#at least its something Actually Good this time

[daenysthedreamersblog]

KNUCKLE VELVET

Nothing in my heart is hoping you'll come back

Too cold to know what I don't have without you

summary: your main goal in life was to take care of your family, and you had been... until a new peacekeeper comes to your district leaving death and pain wherever he stepped

pairings: peacekeeper!coryo x reader

warnings: MDNI! violence, death, blood, coercion/ manipulation, swearing, power imbalance, hitting, choking, dub-con, oral sex, fingering, p in v sex, unprotected sex, guns.

notes: omggg so this actually was supposed to be a completely different story when i started, but it took a side turn and ended here. its not nearly as dark (so sorry) as i originally intended but hoping where i lacked in darkness i made up for in heartbreak so hope u all still enjoy :)

Death had been your shadow since you could remember, or at least it had felt that way since you were a young child. You saw it for the first time when you nearly drowned in the lake with you sister, it stared at you while you choked on your own short life. It had taken your mother, infected your father, it loomed over you incessantly like a cruel god. You tried hard to keep it at bay, to run from it, make it lose your scent, but it was obsessive, possessive of you. It would come for you some day.

And in a crowded, too-loud, scorching room you saw your death in his beautiful face.

With delicately furrowed brows you shoved the heel of your hand into the dough the ache ever present in your left wrist. You ignored it, focusing on kneading the dough.

Your father was a baker, or at least he had been before he had fallen ill. It wasn't anything special, mostly selling what he could out of your childhood home or trading it for supplies. You got by, your family got by, better than most he always reminded you. It was fine, an easy job, a distracting mundane task that sometimes supplied leftovers you couldn't complain about. So here you were, kneading bread when he no longer could.

You placed the towel over the bowl and wiped your hands off on your apron as footsteps creaked from behind.

"Started without me?" Your sister yawned walking into the kitchen eyeing the three bowls of rising dough.

"Couldn't sleep." You untied your apron and placed it on the counter as she tucked her chin into your shoulder.

She sighed, "You worry too much."

You did, someone had to, but you bite your tongue. "You can clean then." You chuckled walking away from her.

"We should do something tonight." She is already moving the dishes around and wiping off the counters as you look over your shoulder at her, your hand on the wall. "Would be nice to get out of here for a few hours."

You smile, "Sure." And then you disappear down the hallway to your father's room. He's in bed, half asleep when you sit down near his feet making sure he was breathing. "Are you hungry?" You roll your wrist in your hand as you ask him.

His head turns to take you in, "No."

"Did you take your medicine?"

"Yes." His eyes dart to the left and you know he's lying. You sigh as you walk forward pulling open the drawer to find it empty.

You can't look away from it. "I'll get more."

"She is right, you worry too much." He taps his foot against your thigh, "How's my bread?" He ask you to distract you from the tiredness in his voice, from the pale color in his skin, from the fact that he was dying. All you wished then was to take his illness onto yourself so he nor your sister had to suffer.

Once all the bread is made and prepared to be sold, your sister and you leave in the night. You slip on a blue dress and small grey cardigan taking off down the gravel road towards town. Fresh summer air clears the flour from your lungs as you walk next to her arms linked at the elbow a lightness in your step as you try to forget the woes at home.

"Does that band still play?" You asked as the building comes into sight various individuals moving in and out if it.

"Yeah." Her voice is solemn. "They're good but..." It wasn't the same since they lost their singer. She had died in the games, or at least that's what everyone said but you didn't remember, you didn't watch the games if you could help it. Then everyone had moved on like they always did.

You and your sister entered the warm room littered with people from your district and off duty peacekeepers. Most of them were friendly, and the ones that weren't rarely came here on their nights off so you let your shoulders relax. You watched the band perform a few songs with mason jars filled with clear alcohol, even indulging your sister in a couple dances when a familiar face caught your eye, one that had helped you far too often than you deserved. "Last drink?" You nodded your head to the bar. "Don't go too far."

She waved you off still swaying to the tune of the guitar as you disappeared through the crowd. You kept your head down clutching the empty jars as you walked. He was talking as he walked in a perpendicular direction perfectly lining up with where you needed to hit him. You threw a glance over your shoulder the same time your body collided with his, glass jars falling to the floor with a violent crack. "I'm so-Oh." His eyes meet yours as you bend at the knees to try and pick up the broken pieces.

"Medicine." You whisper out when it's just the two of you near the floor. "My father. I need...Please."

He rubs a hand over his face, "I'll try, but...I'll try."

You look at his face knowing he sees the desperation there, "Thank you."

"Need any help?"

Your eyes shoot up quickly staring at a beautiful death.

You've never seen him before, you would know with his clear blue eyes and white blonde hair shining out above the crowd like a beacon. He's standing across from the mess staring down at you, "It was an accident-!"

"You're bleeding." He says drawing your attention to the sudden stinging pain across your palm, the red liquid bubbling up from the fresh cut.

You shake your head, "It's fine."

"We should get that cleaned up." You open your mouth to protest, but he only slips his hand under your arm helping you up. "I insist." You glance back at your friend, Gavin, who often did help you with various needs your father had in exchanged for baked goods, and then you looked back at the other peacekeeper dragging you away.

He leads you towards the back as the band continues to play a loud song. "Sit." He points to an empty barrel, "I'll be right back." And then he disappears back out into the crowd. You glance around the empty room filled with supplies and unused musical equipment. Tentatively, you climb onto the barrel to sit admiring the gash along your hand, the bleeding was slowing, but it did look rather nasty. "They didn't have much," Your eyes shoot up, following him until he stands in front of you with a wet rag and a few bandages. "But it's better than nothing."

"You're new." You observe as he takes your bleeding hand.

He presses the rag to the wound the wince slipping out, "Got in yesterday."

He starts to try and clean it. "Do you like it here?" He scoffs to himself causing the corners of your mouth to turn up. "Dumb question." He glances up at you face close enough your can see the shades of blue in his eyes.

"It has it's charms." He dries off your hand before finding the large gauze pad to tape around it.

"Where were you from?" You regret it as you ask, as a sudden darkness comes over him throwing the room into silence the music a distant thrumming from beyond. You watch him tape up your hand with cheap supplies until it covers the cut neatly. "Thank you."

He doesn't drop your hand, "Are you always clumsy?" He traces the small scar on your pinky.

"Occupational hazard." You watch his face as he looks at you once more the question in his pretty eyes. "I bake, had a few run in with knives."

His mouth quirks up, "I hope you don't often run into knives or off duty peacekeepers."

You take your hand back, "I don't make a habit of it."

"You could...Make a habit of it." He stares down at you his thigh suddenly warm against your knee. "At least certain ones."

You take a sharp breath, "We both know that's not a good idea." You slide off the barrel, chest forced against his as you move and then your sliding past him. "Thank you, again. I should go find my sister."

"See you around clumsy girl."

The blush bites at your cheeks and you hope he can't see it in this light, but you suspect he does as something flashes across his face. You don't stick around to find out as you head back into the crowd. You find your sister talking with another peacekeeper, "I'm gunna head home." You show her your hand.

"Be safe." She smiles going back to her brown haired friend. You glance over you shoulder finding that man who helped you watching you, you should tear your eyes away from him, but he should as well, but here he was, staring brazenly at you something burns under your skin.

You blink shaking your head and turn to leave, tugging the cardigan tighter around your shoulders as you walk home alone. You often did, you never encountered any trouble, but something felt off. The hair on your neck stood up the whole way home like something-someone was watching you.

You turned to look, but nothing was there.

The sun drenches the kitchen in an orange glow as you carefully measure out flour failing to keep it balanced with only one good hand. You scowl down at your bandaged palm as you dump the contents into the bowl. You should just wait for your sister and make her do it, but you opted to let her sleep in to throw yourself into a distraction.

What if he wasn't able to get anymore medicine?

Were you supposed to watch as your father withered away and let death come into your home once more?

You're so lost in thought you don't even hear the front door open until it shuts.

He's standing there in front of the closed door taking up every space he wanted to, and doing it beautifully. You struggle to form the question, to string together a sentence to convey your confusion. He answers anyways, "I wanted to check on you." He motioned with a finger to your hand.

You glance behind him, "How did you kn-!"

He steps further inside before you can finish, taking in the sight of your kitchen/makeshift bakery. "Do you need any help while I'm here?" You know your expression must exhibit the shock still running through your veins as he stands in your home because he smiles softly and rolls up his sleeves, "I'm sure it would be easier than kneading with only one hand."

You submit and take a step back, "Sure uh..." You motion to the bowl, "It needs two more cups of flour." You watch him walk forward, too clean for the room despite the grim coating the tips of his fingers. "You can wash your hands in there." You point to the sink.

"How is your hand?" He asked as he runs his long fingers through cool water.

You glance down at the now tarnished bandage across your palm. "Only stings sometimes." You look back up at him, "My left one gives me more trouble."

He turns off the sink and uses a rag to dry his hands off. "Why's that?"

You watch him with careful eyes move around your kitchen to collect the supplies he made you abandon. "Just years of abusing it." He eyes your left wrist and then scoops out flour. You have to show him how to measure it out properly but he gets it for the most part. You feel yourself relax watching him add it all to the bowl and mixing it.

"Now what?" He asked over his shoulder.

"We let it rise." You walk over to throw a clean rag over the bowl.

"How long?"

You can't help the smile. "A minimum of five hours."

He put his fist against his hips, "Well what do you do while you wait?"

"Make more dough."

So you do. You stand next to him this time walking him through each ingredient helping by throwing in the teaspoon of salt for him. You find yourself laughing as the time slips away, as you sprinkle out the flour for him to knead the dough into. You enjoy the way his body feels near yours, how his arm accidentally brushes against you. He isn't the best, but you had a feeling he never did something like this before, and he was helping.

He wipes the back of his hand across his forehead, "How are you not more buff?"

You flex your right arm, "I think I'm quite scary."

He smirks down at you bringing his hand up to wrap around your bicep, "Terrifying." His hand burns your skin as you stare up at him, as blue eyes drink up your face like cool water on this horrid summer day. He's too close, he's too warm and you watch the droplet of sweat slide down his temple.

Your mouth waters. You blink and step back, "I usually don't make this much in one day."

"So you're using me?" He jokes as you slide the tin to cook the bread in.

"Something like that." Your cheeks are flushed and you gently take the loaf from him to place in the tin. "My sister can do the rest. You probably should head back before you get in trouble."

He nodded, "I brought you something." You open your mouth to protest not wanting to push your luck with all his generosity, but he digs into his pocket anyway pulling out fresh medical grade bandages no doubt from his peacekeeper base.

"Oh I can't." You whisper.

"I insist." He takes your hand anyways your body moving forward slightly. "I feel awful about being the reason you got cut up."

You glance up at him as he takes the old wrap off. "You didn't..."

He only smiles to himself as he cleans off the cut because maybe he was. You remembered hitting Gavin on purpose, remembered picking up shattered glass over hushed conversation, and then he was standing over you fresh blood leaking from your hand. It didn't matter, not truly, at least not to you. It would heal and fade and barely be a memory.

His thumb slides over the freshly clean bandage across your hand, "If you need anything..." Your eyes meet as he holds onto your hand, you want to tell him theres no need. Well there was but he couldn't know that, it would get everyone involved killed.

"You've been kind enough."

"Hmm." His other hand comes up, fingers brushing away flour coated hair from your face. "I don't mind."

You nearly sigh as his fingers trail down your face, "Thank you." You whisper out his fingers holding your chin between them.

"Clumsy girl." Something darkens in his eyes as his body lets off too much heat leaning down towards you.

Your breath catches feeling the warmth of his own against your face. You're not supposed to do this, he's not supposed to do this, but you can't seem to care as a slickness forms between your legs. Your lips part and he's quick to press his thumb into your bottom one the tip poking into your mouth antiseptic and flour leaking onto your tongue.

The floorboards down the hallway creak, and he drops your hand the same time you step away from him. With a blazing blush you try to kindly smile at him to avoid the feelings crawling up your spine, to avoid whatever awkwardness might arise.

He dips his head in farewell and leaves before anyone sees him in your kitchen.

Your sister muses beside you as you move around the small stand tidying it up to busy your hands. The frayed edges of the bandages were a good indication that the wound was healing but you kept it wrapped tight while you had something decent covering it. You trace the line of dust colored tape remembering the feel of his warm palm pressed underneath and you hate the skip in your chest.

You glance up eyes meeting Gavin and all pulse inducing thoughts vanish. He frowns as he shakes his head, your heart plummets realizing he won't be able to get your father any medicine. He's gone the next second as your thoughts pound down on you with every worse case scenario flying through it. You go to look at your sister, but she's speaking with someone.

The peacekeeper she had been with the other night is handing your sister money a tender smile in his lips as he pushes too much into her hand. "My Ma will love these." He points to the loaves he wants. "She misses district cooking, says the flour in the Capitol doesn't taste the same." His eyes find your surprised ones and he only motions to the loaf, "Your sister told me all about your famous sourdough, so I had to come try it out."

"Sejanus." She tells you.

"Thank you." You nod studying him, "Your mother is in the Capitol?"

Sejanus's eyes grow distant. "Yeah." He doesn't continue and you know better than to push.

"Sejanus." You look towards the familiar voice your new blonde acquaintance walking up to his side. "Is he bothering you?" He jokes.

"Quite the opposite." It's your sister that responds an innocent pink tint in her cheeks.

The blonde smirks at you, "I'll wrap these up for you so you both can be on your way." You pulled the loaf back and turned around to wrap it up for him.

"How long have you known Gavin?" You tried not to straighten up even though you felt your body locking up at the mention of him.

"Who?" It sounded so stupid coming out of your mouth, too high pitched as your fingers fumbled with the tie on the bread. You never called him by his name, it was easier to pretend you didn't know him at all.

"Gavin." You turned cradling the loaf in your arms. Your eyes scanned the market, you saw your sister and Sejanus conversing off to the side leaving you alone in interrogation.

You chuckled awkwardly handing over the bread. "I don't know who that is."

But his hand came around yours as you held it out for him, long fingers trapping yours a shock going up your bones wherever skin met skin. "Hmm. Must have been a mistake then."

You offered him a smile, "Do you want anything?" You needed to changed the subject, if he saw you with Gavin somehow besides when you ran into him, if he knew... "Don't you want a little taste of all your hard work?"

"I didn't bring any money." He slipped the bread into his hands.

But you were being rash as you sliced a piece for him, "Here, free sample." You watched him take it, "Don't tell anyone I let you have one."

He popped it into his mouth, "It'll be our little secret clumsy girl."

You turned away to hide your blush as your sister returned, "We should go out again tonight." She tried to phrase it as a question, but her voice was too loud and you had a feeling her and that boy planned it all.

You glanced back at them, at those pretty blue eyes, and your worries seemed to be a little bit smaller. She nudged your leg but you didn't need much convincing wanting to let her have as much joy while she still could, "Fine."

She lets you borrow another dress, a dark green one that falls above your knees flowers knitted along the bodice. You hate that your stomach is in knots as you walk with her, you hate that you're interested in what you will find, interested in him. You knew it was wrong but you couldn't help being intrigued how he made your heart race.

She slides through the crowd with you holding your hand with a rough grip to drag you with purpose. She knew where she was going. "Sejanus!" She beams dropping you hand and rushing towards him.

"I got you guys drinks already." He says holding out two mason jars of clear liquor.

You take it graciously and peer around the room suddenly feeling like you were intruding on whatever your sister was planning for her night. So you push around them and climb onto one of the empty barrel chairs and sip on your drink watching the couples spinning around the dance floor.

"I think Sejanus has a little crush on your sister." You feel his chest against your back first as his words float down to you both of you watching the pair laughing together in serene oblivion. You fight the urge to lean back into him.

You take another drink to calm your nerves as his fingers splay along the table near you. "Is he nice?"

His mouth in near your ear now, lips pressed to the shell of it. "Nicer than me."

You swallow turning your head slightly to take in his face so close to your own, "Are you nice?"

"I'm gentle when I want to be." His eyes take in your lips and then float back up again. You tug at your bottom lip the room suddenly beginning to feel too warm, too small. "Dance with me." He pulls back straightening up.

"Oh that's not-!"

But he has your hand in his, and he's helping you to your feet leading you away to the dance floor moving you around until his other hand lands on your hip pulling you in close. The song is slow, but you barely hear it as your breaths come in too loud with his chest pressed against yours. You let him lead watching the small smirk spread across pretty pink lips as your feet move in tandem with his, "Look at that." He chuckles, "My clumsy girl knows how to dance."

My clumsy girl.

It makes your stomach flutter and you know you should stomp out whatever was growing there, but you let him come closer, let his thumb trail across your left wrist to feel your quickened pulse. "Does it always hurt?" He asked.

"No." You can't look away from him even as his eyes are trained on your weak wrist. "Only when I use it too much."

"Hmm." He stills. Then he's slowly bringing your left wrist towards his mouth to plant a single kiss to the veins running underneath it.

Your face burns, your skin burns, you're overwhelmed by the heat.

Someone shouted and your head whipped around as bodies slammed into one another a fight breaking out in the middle of the room. You took a step forward to find your sister but the hand wrapped around your left wrist is dragging you back, yanking too hard where he shouldn't. He was pulling you from the crowd away from the brawl and people shouting, you looked over your shoulder seeing Sejanus sheltering your sister away as well. The side door flew open and slammed shut making you jump by the sudden loudness as the noise of The Hob became distantly quiet.

You turn towards him in the dark alley and can only get a single breath in before he's moving towards you, backing you up against the brick wall, caging you in.

"What are-!"

He swallows your words with a punishing kiss. You're mind goes blank. You feel his hands under your jaw cradling your face, his tongue grazes your bottom lip begging, baiting for you to open but the shock seals you shut. You taste the moonshine on his mouth, the stale flavor of minty military toothpaste and your hands finally go to his chest to push yourself away from him.

"We can't."

He only digs himself further into you smashing your mouths together once more. This time its his teeth that sink into your bottom lip roughly, sharply, until the taste of rust takes over everything else. You gasp in pain as he uses that to shove his tongue into your mouth. He tilts your face up more melding your mouths together and for a moment you do get lost in it, in the blind overwhelming passion, but theres something else there you don't turn your head towards as he grips you too tightly, like he doesn't want you to slip away into the night.

You kiss him back, you even tangle your fingers in his clothes savoring the way he consumed you.

His hand goes to your waist inching up your ribs with every devilish swipe of his tongue. Your eyes fly open as his thumb slides across the underside of your breast. Your hand goes to his wrist to still him, but he grabs it to pin it to the wall above your head.

"Ouch," You whisper out as he bends the joint too far. "You're hurting me."

His lips ghost down your neck, "Sorry," Your eyes flutter close as his teeth graze your carotid. "Can't seem to help myself."

"We-we should stop." You try to get your hand back but he's holding it too tight. "Someone could see us."

He goes still, finally pulling his head up to stare down at you. "Like who." It isn't a question and your brows furrow, "Are you worried your little boyfriend Gavin will see?"

"Wh-What?" You almost laugh. "I don't even-!"

His hand wraps around your throat, not hard, but enough to shut you up. "You're lying. I know theres something going on between you two, I saw the way he looked at you that night, and again at the market, all forlorn and devastated."

"He's nobody." It hurt you to say that after his kindness all these years.

"At least we agree on that." He yanks your jaw forward to sneer down at you, "I don't like sharing clumsy girl." He drops your hand and lets go of your face letting you roll the weak joint around.

You glance up at him, "Why are you being like this?"

He doesn't look at you just watches as he shifts his foot around, "I'll walk you home." He grabs you by the bicep pulling you from the alley and leading you home.

The walk home is silent as you trudge slightly a step behind him suddenly aware of how naive you had been to become tangled with him. He was a peacekeeper, a pawn for the Capitol, why did you ever think he could be something else too? Yet, you still felt something fluttering as your eyes took in his tall frame, remembering running hands along his muscled chest as he kissed you.

"Thank you." You tell him as he deposits you at your door. He did make sure you got out safely during the fight, and walked you home when he didn't need to. You met his blue eyes, maybe there was more to him than rough edges.

He doesn't respond only takes your face in his hands and kisses you roughly sucking on the throbbing wound along your lip until you groan out in pain again, and even then he keeps kissing you, keeps biting you until he finally steps back. His eyes look you up and down before he turns around and heads back into the darkness.

You watch his figure disappear, you stand there for a moment staring at the space he had occupied tracing the bruising lip he had given you still tasting the sweat, and spit, and blood.

You turn your face to the sun letting the early rays drench your skin. It was quiet out here, away from the district, only the birds and bugs to keep you company while the rest of the world slid away from existence.

You let the grass sway against your feet as you curled your legs underneath you staring down at your freshly uncovered hand. It had healed, but the small pinkish scar ran along your palm. You traced it with a sigh unsure where to place everything you were feeling regarding the man who has now given you two wounds.

As if on queue the ground is being crushed by boots and you whip your head to the side watching him approach you. He stops a few feet away a bunch of dying dandelions in his hand, "Your sister told me you might be out here." You hug your legs to your chest as you watch him step forward more. "I wanted to come apologize. I don't know what came over me. I think I had too much to drink and got angry about something stupid." He stops in front of you, blocking the sun holding out the bundle of yellow weeds. "These are for you."

You study his face, sunlight leaking out around his head like a halo casting his shadow over your body, and then you hold out your hand for him to place them in.

"Angry about what?"

He takes it as a sign and sits down next to you. You glance down at the dandelions. "I would have rather given you roses," He reaches out tucking hair behind your ear making you look at him; you know that wasn't what he had been upset about. His hand trails down your face brushing softly along your bottom lip. You wince slightly, "I didn't mean to hurt you."

"We're not supposed..." You trail off the words seeming ridiculous in your head, but you weren't supposed to be together.

He inches closer to you until his leg is touching yours, "I know."

It didn't seem like it would stop either of you as you feel yourself leaning into his touch, "Just don't do it again." You find yourself saying taking his excuses and letting him cup your face to lean in towards you. Your breath hitches as his whole hand slides along your jaw, body heat radiates off him like the oven in your kitchen after a day worth of baking and you melt into it. You let him turn your body, let him lay it down on the bed of grass.

His bottom lip brushes yours and you close your eyes. You're aware of everywhere his hands are touching you, your hip, your jaw, aware of his thigh against the front of yours. His tongue licks upward hitting your top teeth and you sigh into his mouth as fingers dig into flesh, as your hands come up to his chest, as he kisses you slipping his tongue into your mouth, slowly, exploring the texture and groove of your mouth. Your hands twist into clothing, his grip hardening as you kiss him back gently, tentatively, like you know you shouldn't but you can't help it.

His hand covers your breast, kneading flesh through your clothes and you find your fingers around his wrist, the protest climbing in your throat, but it struggles to come out as his thumb passes over your nipples. It's overwhelming and raw and wrong. None of it makes sense, not as his mouth kisses across your jaw, down your neck, sucking the sensitive flesh as he rolls your nipple through fabric.

You feel his smile against your neck as you moan dragging his fingers down your body to slip under the hem of your dress. Your hand flies to his wrist again as he climbs up your thigh, he lets you wrap your fingers around his arm, "Shh..." He mutters into your skin. "Let me." He kisses down the column of your throat. "Let me make you feel good." He kisses you collarbone and slowly your fingers are slipping off of him. "Good girl." He traces the fabric of your underwear, sliding his fingers under the side as your toes curl into grass.

With another soft kiss he pushes two fingers inside of you. You close your eyes turning your head as you take a deep breath feeling him curling inside of you, feeling him push in deeper.

"Look at me." He whispers as his hand begins to move in and out of you at a gentle pace. You slowly turn your head, the heat staining your cheeks red as you take in his face. "Do you like this?" You bite your lip nodding your head as he strokes a sweet spot inside of you. "Tell me." He mumbles onto your lips.

Your mouth parts in a gasp as his palm presses down onto your clit and he's swallowing your pleasure. "It feels good."

"What feels good?" He's moving faster, his hand thrusting harder into you. He licks into your mouth caressing the moan out of you, "What feels good clumsy girl?"

"You!" You pant into his open mouth sweat glistening off your pounding chest.

He pulls back to stare down at you, "You gunna cum for me?" You squeeze your eyes shut, back arching into him the pressure building in your stomach as his hand shifts to press his thumb down on your clit to move in tandem with his hand. You feel your legs shaking beneath him, "You are. You must." He sighs contently and it's enough to throw you over the edge, heels digging into the ground, hands gripping his shirt as you clamp down around his hand. You have your eyes squeezed so tight the sun blinds you when you finally open them, as the orgasm blows over you like the breeze pushing the blades of grass.

You don't even realize he pulled his hand out until he's standing over you feet planted on either side of your spread thighs.

"What are-!"

His soaked hand is running along his cock, stroking himself over you. "Just lie there." He tells you with his tongue between his teeth, eyebrows furrowed in concentration as he fucks his fist to your exposed body. You want to look away, not stare, not pay attention to the lewd sounds his hand was making as it slid up and down his hard length.

But you can't help it. Not as he pants out curses, not as he drinks in your body, your face like a man starved for water. You meet his eyes, dark and focused on you and find yourself mesmerized by him.

"Take them off." He grunts out motioning to your drenched panties. "Now." You're still shaking from the orgasm, at least you think, as you slide them down your legs. "Show me." He moves his hand faster as your brows furrow slightly. He presses down on your thigh with a hard boot and you bite your cheek to cover the whine of pain, "Show me."

You let your head relax onto the grass as you part your legs for him to stare at your bare cunt. You watch clouds go by in the blue sky listening to him groan as he fucks his hand to the sight of your naked girlhood. You fist the bottom of your dress chewing on your swollen bottom lip.

Suddenly hot ropes of cum splatter across your bare chest and dress as he slowly keeps pumping his fist letting every drop leak onto you.

The world is darker as he blocks the sun once more, like a fallen angel losing its light as his cum dries on your sweaty skin. He tucks himself away before kneeling down across your torso. He runs two fingers through the clumps of white along to tops of your breast, stares at it, then stares at you. "Open." Your lips part slowly and he's pushing his fingers into your mouth shoving cum onto the back of your tongue. "Lick it off." Something strange creeps up your spine, something you are not sure you like, as your tongue swirls around his fingers taking the salty substance down your throat. "My clumsy girl." He flattens his fingers out, pressing your tongue down and then he pulls them out. He runs his hand along your chest once more smearing everything across bare skin, watching it shine in sunlight along your naked chest, slipping it under the top of your dress to coat it along your breast. He takes his hand back, admiring his work, and wipes his hand off on your clothes.

He picks your underwear off the ground and tucks them away. Then he's walking past you, leaving you lying there.

The sun feels colder as it hits your body, as you trace the boot shaped indent he had left in your leg.

A week passes by and you never see him. You find yourself searching for him involuntarily wherever you go. You glance out of your kitchen window to see if he's walking up to your home, you peer around the market to see if he's paroling the perimeter with the other peacekeepers, you even find an excuse to pass by the base to see if he's just beyond the fences.

You weren't sure why you were doing it, you weren't sure why it tugged at something inside of you, you weren't sure why deep down in your subconscious you felt...relief.

You didn't study that feeling too much.

Maybe he had left, shipped off somewhere else far away from you. Maybe he had gotten what he wanted from you and now he would move on to the next naive girl. You hated that he possibly viewed you as naive, you hated that you knew it was true. You had been naive. You always tried so hard to be smart with your heart, but the first glance at a pair of pretty blue eyes had made you forget, made you clumsy.

You shook your head as your fist pounded dough, falling in love with a man like that would be stupid. Falling in love with him would be like falling in love with darkness; frighting and consuming unless the moon was out. You didn't even know darkness's name.

No, you had just let him touch you far more than you should have simply because you enjoyed the way he kissed you, like he wanted to swallow you completely to keep you with him. You liked the way he made you feel like you were wanted, like you were his. You didn't want to be his...well maybe in a different world that had a different answer.

There was something else there, something horrid that chilled your bones whenever he looked at you in certain lights. You found your relief sitting right next to that feeling.

The door creaks open and your head spins so fast hoping he's finally come to see you.

Your heart sinks, "Gavin." You blink to hide worry, "You shouldn't be here."

He comes into the room more, "I know, I'm sorry. I felt awful about.."

"It's not your fault." You offer him a reassuring smile even though its fake. You tried to understand, but mostly you felt angry.

He sighs leaning against the counter across from you, "Well I had to keep trying." He digs into his pocket before sliding the vial over to you. You stare at it too shocked to move, "I was only able to get one but-!"

You're running around the counter to hug him, "Thank you." He pats your back as you pull back to beam up at him like life had somehow been shoved back into you. You step back grabbing up the vial to tuck away.

"Just make it last a month." He tells you, "I don't know when I'll be able to get more."

You nod heading to a cabinet and pulling down two loaves of bread to give to him as payment. You push them across the counter at him, "Thank you." You repeat because thats all you feel; gratitude and hope.

He scoops up the bread, "Your sister has been hanging around that Sejanus a lot."

You sigh, "I know...he seems nice." You smirk over at him, "But you know how peacekeepers can be."

"Oh I know." He chuckles but nods. "He's a good guy, hotheaded about stuff he shouldn't be, but he's alright." He knocks his knuckles against the counter, "I should head out. Take care kiddo." Gavin walks to the door leaving you in better spirts than he came.

You spend the rest of the day cleaning, sitting by your father's bedside after giving him half a dose of the medicine. He doesn't ask where you got it from, and you don't tell him. You know he suspects how but he never brings it up choosing to let you both live in the bliss of unknowns. You wait until he falls asleep to leave his bedside closing the door to leave him in peace.

It's dark outside as you close the curtains on all the windows before picking up the boxes of trash you needed to take outside. You sigh heavily as you hoist them up onto your hip and push the door open.

The outside is quiet and moonless, dark and empty, an amber street light offering the only glow along your home to guide you on the path around the house. Once everything is out of your hands you finally hear the crunch of gravel, the hair on the back of you neck stands up.

You stare out at the darkness feeling it stare back.

"Hello?"

Your body is slammed backward against your home before you're crumpling to the ground. A hand wraps around your arm to pull you to your feet to shove you back against the wall.

Your heart skips. "You're a liar." He snarls in your face before shoving your head back with the palm of his hand. "I hate liars."

"I-I di-!"

He slaps you across the face, it snaps to the side in a stinging blow. "You said he was nobody." You're too shocked to respond, to ask. "Why the fuck was he here?" Ice trickled down your body as you realize he had saw Gavin here today.

You slowly turn your head, "You never came...I looked for you."

An owl hoots off in the trees as his silence engulfs you. He holds your face between his thumb and finger before coming closer whispering onto your lips, "And then you were all over him like the little slut you are." You stare up at the black sky, "Don't even deny it I saw the two of you hugging in your little hovel."

"It's not what it looks like."

He lets go of your face only to slap it the other direction blood filling your mouth as your lip split all over again. He takes a step back and you try to regain control of your breathing.

"You said you wouldn't hurt me again."

"No you told me not to." He grabs you by the hair and flings you to the ground. "And I don't need to listen to you." Your knees hit the dirt first and you try to move, try to shove away, but his hand is twisted in your hair holding you in place in front of him. "You want to act like a slut." You hear him unzipping his pants. "You'll get treated like one."

You let your eyes close and ignore the sounds of him, ignore what is about to happen, ignore that just a few days ago you had wanted this, wanted him. He tugs on your chin and you let him open your mouth to push himself into it until he hits the back of your throat. His hand hits the wall as he sits there on your tongue for just a moment the taste of him dripping down your throat, it taste like the sweat you had seen slide down his forehead in your kitchen, taste like the scent of him when he bandaged your hand and his body had been so close. You despise how good it is, despise that your body warms. He pulls back and slides his cock back into your mouth over and over and over again until fresh tears spill down your face, as spit covers your chin. He pushes your head back, your hands coming up to grip his thighs fighting the urge to touch him more, fighting the urge to bite down to make him stop.

"Fuck." He breaths and a soft moan leaves your throat causing him to laugh at you. "Like my cock that much huh?" He slams himself deep into your mouth growling as your head hits the wall behind you with the force, "Such a fucking whore."

You don't, you can't, you won't.

But your tongue darts out and your nails dig into his thighs and he's fucking your mouth until he spills down your throat.

"Don't swallow it." He commands pressing his forehead into his arm against the wall. You don't because he told you not to as his cock twitches against your tongue until it begins to soften. He pulls it out and tucks himself away before bending down to gaze at your ruddy tear stained face. "How does it taste?" He pushes hair away from your cheeks smiling as you don't respond his cum pooling in your mouth. He shuffles to the side before running something along your hands, "You feel that?" Your fingers trace the ridges, the grooves, recognizing the shape fear pouring out you. "Yeah that's right. I would hate for something bad to happen to you...or your sister." Your eyes try to stay on his face instead of the gun in his hands. "Don't ever fucking lie to me again." A thumb strokes your bottom lip, "Okay you can swallow now."

You gulp it down, letting the remnants of him slide down your throat as your dignity sat in the dirt between your knees. For a moment you stare at each other, his face half covered in darkness, half illuminated by lamp lights, and for some reason you just want him to kiss you again, hold you. His knuckle brushes the corner of your mouth wiping away whatever cum was trailing down your face. He stands up helping you back onto your feet.

You want to tell him to leave you alone as a tear slides out of your eye, but he cups your face. He leans down, brushing his lips along yours. "My clumsy girl."

"I...I'm not..." You close your eyes wondering which part of the sentence you were trying to disagree with, but he kisses you. He tucks his hand into the base of your skull pulling you closer to him and you find yourself giving into the sensation, giving into him. It consumes you, he consumes you, delving into your mouth, tasting the salty tears, the remains of him still wedged between teeth. You can't even break away from him, he has to be the one to pull away first.

"Don't make me hurt you again." He says it so gently you almost agree with him.

You pull back slightly to stare up at his face coated in the night sky. You feel paralyzed in his arms like a fear shaped boot broke through your vertebrae as the question muddled your brain.

How does this end?

"Sejanus!" You sister's voice floats through the room and your groaning as you stand up soothing the ache in your knees. "What brings you out here?"

Your heart stops in your chest as blue eyes meet yours. You hear the blood pounding in your ears as you stare at him, as he stares at you the room tunneling in on him. You can't even hear Sejanus's reply to the question, but he's digging into his pocket for money as your sister moves around the kitchen.

Your mouth feels dry as your eyes look towards the room your father slept in the same time his does. "How is your father?" You snap back to Sejanus who is now looking at you. "Your sister mentioned he was ill."

"He's fine." You clear your throat moving behind your counter.

"What happened to him?"

You're not sure where to look. "He had to work in the mines...it messed with his lungs."

"I'm so sorry." Sejanus says and you genuinely believe him. "I'm supposed to attend medic training maybe I could find some way to help him."

"How kind of you." Your sister replies as she wraps up loaves he overpaid for and suddenly walking outside with him leaving you alone in the kitchen with this man.

The room feels like its squeezing in on you as he drinks in your frightened expression. He moves, coming around the counter to be standing a few inches from you. You watch his hand come up to trace his fingers along your cheek. "Did you like it?" He whispers against your head. "Don't pretend you didn't." Blue eyes flicker around your face and he begins to chuckle at what he finds there, "I bet you fucking touched yourself to the taste of my cock in your mouth, came so hard with my cum still on your molars." He came close, breath fanning around your face, "You would do the same around my cock isn't that right?"

A tear slipped down your cheek in defeat.

"Say it." He cooed hand sliding down your body to grip at the flesh of your ass pulling your body flush against his. "Fucking tell me." He growled teeth against your own.

"I did." You whisper bile rising in your throat as you remembered sliding your hand, still slick from your spit on his cock, between your legs when you came back in the house. "I did."

"Hmm." He takes your left hand running his nail along your ulnar bone. Then he's stepping away from you, turning around, and leaving without another word.

You slide down the wall with your head in your hands confused, overwhelmed, ashamed. There was only one thing to do to stop this tidal wave of psychological torture you were inflicting on yourself.

You wait for the next hanging, you wait for the next distraction when everyone's heads are turned away, and then you slip out into the night quietly making your way to the peacekeepers base. It's sweltering hot as you crouch behind buildings and slip between broken fences to get where you need to go. You feel sweat dripping down your back, sliding down the side of your temple as you keep to the shadows waiting...waiting...

You used to know his schedule so well, but you had become distracted, sloppy and now you weren't sure if you would even see him tonight to plead for his help. This was stupid, this was silly even if you did find Gavin what were you to say? This devious blue eyed man was stalking you, harassing you? You had let him. You had let him into your home, into your life, let him defile you knowing it was wrong, knowing you were courting death. Even if Gavin believed you his commander would just find a way to make it your fault and get you in trouble somehow.

Your shoulders deflated. You felt stuck.

You glance beyond the wall at the medical building. How simple would it be to slip inside and pull what you needed while no one was watching.

You're moving before you can talk yourself out of it, slipping inside the unguarded door to the thankfully empty room. It smells clean with neat unoccupied beds lining the wall and you wonder how much good they could do if they actually offered to help the district's people. It motivates you to start searching, digging through draws to find anything that could help your father. You feel adrenaline rushing through you making your vision too focused as you sift through vials of medicine that wasn't what you needed, your heart is racing, pounding in your ears as the quiet outside beats down on you.

You pause, it's too quiet. You got inside too easy. It shouldn't be this easy. The hair on your neck stands up a feeling you only got when-!

Flood lights creep into the window shining against his beautifully wicked face as the tears slide down your unblinking eyes. You couldn't look away as he slowly walks forward. He comes near you, face pressed into the side of your hair. "Little thief."

You feel him push hair off your neck to trace your jaw. "I didn't st-!"

His hand is around your throat quicker than a snake's strike and he's shoving you until your back hits the metal cabinet against the wall. "You as bad a liar as you are a thief." You claw up his arm as he stares you down, "I wanted to see you tonight, walked all the way to your little hovel just to find out you weren't there." He squeezes harder as your vision pulses at the edges, "Is this a little rendezvous for you and that stupid boy?" You furrow your brows in pain, in confusion so he slams your head back against the cabinet your ears ringing. "Don't play dumb I know you came here for him." He came forward, "You belong to me."

You fingers loosen on his forearm as you plead with your eyes. I know, I know. You try to tell him so he lets you go, lets you breath.

He does and you gasp for air, blinded by it, overwhelmed with oxygen you don't even realize he's shoving his hand inside of you. "Stop!" You croak out. "Please." But it's too breathy as he presses his forehead to yours curling his fingers as you plead into his open mouth. "I didn't-I didn't do..." You trail of into a moan as his palm presses down against your clit.

Blue eyes stare you down and for a moment you forget he's angry, you forget you're scared.

He yanks you from the wall and shoves you face down into one of medical beds. It groans as your hand tries to force yourself up but its too weak so you're flinging backwards towards him as he hoist your dress up. "Don't." You plead. "Don't do this." You swallow, "He used to help my father. I'm sorry. I-I only want you please, not-not him."

He leans down, kissing your shoulder. "Then don't you want this?" You feel his hard length press against your body.

"Not like this." You squeeze your eyes shut, fingers digging into the metal frame of the bed.

"How would you have me then?" His mouth grazes up your neck. "In your little bed spread open for me?" His mouth presses against your ear, "Or would you want to be top? Up against a wall? Out in the grass and dirt on all fours like an animal?"

His teeth dig into your ear lobe, "I-I want to look at you." You had imagined it, on the nights you came to the images of him above you, rocking into you with gentle ease. It was candle lit and sweet and everything he never had truly been. You tried to turn to look at him, "I want to know your name."

"No." He pulls away from you. You lay there for a moment wondering if this was all some sick way to scare you, that he wouldn't actually do anything. "Don't worry. I don't want you like this either." He shifts around and soon enough cold metal is skimming across your inner thigh.

"Wh-!"

He pushes the gun into you before you can breath. You cry out at the intrusion, your back arches as something burns from inside of you that you know you shouldn't like. He pulls it back slightly to push it in again and again and again thrusting the weapon in and out of you until you start panting. "Please." You whimper unsure what you're pleading for and he's too quick to slide his hand underneath you, rubbing circles into your clit as he fucks you into this thin mattress with his gun. You're a mess, your feet struggling to hold you as your climax builds rapidly. You feel yourself clench around it fisting the sheets, groaning into them to muffle the sounds.

You fucking moan.

You're not even sure if its in pain or enjoyment. "Like that huh?" He asked pressing down onto your clit hard, the ridges on the gun hitting some strange delicious angle. "Like me fucking you with my gun." You squeeze your eyes tight feeling the heat pooling in your stomach, you even push your hips back to take more of it. He growls, "Gods you're a sick fucking slut for it."

Maybe you were delirious, maybe you were everything he said you were, maybe it was the fact he could kill you right now with one slip of his finger, but your orgasm slams into and your gushing around his gun like some pathetic whore fingers twisting into sheets. You're overwhelmed with it, the darkness around you blending together as it takes you under and spits you out. You feel him yank it out of you and set it carefully on the bed beside you.

You feel wrong, you feel empty as you lay there against the bed in a post orgasm bliss and all you want to do is cry. "Come here." The bed dips as he sits next to you, his arm wrapping under your body.

"Let me go!" You sob but he flips you around to cradle your shaking body in his arms. "Let me go." You try again, weaker this time as your body leans into his, as his hand strokes down the side of your head. "Let me go..." You close your eyes as more tears stream down your flushed cheeks.

He never does.

He holds you for a while, his chin resting atop of your head while he caresses your body in his arms until the sky outside the windows starts to split into purples and pinks. He unravels himself from you guiding you to your feet, and without a single glance he walks out of the room. You stare after him loneliness engulfing you in its grey flame.

You drag yourself out of the building and back home, your own disgusting pleasure sliding between your thighs the entire walk.

You go to your father's room taking up the seat beside his bed and close your eyes for a second. "You're sad." He said quietly.

"I'm tired." You sigh.

He chuckles, "Same thing." You meet his gaze, "Does this have anything to do with that peacekeeper?" You sit up straighter unintentionally. "He came by earlier looking for you." You can barely hear what else your father says as you stand up going to the bedside drawer. You catch snippets of him warning you, telling you to be careful, but your eyes narrow on the empty drawer.

The empty drawer.

"He was in here?" It cracks on the way out.

But the front door flies open and your sister is standing in the bedroom doorway out of breath and frantic. Your eyes meet and you know something horrible has happened because of you.

Death was breathing down your neck.

The wind blows your unbound hair back as you stare shocked at his shackled feet dangling in a suspended moment in time. You can't bring yourself to look at his face, at that sweet face that had always helped you time and time again. It was pale now, bruised and cold, and dead.

He was dead.

Gavin was dead, hanging there like he had been nothing.

The tears leaked down your face.

"It didn't make sense at first." He starts. You don't even jump at his voice behind you, nor do you move as he comes closer to you. "Why you purposely ran into him that night we met, or why he was watching you in the market, or why he came by your home, but then you said he had helped your father." You take a shaking breath, "Your sick father." You felt him behind you now, "I found all those empty vials in your home, the same vials you were probably trying to steal from the medical building." You hear him digging into his pocket pulling out an empty clear vial and throwing it at your feet.

The last of your father's medicine.

"I-I needed..." You choke out terrified. Because it was empty, because it was supposed to last you another month if you stretched it, but now it was gone and so was any chance of getting more.

"Daddy needed it more."

You slowly turned to look at him, "He didn't deserve this." You can feel his body hanging heavily like the rope was tied to your own hands. You had practically kicked the stool out from under his own feet that sent him hanging.

"No, he didn't." He cocks his head to the side. He steps closer to you tucking hair behind your ear and his gun looms behind him like a twisted guardian angel.

You stare up at him, "You're a monster."

He leaned down and snarled into your mouth, "Yes I am."

He was never going to stop, he was never going to leave you alone.

You shove him roughly and take off flying past the hanging tree, flying past Gavin's dangling body and into the woods behind it. You run further and further into the woods, you know he probably is faster, more trained than you, but you don't stop, you can't stop. Green and brown blur past you as you sprint through the forest. You try to look over your shoulder to see how far away he is, but you're too busy dodging trees, jumping over loose logs.

Then your foot snags of vines and your tumbling into the dirt. Your left hand takes the brunt of the fall and you bite down the cry turning swiftly ready to kick him away from you, but he never comes.

You sit up frantically looking around for him, but he's no where.

It's too quiet, so quiet the sound of your pounding heart blares into you, so quiet you hear the bullet as it whizzes past your head. It hits the tree behind you, splintering wood, and you don't wait as you scramble to your feet to keep running. You don't look back, you don't look down, you just keep running even as your body groans in weary pain, even as the next gun shot sounds off around you.

He was hunting you like the prey he always saw you as.

You pump your arms faster, push your legs harder zig-zagging your way through the trees as bullets hit the trunks around you. You're running faster than you can breath the only noise in your head was the fear pumping through your veins. Your lungs burned hotter every breath that spat out of your mouth as branches smacked off your face, arms, skin, blood splattering in its wake as you ran. You kept running, you kept running even though it hurt more than the idea of giving up.

You threw yourself behind a tree shoving your palm into your mouth to quiet the rattling gasp you took.

He wasn't far, you could hear leaves crunching underneath heavy boots.

You stifled the whimper.

He was whistling to himself as he slowly walked through the woods soft rain drops plopping down on the leaves above. "Clumsy girl," He sang as thunder clapped overhead. "No need to hide from me." His foot slowly snapped over twigs causing you to jump as he neared you.

You hear him shift and then the bullet hit the tree bark shattering around you as you take off again, but this time he's shooting at your feet dirt splattering across bare ankles. He's not shooting at you, he's herding you. And you had fallen for it.

His arm wraps around your neck yanking you backwards and slams you against a tree wet hair slapping across your skin, and then you're staring down the barrel of a smoking gun. He peers at you, "Why'd you run?" You spit at his feet causing him to laugh as he lowers the gun grabbing you by the throat and squeezing. "Why'd you run?" He presses in close, his nose digging into your cheek and you try to gasp at the firmness between his legs, but nothing comes out. You stare upward at the canopy of leaves as it goes in and out of panicked focus, as the life is choked out of you. Lighting cracks across the sky, rain drops hitting your purple face.

He lets go, lets you finally take a breath, lets your vision return to take in his devoid face.

There's nothing there but blue emptiness.

"You killed him." Your voice cracks. "He was just-!"

He takes you by the hair and throws you to the ground. You start to claw at him, kick at him to get him away from you, but he knows your weak spots all too well having studied every bad habit you had willingly showed him and grabs your right hand to pin it into the dirt. With as much strength as you can muster in it you slap him with your poor left hand pain ricocheting down the tendon. In one swift movement he plants his boot on your left wrist and presses down until you feel the fragile bones snap.

He doesn't cover your mouth as you scream, as pain blinds you, as you writhe under him sobbing rain pouring down now around you turning the ground into mud. He pushes hair off of your face, attempting to be tender after breaking your pathetic wrist drinking in the sounds of you agony like a God of pain, like crushing your bones was a form of foreplay. You roll your head away to take in the sight of your mangled hand twisted in all the wrong directions. It feels numb, you feel numb.

Then you are both staring at each other trying to breath. He watches your chest heave, you watch his mouth part eyes finally meeting. You're afraid to speak, afraid to move. Rain melts your skin as you lay there suspended in a moment of disbelief the distant pain washing away into the dirt beneath you.

"Why'd you run?"

"Because I'm afraid of you."

"Wrong answer."

He flips you over to lay you in the wet dirt as he climbs over you his belt buckle ringing in your ears, his gun thrown carelessly into the mud. No, no, no you panic as his hand pushes your skull into the ground smearing it to the side of your face, as you feel him between your legs. You frantically look around and with pain suffocating you, your broken left hand wraps around his gun and you slam it backwards into his head.

He tumbles off of you as you stagger upward pointing the gun at him wavering on your feet.

He laughs at you. "Well go on then." He nurses the bruise forming on his temple. You're shaking as you hold the weapon at him barely able to keep it upright, but he climbs to his feet. "No... we both know you're not capable of that."

"You don't know anything about me." You try to seethe, but it comes out feebly.

"Don't I?" He cocks his head to the side. "I know if you kill me you'll hang for it, and then your father will die too." He takes a step forward until the gun is pressed into his chest. "And who will be there to comfort your dear sister."

You dare let yourself smirk, "Sejanus. You said he was nicer than you."

His features falter for a millisecond, but then the mask is back. "Which we both know isn't nice at all."

Your finger quivers against the trigger. "Anybody is better than you."

His hand reels, and you think he's going to knock the gun from your hand but instead he slaps you across the face the gun firing into the sky. The force of the blow sends you back into the ground, but you're already moving again despite the sting in your cheek, the blood and dirt in your mouth, running through the storm crashing down onto everything. You see the break in the trees, the dark blue expanse of freedom if you could just get to it.

You gasp coming to an abrupt halt.

You look down.

You watch in a calm shock as blood blooms like a rose across your dress.

The pain never registers, not soon enough as your knee gives out first and you collapse back onto the ground watching him tower over you. You press your hand into the wound feeling the stinging anguish it causes while he watches your broken body bleed out on the forest bed. You were going to die, and all you could do was stare up at him while you hemorrhaged.

He turned on his heel and walked away leaving you to die alone.

You started crying then, crying and holding your weeping wound as the realization of it all crept into you.

"Come back." You sobbed out. "Come back." You whispered, rain and tears drenching your face.

Something flapped above you the black bird taking flight screaming your words out into the woods. "Come back." They called, "Come back." You watched them soar above you smudging together through the water in your eyes. It became a sad quiet song to drift you off into nothing if you let it. You didn't know how far into the woods you were exactly, but maybe someone heard the gunshots, maybe you could get up and try to make it home. Your body felt warm from the blood coating you and you figured you'd never make it home ever again.

You waited for Death.

Boots pounded into the dirt coming up towards you quickly scooping up your limp body and running with it. You groaned in pain trying to look up at him but gave up as your body dangled in his arms. He clambered up wooden steps and soon a door was slammed behind you quieting the storm outside.

You finally looked at him as he gently set you on the floorboards. He tears your dress down the middle examining the bleeding wound, and then he's digging. You scream, your vision going away at the sheer excruciating pain of it, you hope you'll just pass out soon but you feel his fingers inside your stomach, hear every wet noise as blood pours out of you.

You barely register the small ping as it hits the floor beside you. You relish the relief even as his hands press your shredded dress fabric into the bullet hole.

"Breathe." He tells you. "Just breathe."

"You shot me."

His brows are furrowed as he pulls the bloody clothes away and stands up rummaging through things. "I need to close it." Stuff clatters to the ground as the shiver racks through you. He comes back hold a fishing hook and line. You try to brace for it as it pierced your skin, as he tries to close the hole he caused. You flinch but the pain is secondary to everything going on around you, all you can seem to focus on is his face.

"You would be beautiful if you weren't so evil."

A ghost of a smile from him, "So, I'm your villain then?"

"Why else are you doing this?"

The muscle in his eye twitched and maybe because you're going to die he actually answers. "My whole life, all I've wanted was power." He pulls the line through your skin again as your teeth chatter. "With you..." He had power over you, he had control and ownership from the first moment he saw you, commanded you and you submitted so easily. He pushed the hook back through.

You weakly smile, "I must be pretty special huh?"

Something crosses his face, something you don't examine too closely. It's gone within seconds his hands tying off the stitch, "You're nothing."

He leans back studying the hack job of a suture he attempted on you, watches blood still slowly trickle out of it as you continue to shake in shock. "Yeah well...my blood is on your hands."

He stares down at his maroon stained fingers and then meets your gaze. He moves for you scooping you up in his arms and carrying you back out of the door. It's still raining as he walks with your limp body, mud squishing underneath his feet and then water, you hear splashing as he wades through the shallow water with you until his chest is submerged. "Are you going to drown me after all that trouble?"

You stare up at grey clouds as your body floats along the gentle waves. He laughs lightly, "No." He stares down at you running a wet hand along your cheek dirt coming away. "I'm cleaning the blood off."

You let him. You let yourself float lifeless in the dark water as lightning scatters across the clouds. You blink. You breath. You try to stay alive as your wrist throbs, as blood continues to spread out beneath you.

His hands are far gentler than they've ever been as they skid across skin cleansing you of all his sins. You can't stop looking at him, as rain drips off his lashes onto your lips quenching a thirst you know shouldn't be there. He looked so peaceful, kind even, the hero in this twisted story and you figured you had died on that cabin floor. Light was going to split the heavens and take your body, or maybe the ground would open up to drag you into hell.

Water sloshed in your ears. Maybe you would be stuck in this in between of your death, forever wounded, with him.

"Will you tell me your name?" You whisper as rays of sun peak out from behind treacherous skies.

He swallows as he begins moving back to shore, "If you don't die I'll tell you my name."

You close your eyes, body swaying with each long cold step he takes back to that cabin. You knew he wouldn't take you home, not until he knew he wouldn't get in trouble for murdering you. He uses a knitted blanket to dry you off and sets you back on the floor. No, you hadn't died yet as the chilling pain racked through your bones, "Am I gunna die?"

"I don't know." He kneels by your side. "I don't know." The rain still softly patters down against the roof as he watches you breath, "Why'd you run?" He whispers.

Your ribs burn as they expand, as they try to get oxygen to your struggling heart. And maybe because you're going to die you actually answer. Your lips part, mouth dry and numb, as tears slide across your face. "Because I'm afraid of what it makes me."

"What?"

"Falling in love with you." You watch his teeth grid, watch his fingers flex. But nothing else. "Will you hold me..." Your breath rattles, "While I go."

He pauses for quite a while, so long that you let your eyes close. The floor boards creak as he shifts, as his body lays down next to yours, as his arm tucks under your head and he pulls you close to his warm chest. You listen to his heart as yours slows. "I'm leaving." He starts, "I leave for officer training in the morning and I'm never coming back."

"Good." You nod. You'll never see him again, and yet it brings new tears to your eyes.

His fingers trace the curve of your ear, "Look at me." You tilt your head up to him and he leans down softly pressing his lips to yours. You pull your face from him letting the shaky breath leave you, and then you kiss him again.

He opens you up gently swirling his tongue into your mouth, caressing your own in its own embrace as his hands shift your body. You whine out in pain, but he doesn't stop until he's hovering over you. You don't stop him either. He kisses across your jaw, down your throttled neck, licking the hand print bruise he had left there. You wrap your good hand around the back of his neck to hold him closer to you as his own kneads into your breast. He keeps moving lower wrapping his mouth around your peaked nipple lavishing it with his tongue, sucking and biting it so tenderly it makes your back arch into him for the cost of more pain.

He moves down more until his head is between your thighs, prying your burning muscles open, kissing your clit first before running his tongue along it. "Look at you," He peers between your legs chuckling to himself, "And I'm your villain." You run your hand along his buzzed hair moaning for it, for him as he traces delicate circles into your clit fingers pushing inside of you making pleasure consume you so much you hardly remember your wounds.

He makes you forget them too easily. He wraps his mouth around your clit and sucks against it pressing down hard with his tongue until you see stars, until he has you completely undone by him. You moan out into the air as you cum against his face feeling him licking at you as you ride through it.

He picks his head up climbing back up your body, he stills taking in the botched wound in your stomach. He runs his tongue along it before kissing it ever so softly.

"Why did you save me?" You ask as you stare up at him listening to him unbuckle his belt once more. "Why did you come back?"

He blinks, "Because you asked me to."

You feel him plant himself between your legs, "Would you stay," A shaky breath. "If I asked you to." You had wanted and feared this and now you're not sure if you could ever want anything else.

He pushed inside of you slowly, stretching you open in sweet agony and relief. It's blinding and painful and nothing could have ever prepared you for how it would fill you completely. You breath into his open mouth on yours, feeling him slide in deeper, deeper, deeper until you're more full of him than yourself. "No."

Then he shifts to pull back, to slam back into you as you cry out in pain. Not at him, at everything else. You stare up at him the hard metal of his dogtags hitting against your face with every thrust. Your nails dig into his back, legs coming around him to pull him closer, feel his warm skin on your own. He nips at your bottom lip and you don't care that it hurts anymore, you don't care that he hurt you at all. He feels too good inside of you. His hand sneaks between your bodies to press into your clit, "Cum on my cock." He groans into your feverish skin the rough chain cooling your skin.

"Tell me your name." You moan tilting your hips for him. "I want-I want..." You want to know it, know him.

He only fucks you harder, unforgivably harder that has you squeezing your eyes in pain and ecstasy. He bites down on your jaw, digs his teeth into your jugular, taking piece after piece of you. He breaks skin, he splits you apart seam by seam until theres nothing left of you. You would let him crush you, break you if he wanted, as long as he didn't let go. You groan out as his tongue laps at the wounds he gave you, as his fingers dig into your waist to thrust into you hard until you finally cum around his cock pounding into you.

"My clumsy girl," He smiles into your collarbone. You're nodding, your arching your back for him, letting your pleasure consume you as his cock hits every deep rooted thing inside of you. You don't even realize he started moving faster, pounding into you harder. His hands grab you by the ribs and he's spilling inside you thrusting slowly as he pushes everything deeper. Until finally he stops moving.

You don't move, you can't. "I was supposed to win." Your chest hits his with every heavy breath, with every sacred word, "And then they died and I got sent here." Your throat feels incredibly dry. "It still isn't enough, I want more." He stares down at your right hand, then slowly traces the white gash along it from the night you met him. "Come with me." Your brows scrunch in confusion at his whispered confessional, "Come with me." He repeats again running his finger back over the scar.

"Where?" You croak.

He brushes his thumb over it once more, "The Capitol."

The images flash across your mind as you watch him. You by his side in pretty clothing sitting in a warm glorious home with food that wasn't leftover stale bread. Images of lounging on soft couches with his arms around you, with kisses sweeter than sugar and sunlight on your naked skin. He doted and cared and made you matter. And after years of constantly caring for others around you, it was an addicting daydream.

But it's gone like smoke on a mirror. You could only see death in his face, and as sweet and tempting that death would be it would be anything but. He wouldn't kill you softly. He wanted you in a cage for only his enjoyment and control and it would break you down until you no longer existed. He didn't truly care, he just wanted to prove he could, prove that he already had.

Blue eyes meet yours, your answer to him being read there as he finally pulls out of you the hollowness ringing through your soul. He stands up, tucking himself away before rummaging through the house he brought you inside of, then he comes back kneeling by your limp left hand. He gingerly takes it and ever so slowly begins to wrap it up tightly to set the bones back in place. You too numbed by the pain to register it, so you watch his face while he tends to your wounds. Then he sets it back on the ground but you grab his fingers before he lets go completely.

You tug on his ring finger. Stay, You say with your eyes in more ways than one, Stay. He could be free here, away from a haunted past that had made him vengeful and power hungry.

He doesn't say anything. He just lays down next to you, pulling you close once more as your eyes shut, as you drift off into nothing within his arms.

By morning he's gone.

You lay on that cabin floor as the truth sinks in. You're not dead, and he's gone.

He was gone. You were happy about it. You glanced around the cabin eyeing the white shirt spread out for you the silver chain draped across it. You reach for it fingers wrapping around his dog-tags.

You trace his name.

You tug the shirt on your body slipping the dog-tags around your neck and with the little strength you have, you stand up. It takes you a while but you leave the cabin tenderly walking back towards the damp shore. You wade out into the water, like he had done with you broken body, and lean back until you were floating weightless on your back, staring up at the bright sun.

He wanted his power, and he never would find that here; it would never be enough for his starving rotted soul. For some reason your heart hurt more than the ever bullet did.

You wished for his shadows. You wished for his death.

Your father died when winter came, it was too cold, and without medicine, once the winter fever set in he never had a chance.

Your sister does all the baking now. Your left hand never healed properly making it too difficult to use it, you try to help her in other ways, but baking reminds you of him and makes the wounds burn even though they were healed, you hate that they healed. You hate him.

You run your hand along the chain around your neck, the dog-tags tucked deep beneath your clothes. All you had left of him was that precious metal and a gunshot wound, and as you watch him sworn in as president, as your sister sells bread beside you, you hope one day Death sends a baker to destroy Coriolanus Snow.

endnotes: hi friends!! hope u enjoyed!! this story legit was so fucking hard to write. it had a whole different concept and characters and everything but it just never clicked with me even tho i had so many ideas but i couldn't figure out how to move through it fluidly. i rewrote this whole thing SO many times bc i couldn't connect with it, had to take a break, and finally ended up here with a version that wasn't what i set out for it to be, but ended up enjoying it a lot more ? i think hormones got to me and i just made it really sad instead of vicious :) but anyways!! love u all so much!!

[amirasainz]

heyy !! I absolutely got HOOKED on baby!sainz reader and I'd like to ask you to write a fic about baby sainz when she's in a new relationship with an unproblematic celebrity (your choice) and the grid and the grid and her brother want them to break up by framing her boyfriend cus they think nobody is good enough for her. but she is actually happy and it's her first healthy relationship and when she finds out about what they did she is very upset with them and in the end Reyes scolds Carlos for ruining her relationship and tells him to go and fix it (ikkk its veryyy long ;] )

I'm back!!!! I changed this request a little bit but I hope you still like it.

Guys I got the notification that some request went lost on their way to me. Please, feel free to send me your request again, and I will writeit as soon as possible.

Enjoy reading and let me know if you have some whishes.

-XoXo

No Part 2!!!!

20-Step plan

When Amira Sainz and Timothée Chalamet officially announced their relationship, they didn’t just break the internet, but also the Formula 1 paddock. As usual in such situations, the drivers already had a 20-step plan. A few months ago, the drivers all prepared the plan, like some might prepare for an apocalypse. So when the perfect time arrived, the drivers set their plan into motion. Don’t get them wrong, of course they want Amira to be happy. However, in their eyes, no man was the one for Amira, even if Timothée was one of the most unproblematic actors in Hollywood. So after a “how-to-get-the-two-of-them-to-break-up-and-cheer-Amira-up-afterwards” meeting, the plan was set into motion.

Everything was going smoothly. They got to know Timothée when Amira and he visited the paddock in Canada. Then, they made sure that they spent more time around the couple. After some time, they took them partying, even going so far as only going with Timothée partying. They wanted to test his loyalty. They started little rumors about Timothée, talked with him about his exes in front of Amira, even making “innocent” assumptions about him and his co-workers. Even though nothing fazed the couple, the plan went smoothly. Until it didn’t.

“Carlos, I just feel wrong,” stated Charles. Lando, Carlos, George, Alex, and Oscar turned to their Monegasque friend after hearing his tone. Charles was deathly pale, his hands shaking. “Mate, are you okay?” asked George. “Yeah, you look horrible,” added Oscar. “Don’t worry Charles, you can help with the next step when we—” before Lando could finish his sentence, Charles exploded. “No. NO! No more us sabotaging your sister’s relationship. No more starting rumors. No more plan. I’m done with this.” Charles’ outburst made all his friends stare at him, shocked. “Guys, don’t you see how happy they are? How in love they are?” He looked at all of his friends who at least had the decency to look down. “Percival, we are just making sure that Amira is—” “No, Carlos. We are trying to ruin something that is beautiful. We all just want Amira to be happy and comfortable. And if she feels that way with Timothée by her side, then we just have to accept that.” After a moment, he continued: “If you guys want to continue, then fine. But every action has consequences.” With that, he left the room, making the other five share some looks with each other.

What they were unaware of was that Amira was standing in front of the door. She heard the whole “plan” they had and what their next step would be. Before one of the men could say anything, the door opened. They were met with Amira’s disappointed face, tears shining in her eyes. “Hermosa, what are you doing here?” asked Carlos. The moment he saw his sister, he stood up from his chair. “Carlos, what have you done? What have you all done? Why… why are you doing this to me?” Immediately, all of the drivers tried to defend themselves, while also trying to console Amira. “You know what? Save it. I don’t want to hear anything.” With that, she left the room, leaving the rest of the drivers speechless behind.

It took the drivers three months and a lot of apology gifts for Amira to forgive them. Timothée, who heard everything from his beautiful girlfriend, also convinced her to forgive the drivers after seeing how miserable they were. So after the three months, everything was like it used to be. Amira got treated like a princess and all of them are still in love with her.

Bonus (+)

When Carlos walked into the kitchen, he was met with the sight of his mother, one shoe in her hand. “Carlos, sit down,” Reyes ordered sternly. After a moment of hesitation, he sat down. “Amira told me what you did. I am more than disappointed in you, young man.” “But mamá—” “Did I say you could speak?” she rhetorically asked. After sensing he wasn’t going to say anything, she continued. “As punishment, I will take away your phone and you will sit in the chair in the corner, thinking about what you did wrong.” “Ay, mamá. I am nearly 30 years old. You can’t…” He fell quiet after seeing his mother slowly raising the shoe. “…But some self-reflecting will definitely do me some good,” he whispered, before slowly sitting down in the “I-behaved-bad” chair.

[edgeray]

Peruere is a Person.

Inspired by my blurb series, "Arlecchino is a Person."

A/N - I did not write this. This was written by my wonderful friend @myfriendscallmebun. However, she didn't want to post it on her blog, so I'm posting it for her. All I did was some minor editing a little bit but almost every single word (minus like 2 or 3 words) was written by her. Every single like, comment, or reblog on this post is for her. I claim no ownership over this piece.

Arlecchino is not a person.

The Knave, Arlecchino, Father of the House of the Hearth, Fourth of the Eleven Fatui Harbingers is not a person: she is a personification of lies and deceit spread amongst the populace, a conglomeration of exaggerated half-truths spread by veteran Fatui to scare the new recruits. Made of misconceptions and inferred information that paints a picture of a crazed and ruthless assassin–a wolf in sheep's clothing in essence; a bloodthirsty and manipulative patriarch whose tongue draws as much blood as the blade she so rarely uses. 

She’s a woman whose title alone carries a reputation that paralyzes opponents who catch just a whisper of her name. A woman whose flames scorch at the heels of those who were frozen in place by her ice cold presence alone. Arlecchino is a name that has people moving aside to let her pass by, a name that mothers hear and pull their children back into the houses from. She’s everything they say: a boogeyman–an icy breath you feel down your neck in your last waking moments, the shadows lurking around corners when you least expect; the thin veneer of an aloof diplomat that barely conceals the true mania beneath its surface. Arlecchino is at once everything she is made out to be, and nothing at all. Because Arlecchino is not a person, nor has she ever been.

Peruere is a person. She’s a woman, about 30 years old and 5’7”, although you wouldn’t realize it because she’s always wearing heels. She’s a woman who took on a title and responsibility far too young, a woman who was thrust into adulthood and the brutal world of the Fatui too early. She’s a woman who keeps few friends, and keeps her own children at an arm's length. She’s someone who has seen those around her–friend, ally, foe, and bystanders–be scorched and burned away to ash by her own hands. 

She’s someone who keeps her kids on a tight leash and strict discipline regiment, but the leash she keeps on herself is tighter. She allows her children to reprieve from the rules every now and then–turning a blind eye when they take a cookie before dinner, allowing them to keep a lizard they found as a pet for a while–but she does not afford herself the same. She’s harsh on herself, keeping every moment of her day regimented and as strict as the schedule she had growing up. Her children will live and experience far better than what she had, but she will still silently carry the burden of that time with her. 

Peruere is a person who is willing to look Dottore in the eyes–a man who she has watched take away what remaining, broken and mangled siblings she had, and knew full well what would be happening to them once they left with him- she is willing to look him in the eyes and allow him to experiment with her, with the balemoon bloodfire that curses her veins, on the hope that something good may come of it, something that can help her children.

She’s a woman who loves her kids, no matter how she can’t seem to show it. She’s a woman whose affection lies in the unspoken words behind what she actually says. 

“You’re home late.” (“I was worried about you.”) 

“Impulsiveness leads to failure.” (“I don’t want to see you get hurt.”)

“Your defense was weak, I know I’ve taught you better.” (“I cannot bear to lose another child out in the field. Please.”) 

Peruere is a woman who in some deep, dark part of her chest that she doesn’t like to acknowledge, allows herself to yearn for normality. She stares out her windows at the crowds of pedestrians and citizens making their way through the streets of Fontaine, “People-watching is a rather pleasant activity, in my opinion.” (“I would join them, if they would allow me.”) 

Peruere is a person who allows others to dictate what she should be–she allows the rumors and misconceptions to run freely amongst those who dare utter her name, even adding fuel to the metaphorical fire by being sure to live up to the reputation others have created for her. She allows her image to be muddy, full of contradictions and mistruths, and more than some mixing-ins of her predecessor. “It’s beneficial,” she says. (“It’s easier to be what people expect you to be, than to be yourself.”) 

Peruere is a person, even despite her best attempts to hide it.

[felassan]

Just poring over some of the new images. ◕‿◕

Rogue Rook, Harding, Neve and Varric in Minrathous. A party of four temporarily, though the third non-Rook person is automatic and quest-related. Do you think this is Docktown (in Minrathous. the cranes or wooden pulleys give it that kind of impression) from another angle, or is Docktown in this image across the water from this point? Either way it's cool to see the same general location, in this case a city, both at night and during the day. It's raining and that makes me excited to experience different weather and environmental effects in different locations. :> Also the contrast of Minrathous in the rain here vs Minrathous when it's dry in the Docktown image. :> Maybe there is day/night cycles...?

Are the NPCs on the ground members of Tevinter society who live on the streets (there was an interactable NPC at the start of the gameplay reveal video whom it looked like Rook had the option of speaking to and giving a coin), or were they impacted during the attack of demons recently on this part of Minrathous and that's why they are on the ground? this scene looks to be from the same segment of gameplay as was shown in the gameplay reveal video, around the 10 minute mark. they have just 'recruited' Neve and are about to go and check out Solas' hideout beneath the statue on the right, Our Lady of Victory. the statue is of Andraste; one of her titles in the Chant of Light is Lady of Perpetual Victory. she has her arm outstretched as if hearing or beseeching the Maker. I'm interested to see more of Imperial/Tevene Andrastian belief and how it compares to the southern form of Andrastianism.

the magical 'neon' street lights and signs, rain, night-time, streets, etc remind me of this DA4 concept art, which we also know shows Minrathous. It's cool to see concept art realized as in-game art like this. in the center is a large tear in the Veil, like a gaping wound, which we know is caused as a result of Solas' ritual and which demons are coming through at this point. overhead is the floating building with its spotlights. I hope we can visit the floating building in the game. :D

is the long bridge a magic monorail or something, or just a bridge?

In this image we see a bar or tavern-type place. from the filename where this was originally posted, we know this to be situated in Docktown, Minrathous. Could this be the bar where the game starts off in Minrathous (where Rook has the choice of intimidating a bartender or not), the bar in which Varric and Harding are taking part in a bar fight in in the character trailer? or maybe this is the Swan, the tavern Corinne mentioned as being in Minrathous which has good tavern music? an article also mentioned a pub in the streets of Minrathous which has a dozen NPCs in it and which is reached via a wide, winding pathway. probably at least two of these various bar/pubs are actually the same one being described/shown in a different way hh. :D the screenshot has Tevene-y touches in places, like the vases with snakes and snakey patterns on them and the pointy chairs.

now that we know that every NPC in the world apart from main characters like party members was made using the same CC as we will use to create Rook, I'm looking extra-hard with interest at NPCs in images of the game like these to try and see e.g. some of the hairstyles that there are. in this image for example it looks like multiple different hairstyles can be seen. there are human and elven NPCs present, and a bouncer or guard at the steps. a cat sits by the fire. near the middle on the table it looks like a hookah, which we've seen before in northern Thedas, like in Antiva. only, this one has snakes in its design. which, yeah, we're in Tevinter. ^^ (this also makes me think of the Viper and the Shadow Dragon faction snake symbol, and wonder where their base of operations is.. Docktown is Neve's home, and she's affiliated with the Shadow Dragons.)

Necropolis Halls [known from a file name], Nevarra. a flock of bats or birds flies overhead. Is the ceiling here a ginormous rib-cage in design or am I just seeing things? :D I'm amazed by the scale, grandiosity, and verticality in the design here. in the foreground, the party is made up of mage qunari Rook holding a really cool staff, Lucanis and Emmrich. I feel like, of course taking Emmrich with you when you explore the Necropolis is a good idea!! from behind, Lucanis' cape getup look like folded corvid wings. qunari Rook has a cool robe or cape, and is that his kneeguard/boot or does Lucanis has a knife or dagger strapped to his lower leg? btw, how many knives does this guy have. :D he already fights with two swords/daggers, and it looks like he has a knife strapped to his chest in this image too. I wonder also if this is the same qunari Rook as here? their staff and horns look similar, but the hair color isn't right.

on the right, we can see urns which look like they have the top halves of skulls as their lids. the bottom row of teeth are present on the non-lid part of the urn. the same asset can be seen on the right and left of the foreground here, which going by that and the tall skeletons in the background like we can see in this image, is also a picture in the Necropolis. the giant skeleton/undead statues (not unlike here), dressed in tatters (maybe they are designed to evoke bandages, like the Nevarran mummification death practises?) look like they are maybe holding torches or lights at their chests, as they are lit from around there in sickly-green 'undead vibes' light. the way their arms and hands are placed look like a person who is resting in a coffin. and if you look at the texture of their chest/ribcages, it's the same as the texture on the pillars they are fixed to, as if the pillars are rows of bones/ribcage shapes from the ground to the ceiling.

especially after Down Among The Dead Men in TN, I've been itching to explore the Necropolis!! lets goo.

Necropolis Halls again [known from a file name], Nevarra. the lighting here is different - it's darker, and the green necromancy-vibe lighting has increased. perhaps the previous Necropolis Halls image is from closer to the entrance of the place, and this one is deeper inside? the Necropolis has public open-air gardens and then lower crypts, to which access is restricted, deeper inside. it's eerie, like the vibe here, like that dragon dissection could be taking place just out of view through the green-lit doorway in this image. even the trees look dead and grasping.

maybe the green fire-torches here are Veilfire? and there are all kinds of vases and stuff - it gives the sense of canopic jars, like ancient Egyptians used to store viscera in during the mummification process, and of urns (Nevarrans prefer mummification to cremation ofc, but yea irl in the 'aesthetic vibes sense of a crypt full of undead', way, it reminds me of urns filled with peoples' ashes). when they said we would go to "to grim and gothic areas", one of the gothic-type ones was surely the Necropolis, right? ^^

this time the party looks to be human Rook, Harding and Neve. again the skeleton statues have the coffin-resting type pose, and the sense of bandages hanging from them and wound round their arms. and again the scale, verticality etc is amazing! the designs on the giant skull in the center interest me - is this just aesthetic design/Nevarran art, or is there an arcane aspect/function to it? lastly, from these two images it seems like maybe hexagons are an aspect of Nevarran art/design?

[campwillowpeak]

I'm going to need you to give us that Anteo alphabet Mama

I hate you I hate you I hate you I hate you I hate you I hate you I hate you I hate you I hate you I hate you I hate you I hate you I hate you I hate you I hate you I hate you I hate you I hate you I hate you I hate you I hate you I hate you I hate you I hate you I hate you I hate you

(I'm doing this in the scenario where you've actually managed to get him into at least somewhat of a relationship or even a FWB thing, otherwise it would just be a hit it and quit it)

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex) Clingy... man has his arms around you like a vice as he's passing out, won't let you go for a good while while he's sleeping

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s) He likes your ass, likes to smack it and grab it when you least expect it

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically) Very thick and salty, and there's a lot of it... Like... A LOT... You're gonna be dripping for a hot minute

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs) He's always been curious about being pegged but won't allow it... he ALWAYS has to be on top

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?) Yes .w.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying) Doggy, against the wall (Both with you facing the wall and him holding you against the wall), Mating press

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.) Not very goofy.. gets very into it, very dominant most the time

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.) Clean shaven all over

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect) Its rare you'd get him to be romantic but when you do he's pretty good at it.. He likes to make you tremble by whispering sweet things into your ear

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon) At least 3 times a day

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks) Breeding, dirty talk, knife play, bondage, voyeurisms, exhibitionisms, biting, rough sex, teasing, orgasm denial

L = Location (favorite places to do the do) Anywhere and everywhere

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going) Dirty talk, teasing

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs) The usual's, even he's not that nasty

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.) Never gives, only receives

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.) He prefers rough.. but it won't exactly be fast... Man has stamina for days

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.) Thinks they're convenient and doesn't mind them

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.) Loves risk... he's the kinda guy who will have you blowing him under his desk while he makes calls at work

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?) Yes. .w.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?) He has so fucking many... Only one who has more is probably Sophie

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease) Fucking LOVES to tease... He loves to see you writhe and squirm, especially on his cock... He'll drag it out until your crying if he can

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.) Loud.. very vocal... lots of grunts and moans and groans too

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character) He'll get really REALLY into the knife play if you let him... have bandages and antiseptic ready .w.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes) 8.5 inches and THICK

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?) Yes .w.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards) Once he's spent he's out like a light

[corpseofdracula]

BEING DOMESTIC WITH HAMZAH ━━━━ hamzahthefantastic x gn!reader

synopsis: being domestic with hamzah as your boyfriend.

genre: fluff

✤ washing dishes is a job for the both of you, you clean and he dries and puts away (theres always a water fight in the middle of it unsurprisingly)

✤ meals are also a tradition you both do together. its no lie you enjoy sitting at the table and enjoying a good meal the two of you created.

✤ cleaning together!! you designate the weekends to cleaning as the weekdays are usually the busiest times. it usually alternates on who cleans what, so one day hamzah will clean the bathroom and you the kitchen and the next weekend it’ll swap.

✤ waking up next to one another makes the mornings so much better, it usually begins with hamzah’s arms wrapped around you and your legs crossed with his.

✤ you wearing his clothes!!!! its a must in the relationship. hamzah loves the way his clothes look on you, it makes him feel like a proud boyfriend.

✤ grocery shopping takes place about once a week and when it does happen its a long process. usually its just hamzah pushing the cart and you in front trying not to get your ankles ran over. you two just also like to stroll around and look for new things that you’re interested in trying.

✤ quality time together is such a must between you two, even with your busy schedules its crucial. so playing games is something you both do to keep that in check, it usually means playing random games with you sitting on his lap and his arms around you to reach the keyboard.

✤ you both also got into legos as a pass time, building was therapeutic between the two of you (when youre not frantically looking for the right pieces)

✤ car rides at night. hamzah’s hand on your thigh and your hand on top of his singing your favorite songs. thats all.

✤ whenever mandy and martin are out of town, you and hamzah always volunteer to look after rudy and the cats. its always a nice time, you always catch him with one of them laying on his chest whether it only be one or both of them sleeping. playing with them is also just very entertaining.

✤ when you feel in the mood to bake hamzah is always there to follow along. even though he’s not the best baker, with you to read the instructions and (actually) get it at least somewhat edible; its pretty enjoyable. theres always some batter being tossed around at some point though.

✤ when either one of you is sick or feeling under the weather, theres also the other coming to the rescue and making sure their attended to. cuddling them up in blankets, making a quick meal, and even bathing if it comes to it.

✤ you always make sure to remind the other they’re loved and cared for, for as long as the two of you are together

[elsa-fogen]

I just got my butt on Tumblr for today and saw everyone talking about potential inside out AU. I'm jumping onto this train. (warning, I have not seen Inside Out 2 and its been years since I watched the first one. bare with me)

Ok, so his main ruling one is Joy ofc, but I think there isn't just one joy. The one that has control of panel most of the time is corrupt. Its not quite right anymore. (again haven't seen second movie, but I saw a clip where joy snaps and practically swears - at least for her standards. I kinda picture that. his current Joy is just frigging broken. It split. It like cut itself to bits to protect what was left of it that was good. So the good joy is hiding in memories of Alastor's precious Maman. Bad joy is what takes pleasure in the killer part of Alastor heh heh.

Fear surfaces EVERY time Alastor either sees Lilith or hears her name. For reasons.

Disgust is there whenever Susan comes along or if he sees Lucifer's decor choices. (Circus decor and rubber ducks) And maybe when Vox gets to obsessive.

Anger crops up whenever someone disrespects him or threatens/disrespects someone he cares about. (ROSIE!!!! But also Charlie and maybe others. Niffty?)

Sadness is just tired. They don't even WANT to touch the panel anymore. They've had to deal with to much stuff to care anymore. But I think sometimes they unintentionally creep through. And when that happens its NOT pretty. (possibly corrupt Joy attacks?)

ALSO YES PLEASE DRAW THIS!!!

ohhh i like the idea of joy being broken (+ biting joy from another ask lol, it kinda fits)

I really like this take!!! And another look at sadness, i think it may have something like bipolar disorder (CAN emotions have disorders?) (not trying to ACTUALLY make it a thing), at some times it's just tired and depressed and in others has something like a manic episodes when it wants to have controls just out of spite

if were taking idea of joy being split, sadness while having depressed state may chill with normal joy in the memory storage (as i said before other emotions sometimes throw sadness away from the main room lol)

and i haven't seen io2 too lol

and IDK MAYBE ONE DAY I'LL DRAW IT....................... OR MAYBE NOT......

[solargeist]

Does Grian reflect some of the manerisms Aether treated him with when he was with the Watchers onto baby Xelqua? I think you said before that he didn't really have parents so him only kinda knowing how to parent because of being treated like a child back with the Watchers is really sad and really cute

Also since after season eight Xelqua can come and go as he pleases does that mean that Aether and Flora can to? Or at least see what's going on there with Watcher magic and stuff?

oh yes ! i've thought abt that before !! but wasn't sure how to draw it, but yes ! Grian does accidentally mimic Aether, even with things he didn't like.

Like, the Watchers used to coo over how cute he is, showing off his wings or commenting on his height, making him feel small and embarrassed--but they did this out of genuine adoration. Grian sorta does mimic this with Xelqua, he's so small its ridiculous, isn't it ? But look at his ears, they're so big ! Grian does this bc he does think its cute. (xelqua likes the attention at least haha)

Tho with some things, Grian remembers and purposely does the opposite, even tho its not exactly the best choice either. Like with food, he only got food if the Watchers allowed it/he asked, but Xelqua can pick and eat whatever he wants, whenever, and yes this would be good--but sometimes kids make bad choices and eat a lot of candy and get sick to their stomach, like, no you can't have the entire bag, lets put a few in a bowl, yknow ? He has to learn this, hard way ! Xelqua throws up on his rug.

Grian used to get upset abt people messing with his food cabinets, bc he has a food hoarding issue due to food insecurity, but hes gotten more steady abt it.

But with a lot of parenting things, Grians sorta learned along his entire life, he's already 30 by time Xelquas around, and he raised Pearl--even if they were kids at the same time--it sorta helps now.

Grians also learning to relax and take things slower, not stress and overwork himself, thats something he also struggled with the Watchers, and he has to bite his tongue and swallow his disdain when Xelqua is being lazy (being a kid, rly) bc he's aware enough to know thats just the Watchers in his head, not his actual feelings.

Theres probably other moments, like i think when Xelqua hugs Grian's leg or leans against him, Grian ruffles his hair in a specific way he remembers Aether doing to him. But i can't think too much rn i'm sleepy !!

And !!! Thats an interesting thought, Xelqua..... in his natural form... is on his own level, he can do what he wants, rly. The Watchers........ Don't necessarily have a reason to go in and out of Hermitcraft, but they're aware of it now post s8. Since Watchers are based off viewers, i think they Watch the Hermits, but don't interact or control anything, its a sturdy world. I haven't rly thought abt this, i've had a few random ideas, like grian writing letters, but i dont know anything for sure. The AU around this point becomes a badly drawn horse i think ADGKAJK

[whon1verse]

rambly thoughts about 'empire of death' under the cut (they're not positive.)

the issue isn't that ruby's mother is ordinary, it's that the execution of the overall arc was poor. ruby's mum being ordinary is perfectly in tune with something that has been thematically established in doctor who before, that anyone can be special regardless of your background. that's a good message and in the context of just this episode, in complete isolation, it almost works. but it doesnt work within the wider context of the season arc, so it doesnt feel like a satisfying resolution.

i understand the metatextual intention of the mother reveal. i understand that it was a self-enforced recursive thing where everyone thought it was extremely important, which inadvertently made it important. but narratively, that's really inconsistent with what has been established throughout this arc. there was absolutely no setup for that revelation. if you want to do a storyline about how adoptees often daydream about their birth parents being special when that usually isn't the case, that's great! that would have been a really good story. and if the resolution was always going to be that ruby's mother was ordinary, the arc should have gone down that route, but that isn't what happened. the entire story revolved around the mysterious supernatural events surrounding ruby only to, at the very last minute, tell us that there was actually no reason for any of that stuff, and that we were silly for thinking the arc would pay off.

but... that reveal doesn't work when the narrative itself framed ruby's story that way. the reveal fails not because ruby’s mother is just a normal person, but because ruby’s mother being a normal person can't be synthesised with anything revealed, textually or subtextually, about ruby or her mother before this episode aired. the resolution seems to have been designed to make the audience feel silly for engaging with the story they've been presented with, while the narrative obscured information that could have tied the arc together coherently. very ironically, this is something moffat is wrongly accused of doing all the time, even though moffat's mysteries were established through foreshadowing and built on character-driven narratives, rather than creating mystery for the sake of mystery. even the moffat arc resolutions i personally disliked had more substance than the resolution rtd has written here. rtd's first era also had setup for its overarching stories, the execution in each rtd1 finale wasn't always great, but i enjoyed them regardless of their flaws because those stories never insulted the intelligence of their audience.

this finale, particularly the resolution around ruby's mother, is completely different. misdirection should be utilised effectively to elevate tension within a narrative, not implemented so that you don't actually have to foreshadow anything. misdirection can be written in a way that adds substance with repeat viewings - or at the very least doesn't detract from a story - but this season, from the very first establishing shot of ruby's mother walking to the church, has been deceitful. there's a difference between utilising misdirection, and just blatantly lying to your audience. now that we have the full story, that misdirection has rendered the entire arc nonsensical in hindsight. the story of this season doesn't make sense with the context of the finale. this story was not told coherently at all. there just isn't much going on underneath the surface, and if you try to sink your teeth into it, it all falls apart. there's a difference between suspension of disbelief and what this finale is essentially telling us, which is that we can't expect any of the overarching plots in this era to make sense. after the nonsensical 'reveal' of the mystery behind ruby's parentage, how exactly am i supposed to trust there will be a good reveal for mrs flood? i don't even want to speculate about mrs flood anymore because considering the fact that there was absolutely no setup for the revelation in this finale, and that the entire arc was built on misleading the audience, i wouldn't be surprised if the s2 finale reveals that mrs flood is just an ordinary woman who has gone a bit loopy in her old age, which causes her to make ominous speeches and address an invisible camera or something.

this arc truly amounted to "you thought ruby was special because every clue we've given you suggested that she was? how silly of you to think about what you were watching!". the finale threw all of the season's logic out of the window for a reveal that doesnt map onto what's already been established in the story. again: my problem isn't the fact that ruby's mum was ordinary, because that could have been a good storyline. my problem is that it was executed badly. the resolution didn't harmonise in any conceivable way with the rest of the arc. it feels like the entire season was manufactured to provoke speculation, while attempting and failing to make a commentary about the power of stories and memory. that sort of messaging has been conveyed very effectively in doctor who before, so revisiting those themes sounds great on paper, but this feels like a flimsy imitation, failing to grasp how those themes should be implemented in a narrative.

there have been frequent but relatively minor writing issues throughout this season that i absolutely would have been willing to overlook if the overall arc was executed coherently - the key term here is 'coherent'. it doesn't need to be a conclusion everyone loves, it just needs to make sense.

the "she was pointing at a sign to name you!!!" thing perfectly exemplifies the wider issue with this arc. the sign not even being on the lamp post in TLoRS and then magically appearing for the reveal in EoD is very telling. like everything else in this parentage arc, there were many red herrings planted, a lot of misdirection, but no actual foreshadowing to make the conclusion satisfying. the lamp post isn't even there in TCoRR. it's literally not there. you can't make everything seem mysterious and intense only to turn around and say "actually, she was pointing at a lamp post that wasn't even there in the original episode, and even more specifically she was pointing at a sign on the lamp post that wasn't there until we made it magically appear after the reveal". this didn't have any setup, and every writer should understand that setup is what makes a plot twist effective in the first place.

it's absolutely possible to marry meta commentary with internal narrative, doctor who has done that successfully countless times, but this just didn't work. now, there are entire chunks of this season that don't make any sense under the smallest bit of scrutiny. the reveal hasn't added anything, in fact it actively damages most of the episodes leading up to it because it introduces a lot of plot holes and other gaps in the narrative. ambiguity can be intriguing, but ambiguity isn't an intentional choice here. it isn't postmodernist or anything, the entire arc just doesn't make sense.

i find it ridiculous when writers intentionally obscure any/all clues about the direction of a narrative, because the natural result is that any eventual conclusion won't feel earned. it's actually good when audiences are able to piece things together, because it means you're telling a cohesive story. imagine reading an agatha christie novel where hints about the identity of the murderer are threaded intricately throughout the narrative, only for poirot to deduce that it was a natural death apropos of nothing. that would be terrible. and that's essentially what happened here; the reveal lacked setup and questions were framed in a very specific intratextual way, only for the answers to be... incoherent. it doesn't work. the puzzle pieces don't fit together. and it's not unreasonable to want doctor who to be narratively satisfying - that's the bare minimum.

i can't help but feel like there was a better story here, underneath the empty spectacle, about an abandoned child who built up this false image of her parents being magical when the reality was mundane. that could have worked, but that wasn't the direction of the narrative. in retrospect, the entire season feels... empty. and that's a shame, because the characters and audience deserved a better story.

[xxsporkxx]

Adam Lanza Cookie Recipe: Oatmeal Berry Chipnut Smiggles-style

-A detailed review for @ed-kemper

Potential substitutes for some ingredients: I used everything Adam listed except salt... the most basic ingredient ever but apparently I don't have it. I didn't substitute it for anything else but I don't think it would taste that different if I did use salt. Anyways, here's some substitutes I thought of.

PB: PB2 is less accessible than normal pb but if you want the cookies to be lower calorie use this instead.

Turbinado-style sugar: I think Adam specifically chose this sugar because it's low in calories but if you don't care then make a blend of half white sugar and half brown sugar then add either a bit of honey or applesauce for moisture.

Milk free chocolate chips: Again I think he chose these for less calories, but normal chocolate will work just fine if you don't care. Or you can make your own following this tutorial.

Dried cranberries/blueberries: Any other small or cut up dried fruits will work.

---

Uncooked Cookies: This is what the mixture should look like (bird food basically)

I only ate a little bit because I don't want to eat raw flour; it tasted ok but nothing really special. Also if you shape them into cookies It'll be difficult to eat because it's crumbly so If you're gonna eat it raw then just eat straight out the bowl or shape them into balls.

---

Baked Cookies: Made about 47 small cookies, if you sized them up a bit you'd probably have a good amount of 23-24+ medium cookies

It's hard to shape the cookies especially if you used rolled oats or add little peanutbutter. So I suggest blending your oats, I mainly blended my oats into powder but left some rolled for texture. And as you can tell in the picture, the cookies leave behind a mess of oats around them. If you want, after baking and taking the cookies out you can store the remaining oats in a zip-log and reuse them for something else, like adding them to a yogurt bowl.

I baked them for about 12-15 minutes on 350F. Bake longer to make them crispy, or less to make them softer. While I personally prefer soft cookies I recommend making these more crispy. The raw and baked cookies look basically the same but have a different feeling as the baked are much more sturdier. But still easily crumbled so be careful when taking them out. I suggest greasing the pan with 0-cal cooking spray (it's ok because it's 0 cals, so you're totally not a commie like Adam says) or adding parchment paper so they're easier to take out.

---

Taste Test: It had the consistency of a granola bar and the cookie with just chocolate chips would've tasted somewhat plain. But the fruit is what really makes the cookies good. Since you get natural sweet flavor and not overly sweet like the average cookie/pastry it's not really addictive. You can stop at 1 or 2 feeling satisfied. The cranberry and blueberries also just mix well together. And can be enjoyed with any kind of milk on the side (I used almond), but I actually prefer it on its own, I don't like how the milk tastes with the fruit. But that's a personal preference so you'll have to try it for yourself. With that all being said it's not the best replacement for a normal cookie as the texture is fairly different but it's still a nice snack to have.

My conclusion

The cookies are good when they're warm, but after letting them sit they get a little dry and lose their taste. But warming them up in the microwave, or simply baking only a couple at a time will solve the problem.

Is it worth it? I think it is, at least just to try it once because the ingredients aren't too expensive at the most were the chocolates at 6 dollars. And if you don't like the cookies you can definitely reuse the ingredients for other healthy/low cal recipes.

[alexanderwales]

Pitchposting: Generation Ship

(Pitchposting is a way of giving away ideas that threaten to grow in my mind until they become draft documents. They are free to a good home, though there's no guarantee that I won't try to write them at some point.)

Alright, hear me out: it's a generation ship, one expected to reach its destination with an entirely new generation of people who never knew the homeland, except instead of being a scifi concept, we're doing it as mundane as possible.

I think this is one of those ideas that only appeals to me because I immediately start thinking about the logistics of it all, and there's something in the mundane, gritty realism that really appeals to me. Mostly I'm worldbuilding and problem solving, trying to get at what it would actually be like for people to have been at sea their entire lives, to have a ship that either needs to endure the waves or be rebuilt as it goes.

I was going to say that this needs to be fantasy, but I guess technically it can be an Alderson Disk or something. An Alderson Disk has a habitable circumference of approximately a billion kilometers, a sailing ship can go maybe eighty miles a day, that's a ballpark of 12.5 million days to circumnavigate the disk, which is 34,000 years. That's a hell of a lot of generations, twice as long as we've had agriculture. (But you could also just have it be a fantasy world that's larger than our own, with a generation ship that was only trying to flee to greener pastures that are a hundred years away.)

The purest version of this story is a world that's just water, to match the void of space. The ship sails, repairs are made from flotsam and jetsam and driftwood from unspecified places, rainwater is caught and put into barrels, pitch is used for patching, fish and kelp are hauled up from the ocean, birds are captured from the sky, and the ship must necessarily endure storms and swells.

I've always felt there was something compelling about constrained living situations, places where everyone knows everyone and you have to make it work because there's absolutely no way out — where you're on a knife's edge because there's only so much preparation you can do. A generation ship needs to think about absolutely all of its needs and how it will deal with the deterioration of all things over time, along with problems that might only crop up once every hundred years, or problems that won't become apparent until long after the ship has left the dock.

Let's say you have a sailing ship the size of one of the largest sailing vessels of the 19th century, a thousand people all told. The families are carefully braided to prevent accidental incest, everyone has their position in life, every master has at least one apprentice but probably more so gout or cancer don't eliminate the last person who knew how to make more pitch.

This is clearly an Idea story, one that starts with a ridiculous premise and then explores it, but one of my favorite things about idea stories is finding the characters and the conflicts within them. For a generation ship, the biggest, most obvious conflict is the conflict between generations: the old people who once knew dry land, the middle generation who will likely die before the destination is reached, and the children who will be the beneficiaries of all this travel.

We have a woman who was born to the sea, who loves the sea, who loves the travel and takes great joy in knowing that she's probably not going to see the end of it until she's ancient. We have the grizzled sailor who's nearly risen to the rank of captain and sees the whole mission as utter foolishness. A boy of thirteen who is obsessed with writing stories about the land they've set off toward and keeps his telescope on the horizon, hoping that the predictions were off, that they're somehow two decades early. A girl of sixteen who doesn't feel suited to the marriage that's planned for her, who is secretly in love with her best friend. A scientist who has been quietly advancing the state of knowledge with every new fish brought up from the deeps.

And then there's the plot, which there are so, so many options for. I would start the novel with simple sailing, a few chapters of the daily routine, the personalities, their petty fights with each other, and the stress of being in the middle of unfathomably deep waters whose depths are only glimpsed when the nets bring up something new. Then ... an island, another ship, sea creatures that have a glimmer of intelligence, a storm that makes the ship limp, spoilage that threatens starvation unless drastic action is taken, a political squabble that might bring all the plans crashing down.

Maybe it's a book about being trapped by the past, or about hanging on by what feels like a delicate thread, or about how systems are fragile and careful thinking and brave leadership are the only things that will get us through.

Mostly I think I want to be a geek about a ship that needs to survive in the ocean for a hundred years, and I do not have the time to write this novel, not when there are so many other novels to write.

[fafefae]

Apology Tour was really good because this time, instead of blitzo brushing someone else off, he's the one getting brushed off. and i think blitzo getting brushed off will come back.

because yeah. he fucked up bad with a (comedic) amount of people, but he is actually trying with stolas here.

i think it was said in the description on yt, but "stolas isn't self aware" in this episode, or really at all regarding the relationship with blitzo, but blitzo has actually tried to make a change here. he's actually tried to talk about this with stolas now, seeking him out at the party and pulling him aside and going "hey, we need to talk"

he WANTS to change. but now with verosika telling him that "if he wants to change, he'll let stolas move on", blitzo won't try to talk to him again and will wallow in self pity to extreme measures. we are going to see how blitzo copes with all of this in these next episodes and it is going to be ugly. but if he does follow verosika's advice and leaves stolas alone, that's proof that he does love stolas, he respects stolas as a person, and that he wants to change for him (or at least, change enough so that he doesn't lose another person he really really does care about like this)

if stolitz is going to happen, stolas needs to change too. he's aware of the power imbalance between him and blitzo, but his way of dealing with it is ignoring it and trying to act like it doesn't exist. and the thing is, stolas himself likely won't make a change until he realizes that "yes, there is a power imbalance here", and that power imbalance and lack of acknowledgement/ignorance on stolas' part is directly affecting blitzo's willingness to commit to the relationship.

"don't think of me as a prince, because i think of you as my equal"

"but you are a prince and im not your equal and how am i supposed to trust that you won't take advantage of the power imbalance if you won't even acknowledge it"

but since stolas won't even listen to blitzo when he's telling him that the power imbalance exists and that its something blitzo is really worried about,,, i wonder what will have to happen to make stolas see that it does exist, and that ignoring it like he's been doing isn't going to work for him either.

[vxserii]

idc what anybody says.

'in the woods somewhere' by hozier is a literary fucking masterpiece and deserves to go down in history along with all those famous poems that we're taught in school

it's a story of grief and mourning, showing the narrator learning to live his life again without his lover in it. it's written in a way that's easy to understand & yet it's poetic and symbolic, leaving a mark on anyone who takes the time to actually understand what this genius of a man is trying to say

"my head was warm, my skin was soaked, i called your name 'til the fever broke. when i awoke, the moon still hung, the night so black that the darkness hummed."

the first few lines paint a picture of grief as well as the sorrow that follows it. the narrator is lost and in pain because they succumbed to a fever that was caused by their own lack of care for themselves.

they wake in the middle of the night, which shows that all this misery that that've been enduring is all very small in the grand scheme of things. it's one thing to endure all this for days on end. but it's a whole separate thing to go through pain and suffering only to find out its only been a few hours.

"i raised myself, my legs were weak, i prayed my mind be good to me."

this is simply more description on how poorly they're doing. before, it was showing his health mentally. now, the song i going on to depict how this ignorance toward themself is effecting their body physically.

"an awful noise filled the air. i heard a scream, in the woods somewhere."

i feel like this bit is self explanatory. they woke in the middle of the night, tormented by memories of whoever they're mourning (the person whose name they were screaming in the beginning) and now we know that they're also in the middle of the woods ???

"a woman's voice! i quickly ran, into the trees with empty hands."

this is the big huge turning point for the narrator's character.

somebody who grief stricken would normally sleep their days away and let themselves feel nothing but the pain that they believe they deserve. clearly, the narrator is no acceptation to this. we don't know how long they've been wasting away - allowing their fever to get worse and their legs to grow weak. it's likely been a long time, though, if i were to guess.

now, they suddenly hear somebody scream in the distance. without a second thought, nor a moment of hesitation, they run directly into the woods without any weapon or means to protect themselves.

i feel like this shows how much they don't care for their health to their life at all. most people wouldn't run toward danger so impulsively. or if they were to, they'd at least bring something for defense. but the fact that our narrator didn't goes to show their lack of care for their own wellbeing, yet they still clearly care for others around them. if the way the sound of a woman's scream pushed them into action so suddenly is anything to go by.

"a fox it was. he shook, afraid, i spoke no words. no sound he made."

mic drop.

they heard a woman's scream and ran towards it despite their fever, their weak legs, and their lack of just health in general. they did all this only to learn that it's not a woman. it was a fox all along.

the two creatures stare at one another, not a single noise being made by either of them.

i like to think that the narrator is seeing themselves in the fox. the way it's staring at them with scared eyes, shaking with fear. there's no way they're looking at it without at least a little bit of recognition, knowing how it feels to be so lost and alone, seeing as they were in that same boat only moments ago.

"his bone exposed, his hind was lame. i rose a stone, to end his pain."

the narrator now sees how awful the fox's situation is. bone exposed, the song says. this means it's likely covered in blood and nearing it's death. in other words, the animal that the narrator could see themself in? it's dying.

this makes it so much more impactful when they move to end it's life as an action of mercy. they see themself in that fox; they know how it feels and they know it well.

the awareness of there similarities would normally push someone to treat the animal with kindness - to at least try and help it live. but our narrator knows better. living on when one doesn't want to is worse than simply dying, because you likely already feel dead.

the symbolism here is that them ending the fox's life is mirroring their desire to end their own.

"what caused the wound? how large the teeth? i saw new eyes were watching me."

before, the assumption that they saw the animal as a reflection of themself wasn't proven. i came to that conclusion on my own. but this verse shows that they're now not just seeing the animal as a random creature. they're pondering and wondering what hurt it and why.

then, they realize that the animal that hurt the fox isn't gone. it's watching them. this is a simple verse - wondering why the fox was hurt, then turning and seeing the animal that hurt it.

but nothing by hozier is simple, there's always an underlying message. here, i think the message is that the narrator is the new prey. they're now being put in the position that the fox was just in - parallel to how the fox is in the pained position that the narrator was just in.

"the creature lunged, i turned and ran, to save a life i didn't have."

okay. now this? THIS? this is where it's proven that the narrator is experiencing some character development.

at the beginning, they were rotting away in some random woods, not caring for their health, wellbeing, or life at all. they didn't give a single fuck whether or not they would die - hence why they're sleeping in the center of the woods with no means of protection on them.

but as soon as this allegedly meaningless life is in danger or put at stake, they now desperately want to save themselves. they're trying to save their own life. one that they weren't sure they even had to begin with.

"deer in the chase, there as i flew. forgot all prayers of joining you."

okay okay okay. bare with me here. hozier, the man that you are. they could never make me hate you.

the idea that the narrator was now the prey is confirmed here. they very blatantly compare themself to a deer - an animal that's known for being prey to those larger than it. they fled the scene like a deer. like prey. like the fox.

"forgot all prayers of joining you" is such an insanely heavy line that i cannot even try and fit it all in here. i could yap forever on it.

we already knew that they wanted to die. we already knew that they nearly killed the thing that they saw as themself [the fox]. we already knew that they were mourning someone. but here it is, laid out bare and comprehensible. the narrator had prayed to join their lover, prayed to die. but now they're fighting to live.

"i clutched my life and wished it kept. my dearest love, i'm not done yet."

ASJHDAJSHGDKAHSDHJAS

them clutching their life just shows how painfully desperate they are to live. to not die. they're holding it the way they (should have) held a weapon to defend themself. but due to their previous ignorance for their own life, they now have no way to save their life. they can do naught but wish. it. kept.

the fact that they're wishing for their life to continue when we just learned that they had wished for it to end??? that's fucking unreal. like. what.

the bolded line is my absolute favorite hozier lyric to exist [it's also the line in my bio]. there's so many beautiful lyrics that andrew has written and so many that i absolutely adore & could yap about forever, but nothing compares to that line.

they're not apologizing to her, they're simply informing her that they now wish to life. we know they're addressing their lover by the way they say 'my dearest love'. that's very obvious, i feel.

but they could have said "i want to live" which would be more simple and much more easy for people to understand. they also could have said "i don't want to die" which, again, would be so much easier to comprehend.

instead, they say "i am not done yet" and i think that wording is so powerfully heavy.

"how many years i know i'll bear i found something in the woods somewhere."

they go on to say that the remaining years of their life will be a burden. they will 'bear' them. they won't live them, because they never said that they wish to be happy. they simply don't wish to die any longer than they already have felt dead.

they say that they found something that day. they found life.

also, this is irrelevant, but i love the fact that the line ended on with the title, but didn't begin with it. because their life started at the end of the song, not at the beginning.

anyway!

this song means so much to me (clearly). and i want andrew's face tattooed on my forehead. i want the entire song tattooed down my back and hands and my arms and everywhere.

i'm aware that nobody will read this entire thing and that's fine, i wrote this for myself because i needed to do something with all the love i feel for this song. it's overwhelming and it needs to go somewhere, so i typed it out. how silly

[worstloki]

there is a difference between being born to a throne, maliciously vying for a throne, stealing a throne, and having a throne thrust upon you when you are already in the midst of an identity crisis. And I fear Loki's place in the line of succession has people unable to differentiate between any of these

[cluescorner]

I cannot imagine being a Damian stan right now. You've got both Zdarsky's bullshit (where he clearly doesn't give a shit about your boy) and The Boy Wonder (where Juni Ba clearly gives so many shits about your boy) coming out on the same day. The whiplash must be insane. I hope y'all get some nice warm soup for your efforts jfc

[snowshinobi]

hear me out: divorce ceremonies. divorce cake and divorce outfits. toasts to the uncouple spoken by the Worst Man and Maid of Dishonor (gender neutral). separate piles of gifts for the freshly parted, stuff like nice sheets and Target giftcards and cookbooks. marriage gets to have all this ritual attached to it and by god divorce deserves some of that action