#i talked about the women from the ripper case way more than intended | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

dadsbongos · 3 years

Text

Liebeskummer

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It just felt wrong.

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

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

“Ooh, Kiyo’s gonna teach me?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Just like (Y/n).

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“And you trust me?”

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

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

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

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

“To perform a resurrection?”

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

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

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

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

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

Depends on who you ask, really.

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

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

A lot of things will get you killed.

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

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

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

No place for someone of realistic standard.

No place for him.

“You’re far too kind, (Y/n).”

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

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

Because maybe it was true.

Maybe Sister wasn’t so nice.

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

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

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

“Would you like to learn it someday?”

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

“I’d love to.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Sister would adore a friend like her.

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

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

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

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

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

“Right, yes, I am.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’d like that,” (Y/n) grinned.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I wouldn’t mind, she wanted to say.

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

Then he felt his chest tighten.

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

“Of course.”

“Have you ever been in love?”

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

“How do you think it feels?”

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

“I see…”

“Kiyo, why do you ask?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I could hardly judge an unfinished masterpiece.”

“I don’t know about masterpieces…”

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

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

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

“You can draw?”

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

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

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

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

“Do you truly believe that, (Y/n)?”

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

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

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

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

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

“You do?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Oh God, what did this mean again?

Where do the creation myths go?

Who’s Princess Kaguya?

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

Shuichi would love this stuff! You two should bond!

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

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

Anyone.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“(Y/n)? Are you feeling okay?”

Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck

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

“Yeah,” her voice cracked, lips trembling.

Goddammit.

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

Understatement of the year.

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

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

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

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

“That’s about all I’m good for.”

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

“Don’t lie to me, Kiyo…”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“No need to thank me.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Thank you.”

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

“You as well.”

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

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

“You never loved me.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“(Y/n) wouldn’t like that…”

“(Y/n) wouldn’t like you anyway.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Kiyo…”

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

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

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

Because he did.

“I’ll try.”

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

“Thanks again, Shuichi.”

“Just take your time, okay?”

“Yeah, okay.”

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

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

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

Her heart throbbed at the last possibility.

“Ah, my dear, back so soon?”

“Oh, yeah, sorry…”

“Why are you apologizing?”

“I’m, uhm, not sure?”

I’m sorry I couldn’t help you.

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

My love? My love.

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

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

“Your medication?”

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

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

“It’s only medication, dear.”

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

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

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

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

“You think that?”

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

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

He’s wrong.

She should’ve stayed with him that night.

He’s wrong.

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

He’s dead.

Because she should’ve stayed.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

134 notes · View notes

chibimyumi · 5 years

Note

I have a question about THE TOPIC. How is Grell being referred to by other shinigami in the original manga?

Dear Anon,

【Edit April 19th, 2019】(some minor typos and vague phrasing)

Throughout the entire manga of Kuroshitsuji, there has not been a single reference to Grell’s gender made by other characters than herself, either during the Jack the Ripper Arc, or after.

NOTE: I have checked the ENTIRE manga for this post. Please note that I am simply stating facts here. Please do NOT start a discussion or spread hate underneath this post.

1. Honorifics - San, Kun, Chan

During the Jack the Ripper Arc, Sebastian did refer to Grell by Mr. Grell in English, but only because the ‘san’ in Grell-san (by which Sebas addresses Grell) cannot be translated into English in a gender neutral way. And at the time, Grell was indeed posing as a male butler.

As Grell was doing a performance as ‘the male butler’, it is only natural to address the role she plays, and not the actress behind the character. Just like how we still refer to 1. Ciel with he/him, while his voice actor is Sakamoto Maaya, a woman. Similarly in the musical, 2. Doll with she/her, while her actor Shitara Ginga is a boy, and 3. Peter by he/him, despite his actress being Kurachi Ayuka, a woman. The same rule would obviously apply to 4. Grell in the musical, who is played by a male actor, Uehara Takuya.

“Ah, but this time after the completion of the script, I had a request to Grell’s actor Mr. Uehara. “Could you please [play her] as a strong woman”, I said (laughs)In the original comics, Grell does not make an appearance between the Red Butler Arc and the Luxury Liner Arc, and therefore people often think she is useless at her job. So I asked [Mr. Uehara] to please portray her as a career woman in front of her kouhai (younger colleague, aka Ronald)” 【Toboso】

Most people have probably seen this post already, but @akumadeshitsumon wrote an extensive post about this topic, wherein they also translated this tweet with added explanation.

Chapter 64

Undertaker: “君　どっかで見たと思ったら　マダム・レッドの執事やってた死神クンかあ”

“Kimi, dokka de mita to omottara, Madam Red no shitsuji yatteta shinigami-kun kaa”

“You, I thought I’ve seen you somewhere before, you’re the (junior) reaper who posed as Madam Red’s butler.”

Undertaker refers to Grell as ‘shinigami-kun’. As far as I have understood, in Japanese learning environments, ‘kun’ is usually explained as an honorific used for men. While it is indeed often the case that ‘kun’ is used for boys/men, Undertaker uses this honorific as someone in the position of senpai.

In business settings, many superiors address their juniors with ‘kun’. Especially female workers are usually addressed with ‘kun’ regardless of the status in a workplace. (yes, it does come from a place of sexism.) In short; ‘kun’ is not an inherently male-gendered honorific. Considering how Undertaker is known as ‘the legendary reaper’, he is obviously in his right to assume the position of ‘the senior’ in face of Grell, the junior.

Chapter 124

In contrast, Othello refers to Grell with ‘chan’. ‘Chan’, as most are aware, is usually - though not exclusively - applied to female persons.

Othello: “いやいや　グレルちゃん”

“Iya iya, Grell chan”

It is now more clear that Othello is - year wise- Grell’s senior. But in interacting with Grell, Othello is much more on equal terms, and therefore he does not use ‘kun’ for Grell, but instead ‘chan’. i.e., Othello does not pull rank on Grell.

In a nutshell, the honorifics employed by Undertaker and Othello respectively, are telling the readers something about the rank-dynamics rather than gender-dynamics.

2. Pronouns in Japanese - Null-Subject Language

Japanese is a null-subject language, which means that a sentence does not require to have a subject. In English, we say “I drink tea”. You cannot simply say “drink tea” without it becoming imperative. In Japanese however, it is even considered rather unnatural to include the ‘I’ in the sentence.

私はお茶を飲みます (Watashi wa ocha wo nomimasu)

(Adding the ‘Watashi wa’ will in effect sound like: “It is I, who drinks tea!”Please click here for more about the Japanese language.)

Kuroshitsuji is not an exception either. Like I mentioned above, throughout the entire manga, there has not been a single reference to Grell’s gender made by other characters. Please see the following examples:

Chapter 35

William: “本日付けでアレの謹慎が解けるので嫌な予感がしていたのですが…外れたとは僥倖でした”

“Honjitsuzuke de are no kinshin ga tokeru node iya na yokan ga shiteita no desuga… Hazureta to ha gyoukou deshita.”

“As of today, that thing’s confinement is over and I had a very bad premonition… but I consider myself fortunate I was wrong.”

____________

William: “それは残念でしたね　貴方も　アレも”

“Sore wa zannen deshita ne, anata mo, are mo.”

“That is most unfortunate, for both you and that thing.”

____________

Ronald: ”そーいや　サトクリフ先輩なら異常なテンションで別件行きました”

“So- iya, Sutcliff-senpai nara ijou na tension de bekken ikimashita kedo.”

“Welp, if it is Sutcliff-senpai you are talking about, ＊[Grell] went to a different case with unusual energy.”

＊This is an example of how the null-subject quality of Japanese works. In Japanese, because the subject of the sentence is already clear, namely ‘Suttcliff-senpai’, it would be very unnatural to add another reference there, just like in the “I drink tea” example.

In English however, the opposite is true; if the translator wishes to keep the original grammatical structure, it would be very unnatural to not add another reference and translate: “He/She/They went to […]”. In translating Japanese, the translator is often forced to assume what this intended subject is supposed to be.

In one of the English scanlations I found, the translators did manage to excellently dodge the pronoun.

Similarly, neither does Sebastian use any pronouns for Grell, nor does he even use a subject in his language.

In chapter 12, Sebastian says the following:

Sebastian: “では　その害獣に迷惑をかけない様　しっかり見張っておいて下さい”

“Dewa, sono gaijuu ni meiwaku wo kakenai you, shikkari mihatte oite kudasai.”

“Well then, please make sure to keep a watchful eye so that [Grell (Subject)] will not cause this vermin (sentence Object) any trouble.”

In this sentence, the subject - being Grell - is omitted too for natural flow of the Japanese language.

In the Campania Arc, Grell is being referred to as follows:

Chapter 53

Ronald: “ウチの先輩がお世話んなってマース”

“Uchi no senpai ga osewan nattema-su.”

“My senpai has been in your care.”

____________

Chapter 57

Lizzie: “何あの人!?”Sebas: “ただの変態です近付くと伝染する恐れがありますのでお下がりください！”

Lizzie: “Nani ano hito!?”Sebas: “Tada no ＊hentai desu, chikazuku to densen suru osore ga arimasu node osagari kudasai!”

Lizzie: “What’s with that person!?”Sebas: “[Grell] is just a pervert, there is risk of contagion upon close contact ＊[with Grell], so please stay back!”

＊Here gain, Sebas uses the verb ‘desu’ (is/are) without subject, and also without object in the second part of the sentence, for the benefit of a natural flow inJapanese.

____________

Chapter 58 where O!Ciel stops Sebas from chasing Grell.

O!Ciel: “そんな奴に構ってる場合じゃない！”

“Sonna yatsu ni kamatteru baai janai!”

“This is not the time to engage ＊that person!”

＊In Japanese, ‘Yatsu’ is inherently a gender neutral word that refers to ‘that person’ or ‘that thing’. Usually ‘Yatsu’ is applied to men or boys because the word is not very elegant, and it is considered rude to refer to women using ‘Yatsu’. When no respect or elegance is required for the speaker however - such as in O!Ciel’s case - ‘Yatsu’ is universally applicable to men, women, persons of other genders, and even items.

Example:

Q: “Would you like to have the green bag, or the red bag?”

A: “赤のやつ” (Aka no Yatsu) “The red one”

Chapter 64

Ronald: “先輩のが俺より強いし　そっちはおまかせしまっす”

“Senpai no ga ore yori tsuyoi shi, socchi wa omakase shimassu”

“Senpai is much stronger than I am, I will leave the Undertaker to [Grell].

#Kuroshitsuji #Black Butler #Language #Japanese #Original Manga #English #Translation #Grell #Grell Sutcliff #Grelle Sutcliff #Gender #Pronoun #Honorifics #Explanation

247 notes · View notes

criminallyimaginative · 8 years

Text

Without A Trace Pt. 2

A/N: So...wow. This was more well received than I originally thought it would be, but as promised here is part two of without a trace. This is mainly the taunting of the BAU and dipping into the reader’s POV briefly. (Side note: this got so much darker than I ever intended for it to be.) Again not as many Hotch X Reader feels in this part, but it will be in the next part I promise :)

Warnings: swearing, implication of rape, and mention of a rape.

Rating: T

Word count: 2.5K

Part 1 Part 3 Part 4

Hotch and Rossi walked back in from their much needed short walk outside, which unfortunately for you had been around the back of the building, not the front. Hotch glanced around the room mentally checking off each team member and monitoring what their activities. The lack of your presence disturbed him greatly. “Where’s (Y/N)?” He asked Prentis because she was the last person he saw you with.

“She’s not with you?” she asked clearly alarmed as she looked back and forth between him and Rossi.

“Why would she be with us?”

“Because she made a possible connection that might lead us to our unsub when she saw who our missing woman was, and she ran outside to tell the two of you.”

“And you let her?” 

“She really didn’t give me a choice,” Emily defended.

“Which way?” Hotch demanded. Emily pointed to the front door of the station. “Damn it, we were out back,” he growled, jogging to the doors. “(Y/N)! Are you out here?” Aaron shouted, as he threw the doors open. You were nowhere to be found. “(Y/N)! Where-”

“Aaron,” Rossi muttered, kneeling down to look at something on the ground.

“What is it?” Aaron asked hesitantly, as he slowly turned around. Rossi shook his head and picked your credentials up off the ground.

“He’s got her.”

“Damn it!” Hotch shouted, slamming his fist against the wall. “I knew that I should’ve-”

“That doesn’t matter now,” Rossi cut him off. “It happened and now we do something about it. The longer we stand here, the longer he’s alone with her. Now get your head out of your ass and let’s find her.” Hotch took a deep breath and rubbed his hands over his face.

“You’re right, I just-”

“I know and we are going to find her, but we can’t do that standing here without the team,” Rossi replied and walked back into the station with Aaron following close behind.

“(Y/N)’s gone,” Hotch stated as Rossi tossed your creds on the table.

“What? She couldn’t have been out there for more than five minutes if that long!” Emily cried.

“Which just proves that he has perfected his method of abduction. No one heard or saw anything,” Rossi muttered.

“Maybe there’s something on the cameras,” JJ suggested.

“I doubt it but I’ll get Garcia look anyways,” Morgan replied, pulling out his phone

“Guys, there’s a note,” Reid said, pulling the small folded up piece of paper from your credentials. “‘Thank you for my new toy. She was well worth the chase. I think that I’ll take my time with this one.’ signed the Raleigh Ripper,” he read. Hotch repeatedly clenched his hands together trying to stay calm. “He’s getting bolder. He’s never taunted law enforcement before.”

  “He’s also never taken two women in one day. The abduction of the M.E. should’ve been it. What changed?” JJ asked.

“(Y/N). He tried to abduct her, but since I was there he ran and couldn’t finish what he started. He saw her as a challenge,” Derek clarified.

“Ok, but what’s his end game? Now he’s got two women, one of which is a federal agent, he has to know that this isn’t going to end well.”

“I hate to say this, but what if he knows that there isn’t anything to connected him to any of his victims and that we probably won’t find them until it’s too late?” Reid mumbled quietly. The whole team fell silent at that thought.

“Not an option and we aren’t giving up. Morgan get Garcia to pull records. I don’t care if the person is an eight-year-old, I want to know every person who’s ever been in those buildings, and get her to put a lock on (Y/N)’s phone. He’s good, so I can almost guarantee that it’s off, but if it turns on again I want to know the second it does,” Hotch said, fighting the urge to walk out of the room and break something. “Reid go back through all the case files and see if there’s anything we missed. Prentis and JJ, look into the workplaces again. Rossi help Reid. I’ll be back in a second, I need to make a call and update the detectives.” Aaron stormed off toward the conference room and shut the door behind him.

“Rossi, is he alright?” JJ whispered, watching Hotch close all of the blinds in the room.

“No, he’s not. Right now he’s feeling like he failed at his job and that it’s his fault that she’s gone,” he replied.

“How do we help him?”  

“Right now, you can’t. Just work on finding the slip up so we can get (Y/N) back,” Rossi said and walked over to the conference room. He knocked twice on the door, before opening it. “Aaron?” he called, hesitantly. He walked in and shut the door behind him. Hotch didn’t move or acknowledge his presence. He just sat in one of the chairs, leaning forward with his head in his hands. “Aaron, beating yourself up about this isn’t helping her.”

“I feel responsible,” he grumbled.

“I know, but we all feel responsible. We knew she fit into the victim pool, and-”

“All the more reason that I should’ve made her stay back in Quantico where she would’ve been safe.”

“Hotch-”

“Dave, I haven’t felt this lost and helpless since-”

“Foyet,” David finished for him.

“I can’t lose her like I lost Haley, Dave, I just can’t,” he muttered, a single tear rolling down his cheek.

“Aaron, you need to have faith in our team. Right now, we have the best chance of finding her alive if we can get to her within the first twenty-four hours, but to do that we need all hands on deck,” David said trying to comfort his friend.

“But what if we can’t? What if we find her dead on some bench? I’ll never-”

“Aaron, you can’t think about that right now. Right now she’s terrified, probably in a lot of pain, and all alone. Right now, you need to concentrate on finding her rather than what ifs.” Hotch sat almost rooted in place. He wiped the tear from his cheek and looked up at Rossi.

“Ok.”

“Good. Now let’s get out girl back,” Rossi said, smiling sadly at Hotch and walked back out of the conference room. Aaron sat there another moment trying to find his composure. He stood slowly and looked out the window to the outside world.

“(Y/N), we are coming for you. Please be ok,” he muttered and strode back out into the main area of the station to aid the team as much as he could in his present state.

You groaned as light flooded into the room. Your head was throbbing with intense pain. “What the hell?” you muttered, trying to shift and stand up. Your movement was abruptly stopped by thick metal chains that were secured around your wrists and throat. You were shackled to a wall, the chains only allowing you to move your arms high enough to touch your shoulder and your wrists were bound together. The collar of your blouse had been torn, exposing more collarbone and cleavage than you ever would’ve considered showing in public, and your pencil skirt had ridden up. Your shoes also were missing for some unknown reason. Noting that you were in a basement of some kind, you suddenly remembered what happened. “Oh, shit.”

“Well, look who finally woke up,” the man chuckled. You slowly turned your head to look around. “You were so worth the chase it took to get you here,” he snickered taking a drag on the lit cigarette in his right hand.

“Where am I?” you demanded, rattling your shackles.

“Somewhere your little FBI friends won’t be able to find you.”

“Ha,” you snorted, “You don’t know my team. They are the best at they do and they are going to find me, you sick son of a-” he lunged forward and pressed the lit end of the cigarette down on your exposed collarbone. You bit down on your lip and tried your best not to cry out, knowing that would be giving him exactly what he wanted. You grit your teeth and clenched your fists.

“Oh, tough girl ain’t ya? Well, I guess you’d have to be to be a woman in the FBI,” he cackled, taking your face in his hands. “I’m going to enjoy slowly breaking you, torturing you until you scream for mercy.” You narrowed your eyes and spit in his face. He recoiled back and slapped you hard across the face.

“Go to hell, bastard,” you spat.

“Bitch,” he growled, wiping his face, “I’ll teach you some manners later, but I have to deal with my other toy first.” He slapped you again, before storming out of the room and locking the door behind him. You could hear the screams of the other woman who you assumed was the M.E. he’d kidnapped before you. You let your head fall again and resisted the urge to start crying. You needed to find the faith you claimed moments ago to have in your team, but you also had to find a way to help yourself and try to help the other woman being held captive. The burn on your collarbone stung as you tried to move your shoulder. You lifted your head again and began to study the room around you. It was still slightly clouded with cigarette smoke. You figured you had to be in some kind of basement, but you had no idea where or what building. A bloodcurdling scream rang through the room making you jump slightly. You noted the presence of two small windows on the wall in front of you. You sighed and pressed your head into the cold wall behind you.

“Guys, I’m sorry for being stubborn and stupid,” you mumbled to no one in particular. For some reason, you felt the need to express your regrets vocally instead of just talking to yourself in your head. The sound of the lock turning in the door pulled you from your thoughts and your captor came back in.

“Time to go, bitch.”

“What did you do to her?”

“Nothing like what I’m going to do to you,” he growled and slapped you. He quickly unlocked the lock that shackled your neck chain to the wall and hauled you up to your feet. You threw your shoulder into his chest and swept his legs out from under him. He yelped in pain as he landed his side. You made a mad sprint for the door, but the man was up and after you before you had made it across the room. He stomped on the chain attached to the collar around your neck. The action effectively choked you briefly and sent you rapidly to the ground. You hit your head hard against the door in front of you and groaned as you collided with the floor. “You just don’t have any manners do you, I’ll have to start your lessons now,” he snarled and started to unzip his pants.

“No, no, no,” you whimpered, trying to crawl away. He pinned you to the ground and started ripping at your skirt as you silently cried.

Every passing moment that you weren’t around seemed to be wearing down the team’s hope of finding you. Hotch had been pacing in a straight line for so long, Rossi thought there would be a permeant trench where he had been pacing. After four hours of searching, it still wasn’t looking good. “Please tell me someone has something,” Aaron asked, stopping to look at the team. Everyone looked around at each others' blank and sad faces. “Garcia?”

“Sir, I’m running through backgrounds on everyone who works or has worked in all of these buildings, but that’s a lot of names and that’s going to take some time,” she replied sadly.

“Time is one thing that we don’t have a lot of right now,” Rossi muttered returning to the file he was looking at.

“Oh my god!” Penelope shrieked, typing quickly.

“What is Baby Girl?” Derek asked.

“Her phone! (Y/N)’s phone just turned back on.”

“Can you get a fix on it?” Hotch demanded, rushing toward the table.

“It’s running through hundreds of different towers and frequencies, but if it’s on long enough-” the sound of Aaron’s phone ringing interrupted the conversation. He fished it out of his back pocket. The sight of your name flashing across the screen sent chills down his spine.

“I’ll try and keep the call going as long as I can,” he muttered and accepted the call setting it on speaker. “(Y/N), are you-”

“Aaron Hotchner?” a gruff male voice asked.

“This is special agent Aaron Hotchner, who is this?”

“Your agent has been telling me about your team and how you are going to find her, but considering she’s still here this seems less than true,” he snickered, laughing sinisterly. Hotch clenched his fists at his side.

“Listen to me, we are going to find you and you are going to rot in prison for the rest of your life, and if anything happens to her-”

“Oh plenty of things have already happened to her,” the man sneered. A metal clack was heard and your scream echoed into the room.

“(Y/N)-”

“Such a tough one, but she doesn’t have any manners or respect for authority figures does she?”

“Just let her-”

“Do you know how much faith she has in you, very special agent Hotchner? She kept screaming out your name over and over again, begging you to come and save her as I took her and made her bleed,” he cackled, ending the call. Hotch slammed his hand against the table.

“Please tell me you got it and we found her,” he muttered.

“Not long enough for an exact location,” Penelope cried in frustration. “But I- Oh my god.”  

“What? What is it? What’s wrong?” JJ asked hurriedly.

“Are you near a laptop?”

“Yeah, why?” Emily asked. Suddenly a web browser opened up to a video feed that turned the team’s blood cold. The video seemed to be being streamed from a basement somewhere. You were strapped down by your wrists and ankles to a surgeon's table. Your clothes were tattered and torn in places they clearly should not have been. You had a white rag tied around your mouth as a gag, makeup streaming down your face with your tears. Three long cuts ran down the center of your back.

“Oh (Y/N),” Derek muttered.

“Garcia,” Hotch prompted, praying that she at least had something.

“Right sorry,” she mumbled, wiping the tears from her face. “So that sicko ended the call before I could get an exact location on the phone because he was running it through so many towers, but the call lasted long enough that I narrowed it to a five-mile radius.”

“How many-”

“Abandoned buildings, warehouses, and sketchy places are within that radius? Already done. There is one abandoned warehouse and then two construction sights that would fit the bill, and I can rule out the warehouse because it is currently being demolished. Both of the construction sights were deserted six months ago when the projects fell through. The head on each of the sights was a Daniel Owens,” she chronicled and a picture of your attacker opened on the screen.

“That’s him,” Morgan confirmed.

“Both addresses have been sent to your phones. You’re about ten minutes away from both.”

“Good work, Garcia. Reid, Rossi, JJ you take the first location. Prentis, Morgan, and I will take the second,” Hotch delegated as the team strapped their vests on.

“Sir?” Penelope said hesitantly.

“What is it, Garcia?”

“Please bring our (Y/N) home. I can’t imagine a world without that angel,” she pleaded.

“We’re going to do our best,” Hotch promised, ending the call. The team sprinted out the SUVs and drove off to the two locations. All of them were praying that you would hold on until they got there.

#aaron hotchner #hotch x reader #aaron hotchner x reader #criminal minds #criminal minds x reader #spencer reid #derek morgan #emily prentiss #jennifer jareau #penelope garcia #criminal minds imagine #david rossi

264 notes · View notes

nancygduarteus · 6 years

Text

What Do We Make of a Female Active Shooter?

The biggest surprise about Tuesday’s shooting at YouTube wasn’t the fact that there was a shooting. Americans are horribly used to the ritual of these events by now: the sick feeling of waiting for the body count, the time it takes for biographical information to trickle out and a motive to be set forth, the think pieces advocating for less guns or more guns, excoriating white male rage or toxic masculinity. But one part of the script was upended in Tuesday’s shooting: The person holding the gun was a woman.

“Mass murder is typically a profoundly male act,” write the criminology professors Eric Madfis and Jeffrey W. Cohen in a paper published in Violence and Gender. The statistics leave no room for doubt: Women are far less likely to commit any sort of murder, much less mass murder. According to Extreme Killing: Understanding Serial and Mass Murder, 93.4 percent of mass killers are male, as are 88.3 percent of homicide offenders in general. And then someone like Nasim Najafi Aghdam, the YouTube shooter, comes along.

To be fair, Aghdam does not technically qualify as a mass murderer. She wounded three before apparently killing herself, while a mass murderer is defined by the FBI as someone who kills four or more in a single incident, usually in a single location. She was an “active shooter,” which the Department of Homeland Security defines as “an individual actively engaged in killing or attempting to kill people in a confined and populated area,” though it appears that she may have intended to be a mass killer; police say she tried out her weapon at a gun range before heading to YouTube to wreak havoc. A narrative of resentment and payback for YouTube’s policies is emerging as her motivation. But though we’re slowly learning about Aghdam’s individual case, it’s extremely difficult to place her in the broader context of female active shooters or mass murderers—because there’s barely a “broader context” at all. They are so statistically rare that they’ve never actually been studied.

After Tuesday’s shooting, a host of articles popped up noting precisely that. The same thing happened two years ago after the far deadlier San Bernardino shooting, in which one of the killers was a woman. One headline on NBC News reads: “The YouTube Shooting Suspect Was a Woman. That’s Unusual,”—as though her gender makes the incident so baffling that it’s impossible to interpret it beyond that surprising fact.

Crime can be gendered in all sorts of ways. I study female serial killers, and even though they’re very rare and typically overlooked by history, there have been hundreds of them throughout the centuries—enough to really study. If you ignore the male Night Stalkers and Red Rippers, and focus on history’s quiet poisoners and mad countesses, you can see how serial killing can be interpreted, from some angles, as an almost stereotypically feminine act. It’s a tricky crime. It requires plotting and calculation. There’s often a large degree of emotional manipulation involved—convincing your victim to come home with you, persuading them to drink that cup of poisoned tea. Serial murderesses are often really good at being serial murderesses, and tend to kill for much longer than their male counterparts. It’s the sort of crime that lends itself well to quiet personalities, and if you don’t look like a “typical” serial killer, it’s easier not to get caught.

Mass murderers also plot and plan and scheme, but the aesthetics of mass shootings couldn’t be more different than those of serial killings. If the serial killer is a spider, the mass murderer is a rampaging bear. No matter how much planning they do beforehand, the violence is explosive, terrifying, and over fairly quickly. It is expressive violence (violence designed to communicate something), rather than instrumental violence (violence designed to achieve something). Female serial killers often use the latter, by using murder as a means to go after life-insurance policies or social status, for example. Many of the most sadistic male serial killers used the former, “expressing” their rage against women or their mother or gay men on body after almost identical body. The irony is that women in general are seen as more emotionally expressive, but when it comes to murder, they are seen as practical, cold, careful. This is part of the reason a female mass murderer, who embodies the aesthetics of male violence, is so difficult to comprehend.

Elements of mass murder often dovetail with other culturally “male” themes, like going out in a “blaze of glory,” or the general sensibilities of war (the Aurora, Colorado, shooter wore tactical clothing; the Las Vegas shooter and the University of Texas Tower shooter of 1966 both positioned themselves like snipers). The explosive violence of the mass attack also fits into preexisting ideas of toxic masculinity: the entitlement, the performativity, the sense of ownership over others’ lives, the self-pity. Aghdam may well have felt some or all of these emotions. Entitlement is not solely the realm of men. Neither is rage. But when it comes to mass shootings committed by women, there simply aren’t enough numbers to sketch out a pattern.

“We’re pretty good about understanding why so many men commit mass shootings,” says Eric Madfis, an associate professor of criminal justice at the University of Washington at Tacoma who specializes in mass shootings. “In terms of why it happens with women and whether there are strong similarities within that population, it’s harder to say, ‘Oh, it’s A, B, C, and D.’”

There are some things we can say, though. The first is that Aghdam is an anomaly among the anomalies. “Female mass shooters are much more likely to be about familicide or workplace shootings,” says Madfis, “so a public mass shooting in a place where she doesn’t have a direct connection—that’s interesting.” (He does note that since Aghdam had multiple YouTube channels, she may have been enacting a workplace shooting in an oblique way by visiting YouTube’s headquarters.)

It’s also possible to piece together a fragmented theory about why there aren’t more female shooters. In 1997, researchers who studied gender and strain found that girls tend to internalize strain and turn any resulting violence onto themselves (by cutting, or abusing drugs), instead of turning that strain outward and unleashing it on others. Men are obviously socially conditioned to be more physically aggressive, and higher levels of testosterone make them more prone to this aggression. Couple this with the fact that humans’ frontal lobes—the area of the brain responsible for things like impulse control—aren’t necessarily fully developed until their mid-30s, and you have the potential for reactive, violent behavior, especially among young men. Male psychopaths are more likely to commit violent crimes than female psychopaths, who tend to use their aggression more for relational and verbal sparring than for physical violence—and so on, and so forth.

All that being said, there are more female killers like Aghdam than most people realize. In Violence and Gender, Madfis and Cohen write that there are “multiple homicide cases in which females killed or injured numerous people at schools—just not enough to strictly qualify as a mass murder.” There are also a handful of cases in which school rampages were “planned but not carried out by females.”

It makes sense that institutions haven’t, for the most part, set aside large amounts of money to study this very, very small percentage of criminals. But it’s a fine line. Since female shooters like Aghdam “violate assumptions regarding the gendered nature of ... mass violence,” write Madfis and Cohen, it’s easier to either ignore them or not take them seriously. Oddly enough, this can end up letting violent men off the hook, Madfis argues. It’s a sleight of hand: By not talking about female incidents of violence, it becomes possibly to treat violence as genderless.

Violence is a human problem, but it doesn’t transcend gender. The female active shooter tells us, by her presence, that women can be violent, too. But she tells us something more significant by her absence: that violence is still mostly the domain of men. Of course, it’s not solely the domain of men, which is why writing about violent women becomes a convoluted task, full of asterisks and footnotes. But ignoring the female mass killer is just as mistaken as exaggerating her significance. For us to truly understand the female mass murderer, she would need to become statistically significant. Hopefully she never does.

from Health News And Updates https://www.theatlantic.com/health/archive/2018/04/what-to-make-of-a-female-active-shooter/557402/?utm_source=feed

0 notes

ionecoffman · 6 years

Text

What Do We Make of a Female Active Shooter?

Article source here:The Atlantic

0 notes