.  He’d accomplished what he came for.  Rhysand and his cronies had verified Danae’s information, and they’d given him a much better picture of her motivations.  Putting this court of dreamers in their place was just an amusement, really.  He walked to the door, waiting until Cassian moved aside.  Then he paused, fingers resting on the handle, and looked over his shoulder.  “And Rhysand,” Eris said, holding that violet stare.  “If you ever find yourself embroiled in an internal war, know that I’ll gladly come to help.”

Let them decide which side he would fight for.

* * * * *

After rolling around the creaky bed for several hours, then gorging herself on bread and cheese, Danae finally admitted defeat.  She was horribly, terribly bored.  Her eyes kept sliding to the closet.  The one Eris said had cleaning supplies.  With nothing else to keep her occupied, and unable to go outside, manual labor became more and more appealing as the minutes ticked by.  She tried not to hate herself for it.  For falling so willingly back into her old role.

And the cabin truly did smell.

She scrubbed the floors first, taking breaks when her back cramped up.  Then she moved to the kitchen, mopping down the counter and cleaning the meager collection of dishes.  She opened the front door, shaking out the blankets and pillows—pointedly keeping her feet inside, so she wasn’t technically breaking Eris’ rule.

By the time the sun touched the horizon, Danae had washed every inch of the cabin within reach.  It smelled considerably better, and after devouring a box of pastries, she felt better, too.  The effort kept her mind busy, rather than letting her spiral at the thought of a new cage.

Danae flopped on the couch, adjusting her sweater.  She’d taken a knife to her new clothes, doing her best to fit things around her wings.  The sweater gaped in the back, but the waistband of the pants was high enough to compensate.  She supposed there were no Illyrians in Autumn, and she doubted Eris would have been able to find anything to accommodate her wings.  Still, she resolved to ask for sewing materials so she could attempt to add buttons.  And fix the jagged holes.

She would also ask for books.  Anything, really.  The only book in the cabin was a dusty fishing tome, and she left it where she found it—holding the bedroom door open.  It had a tendency to swing shut, and when cut off from the main room at night, it got so cold she could see her breath.

A knock at the door made her pulse jump.  Breathing shallowly, Danae crept to the window, peeking out through the thin curtains.

“While I’m thrilled you had the foresight to check who was knocking,” Eris called through the door.  “I can see the curtains moving.  If I was an enemy, you’d be dead by now.”  The door swung open, revealing Eris’ disapproving face.  “And the door was unlocked.”

“Sorry,” she grimaced.

“The door was locked this morning,” he said, eyes narrowing.  “Did you leave?”

“I said I wouldn’t,” Danae snapped.  “I just wanted to air the place out.  And shake the bedding.”

“Anyone could have seen you.  Don’t do it again unless I’m here,” Eris said, uncompromising.

“Fine.  Did you at least bring more food with you?”

Eris pointed to the table.  “Sit.  Tell me something about the Night Court and I’ll bring your dinner.”

“And if I don’t, you’ll send me to my room,” Danae rolled her eyes.

“If you don’t, our deal is off, and I’ll hand you back to your High Lord.  He’s looking for you,” Eris said, dragging his chair out from under the table.  She flinched.

Mastering herself, Danae stalked across the kitchen, leaning over the table to scowl at him.  “If you even think about bringing me back there, I’ll kill you.”

“Ah, so you’re a daemati now,” Eris said, voice mocking.  “Tell me, what am I thinking now?”

“I hate you,” she hissed.

Eris frowned, “That doesn’t sound like me at all.”

Her blood boiled, and on impulse, she darted for the knife on Eris’ belt.  Long, pale fingers wrapped around hers a hair's breadth from the hilt.  When she fought, his grip tightened, grinding the bones of her wrist together.  Biting back a whine, Danae relaxed her hand, waiting for him to release her.

When he finally did, Danae slumped into a chair, shuffling awkwardly to accommodate her wings.  “Let’s not try that again,” Eris said, each word hitting her like a stone.  She shook with restrained fury.  “Now,” Eris brushed a hand down his jacket sleeve, smoothing the fine fabric.  “You were about to share some information.  Shall we start with the tension in Illyria?”

Danae focused on her breathing, rather than the pounding of her heart.  “Traditions in Illyria have been a source of conflict between the warriors and the High Lord.”  Her voice was toneless, purely factual.  “Illyrians see him as an outsider because of his High Fae blood.  They’re reluctant to follow his new laws.”

“What laws?”

“The most controversial one forbids wing clipping, an old Illyrian tradition.  Males like to cripple their females to keep them obedient.  The High Lord said it was mutilation, a crime.”

Eris’ eyes flicked to her wings, and she pulled them tighter against her back.  “Is that why you were running?”

“You asked for information about the Night Court,” she snarled.  “Not me.”

“I asked a question, and you’ve already promised to answer.”

She laughed mirthlessly.  “You must hate being on the other side of things.”

“Whatever do you mean?”

“I can’t count how many of my questions you’ve evaded,” Danae said.  “Either by giving me half an answer or by ignoring me.”

Eris shook his head.  “That wasn’t a part of our deal.”

“It’s hardly fair for you to expect my complete honesty when you can’t offer the same,” Danae scowled at him.

For a moment, she thought Eris would simply walk away.  Her gut clenched, wondering if he would uphold his threat and bring her back to Night.  Then Eris sighed, “Very well.”  The words came slowly, almost painfully, but they were still an agreement.

Danae jumped on the opportunity before he could go back on his word.  “Where exactly are we?”

Eris blew out a long breath before responding.  “Near the Winter Court border.  This is my brother’s old cabin.”

“What if he comes here?”

“He won’t,” Eris said, jaw clenched.

“Why not?”

Eris’ eyes flashed.  For once, they burned, instead of glinting like chips of ice.  “Because he’s dead.”

Danae sucked in a breath.  “I’m sorry,” she murmured.

“Don’t be.  He was a hateful creature,” Eris said.  But somehow, she didn’t quite believe him.  “Your turn.  Truth for truth.”

She nodded.  Fair enough.  “Yes, I was running from the males of my war camp.  I managed to escape before they could get the knife, but they shot me out of the air.”  Danae ignored the phantom pain in her wings, flexing them to remind herself she was whole, healing.  “How do you know the High Lord is looking for me?”

“We have brunch every week,” Eris said, sarcasm dripping from his tongue.  “In case you didn’t realize, there was an audience during your grand escape.  They know I winnowed you out, and they wanted to know where I took you.”

“What did you tell them?”

“The truth,” he smiled.

Danae saw red.  She blinked, and then she was on top of him, his dagger clenched in one fist.  The blade gleamed with a cold inner fire, but she ignored it, snarling in his face.

When she met his gaze, Eris stilled, rather than fighting her off.  His eyes widened, expression surprisingly unguarded.  The shock of seeing an emotion other than scorn made her hand waver, unwilling to slice into him.  She trembled slightly.

Then the gates slammed back down, covering whatever she’d seen in his eyes.  Eris twisted them to the side, toppling the chair and sending her sprawling across the floor.  He moved so fast, she only caught flashes.  Eris ripped the knife from her hand and disappeared out the door, slamming it behind him.  He didn’t say a word.

Danae gasped, coughing from her collision with the wooden planks.  The impact had knocked the fury right out of her, leaving her scrambling.  What happened?  Staring at the door, still vibrating from the force Eris used to slam it, she wondered if he’d ever answer.  Or if he’d even return to the cabin.  She wondered when Eris would want to rid himself of a female so inclined to slit his throat.

Perhaps the Night Court was already preparing her cell.

* * * * *

Previous • Next

#eris x oc #eris vanserra x oc #eris vanserra #eris vanserra fic #acotar fanfic #acotar fic

[vestige-nan]

The Clockwork God’s Apprentice: Ch 5

Summary: Snippets of the vestige being Sotha Sil’s apprentice before the vestige became the vestige, because being Seht’s apprentice is the dream.  

Fun stuff: As always, vestige is gender neutral and not described, however they are a psijic.

"I don't know why Azura is the anticipation of you, you're nothing like her."

The god's ruby eyes followed his apprentice where his head did not. He slightly lowered the metal tablet he was reading as his apprentice fed their nixad a golden berry. Their nixad gobbled it up in one snatch before looking to his apprentice for more.

"Boethiah for Almalexia seems somewhat appropriate. Mephala for Vivec feels like a bit of a stretch. But you? Azura?"

"You have been reading the sermons," The clockwork god mused.

His apprentice held up a book with the title The Anticipations. "It doesn't make sense, any of them really."

"No?" The god asked, "Boethiah welcomes bloodshed and the overthrow of authority, and who better to anticipate the Warden of Morrowind, the insurrectionist of Daedric worship? Or what of Vivec, who weaves many secrets throughout his poetry and lessons not unlike the spinner of whispers?"

His apprentice looked at him skeptically, "Okay. Then what about you?"

"Azura might fit my anticipation the best of all. She is the prince of mysteries and magic, her domain of flawless beauty. What is beauty if not invention perfected?"

The god's apprentice set their book down and fed their fabricant another berry. "I don't believe it."

The god hummed at that. "Then you are wiser than most."

"Azura would fit the anticipation of Vivec much better, I think." They said, "Isn't that the point of all those poems? Beauty? Dusk and dawn would be his two halves."

"Perhaps," He responded. "And who would you assign the others?"

"You'd be anticipated by Hermeaus Mora, obviously."

The god almost almost smiled at that. "Hermeaus Mora isn't one of the Good Daedra."

"No, but it certainly fits more than anyone else." His apprentice tapped their lips in thought, "And then Meridia would anticipate Almalexia. Not for any particular reason other than that feels right."

"What complicated tangles you would put the acolytes through, making them justify such things."

"What about you?" They asked as they leaned their chin on their hand. Their nixad prodded them for attention, and when the fabricant didn't get any, he sat and yawned. "Who do you think would anticipate the three of you the best?"

"None," The god answered. "The Daedra were never anticipations for anything other than their own domain, and to think otherwise is to deny the nature of Daedra."

The god's apprentice stretched slowly with a yawn, following their nixad's sleepiness. "I thought you might say something like that."

Seht knew his apprentice would soon retire. Ironically, the clockwork god wasn't as deft with keeping time; it being so easy to get lost in his own work and his divine lack of needs. His apprentice's schedule was his personal clock. And yet, despite the hour, the god wanted to extend his time with his apprentice. How strange it was, to want so simply.

"Will you read to me?" The clockwork god said, his ruby eyes still on his own work, and his apprentice's heavy eyelids blinked back to life.

"Why?" They asked, and it was a reasonable question.

"I find it... smoother to work with ambient noise," It was both a truth and a lie.

His apprentice thought carefully, before holding up The Anticipations, "Do you want me to read this book?"

"If you wish it."

"Because if you don't mind, I would rather read something more interesting."

The god almost smiled at that. "What would you like to read me?"

His apprentice pulled up another book, one that was underneath their pile of academic tomes and instructional records: Investigator Vale and the Hounds of Black Moor.

"Have you ever read any of the Investigator Vale Series?"

"I can't say I've had the..." Sotha Sil was as stone, "...pleasure."

"Then you have been wasting your time with those ancient tablets of yours," They said simply, and it had been a long long time since Sotha Sil was reprimanded. "We'll start from where I'm at, since you'll probably anticipate everything about the series the moment I start reading."

"Astutely noted," The god remarked.

"I like to guess the mystery ahead of time," His apprentice said, and he knew that was true for more than just this book series. "So don't reveal the surprise to me, not even a hint."

"I wouldn't dream of it." The god said, just the slightest hint of amusement in his voice, as he returned to his work.

That was all the invitation his apprentice needed as they cleared their throat and began, "Investigator Vale, who was usually very late in the mornings, save upon..."

#eso #The Elder Scrolls #tes #elder scrolls online #sotha sil #vestige #sotha sil x vestige #sotha sil/vestige #the clockwork god's apprentice

[akatsuki-shin]

[REVIEW] 刀剣乱舞無双 Touken Ranbu Warriors

Finally finished this game after 55-hour gameplay on Steam! It was a fun experience overall despite some complaints that I have about the plot, so I'd like to share my review with everyone. ^^

My final stats:

Total Gameplay: 55 hour

Character Level: All Lv. 99

Character Skill: All Lv. 5/6

Honmaru: Lv. 30

Bonds: 100% unlocked

Memoirs: 100% unlocked

Shop: All items cleared

Game Achievements: 100%

Note(s):

Long post ahead, may contain spoilers

This review is written by an existing Touken Ranbu fan

My opinion does not represent the entire audience and players of the game

P.S. I will post a separate character gameplay review next week, as well as some mini-guide/tips and trick for those who haven’t played it.

SUMMARY:

In the year 2205, an evil force known as the Historical Revisionists attempted to alter history by sending their troops, dubbed the History Retrograde Army, to interfere with major historical events in the past. To prevent disaster from happening, the Government of Time deployed Saniwa, people with the ability to manifest the hearts of inanimate object, to intercept the enemy's scheme.

Each Saniwa was then assigned to a Honmaru. With their special ability, the Saniwa summoned the spirit of famous Japanese swords and became their master. These sword spirits, who took the form of young male warriors, are known as the Touken Danshi. Under the Saniwa's command, they would travel through time to battle against the History Retrograde Army and prevent the course of history from being changed.

Unfortunately, the enemies managed to locate one of the Honmaru and launched a massive attack on it, nearly annihilating the entire citadel as they pursued a "melody" that belonged to the Saniwa of this place. As the consequence, the Saniwa of this Honmaru went missing, and the remaining 15 Touken Danshi was left adrift in time.

However, one day a sudden enemy attack arrived once more in the drifting Honmaru to annihilate the surviving Touken Danshi. At the same time, Konnosuke, a fox spirit acting as the Government of Time's messenger, arrived to instruct the Touken Danshi to defeat the approaching History Retrograde Army.

What follows after this sudden turn of event is an order from the Government of Time to investigate a series of disturbance in the past, leading the 15 Touken Danshi to travel back to the Sengoku Era in order to pursue the truth and protect history.

STORY: 6/10

A typical Touken Ranbu plot where we have to prevent history from being changed, but the methods and twists of how it could be changed never failed to draw our curiosity. In fact, there are a lot of unpredictable factors and possibilities that the story always manages to keep us gripping the edge of our seats.

Usually, in other adaptations such as the musical/stage play, the movie, and anime, there will only be one historical event to be protected in a single arc, making the story's goal clear from the beginning. However, the game managed to chain multiple interferences by the HRA in a single historical period, sometimes even making the HRA messes up an event that we have fixed. This does not yet mention how these seemingly individual events are gathered up to slowly build up the game's main plot, so the suspense kept rising the further we progress through the missions.

Nevertheless, the delivery method of some scenes often does not equal the emotional significance of the said scene. On one hand, the game’s story has almost every single surprising plot twist imaginable, but at the same time, due to the way it was delivered, the emotional impact wasn’t as big as we expected, which is kind of a pity.

There are also several plot holes left after completing the game. A lot of important issues are left unaddressed; the ending itself resulted in more questions that answer.

During the livestream of Touken Ranbu Musou's trailer, the voice actor of Mikazuki Munechika, Toriumi Kousuke, seemed to hint at the possibility of another Touken Ranbu Musou game, but as there has been no confirmation or further update on this matter, for the time being we have to be content with the existing plot despite many of our questions still remained unanswered.

Aside from that, the game faithfully retains all of the characters' iconic lines from the original games, including their comments off-story (e.g. in the Honmaru, Menu screen, or during Mini-Games). Off-story conversations between the characters remain loyal to the characters' personality that the whole fandom is already familiar with

Another praiseworthy aspect is that Touken Ranbu Musou includes a huge educational value when it comes to history. Whenever the Touken Danshi departs for a mission, we are provided with an overview of how the actual history should go and a side-by-side comparison with how the enemies are changing it. The format and the explanation are easy to follow, allowing us to both understand the goal of said mission and learning history at the same time.

GAMEPLAY: 7/10

Overall, it’s not a difficult hack-and-slash game. Most of the time we can just keep hitting all the enemies, dodging occasionally with a couple of rare special-command actions and combo attacks. It's quite beginner-friendly but may prove to be rather boring for veteran hack-and-slash game players due to the generally uniform enemy types and battle patterns, save for every story arc’s Final Boss. The game has Easy-Normal-Hard modes, but to be honest, I see no difference in difficulty between Normal and Hard, except that the enemy would have a bit more health bar and maybe hit a little bit harder.

It's nearly impossible to die in battles, but it is worth noting that there is not a single healing item, except for a couple of accessories with occasional healing abilities when the specific requirement is fulfilled. On the other hand, this means the battle commands are made to be as simple as possible where we only need to remember the attack and dodging combination. Based on my experience, as long as we can avoid the bigger enemies' attack range, we may even get out of the battle completely unscratched.

Nevertheless, if there is anything that could make the game difficult, it would be the “Victory Requirements” assigned to each mission. Generally, the goal would simply be to defeat the enemies, but the further we progress through the story, the more diverse and complicated the requirements become. Sometimes it would be a simple instruction to defeat all the enemies while making sure some NPCs remain alive. But there are also stealth missions that strictly forbid us from drawing the enemies’ attention, investigations that make us look for clues or hidden paths, and many more. Even in a simple “protect the NPC” mission, sometimes there could be extra enemy troops appearing out of the blue and trapping us from the rear.

It is also worth noting that every mission has its own time limit, which means even if we are strong enough to one-hit-kill everything, if we can’t meet the mission requirements before the time limit ends, it will still count as a failure.

In general, the gameplay itself is almost similar to the MMORPG “Dragon Nest” minus its town exploration, as this isn’t an open-world game. We are basically made to keep switching between going out on missions and returning to the Honmaru to prepare for the next missions (e.g. upgrading characters’ stats and skills, buying booster accessories, etc). Among the many features in the Honmaru, there are interactive mini-games to get some bonuses like extra EXP or materials. The Honmaru navigation itself is not difficult to adapt to, which is another plus point for this game.

There are a total of 16 playable characters, but thankfully grinding for EXP isn’t too painful because first of all, we can bring a maximum of two Touken Danshi into missions, which means both characters will get their much-needed level-up together. In the meantime, we can assign a total of nine characters to various areas in the Honmaru (e.g. the kitchen, garden, veranda, etc). These characters will get some EXP every time we return from a mission, allowing them to also get some level-ups albeit more slowly.

Grinding for Koban and materials might prove to be more difficult, but not until the point of frustrating. There are also some accessories and occasional stats bonus that would result in an extra amount of Koban and materials dropped after every mission.

In addition, there is a "Post-game" feature where you can continue playing after completing the main story. Touken Ranbu Musou has quite a lot of "Special Missions" that can be cleared after fulfilling certain conditions, such as defeating X number of enemies with Y character, clearing a particular mission without taking damage, etc. Furthermore, it also allows "completionist" players to max out the characters level, bonds, and stats after the game.

GRAPHIC, MUSIC, & OTHER TECHNICAL ASPECT: 8/10

Although the visual is not the most realistic, they still capture the characters' expressions well (and the costume texture is superb). I am especially in love with the battle effects, especially when the characters are landing their special skills and Hissatsu attacks.

The music is downright beautiful. For Touken Ranbu fans, it is especially precious that they include existing character theme songs with a new arrangement for Touken Ranbu Musou. They also keep the same voice actors as the original Touken Ranbu browser game.

There are still some differences between the actual Japanese lines and the translated subtitle, but overall, it doesn't change our impression of the characters' personalities and relationships. I'm especially happy that they keep most of the iconic terms in Japanese (e.g. Honmaru, Hissatsu, etc), as well as the honorific used between the characters when talking.

There are some minor glitches. For example, when a character or NPC got pushed back, instead of stepping away, their entire person will be pushed around like you’re pushing a table. But since it’s really that minor, it doesn’t really affect the whole gameplay.

The Glossary is quite helpful to refresh our memory about plot-related issues that we forgot or missed during the story section.

CONCLUSION: 7/10

A great game for existing Touken Ranbu fans, but story-wise may be somewhat confusing for those who aren't familiar with Touken Ranbu. Likewise, the gameplay can be considered enjoyable, but those who wished for more challenge shouldn't expect too much.

It is a pity that the plot has a lot of unexplainable holes in the end. Hopefully there will really be a sequel to explain these questions.

And now let me close this review with Tonbokiri’s glorious manboobs.

#Touken Ranbu #TKRB #Touran #Touken Ranbu Musou #Touken Ranbu Warriors #Review

[fqiryinfo]

Managing School with ADHD

Introduction

I am professionally diagnosed with ADHD and have struggled greatly in school before the diagnosis. While I still struggle, it's not as much since I've been medicated. These are things that I've noticed help me, but may not work for you or you may have something else that prevents them from working for you. This being said, I do not receive accommodations from my school and these things have helped me keep my grades up. These may be impractical for others, but they've helped me so I thought I'd share!

Tip #1: Set Many Alarms

I have alarms for everything. A common theme among myself and people I know with ADHD is struggling to get up in the morning and sleeping through alarms. To help combat this, I have 22 alarms for the morning (which is a bit excessive, but since doing so I've only overslept twice) and they start a few hours before I have to officially be up. This way, my brain has time to get out of the deep-sleep state and I can hear the alarm when it's time to get up. I also have alarms for when to take my medications, as well as decent times for meals (since I often hyperfocus or hyperfixate on something and forget to eat). I also have someone to call me in the morning to make sure I'm awake.

Tip #2: Fidgets

These don't have to be ones that are seen as common fidget toys either. I often use a bracelet, which is discrete and allows me to keep my hands busy while trying to keep my focus on something. I snap my bracelet against my wrist when I start to dissociate a lot as well. I also have a pop-it fidget that was given to me by my old counselor that the school is required to allow me to use if not in state testing (ex: SAT) for dissociation, even though it helps with hyperactivity as well. This isn't the case for every school though, so I suggest something more discrete such as jewelry if you're unsure or afraid to ask.

Tip #3: Let Your Teachers Know

This isn't a possibility for everyone and can even be difficult to start a conversation about, especially if you aren't diagnosed because they may not believe you. However, you could simply say you struggle with focusing and a lot of the time, teachers understand and may even refer you to get an assessment. This isn't always the case, so I'd wait to see if I trust the teacher first. But since doing this, I've been able to get small extensions on things that have helped tremendously with getting things in on time. The truth is, a lot of teachers do want their students to succeed so it's worth a shot if you don't have accommodations.

Tip #4: To-Do Lists

I actually only do this for homework, but the idea could work for anything. I list each of my classes with two sections under for upcoming due dates and the other for assignments that are overdue. This way, I can work through them by priority and how close to being due they are. If they have awhile, they don't rank high as a priority. I also keep the due date behind the assignment name so I can know how far away each due date is. This can work in similar ways for other things too. For example, if a trash can is full and there are a few dishes in the sink, I'd put it on a to-do list with the trash as a higher priority.

Tip #5: Utilize Class Time

This is a lot easier said than done and I still tend to have homework once I'm done. But I'm medicated at school and not at home, so it's easier for me to work during class. I've noticed that if I get done early in one class and change to focus on another's work instead, it's a lot easier for me to do my work. I tend to try and ignore my phone until after school because then there aren't distractions, but it doesn't always work since a majority of my work is online and I need to submit my paper work online by taking pictures. However, I find that if I keep the groove going without a long break, it's easier for me to get back into focusing.

Tip #6: Do homework as soon as you get home.

This only works for me because I don't have an after school extracurricular activity until 6pm usually. So when I get home, if I get started quick then my brain is still in focusing-on-school mode and I can keep focus on that easier. It's easier said than done, even though I'm suggesting it. Like many people with ADHD, I'm a maladaptive daydreamer and have a tendency to daydream right after school. After I dissociate to high degrees, my medicine has worn off, no matter how long ago I took it. So I've come up with the plan to daydream for 20-30 minutes and setting an alarm for it to take a break then do homework. It's not easy and doesn't always work, but it's offered some help so far.

Tip #7: Reminder Apps

I'm mostly talking about the calendar app, but anything that has a similar purpose would also work. I'm in a music class, so I put my performances in it. I also put big tests in there, as well as appointments and basically anything else that may be big, such as anniversaries, days scheduled off, assemblies, etc. This not only helps with ADHD, but also with amnesia. Overall, anything big and with a specific date could be put in and it would send a reminder to me the day of.

#my adhd #adhd #undiagnosed adhd #adhd brain #adhd stuff #adhd post #adhd inattentive #living with adhd