#But the long explanations WERE a bit tedious

[saltysupercomputer]

I finished AI: The Somnium Files recently and the game was absolutely peak.

Because on the one hand, you have one of the most intriguing mystery plots I've ever seen in a game, some very heartfelt, emotional moments that genuinely made me feel something. And on the other, you get flashbacks to something that happend like a scene ago every ten seconds, get reminded of what a characters pun-name means every five seconds and you also have a main villian whose only hobby is murder and who genuinely sounds and acts like a creepypasta OC I would have made when I was twelve.

Great game. Would absolutely play again.

[phantasmique]

Synopsis: You're pregnant by the King of Curses, but as violent as he is, there might just be some gentleness beneath it all.

Warnings: Mentions of cannibalism; a tiny, tiny dash of blink-and-you'll-miss-it spice; murder (it's sukuna).

Part two.

There were many things to consider as a consort to the King of Curses. His proclivity for violence, his cold indifference towards humanity. He's crushed thousands of lives beneath the palms of his hands, spilt blood and sliced flesh beneath his talons simply because the urge had struck him. He's cut down women just like you, for something as simple as breathing too loudly.

It hardly comes as a surprise whenever you wake in the morning, long before the sun has crested past the horizon in shades of gold and lilac, only to learn that another one of your fellow concubines has fallen to your lord's ire. Slain for reasons that you have longed since elected to ignore. They mattered little in grand scheme of things, and they often came down to small, tedious motives: She took too long to respond to one of his questions, she stuttered when she responded to him, she gazed at him for too long without permission.

You've learned long ago not to care. You've snuffed that part of yourself out. Crushed it underfoot as easily as one would do to a troublesome insect. Empathy will not ensure your survival in the King of Curses courts, and you've done well to persist after all of these years.

To nod when expected, to keep your eyes leveled to the floor unless ordered otherwise, to speak only when spoken to even while the urge to berate him burns at the tip of your tongue like something molten. A hot ember in your mouth, but you refuse to spit it out.

You learned how to read him. To see the subtle ticks and expressions that would show on his face, using them as a guide for his fickle moods. You knew your place. You knew how to survive. And as exhausting as it was, it was manageable. All was well, until it wasn't.

❃ "You're pregnant." It was clipped, blunt, detached. Said so candidly, as though he hadn't said something that had your heart plummeting down into the pit of your stomach like a stone. You had looked up at him then, wide eyed and openly gawking from your place posted at his feet with something like a scoff threating to spill past your lips. Your mind had scrambled, crawling for an explanation, longing for an answer.

That isn't possible. Curses aren't capable of reproducing. You know that he was human once, a long time ago, but that bit of his humanity must have long since perished. Right?

Pregnant. That shouldn't be achievable for you to produce a child with a curse. That had been a small shred of peace, a truth that you had clung to. That you had kept close to your chest, knowing that regardless of how many times he'll take you, carving a place in you for his pleasure, that you'd never have to bear his heir.

You do love your lord, in a twisted sort of way. He isn't merciful, or kind in any capacity. The brutal, corrupt entity that he is. But he does provide a safety that you might not otherwise had, a home and leniency towards your village that others have not been afforded; thus, a grace extended to your family.

Still . . . someone like Sukuna as a father. Was he even capable of such a thing?

It's true that your time of the months was late, but that had been easy to excuse. Your monthly blood had been overdue before. Delayed by stress and anxiety. And with Sukuna as a lover, you would not dare to sleep with another man. Not that you'd want to, anyway.

But surely he was lying. That wasn't possible. You couldn't be pregnant. Not by a curse. Not by him.

Your mouth had opened, lips parting to speak. To gasp or to deny his claim you weren't sure, but he had silenced you before you could even attempt to force a word out. Lazily lifting a single hand while all four of his eyes slipped down to settle on you, glaring red and piercing in the dark of the shrine.

"I wasn't a question." His nose twitched just the slightest, as though he's caught the scent of something odd, but you were certain the there was a smile nudging at the corners of his lips. As though some part of him was pleased.

Your voice was snagged. Dead in your throat. You had to draw in a tight, shaky breath to even attempt to form a sentence. "That's not pos-"

"I can smell it on you." He answered. Still lounging on his throne. Undisturbed while your world crumbled. " It's practically wafting from your pores. Make no mistake woman, you're carrying my heir."

❃ You had expected a swift death after that. There was no way that the King of Curses would ever entertain the notion of a lowly human bearing his offspring. Tainting his blood line. But the killing blow never came. It nearly made your unease worse. You aren't ignorant to his diet. His taste for human flesh. For the blood of women and children. It made you feel like a pig for slaughter. Meat being preserved for a feast. You've always been a prisoner here, a slave to his wiles, but now you were an animal, a brood mare. You've only ever had to try and save your own skin. To worry for your own life, but now you weren't afforded the luxury of selfishness. You had an unborn life growing in your belly and it had terrified you.

❃ But instead of shunning you, Lord Sukuna was showering you with a sense of possessiveness that you have never experienced from him before. Sure, you were used to the marks. The blotches of plum and blue and crimson that he would scatter along the flesh of your neck and breasts, the tender pink lines that he would mar along your skin, branding your hips and thighs from his talons. But his greed extended little beyond that. You were free to wander the courtyard with the other courtesans at your side. Small moments of serenity that you were all given in between your duties. Free to gossip, and read, or nap beneath the Sakura and plum trees; admiring the petals as they fall and glide across the currents. Carried off far past the shrine walls.

Sometimes, you'd imagine that those petals were you.

Now those small blessings are a peace that you are no longer extended. Guards now follow your every move. Stalking behind you closely like shadows. Silent, constant, and close. Always looming. Always there by Sukuna's decree to monitor and scrutinize you.

❃ You were no longer ordered to sit along the steps, posted at his feet like a loyal dog. He had you perched on his lap instead. Cradled on his thighs. Constantly gripped by at least one of his hands in some compacity. He had become keen on holding a palm to your stomach whether he fully realized it or not. Keeping it flat on your abdomen as though he was shielding your unborn child from the world, with the massive height of his body pinned along your back. Keeping you clutched to his chest as he was waiting for a threat to try and snatch you from him.

He'd keep you there for hours, seated between his massive thighs while peasants and aristocrats alike would get on their knees at the base of the throne's steps, bowing on their knees and begging for mercy and exemption from his slaughter. All while you were in something that was suspiciously close to an embrace. Not that you would voice such a thing to him. Not even with the safety of carrying his child offering some sort of immunity. Not at the risk of invoking his anger. But with how tightly he kept you secured in his arms, his chin raised over the crown of your head, there was little else to call it. And you loathed how much you were beginning to find comfort in it.

❃ Of course, he'd always find ways to shatter that sense of delicate security, whether or not he truly meant to. Namely when he had a servant executed. All because the young man had paid you too much attention; foolishly asking you if you needed any assistance navigating the gardens given your "delicate condition" as he had put it, offering his hand for you to take in the means to help you in your steps. All it had taken was for his fingertips to brush along yours.

In second he was there. Living, breathing, rosy cheeks and a kind smile. And then red. A crest of blood fanning out from his neck. And those gentle eyes. A brief flicker of life in them, and then dull. Muted like a set of worn marbles.

His severed head met stone with a heavy thud, rolling and rolling softly until its traction was halted by grass and moss. His body followed only moments later. No longer held up by spirit and blood, it gave beneath its own weight; knees buckling to collapse like a felled tree.

Despite the balmy nature of the breeze, gentle and humid, you felt frozen. As though your veins had been rushed with chilled water. You couldn't breathe as you stared at his body, disconnected and lifeless like a child's toy that's been carelessly broken and discarded.

"Pathetic vermin. He should know better than to touch things that don't belong to him." His shadow stretched over you then, eclipsing you from the light as the moon does the sun. His cursed energy prickled over your skin, seeping past the barrier of your garments to brush over your flesh, locking your limbs in place.

"A simple warning would have sufficed," you mumbled. Forcing your words out past the heavy feeling of your tongue. They feel broken and hushed all at once, but you can't stop looking at the way the rich maroon seeps out across the fresh green of the lawn, mixing with the morning dew.

His voice slips out into your ears then, a low rumble, possessive and unyielding. "I don't do second chances."

❃ You could hardly call a being like Sukuna soft. He was all hard edges. Harsh. From his brash, unyielding attitude to the rigid planes of his body. Taut muscles and serrated talons. Violent teeth that were honed to tear through flesh and snap bone, but it was undeniable that something in him had relented. Turned malleable by the sight of the bump peeking out from the layers of your skirts. Not quite tame, but . . . tolerable.

❃ He had requested - ordered - that you sleep with him in his quarters from that point onward. A command that split through the haze in your skull like the snapping of a neck.

Your brain was still cloudy. Fogged over and drawn blank by an intoxicated thrum, limbs lax and exhausted after he had drawn orgasm after orgasm from your body. Tipping you over the edge and under a rush of pleasure with a sadistic kind of delight; a sharp, wolfish smile had been split across his face.

The mere idea of getting up from your place on his bed and shuffling your way back to your sleeping quarters on wobbling legs, smeared with cum and sweat had seemed horrendous, but you knew what was expected of you. It had been muscle memory when you nudged your body up from the bedding, slipping your legs over the edge as you scanned the floor for your tattered jūnihitoe; ripped and torn in his fervor to have you naked. Discarded somewhere carelessly.

Then a hand was gripping you. Holding you tightly by the nape of your neck as one would scruff an untoward cat. It had a cold dose of fear skirting beneath your flesh, shivering down your spine and locking you in place as easily as the grip on your neck.

"You're to sleep here from now on."

It was firm. Final. No room for you to argue. And you didn't.

❃ It's lead you to an unexpected discovery. The King of Curses can purr. You had hardly believed it when you first heard it. A low, repetitive hum that had roused you from your sleep in the night. A guttural noise right beneath your ear, breaking periodically in between the gentle rise and fall of his chest. It had caught you entirely off guard. So much so, that in the moment, you assumed you were imagining it. A hallucination brought on by sleep. But the longer you stayed awake, forcing your eyes to remain open as you lifted your head to stare at the slumbering King of Curses, it was unmistakable - he was purring.

Like a kitten would. A soft, gentle sound that juxtaposed horrendously with an entity like him. It nearly made you laugh, but you had just enough wit and self-restraint to contain the sound before it could bubble up to the surface.

You aren't certain how long you had remained that way. Slightly propping yourself up to admire him in the dark, tracing over his face as the light of the moon poured into the room, painting over his skin in hues of blue and soft white; painted by the night.

His scowl softens in his sleep. The furrow between his brows fading into something placid, that arrogant grin - more of a snarl, really - now neutral. He almost looks harmless in moments like these. No glinting teeth or glaring, burning eyes. It's here that you can imagine that he isn't a possible threat. That he won't place you between his fangs and bite until there's nothing over left except for scraps and shards of bone.

❃ He's kind in his own way. A thought that you never once expected yourself to have. Not in regard to him, at least. But he tries, in his own way, to be gentle. When walking with him in the past, you were always expected to trail after him by a few paces, never at his side, but now he makes an effort to guide you at his side. Keeping a hand secured to the small of your back so that you don't fall behind. Now he he's forgone that all together and has taken to totting you around all together as easily as if you were made of feathers and cushion.

It's become a chore to move. Your sense of balance has been altered for the worse, thrown off by the weight of your belly that longs to tip you forward. And the swelling of your feet does little to help, smarting and uncomfortable. You're a stranger in your own skin. Sluggish, as though you've been packed in tight and tugged down by stones.

He's rushed you before in the past, glaring down at you from over his shoulder without a shred of sympathy. He appeared as though he was possibly considering in finally smiting you down, inconvenienced by your lumbering as you willed yourself to follow after him down the corridor in a sluggish waddle.

"Walk any slower and you'll truly be testing my patience."

On any other occasion you could have brushed it off. Ignored it as simply as the other comments he's made at you before, but your ability to control your temper has become poor as of late. Turned brittle and weak by the changes in your body. It's made your tongue loose and sharp, and without thinking you had snapped:

"My apologies for my current state, my lord, but this is just as much your doing as it is mine. So unless you intent to assist me, I suggest keeping your comments to yourself."

As soon as you blurted it out and registered the sound of your own voice, you fully expected to have you head struck clean from your shoulders. You always imagined that the last thing you ever see would be the carmine flash of his eyes before your vision went dark.

His eyes are indeed on you. Still observing you from over his shoulder. They narrow, thinning down into a familiar scowl, and you're certain that this is the end of line for you. It's fallen silent. The world drawn to a hush as you count down the seconds till your death. It's involuntary when your hands drift down to cover your stomach, fingernails clinging at the silk as though it might possibly protect your child.

But the killing blow never comes.

"You're a testy thing today. I'll ignore it - just this once." The rumble of his voice is the only warning you get before he's shifting on his feet to face you. A pair of hands fasten around your hips, a single strong arm slipping around to support your spine as you're suddenly lifted from the ground to be held to his chest. It happens so suddenly that it nearly disorients you. A complaint rises up from your chest, but as soon as you register the relief that melts over your feet at the absence of carrying your weight, it has you falling silent. Settling to sit complacent, and at ease in his hold.

❃ He's come to tolerate your defiance. No doubt pardoning you because of the heir you carry. But there were many instances where he would not relent, no matter how stubbornly you tried to remain in your opinions. Namely in regard to the denial of indulging in a very particular craving.

Initially you had thought nothing of it when Masami had tripped. Somehow stumbling on her skirts and collapsing down onto her knees in a nasty fall. You had rushed to her as quickly as you could, some of the other girls following in suit to crowd around her.

She had raised her hands then, facing them up towards her face so that she could inspect the skinned flesh there. Inflamed pink and riddled with small red abrasions that marred the heels of her palms.

Small wounds in the grand scheme of things. Something that you yourself have obtained throughout the years, but not once has the sight of it achieved such a response. You're certain that you could smell the blood beading past the parting of the skin. It wasn't a scent that you've learned to associate with blood, all pungent and iron. This was pleasant. It was rich, enticing, melting along the summer air like something buttered and warm. It made your mouth water. Suddenly your stomach was too hollow. Famished.

Your focus narrowed down, and you couldn't help but to admire how the sunlight glinted delicately along the red. Glittering faintly like flecks of gold on the seeds of a pomegranate. You wondered then, what it would taste like to run your tongue along her palm. To have the blood spread into your mouth.

It wasn't until someone said your name, loud and sharp, that snapped out of your daze. Jerking in place as though you had been stung. It wasn't until you met Masami's stare, her eyes wide and a little panicked that you realized that you had been staring. Focused intently on her wounded hands with the same hunger of a dog eyeing a slab of meat.

Sukuna had found out, of course. He had eyes and ears everywhere, shadows tucked into every corner; and no matter how quietly one might whisper in the amongst themselves, he always manages to hear.

He had shocked you honestly, when he had taken to approaching you about the topic rather than opting have Uraume slip human flesh into your meals. Still, you had refused. This was something that you could not possibly get yourself to budge on. The thought of it made you nauseous, it had your stomach turning despite the hunger pinching at your gut.

Reduced to a complete stranger in your body as the child in your womb altered it into something unrecognizable. Riddling it with twisted urges that made you want to run away from yourself. Haunting you with a hunger that would keep you awake at night, fantasizing about a craving that should make you fall ill. That should have you trembling with dread, and yet your mouth would only water at the thought.

The stare that he had leveled you with unamused. Arresting as it fixed you in place and forced you to still. As motionless as a statue as he looked down his nose at you, all four of his eyes latched onto your form in glints of searing red; a glint of fangs showing past his curled lips.

"Do not forget that it is my child you're carrying. Denying your hunger is only prolonging the inevitable. You'll cave eventually."

And he was correct. He typically dines alone, but since your pregnancy he's taken to having you accompany him for his meals. He had respected your demand that you were only served human food. Though you never missed the almost arrogant way that he would observe you as you plucked rice into your mouth. Like he was relishing in yourself induced suffering. Like he was waiting for you to break. The curiosity in his eyes always present, but like a challenge you tried you hardest not pay attention to the scent of cooked flesh permeating around the dinner table.

Try as you might it wasn't long until you had all but stolen a cut of meat from his meal, cooked rare and bleeding. And like some sort of ravenous animal, you had scoffed it down, clutching it with trembling fingers that shoved it in your mouth quicker than you could fully chew. Unable to pay your guilt, or the delighted expression on his face any mind as the famished pit in your gut finally felt something close to relief.

❃ As much as you love your child, there are times where it's already begun to display too many shared characteristics with their father. Namely the ability to disturb you and ruin your sleep. They get restless in the night; like clockwork, tossing and turning in your belly and battering the inside of your stomach with a near constant stream of kicks.

They weren't even born yet, and already they seemed to be throwing a tantrum. Pitching a fit as though they were demanding to be released.

It would force you awake, keeping your eyes wide open while sleep stung at them, weighing them down with the temptation to slip closed. But as soon as you would begin to nod off, it's as though the baby in your womb knew, and they'd make sure to punish you with a harsh nudge of their little foot. It's a wonder how something so small can deliver such a harsh strike. Enough to have you wincing; the air hissing sharply through your teeth while you glare up ceiling like you might find salvation in the shadows settled there.

"Are you determined to interrupt my sleep, woman? Why do you keep whining and huffing?"

As enticing as you usually find the sound of his voice, the sudden sound of it rumbling across the quiet is only grating. Your annoyance flaring, worn thin by the bout of kicking that's being delivered to the tender stretch of your stomach.

It had your voice cracking out with equal irritation. Unrestrained in your ire. "That's because your child won't stop kicking at me."

You can't stop yourself from turning your head over to glare at him, meeting his scowl, finding the intense red of his eyes in the dark.

"How annoying." He grumbles, face pinching into a peeved grimace. It makes you tempted to try and climb up from the bedding and leave his quarters all together. Perhaps you could take a walk around the estate until the baby settles. Sometimes if you speak to it, or hum lowly in those old lullabies your own mother had sang to you as a child, they calm down. Soothed by the sound of your voice.

It's as though Sukuna can sense your intent, and in a blur, he's gripping you by the torso to tug you up to his chest in a grip that's uncharacteristically gentle. Nestling you against his body as though you could possibly break.

He's done it before and yet it always manages to shock you into silence. To have you fall quiet and motionless lest you break whatever spell has fallen over him.

It makes you wonder if this is what it would feel like to be a rabbit drawn in to slumber with a wolf. Nestled against its fur, expecting a flash of snarling, drooling teeth, but only finding comfort and warmth instead.

"Troublesome, aren't you?"

There's the desire to retort. To give some sort of scathing remark in defense of yourself. To remind him that the child in your belly is very much his doing just as much as it is yours. Then one of his hands is slipping across the swell of your stomach, smoothing over the skin in a gesture that should be too soft for a man like him.

Using the same hands that are covered in blood from slaying thousands, sorcerers, men, women, and children, to cradle where your child rests. It clicks then that he isn't talking to you.

You dare to glance up at him, and it quickly confirms that his attentions are pinned down on your stomach. The expression on his face is tired, exasperated, but you swear that you can see something almost tender melting at the irritation there.

You wince when the baby lands another kick just beneath your belly button, directly where Sukuna's palm sits, as though they can feel the pressure of it.

"Restless, are you?" He muses, caressing his thumb along the bump. "There's plenty of time for all of that later. There will be many a sorcerer for you to torment once you're older, but for now it's time to rest. Let your mother sleep."

It's so conversational, the way he speaks to them. Talking as though they might possibly answer, and with how strange a being like Sukuna is, you truly wouldn't be surprised if he revealed to you that he could communicate with your unborn child in some manner.

You can feel the baby shifting, some part of its body brushing against your stomach as it moves. And act of defiance possibly, and you half expect to receive the sting of another kick, but it never comes.

You're practically holding your breath as you await another strike, yet there's nothing. Only calm. Only the dim sound of your steady breathing and the soothing hush that's fallen over the dark of the room.

Finally, there's peace. The warmth of Sukuna's body seeping into your back like the steam of a hot bath and just as easily it has your limbs unwinding. The weight of sleep engulfing your body, causing your eyes to fall heavy, the lure to slip shut falling over you like the comfort of a blanket.

His voice purrs out then, low and hushed, thrumming along your shoulders while he whispers a delicate command.

"Sleep."

But that time, you're certain he was speaking to you.

[sincerelyrki]

but i love the taste of you

Heeseung never did enjoy lollipops, their overrated taste never interesting him. But perhaps tasting it from your lips could change everything. As for the laptop? It just happened to be in the perfect place, at the perfect time.

pairing : bf!heeseung x fem!reader

warnings + genre : smut. profanity. licking. biting. heeseung is lowkey obsessed. unprotected sex (pls don’t!). oral (both ways). kissing over a lollipop (trust 🙏). recording. switch!heeseung. switch!reader. little bit of degrading (just a bit, promise). spit it mentioned a few times. 18+. mdni.

wc : 3.9k

a/n : you can probably see my addiction to secondhand tasting [ cherry lips, a cherry for my cherry, and now this one… (the lollipop was def cherry flavoured in my head)] anyways, this is only my second time writing full smut so please lmk how i did! fb + rbs are always appreciated <3

Heeseung sat with his jaw clenched; hands fisting by his side as he watched your lollipop glide down your tongue, satisfying pops sounding out whenever you pulled it from your mouth. 

He felt like he was losing his mind, his patience wearing thin the longer he listened to your soft hums of delight. 

The sounds were identical to the ones he had you making just hours ago, your body still clad in nothing but his t-shirt and your cute little panties. 

You were daunting him, you had to be. There was no other explanation as to why you were making all these erotic sounds, why you were licking your lollipop in the same way you had done to him that same morning. 

Heeseung rose to a stand, feet bringing him towards you without hesitation. He stood tall in front of you, his body blocking your vision from your computer’s screen. 

“I can’t see, baby. Can you please move over?” You looked up at him over your lashes, wide eyes matching your perfectly pouted lips.

Heeseung swore under his breath, his pants tightening as he laid a firm hand on your shoulder, gently pushing you to lean back against the couch. 

You sat back with a smirk, teeth still pressing down on the lollipop stick. At first, you didn’t mean to make the whole scene suggestive, but you’d never pass up the opportunity to tease your boyfriend. 

You knew how easily he got turned on, how easy it was for you to turn him to putty in your hands. It wasn’t that you always took advantage of it, but there’s no harm in doing it every once in a while. 

Especially when he looked as good as he did now, his messy hair - courtesy to you- stirring your arousal as the reminder of your long morning came rolling back.

You sat still under him, your eyes never leaving his heated ones, basking in the way he glared down at you. You had been fantasizing about his reaction, about how rough he would take you.

There’s nothing that irritated Heeseung more than when his good girl teased him, but there’s also nothing that turned him on more. 

There was something about your innocent facade, your delicate eyes staring at him with the warmth of the morning sun. Something about the way you conceived everyone into thinking you were some perfect, flawless, princess. 

The way you convinced everyone that you were nothing like how you actually were, you’re just a brat wearing a pretty face. But you were only Heeseungs brat, something he proved to you whenever he could.

Heeseung turned his back towards you, bending at the waist to pick up your computer. He rolled his eyes at the rotting footage playing across from him, some random romance sitcom with no specific plot.

It was the same genre you always chose to indulge in, sitting pretty while your brain worked on autopilot to create its own interpretations of how these soulless actors would portray these tedious scenes. 

That’s when an idea hit Heeseung, one that he’d been fantasizing about since the day he first touched you. What better movie is there to watch, than the one you create with the person you love?

It was perfect, everything about it. 

And so Heeseung turned back around, putting his weight on one knee and he moved the other on your other side. He sat down on your plush thighs, straddling you as you sunk deeper into the couch. 

You had long lost eye contact your the man before you, the computer blocking your sight. You ignored the way your show suddenly turned quiet, rolling your eyes at what you thought was Heeseung being over dramatic.

But what he had done next, was something that you’d be thinking about the next time you needed some sort of relief, your hands down your parties as you pleasured yourself to the thought of your boyfriend. 

Heeseung placed the computer on the side table, the two of you fitting perfectly in frame. He barely glanced at the screen before he grabbed your jaw, one hand holding it as the other pressed down on your bottom lip.

Two sides of Heeseung’s fingers touched against the lollipop in your mouth, sandwiching it between his fingers as he pried your mouth open. 

You looked up at Heeseung in shock, the lollipop sitting loose in your mouth as you allowed him to control your body in the ways he wanted. 

“You know, I’m not a huge fan of lollipops…” Heeseung trailed off, his fingers crawling from your mouth and onto your tongue. He swiped two fingers across the sugary surface of the lollipop, trailing it in a line across one side of the candy.

He then dragged his fingers from the lollipop, across your tongue, and to your lips. He used his fingers to rub the sweetness across your mouth, a sweet coat of sugar replacing your long smudged lipgloss.

“But I love the taste of you.” He used the same two fingers to pull the candy from your mouth, leaning it to vertically press against your lips. He leaned down to your face, pressing his lips to the other side of the lollipop.

He then angled the stick in a way that allowed the lollipop to stick in the middle of both of your lips, the taste transferring to the both of you. 

He closed his eyes, uncaring of the fact that yours were wide open and staring directly at him. He gently stuck out his tongue, removing his lips enough to run his tongue across the side of the lollipop.

He turned his head as his tongue slowly moved across it, eventually meeting the end and ending on the corner of your lips.

Heeseung stayed in that position, his lips barely touching yours as he let out a quiet hum, licking the sugar off his lips as he reopened his eyes. “Delicious” He pressed a small peck to the side of your lips, pulling back to sit up straight.

Heeseung was still holding the lollipop to your lips, only this time he turned the stick so the end was facing towards his chest, the candy facing towards your mouth.

He made a show of opening his mouth, sticking out his tongue as he let a hushed “a” sound leave his lips.

He gave you a small smirk as you followed his command, lips opening wide as you stuck your tongue out the same way. “Good girl” Heeseung cooed at you in a tone that was anything but proud. 

He pushed the candy back in your mouth, using his other hand to close your jaw around it. “You’re so pretty like this, with your dirty lips wrapped around something.” Heeseung quirked an amused eyebrow as you responded to his degrading words with a whine, furrowed eyebrows staring up at him.

“Oh? You don’t look pretty with something in your mouth?” You whined again, eyebrows furrowing even more. Heeseung tilted his head to the side, face pulling up in an unfamiliar way.

 “Lips aren’t dirty” You tried speaking through your closed mouth, words barely recognizable. Heeseung humorlessly chucked at your words, a proud grin settling on his face.

“M’sorry baby, you have the prettiest lips.” Your forehead smoothed as you sunk back down, satisfied with his answer. “Should we show the camera?”

Heeseung leaned over to grab the laptop, his teeth on display as he replayed your reaction in his head. The way your body tensed at his words, eyes widening a fraction and legs jolting. 

“You must think I'm dumb, don’t you? Don’t think I haven’t noticed.” You were filled with the same desires as Heeseung, your fantasy of recording each other haunting you every time you have sex. 

“I know my dumb baby too well, there isn’t anything I haven’t already seen.” Heeseung was now watching their reflection on the screen, his desire growing as he watched the way you began pushing against him. 

“Is my baby getting needy?” Through the screen he watched as you rapidly nodded, teeth still pressing down on the lollipop. “Good, let’s show the camera how pretty your lips are first.”

Heeseung brought the laptop up between the two of you, holding it near your chest as he stared down at you, “hold it.” 

With the laptop held securely in your hands, Heeseung turned his attention back to your candy. This time, he opened your mouth in a different way. 

He pushed down on the lollipop, forcing your mouth to open due to the pressure. He slowly slid it out from your mouth, his mouth salivating as the sweet scent reached his nose. 

The camera got a close-up of the way a small string of saliva connected from your mouth to the candy, caught the way it disappeared as Heeseung’s head swooped in from over the laptop as pressed against yours.

Filthy sounds filled the room, your messy kiss being caught from a lowered angle. Though many might now think the angle would be ideal, it was nothing less than perfect.

It perfectly captured the way Heeseung’s tongue wrapped around yours, the way your head chased after his as he pulled back to change angles. 

It caught everything, including your pretty moans. 

Heeseung carelessly tossed the lollipop behind him, the table close enough for it to land on without having to look. He moved both of his hands to wrap around your waist, his hands pressing down on your curves.

“Wait, let me fix the camera” You stuttered mid-sentence, mouth refusing to leave his as you placed the laptop on the couch beside the two of you, everything above your knees visible. 

Heeseung slid his hands under your shift, sliding it up and over your head in a vast movement, disconnecting your lips for no more than five seconds before pressing against you again.

His hands squeezed at your skin, his hands coming up to grope at you.

Your head tilted back with a loud moan as he disconnected your lips to kiss the exposed skin at the top of your bra, his hands pushing your tits up as he sucked dark marks onto your skin.

He acted like a man who’d never seen a pair of breasts before, ravaging them like a starved man. He moved lower down your legs as he undid your bra, kissing and sucking spots along his path until he reached your pants. 

Heeseung slid off the couch, slotting himself between your open legs as he bit along your lower stomach, kissing your stretch marks as he appreciated your entire body. 

“My girl is so pretty, the prettiest girl in the world.” He mumbled out, sounding drunk off your skin. “So so pretty” He repeated over and over as he placed more and more kisses.

He slid his hands back down towards your legs, fingers wrapping around your waistline before he looked up at you, eyes hooded as he waited for your consent. 

At your nod, Heeseung quickly undid your pants, pulling them down and off your legs. Your panties quickly followed, getting tossed across the room in a random pile that would soon be joined by his clothes. 

Due to the shift of weight, the laptop toppled over to the side, landing in the perfect view of Heeseung between your legs. It was a sight worth millions, the sight of a man who was actually willing to sacrifice anything to get a taste of pussy. 

Heeseung pulled your legs over his shoulder, using his hands to pull your body closer to his face. His eyes closed with a loud hum, the familiar smell enveloping his senses in the most pleasurable way possible.

“You smell so good, I love you so much” Heeseung spoke once before placing a small kiss against your folds, one of his hands coming up to spread you for him.

He gave your inner thigh one last kiss before he leaned in, his lips wrapping around your clit as his vibrations caused mass pleasure to wring out across your body. 

Your back arched as his tongue circled you, your sensitive nerves reacting to his loving movements. Heeseung always started slow, paying attention to your most pleasurable parts as he submerged himself into you.

His tongue was now replaced with his thumb, fast circled getting rubbed against you as he stuck his tongue flat against your opening, slowly curling it as he collected whatever juices he could. 

A mixture of his spit and your arousal was nothing more than his wettest dreams, the taste automatically beating the one of the sugary lollipops. He could happily drown within you, the only way he’d ever want to go. 

After a few minutes of prolonging your orgasm, he finally decided to finish it off, bringing you to your most craved high. 

He pushed his fingers into you, his tongue replacing the spot his thumb was moments prior. As good as Heeseung’s fingers felt, nothing compared to his tongue.

It felt like magic, the way he was able to make you feel so much in such a short amount of time. Your back arched as your legs quivered around his head, thighs tightening around his head as your heels dug into his clothes back. 

Broken moans left your lips, the sound rising the more you felt the waves coming up. Heeseung felt it too, the way you clenched around his fingers while your hips began rocking against your face.

He used the hand that was wrapped around one of your tights to go up and press against your lower stomach, pushing on it as your high washed over you. 

Loud slurps and moans filled the room, your breath caught in your throat as your back arched as far as it could. Heeseung felt you through it, both his fingers and to continue moving unrelentingly.

“Too much.” You gently shinned, legs still shaking as Heeseung licked you clean. He hummed against you, removing his fingers as he finished off, “I know baby, I know.”

Heeseung sat back up, one of his hands grabbing at the bottom of his shit to pull it off his head. You watched through tired eyes as your boyfriend palmed himself through his pants, head tilting forwards as his eyes stayed glued to your face.

It was a habit that Heeseung couldn’t seem to shake, the action starting when your relationship first started. You used to get shy after Heeseung ate you out, cheeks heating up as you tried hiding yourself.

Obviously, you weren’t shy anymore, the hundreds of minutes he’d spent between your legs long swishing that shyness. 

While you were calming down and preparing yourself again, Heeseung busied himself with getting undressed. He removed each article of clothing, throwing them roughly in the same direction as yours. 

The sight of your boyfriend bare before your eyes caused your body to light up with electricity once again, legs tingling as you obsessed with the way his cock twitched at your watchful eyes.

Heeseung leaned down to grab the laptop, placing it on the table that it was on, to begin with, one that gave it the sight of the entire couch. 

You changed positions, turning your back towards the roof as you crawled towards one side of the couch, arching your back for your boyfriend as you playfully looked over your shoulder at him. 

“I’m not going to fuck myself.” You fluttered your eyelashes, arousal growing as Heeseung playfully snickered at you in disbelief. “Don’t worry, I’ll fuck you so good.”

He kneels on the couch behind you, hands spreading your ass as he pushes himself to glide between your lips. He coated himself with your wetness before sinking into you, bottoming out as you pushed yourself back into him. 

His nails dug into your love handles, grabbing them for stability as he pushed himself into you. His head fell back as he felt himself continuously bottom out.

It was rare that you went without a condom, and there was no better feeling than the friction of your bare skin rubbing together. 

“Fuck, you feel so good.” A loud pitch moan left your lips in response, a little more dramatic due to the camera recording you. 

Heeseung could feel himself losing control, the warm feeling of being inside of you chasing his hips to push into you harder. 

Quiet swears left his lips as he found his constant pace, hips hitting against yours as he leaned over your back, hands leaving your hips to wrap around your hands. 

He pushed your hands down against the couch, his new angle allowing him to get more depth. 

“Please, I want to cum whilst riding you.” Heeseung swore one last time before pulling out, flipping your position as he leaned his back against the back of the couch. 

Your feet pressed against his legs, hips raised as you used your hand to place his dick against you. You circled his tip around your entrance one time before you sunk onto him, hand moving down to play with his balls as you bounced up and down. 

Heeseung threw his head back, eyes narrowing to slits as his pleasure weighed down his body. One of his hands rubbed up your body, grabbing your chest as the other squeezed the soft skin of your waist. 

He turned his attention toward the area where the two of you were connected, his mouth drying as he watched a ring of white froth form at his base. 

His abdominal muscles contracted as he trusted his hips forward, louder clapping filling the room as he changed the tempo. 

There was a moment where both of your eyes met, the primal desire mirroring back through your own reflections. Heeseung gave you a small smirk, one side of his mouth quirking up.

He winked at you once before he grabbed your hand, his fingers wrapping around the entirety of yours as he brought it to grab his neck.

“Use me” You tightened your hand around his neck at his suddenly sultry whisper, knees burning as you dropped against him harder. 

You bent forward, chest bumping against him as you used your hands to tilt his head back, his hair falling back to reveal his damp forehead. 

You pressed your tongue against the top of his sternum, licking a strip up until your nose touched his earlobe, teeth replacing its spot as you bit down on him.

His back arched beneath you, small sounds leaving his lips as you marked him. You treated his neck the same way you had the lollipop, using him the way he liked. 

“You feel so good.” Heeseung breathlessly praised you, his voice coming out higher than usual. It was easy to tell when Heeseung was getting close, the way he started touching your body more. 

Even with Heeseung under you, he always made sure you came undone first. The way your pleasure contoured your body caused his own long-awaited high to multiply tens fold. 

Though the feeling of his skin against yours caused a euphoric sensation to ring out across your body, you couldn’t stop yourself from teasing him a little more.

You halted your body, palms pushing down on your boyfriend's hips to stop his constant buckling.

“I want to make you feel good before.” You rose higher on your knees, only his tip remaining in as you shot him your best attempt of an innocent smile.

Heeseung tried not to let your words affect him, the pleasure that faded with the lack of stimulation returning at the thought of your lips wrapping around him.

“I much prefer you over the lollipop, nothing compares to the way you fill me.” 

Heeseung let out a shaky breath as his left leg began to shake, arms flexing as he fisted the cushions under him. “Fuck, do whatever you’d like, I’ll take anything you’re willing to give me.”

You removed him from you completely, your palm reaching up towards his lips as you looked at him with an expected gaze. Heeseung puckered his lips out, a sizable drop of spit landing between the crevices of your fingers. 

“That’s not enough.” You clicked your tongue at him, faux disapproval seeping out through your lips as you pulled your hand away from him. “You’re lucky I'm still wet, I'll just have to do it myself.”

You reached down, fingers collecting your wetness before you wrapped your hand back around him. Heeseung’s mouth fell open as you placed a small kiss against the base of his shaft, a trail of kisses following your hand as you slowly moved it up.

A sudden whimper left his mouth as you hollowed your cheeks around him, the suction perfectly squeezing around him. 

His sounds only rose as you added your tongue, the soft muscle tracing along his prominent vein. He almost forgot about the laptop, a small red light reminding him of the almost hour-long video. 

He stared directly into the camera, maximizing his expressions knowing that sooner or later, you’d be watching this back. He knew what got you off, what he could do to make you feel as good as possible. 

It was completely mutual, your knowledge of his body aiding in drawing out a loud, genuine, sound from his pretty lips. 

His back lifted from the couch, body flinching as your finger pressed against his perineum, sharp shocks of pleasure shooting across his body.

His breath caught in his chest as his hand shot out to grab your head, your hair fisting in his hands as he pushed you down further.

He didn’t stop, not even after hearing your choking sounds. As said before, he knew exactly what you liked.

 He wasn’t the only one who enjoyed being choked, you just experienced it differently. 

You continued stimulating his prostate through his perineum, spit dribbling down from the corners of your lips as you drew him closer to his orgasm.

He barely warned you before letting go in your mouth, the only telltale being the trembling of his legs. 

You tried your best to swallow everything he gave you, his familiar salty taste replacing the coating of sweetness in your throat. 

You pulled back, tongue peaking out to lap at the drops you had missed before, cleaning him from your shared mess. 

Heeseung panted from above you, his eyes closed as his heart pounded loudly in his chest. He felt the way you raised from your knees, your hand wrapping around his jaw as you pulled him in for a messy kiss.

The taste of himself no longer caused any reaction, he’d long gotten used to tasting himself on your tongue after you’d gone down on him.

“You’re not going to be able to walk tomorrow.” Heeseung said completely seriously, masking the truth behind his words with a joking tone. 

“That’s just the way I like it.” You replied back, scooting back to rest your head against the arm of the couch, legs spreading for your boyfriend to get a good view of what you were going to do next. 

“I’m ready when you are, show me how good you can treat me.” You never looked away from his eyes as you pressed your finger down against your clit, basking in the way his cock twitched at you.

“Or are you too tired?” Heeseung rolled his eyes at you, his body moving to hover over yours as he pushed himself between your legs.

“Why don’t you see for yourself?” You returned his wolfish grin, hand leaving your body to grab his waist, pulling his hips against yours. 

“Show me.”

[kolyubov]

Kiss me hard before you go ✮⋆˙

✧ pairing: College Student!Fyodor x Fem!Reader

✧ nonnie requested: Hiii! Your work is amazing. If you have the time I'd like to request a collage AU Fyodor x reader. Where Fyodor is like the typical "star student" who is popular but doesn't really care much for most people in the school. And then a new student comes around who has the potential to rival him in both popularity and studies, but instead he falls deeply inlove (like, he is whipped) after meeting her during one of his chess sessions with Dazai (reader and Dazai are friends). But reader kind of only takes Fyodor's advances as a technique to manipulate her and ignores them. If you want to do a one shot it could be, for example, about reader getting in trouble with a teacher, first time meeting, a party, confession, first kiss or everything in one. But headcanons/scenarios are also greatly appreciated. You can take away some parts if needed and I'm okey with nsfw, if you want to go there. And understand fully if this gets ooc, delusion is my favorite poison :)

✧ word count: 3.7k

✧ contents: nsfw, fingering (f!receiving), praise, teasing, Fyodor is ooc, slight public fingering, roughness (if you squint). If I missed any warnings please kindly let me know!

✧ author's note: nonnie, I love you so much for bringing all of these ideas, they’re all so so amazing. I twisted it a bit, taking away some things and adding others, but hope you like it either way<3

The class was highly boring. The teacher's explanation has long been ignored by almost everyone inside the small classroom— Some people were chatting silently in the back of the class, others even playing cards underneath the desk and others simply sleeping.

Well, it seems like either she has very bad sight or just decides to ignore lazy students since they probably won't listen even after she threatens to send them to the principal's office.

You, sitting almost in the front row, couldn't enjoy slacking off because she would most likely notice and find it disrespectful, which would eventually lead to getting in trouble.

But the sleepiness was starting to get you.

You were resting your face against your palm, eyelids heavy as you fought to stay awake.

Slowly, the teacher's voice seemed to grow distant.

Before you can gladly slip into the land of dreams, someone kicks your foot, making you flinch awake once more. Turning to your side, Dazai was chuckling.

“I don't want you getting in trouble y’know? You still have to come with me to my chess session after class.” He flashes you a mocking pout before returning his attention to the teacher— He wasn't listening either, after all, he had earbuds on.

Oh, right, you promised Dazai to go to his chess session because he "would feel lonely if his bestie is not there”. Actually, he probably just wanted to show off his abilities since he knew you lack of understanding in chess. At least that's what you thought.

Dazai told you he usually has this session with Dostoevsky, the top student with the best grades on campus. Nobody truly knows who of the two is the best, but no one can deny their big brains. You inevitably roll your eyes at the thought of two smarties having a deep conversation in front of you during their chess game.

The two of them were popular, though Fyodor doesn't seem to care about it. He doesn't want more friends than the two weirdos he's with, nor does he care about having a good relationship with other people on the campus— When someone asks him for help about a certain subject, he shoves them off by telling them “Go ask the teacher about it.”

Dazai on the other hand, it's much more social and gets along with almost everyone, but he has very few people whom he really trusts. You are one of them.

The bell rang, pulling you out of your thoughts. Everyone stood up as quickly as they could to leave this tedious class and get some fresh air. Sadly, you had to face yet another unamusing event.

You took a deep breath.

Maybe this wasn't too bad? You had to think positively. Maybe you could even learn something from these two nerds.

You stretched your arms up, relaxing your muscles and letting out a soft groan before standing up from your chair and putting your things back in your bag. Dazai did too, and after you two had gathered your things, you left the classroom.

You don't know Fyodor at all. Other than knowing he's fighting for the Top Student position with Dazai and that he has two friends— everything else about him is an enigma.

You can't deny you were at least a bit excited about seeing him perform his chess tactics. Despite your lack of knowledge about the game.

˖⁺‧₊˚ ♱ ˚₊‧⁺˖

After walking along with Dazai for a while, going upstairs to the last floor of the building, where there were empty classrooms reserved for club activities, you stand in front of the chess club door. The hallway was quite empty, and not a lot of people chose to participate in clubs these days— You knew these rooms were mostly for other activities that went from occultism to having sex. However the latter doesn't happen anymore since cameras were installed. You're thankful for that.

“Don't be scared of Fyodor. He won't bite as long as I'm here.” Dazai laughs softly as he opens the door of the room. His words only make you frown at him.

The room was quite spacious and there were a few other students playing chess too. There was a nice silence around. The only noise is the chess pieces being placed on the chessboard with each turn.

“You're late as always, Dazai.”

Your attention is drawn to Fyodor, who's sitting with his arms and legs crossed, one above the other; a stoic expression on his face.

He was wearing a black long-sleeved turtleneck shirt, his coat was hanging on the back of his chair, his hair was tucked behind his ear and you noticed that he had a silver necklace with a cross.

Your fingers twitch slightly and your heart beats a little faster.

Ah, he is prettier up close.

What? No.

You didn't realize that you were staring at him for so long until his dark purple eyes went to your face and he raised an eyebrow.

Fyodor eyed you up and down as if you were a piece of meat for him to enjoy. The way your body tenses under his gaze; hands sneaking behind your back, lips pressing together, eyes trying to look anywhere but his. All of it gives him the hint that you'll be a nice prey.

“Oh? You brought a guest I see.” Fyodor smiles at you briefly, kindly, before looking back at Dazai who was placing his bag on the floor and sitting in front of him. He was very calm though he was facing another smart man such as him.

“She's my lucky charm.” He gives you a wink and you roll your eyes, unamused. You sat in front of the small square table, arms crossed, ready to watch the development of this game.

“Shall we begin, then, Dazai?”

“Of course.” Dazai giggles, wasting no time grabbing a white piece and making his move. “Seems like I have the upper hand today.”

Fyodor smirks, his slim fingers moving so delicately as he takes his turn.

Both of them seemed very relaxed as they played. Discussing random topics, and speaking with difficult words made it a little hard for you to understand their conversation.

But the tension was slowly starting to build up— Each turn was beginning to take more than a couple of seconds. They were taking their time before making any movements, and the smiles on both of the men's faces were starting to disappear as they went silent.

You, on the other hand, were almost falling asleep like back in class. What was the point of watching them play if you didn't understand how the game goes? Plus, they were in complete silence, how was this supposed to help you learn more about their stupid smart brains?

Ah, might as well take a little nap then.

“Shit.”

Dazai groaned in annoyance as his phone suddenly vibrated, distracting him from the game. After seeing who was calling, he stood up from the chair and walked out of the room without even excusing himself.

Your eyes followed Dazai as he left the room, lips parted in confusion.

Great, now you were left alone with Dostoevsky— Well… almost. There were other people playing chess in the room too but they were minding their own business.

Fyodor sighs, looking down at the chessboard before looking at you and tilting his head to the side.

Of course, he was going to take advantage now that the two of you were alone. He was eyeing his little prey and hopefully, he could get a pretty reaction if he pushed the right buttons.

God, forgive him for being so greedy.

“Do you want to play?”

You look in his direction, blinking a few times in confusion.

Telling him that you don't know how to play was going to be embarrassing as hell. He was going to make fun of you, probably. But, you didn't know that he could read you like a book. So Fyodor already noticed that you didn't understand the rules of chess.

You press your lips together, avoiding his penetrating gaze that makes something inside you tingle.

“I'll teach you, just pay attention because I'm not going to repeat myself.”

You nod, giving him a shy smile before taking Dazai's seat while begging internally for him to come back. Was that call so damn important?

“Move Knight to e6.”

“Sorry— what?”

Fyodor raises an eyebrow, waiting for your move. Like he said, he won't be telling you the same thing twice.

Looking down at the chessboard, you try to identify who's the “Knight”— Which wasn't so difficult, but now you have to move it somewhere you don't know.

When your eyes move from the board to him, you can see he's smiling. Oh, god. You hope Fyodor doesn't notice the way your cheeks heat up under his gaze.

But he did.

As if reading your mind again. Fyodor stands up from his seat and walks behind you; One hand on the back of your chair and the other pointing at a square from the chessboard. Dark locks of hair tickle your cheeks, a faint scent of coffee emanating from him. Would his lips taste like coffee too?

You press your thighs together, lowering your head down a little as his chest grazes against your back slightly; you can't help but feel smaller against him.

“…Now, did you understand?”

His smooth voice rings against your ear; low as if he was telling you a secret. Hell. You could even feel his lips brushing against the helix of your ear.

“I—”

You're interrupted before you can speak.

“Well, seems like we need to continue this game for later, Dos—”

Dazai stops in front of you with his phone in hand. His eyes opened wide and his lips parted in surprise.

“You two are getting along I see.” He snorts, grabbing his bag from the floor. “I’m leaving though, have fun. See you tomorrow, Dostoyevsky.” And with that, Dazai walks out the door again.

You panic.

You can't be alone with Dostoyevsky again after knowing how nervous you get with him close; how you look at him with a dumb expression after he speaks because you're too focused on his pretty features.

Fuck. No, what are you thinking about? He's not that handsome.

Fyodor is a smart man, he's probably just teasing you with light touches to rail you up and make fun of you later for being so easy. There's no way you're going to let this man play with your mind as if it is his toy.

“Wait! Osamu!” You quickly leave the chair, grabbing your bag as well and leaving behind Dazai.

For a small second you turn around. Fyodor's eyes met with yours; he was smiling again. Your eyes widened and you swore you could read his lips saying “Goodbye, my dear.”

˖⁺‧₊˚ ♱ ˚₊‧⁺˖

It's been a few days since you last interacted with Fyodor. And, since that first and —hopefully— last encounter, you were trying to avoid him.

You don't want to fall deeper into him.

After Dazai saw you two being very close, he kept messing with you about it.

“You two would make a great combination. The not-so-smart introvert girl and the top student intimidating Dostoyevsky… top student after me of course.”

“Why do you blush every single time he speaks? Do you think his voice is hot or something?”

“I saw you staring at Dostoyevsky in class today, are you sure you don't like him, hm?”

What a nuisance.

Of course, you didn't like him. You were trying to avoid him at all costs. Doesn't that make your dislike for him much more obvious?

In fact, you were sure you hated him.

Each time he spoke in class he always answered right with that unamused expression and with that egocentric tone that makes you roll your eyes.

There was no way you could fall for someone like him.

You sigh, currently walking down the hallway to the library, hoping to find some rest and silence from the noisy students and from your stupid brain that had been thinking about Dostoyevsky these last days.

The library had an old tone to it; yellowish lights and dark brown old shelves that went from the floor to the ceiling. Two floors full of books from all the subjects any student could find for their projects or to pass the time.

Even if it was full of people, the silence was almost absolute if it wasn't for a few people whispering and giggling. Still, it was a very peaceful place. Sometimes you wish you could stay here forever.

Since you know the place very well, you went straight to your favorite spot in the enormous library— It was under a stair, where there was an old dark green couch that was kind of comfy, enough to spend more than a few hours reading on it.

You remember leaving a book yesterday on the couch, after all, nobody went there; it was after walking through a long-ass corridor and after a few turns. Who would explore this big library completely like you did? No one, of course.

Well… You were wrong.

“What the fuck?”

“Hm? What a wonderful surprise…”

Seriously?

You cross your arms in front of your chest while looking down at Fyodor who was sitting on the couch with your book in his hands. You were trying to avoid him and he was the one that came to you. Funny.

Fyodor closed the book, placing it to the side before leaning back with his legs spread and his arms crossed as well.

“Nice book. You have good taste, sweetheart.”

The hell with this—

You turn around ready to leave, but he quickly grabs your wrist, pulling you towards him until you are standing in between his legs. His dark eyes look up at you.

“Why are you avoiding me? I'm not stupid, I see everything, you know?”

He loosens his grip on your wrist, his thumb caressing the back of your hand slowly. From this close, you can see his dark circles and his pale skin. Damn, he looks like a vampire…

“It's none of your business.” You frown, pushing his hand away.

“Do I make you so nervous, hm?”

Fyodor grins, leaning back once more. His smug expression only makes you more mad and you're beginning to wonder if he's doing it on purpose to get a kick out of this like last time.

He can't deny that he's enjoying it; You're so easy to get riled up that it's almost boring. Though your pretty pouty face is worth it.

“Shut up. You're in my seat. Leave.” You tried to keep a stern voice but Fyodor didn't budge from his seat.

“I'm not moving. If you want to sit on this couch so badly, might as well sit on my lap.” He pats his thigh, giving you a smirk.

Fuckfuckfuck.

He was playing with you again, probably laughing internally too— thinking you're just a stupid silly girl who can fall so easily into his trap.

He was using you as his entertaining resource.

Fine. You might as well play along.

With a hum, you flop on his lap, getting comfortable and leaning your back against his chest to which Fyodor immediately wrapped his arms around your waist, resting his chin on your shoulder.

“Such an obedient girl.”

You squirm on his lap, feeling how butterflies flutter inside your tummy. While trying to mask your sudden arousal, you reached for the book you wanted to read and opened it to where you left it before. While doing so, Fyodor's large fingers start kneading on your waist, slowly, as if he was savoring the feeling of your body against his palms.

“Are you enjoying your reading?”

You nod. The truth is that you can't even read with his hands exploring your waist and his pretty voice against your ear. You're only looking at empty words in the book, your mind not paying attention to the sentences or paragraphs.

Fyodor's hand brushed against your neck, and the coldness of it made you flinch. He pushed your hair aside, exposing your neck to him.

“Why don't you read for me out loud?”

“Why should I?” You shrug, completely leaning against his body again, trying to suffocate him or something— though it seems like having the contrary effect as his hands pull your hips to him.

“I want to know if you're focused on your little book or me.”

Cocky bastard.

You clear your throat to begin with your reading, but as soon as you open your mouth, his lips brush against the skin of your neck, leaving a small peck.

“Go on. I'm waiting, dear.”

Then, he presses another peck, waiting a few seconds before doing the same.

God. You can't react in this situation. Your body squirms with each touch or whisper. Your thighs pressed together and you look down at the book, trying to focus on the words but it's impossible.

“Ah—”

You whine, feeling his tongue teasing the crook of your neck before sucking on your skin. Arms wrapping around your waist again, caging you against him.

The air was starting to get heavy and you had already forgotten that you were in a public library; your mind getting foggy with the thought of what was going to happen eventually.

As he pulls away, kissing the new hickey he left, one hand wanders down to your thigh, squeezing it.

“You know you can leave if you don't want this, right?” You didn't answer, not wanting to fulfill his egocentric wishes.

“Hey, I'm talking to you.”

A hand slides to your neck, pressing a little, as he leans closer to your ear. He thrusts up while keeping your hips against his, trying to “fix” his position.

Ah, but you can feel his hardness against your ass.

“It seems like you're too shy to speak, so, let's do this; If you want to leave, just push my hands away from your body and I'll set you free…”

He chuckles, placing another peck on your neck.

“But if you don't want to leave… Spread those thighs for me, dearest.”

How humiliating; Your body was reacting on its own, and you spread your thighs for him. Without wasting any time, the hand that was on your hip slides inside your pants, lithe fingers finding the wet spot on your panties.

“Huh, how naughty.” You can hear him chuckling behind you.

You barely close your thighs again, feeling shy as his fingertips tease up and down your covered pussy, emanating soft moans from you. With your lips parted, he slid two fingers inside your mouth to keep you quiet.

“Suck on them and don't be loud, honey.” He whispers, kissing the back of your neck soothingly to distract you from the advance of his other two fingers over your pussy.

Pushing your panties aside, he groans at the wet and warm feeling. Coating his fingers with your arousal first before slowly inserting a finger. Fyodor rolls his eyes at the sensation— you were squeezing him so tight that he almost felt pity for your cunt; If you were already squeezing his finger so much, how would it be when he's balls deep inside you.

Saliva slips from your lips down your chin as you keep sucking on his other fingers that are keeping your mouth entertained. Trying your best not to moan out loud when his finger that was over your pussy began sliding in and out, reaching that sweet spot of yours with each thrust.

“I'm going to add another finger, pretty. Keep being good for me..”

Another groan leaves Fyodor's lips when you squeeze his finger at his praise. Oh, well, he was going to make sure to praise you lots then.

As his middle finger makes its way inside you and you whine at the stretching, his whole hand clads your mouth, not letting any noise escape from you.

“Fuck… Do you want someone to catch us?”

You shake your head from side to side, picturing how humiliating it would be if someone finds you sitting on Fyodor's lap and moaning because of his skilled fingers that reach where yours can't.

When his two fingers start moving, you're already in heaven. Grinding your hips and spreading your thighs further to give him space to go knuckles deep.

“Is my sweet angel going to cum on my fingers? Do it, dear, be a good girl for me.” Fyodor moans against your ear, slightly grinding his hips against yours as you approach your climax.

Your thighs close and you let out a muffled whimper as you come all over his fingers, walls clamping down on him as he presses his hand harder against your mouth, whispering sweet praises before sliding his sticky fingers out of your cunt and taking his hand off your mouth to let you breathe.

Fyodor is nice enough to push your panties back in place before removing his hand from your pants. His sticky fingertips tap your lower tip a few times so you can open up and lick them clean.

“Good girl…”

He pulls his fingers out of your mouth, caressing your cheek, and you take the opportunity to turn around and fall to your knees in front of him, placing your hands on his thighs. You might as well worship him like he did with you.

He was nice to you, so why not be nice to him as well? After all, you were eager to see what's underneath his intimidating façade.

“Ah— Right now it might not be the moment, dear.”

You frown, resting your cheek against his thigh.

“My apologies, but this place is quite risky, you already made a lot of noise and people might be wondering,” Fyodor smirks before leaning down to kiss the crown of your head as he removes his silver necklace to place it on your neck instead.

“We'll continue this another day, I promise.” He tilts your chin up, leaning in and kissing you slowly, slipping his tongue past your lips and groaning against your mouth while his hand squeezes your cheeks together, not letting you pull away before he's done with you.

So he does taste like coffee.

Fyodor withdraws, leaving one last peck on your lips before completely pulling away.

“Goodbye, my dear.”

Giving you one last soft smile, he stands up and walks away, leaving you sitting on the floor with red cheeks and heavy breathing.

You look down at the cross hanging from his necklace. Now resting on your chest.

God, you want to taste his lips again.

© 2024 pinklacydovey

[dragon-ascent]

Hello, how are you ? Since you have open request I’d like to ask something : How do you think our favorite dragon Zhongli will react to his wife being accused of lying because they have corrected an historian on a false fact about Morax ?

Since English isn’t my first language I’m afraid this is not clear, I’m sorry.

Ooh, I like it, here's what I've come up with <3

-----

The tension is palpable and certainly not what you were hoping to land yourself in when you accepted Zhongli's request to be his plus-one aboard the Pearl Galley.

"Forgive me, Mr. Changying, but that's where I'll have to correct you," you tell the stocky man before you. The food and drinks on the table are long-untouched. "Rex Lapis didn't take on such a grand ten-headed and eight-armed form to exterminate those sea creatures. In fact, he personally went door to door to trap them in little Geo contraptions, even having a bit of trouble with the.... particularly wrigglier ones."

Changying's eyes practically roll into the back of his head. "Do you truly believe that rubbish just because that is what's commonly peddled? That the Geo archon, who could raise the mountains and calm the tides without breaking a sweat, found the task of getting rid of tiny sea creatures tedious and challenging?"

Sighing, you say, "Even the gods are subject to being less-than-perfect in their methods. And besides, the damn things were inside people's houses - brute strength would not have been handy at all. Rex Lapis needed to be careful and meticulous so that none of his people were harmed. Hence the Geo cages."

Despite how neatly you'd presented your counterpoint, Changying merely scoffs as he adjusts his glasses. He jabs a finger at you accusingly. "You're lying, just like everyone else," he growls, "and you clearly have no respect for our late archon! Do you even like him?"

Your breath nearly hitches in your throat as you gaze up at him in shock. "Ex...excuse me?"

The man pulls no punches as he continues his rant against you. "How can you so blindly believe what the masses think? Maybe if you were a real Rex Lapis follower like me, you would learn some critical thinking skills and draw more accurate conclusions!"

"I'm afraid I am on the side of my partner here, Mr. Changying," cuts in Zhongli, placing an arm on your shoulder. Relief floods your veins as you let out the breath you'd been holding. "They are correct in explaining that Rex Lapis had to go the simplistic route when dealing with Liyue's sea creature infestation."

Changying's eyes grow wide. "Forgive me, Mr. Zhongli," he murmurs, and you're not ignorant to the way his tone mellows out and becomes more respectful as he continues to speak. "I didn't know you were also in agreement of that story. But let me explain why he likely-"

"It is alright for you to have your own interpretations of events, especially for a being with an expansive history that is always being debated over," says Zhongli calmly, poised as always, "but when these interpretations are unrealistic and you still try to present them as fact...while belittling other people, no less...the line must be drawn somewhere, yes?"

Changying blanches, stammering, "Er, but don't you think Rex Lapis would appreciate deviating thought processes more, especially when..."

Zhongli's eyes narrow ever so slightly, his visage still calm as a pond. "Perhaps so, but what he would not appreciate is his people trying to one-up others in an attempt to prove they are his most loyal followers." Your husband glances at you. "I know my partner well, and they love Rex Lapis dearly. Not only do you accuse them of lying, you also undermine the love they hold for the deity."

His hand brushes against yours and he interlaces his fingers with you, giving a gentle, reassuring squeeze. You smile softly.

Changying scrambles for words, useless excuses and explanations that hardly justify him being on his high horse.

Zhongli, unamused, fires his parting shot. "Far be it for an ordinary man like myself to tell you what to do, but here is some advice: gather reliable citations for your claims, provide succinct evidence, and be respectful of those with opposing views, and perhaps then Rex Lapis would consider you a favorite of his."

With that, Zhongli escorts you away from the scene, knowing full well you will always be his favorite by far - the approving smile he gives you conveys that perfectly.

[seraphmaws]

hi ^-^! Can you do a tutorial on how to make this icon? I would like to learn :3

https://64.media.tumblr.com/64eb5472b1d49fc941ccefbae558846e/cb2b70c34ebba0a7-b4/s1280x1920/d9e44a125324b309a533a1e56be842355046d740.gifv

Hello! I apologize in advance for my poor explanation skills, and also for how convoluted this process can get 😭 But I saw this as a worthy challenge, so here’s how you too can make a gif icon where the character comes out of the frame like this and this:

This is going to be very long so the full tutorial is under this cut!

Programs I use: IbisPaintX and Procreate*

*full disclosure, procreate is exclusively for iPad and costs 10 USD. however every thing I do in procreate you should also be able to do in Photopea

1. First things first, after finding the gif you’ll want to use, you’ll need to download each individual frame. By importing it into either procreate, photopea, or any program that’ll allow you to view individual frames, you’ll be able to save each frame

A note about gifs: The best gifs to use are ones with less frames due to the fact you’ll be editing the individual frames. Not to say you can’t use gifs with higher frame counts, however it is much more time consuming the more frames there are

2. Next you’ll have to remove the background from each frame. You can remove the background by hand, but I like to use this website to help make things a bit easier. Just pop your frames into it and download each one

It is unfortunately not always accurate and often misses things on images where the background isn’t clearly defined or is lower quality, and you most definitely will have to do touch ups on your frames For example here, for some reason, the first two frames (on the left) were left with a semi transparent gray background and in the image in the middle, you can see sizable areas where the website missed. And also as of recently there as been practically invisible dots it leaves where the background once was that stroke filter picks up some how. You’ll need to hit each frame with the magic wand tool or similar to remove these dots if you plan on adding strokes

3. Now add all your frames into your program and stick them in a folder. Then, reposition the frames on top of the image mask you are using (in ibis, make sure all frames are visible and select the folder before repositioning the frames, in other programs, you should just be able to select multiple layers and move them that way). Once you’ve repositioned them, duplicate the folder then select clipping on the bottom folder like shown in the right image (I know I forgot to duplicate the folder then 💀)

4. Now here’s where the tedious stuff comes in. Make sure you number your frames, because it’ll help you out a lot. In the top folder, erase the bottom part of your gif that you want to be in the frame (I’ll call this the clipping layer) but keep the top where you want to be coming out of the frame intact (this’ll be the overlapping layer). Repeat this process for all of the frames

Note: Try to use a simple shaped frame for these kinds of icons. However, if you choose to use something with a more complex shape, be weary of where you erase! You will need to be more precise with shapes like these depending on where you want things to go

And if you haven’t edited the frame itself, you should do so now

5.5. After that, you can leave things off there and skip this step if that’s what you’re going for! However, if you want to add things like strokes, it’ll get a lil more complicated

Firstly, I duplicate my clipping layer and then select stroke (both). You can also use stoke (outer) or whatever your program has, but this is my personal preference. I then duplicate that layer and keep applying stroke till I get what I want (if you use stroke (outer) duplicating your layer isn’t necessary). I think merge my stroke layers together, but I keep it separate from my main frame

That way I can duplicate my stroke layer and add it to my overlapping layer. Then I erase the unnecessary parts shown on the left. You may need to clean up the stroke on certain frames or reapply it depending on the position of things and what you’ve erased and what not. It takes a lot of trial and error. You can also apply the stroke before you make your overlapping layers, however when I was making this graphic I fucked it up in the process of making this tut and had to remake it so that’s what I did the second time around 💀 if you were wondering why I didn’t just do that in the first place, now you know

6. Now it’s time to export your layers as a psd and import it into procreate/photopea! You’ll now have to merge your clipping layer into your image mask then merge your overlapping layer on top of it to create one layer. Repeat this for all the frames and you’ll be finished!

Tada! Now you can add filters and whatever else if so desired. And that’s my process for making these kinds of graphics! There’s definitely an easier way of doing this but that’s just what I’ve got figured out for now. Don’t hesitate to ask any questions for the things that make zero sense lol

[the-actual-ocean]

hand over all your fucking ideas right now

Alrighty-dighty.

1.) An NPC that, upon first interaction with one of the player, INSISTS that they are somehow included in the player's backstory; they are not.

2.) A small, toothy and furry creature that ressembles a dodgeball, and moves as such. Basically just meant to be an annoying, mosquito-like creature to act as the players', "first monster slain."

3.) An NPC that might be in a similar situation to the players, but doesn't realise that they don't remember anything of themselves.

4.) Little bit of some unasked-for environment, but a cave area that consists of fungal ores, with mold and mushrooms seemingly made of iron and gold decorated around the area, and spores released that look like glittery iron fillings. Inhaling these will cause damage.

5.) One of the player's height is just wildly inaccurate. Too short, too tall, whichever, but it is not the correct height for what they know of their character so far.

6.) Pirates who ride airships of old, long-dead creatures' bones through desserts. One such example includes the hull of an airship being the ribcage of a dragon, and it's now decomposed wings being used as sails.

7.) An NPC that unreasonably and baselessly holds a grudge on one of the players, assuredly based on their past. If the situation comes to fighting them, they die extremely easily and give no explanation.

8.) Have an area/dungeon be wildly annoying or tedious, and the reward for its completion being the drunkenly-written note of one of the players' past, giving a small fact or reveal for themselves.

These were probably too many, or not D&D-related enough, but I found a few of these interesting, and I'd hope you do, too.

[misfitwashere]

Putin's Legend

The Nonsensical Basis of a Terrible War

Timothy Snyder

Aug 25, 2024

Two-and-a-half years ago, Russia began a full-scale invasion of Ukraine, setting off the largest war the world has seen since 1945. 

Although Russia's leaders have offered various spurious justifications for their illegal war of aggression, Vladimir Putin's nost consistent explanation has been ideological: Russia is an ancient state, and Ukraine is historically Russian land.

Let us take advantage of this half-anniversary to consider this claim. 

Anniversaries take hold of the imagination, especially the round ones.  The fullness of years and the beauty of numbers seduce us into myths of eternity and goodness.  But history, unlike legend,  is composed of fragments, of bits, of things we understand halfway, and seek to grasp ever better.

This is one reason why few historians grapple with the gilded myths that Putin has put forward about the ancient past, most notoriously in a long essay in 2021 and then in a tedious interview with Tucker Carlson in 2024 (both linked below).  

When confronted with magical thinking by dictators, historians feel out of place, like a bridge player invited to judge prestidigitation, say, or a surgeon hired to care for wax figures. 

Putin is in love with a legend.  Historically speaking, this is very familiar: new regimes, such as Putin's, seek compensation in myths of ancient origin.

Putin's idea of Russia, his justification for the killing of hundreds of thousands of people, his rationalization of his attempt to destroy Ukraine as a people — it all rests on a very familiar sort of tall tale: we were here first.  These stories are generally complete falsehoods, from the “we” through the “were” and the “here” and the “first.” And so it is for Putin.

But the stories get repeated so often that they take on a kind of leaden plausibility, like a bad habit. It takes a little work to throw them off. So here goes!

The legend begins with a single obscure incident, understood by Putin to prove the existence and endurance of a Russian state: Long ago there was a city called Novgorod, inhabited by people who were unable to get along.  These quarrelsome folk, the Slavs, invited three Viking brothers, known as the Rus, to come and rule them.  The arrival of Vikings began an unbroken tradition of a Russian "centralized state."

As he says, Putin has the story from a medieval chronicle, "The Tale of Bygone Years," probably from the early twelfth century.  The monk (or monks) in Kyiv who compiled this text had heard about the arrival of the Vikings known as the Rus from Scandinavia, which had taken place about four hundred years earlier.  In the intervening centuries, the various parts of the fractious Scandinavian clans had founded, taken over, and lost control of a number or towns in eastern Europe. The monk or monks knew were trying to explain why the Kyivan part of a Scandinavian ruling clan still known by the name Rus was more important than other clans in other places. 

"The Tale of Bygone Years" is one of dozens of helpful medieval sources which touch on the Scandinavians in eastern Europe, which mix fable and useful information.  These texts have to be read critically and together, and alongside the findings of archeologists and numismatists who have worked in the places in question.  In what follows I will be doing this.

Before analyzing the legend that Putin loves, it would be helpful to spell out all of the claims it contains and that he draws from it, some of which are explicit, and some of which are implicit -- things that the listener might go away from the story believing, even though they are never stated.

1.  There was a city called Novgorod when the Vikings known as the Rus arrived.

2.  There were three Viking brothers.

3.  The Vikings accepted the invitation and peacefully and durably ruled.

4.  The people of this city were in some sense Russians because they were Slavs.

5.  These Vikings were also in some sense Russians, since they called themselves “Rus.”

6.  The existence of an ethnic group in a town more than a thousand years ago means a right to rule today by a dictator who calls himself a name that he also associates with that ethnic group.

7.  The existence of the rulers of that ethnic group more than a thousand years ago means a right to rule today by a dictator who calls himself a name that he also associates with those rulers.

8.  Events in one location more than a thousand years ago justify the existence and actions of a transcontinental empire engaged in a war of aggression against a neighboring state.

9.  An algorithm exists whereby we can justify repression and war today via obscure, distant events.

10.  This algorithm is known to dictators who tell the story, carry out the repressions and start the wars.

When spelled out like this, the claims reveal their magical character.  Even if claims 1-5 were completely correct, the moral and political interpretations Putin offers in claims 6-10 are illogical and repugnant. 

Such “reasoning” is why few historians will engage Putin's legend directly.  It has nothing to do with history -- with assembling evidence, with questioning hypothesis, with making reasonable arguments based upon sources and traditions of interpretation.  It is a claim to power, whose only sense arises from the power itself. That is really all that needs to be said.

Having understood that, historians can choose to go the extra mile, and note that the factual claims (1-5) are balderdash.  It only really makes sense to do this in a constructive rather than in a destructive spirit, in an effort to reveal something about what we actually do know about early medieval Scandinavia and eastern Europe, and how we know it.  It is in that spirit that I will proceed.  Let us consider each claim in turn.

1.  There was a city called Novgorod when the Vikings known as the Rus arrived.

There was not.  Novgorod had not yet been founded at the time of the arrival of the Rus in the territories that are now northeastern Russia.  It was founded about a quarter millenium later. (It had also not yet been founded when Vikings first began to lay claim to Kyiv, which already existed and was probably controlled by Khazars.)

Novgorod is attractive for a Russian myth because it exists now and it existed at the time the monks were writing. But it did not exist at the time of the events the monks were recounting. But this is just the very beginning of the profound untruthfulness of the story.

Here is what we know. Traders from Scandinavia were present around the body of water we now call Lake Ladoga in the sixth century.  Around the middle of the eighth century, the Vikings who called themselves Rus established a trading emporium at a site that Russian archaeologists call Ladoga, but which the Vikings themselves called Aldeigja. 

Packed away in storage in the Hermitage in St.Petersburg is a bronze figure from Aldeigja in its early days: Odin with his two ravens. This contemporary piece of evidence, similar to other figures from Scandinavia, and one among thousands, tells us more than later chronicles about the time and place and people.

The power center associated with Aldeigja was probably called the Rus Khaganate. We believe that it was called this because of contemporary evidence: a recorded encounter between Rus emissaries and the king of the Franks.

About a century after the foundation of Aldeigja, the Vikings known as Rus established another trade center, which they called Holmgar∂, and which Russians later called Gorodishche. 

The town Novgorod in its turn was founded more than a hundred years after that and about a mile away. It had nothing to do with the first encounter of the Rus and the locals. It could not have done so, since it did not then exist.

2.  There were three Viking brothers.

This is a different sort of claim.  One can show with considerable certainty, on the basis of the archaeological evidence, when Scandinavian Rus towns such as Aldeigja and Holmgar∂ were established, and have a pretty good idea of who lived there and what occupations were pursued. 

One cannot of course disprove, on this basis, that there were once three Viking brothers.  The reasons to disbelieve this claim are of a different kind, arising from the study of political myth and its structures. 

The number 3 has a profound significance in Indo-European stories about the origin of the world.  According to Tacitus, the ancient Germanic peoples (whose culture preceded that of the Germanic Vikings), believed that the earth god had a son, and that son had three sons, and those three sons founded all the other peoples.  Odin was himself one of three brothers. In Viking times, the settlement of new (from the Viking perspective) lands was systematically justified by a story of the arrival of three brothers, usually sons or grandsons of Odin.  In this manner the Viking clan who had power justified its position and its right to control lands (and native peoples).  The Tale of Bygone Years, which is essentially one saga among many others, reproduced this standard trope of the Scandinavian sagas. 

It is worth emphasizing that the story of the three brothers is always about why Scandinavians get to rule other people. The survival of the “three-brothers” trope is a reminder of Scandinavian domination. That is its meaning.

3.  The Vikings accepted the invitation and peacefully and durably ruled.

In the case of this bit of nonsense, both literary and archaeological methods help.  One does not have to be a student of early legends to understand that the "invitation" story is suspect.  Right down to the present, invading armies claim that they have come only at the invitation of the people whose lands they now occupy. 

Contemporary Russians should be particularly sensitive to this, since the Bolshevik invasion of Poland in 1919, the Soviet invasion of Poland in 1939, the Warsaw Pact occupation of Czechoslovakia in 1968, the Soviet invasion of Afghanistan in 1979, the Russian invasion of Georgia in 2008, and the Russian invasion of Ukraine in 2014 were all justified by supposed invitations from within the invaded country. 

The ancient Scandinavians also knew this trick, and the story of their being "invited" to the region of Aldeigja and Holmgar∂, in what is now northwestern Russia, is an obvious colonial tale.  Not only is it certainly fictional, its purpose was to deny (not to affirm) the agency of the local people. 

The entity that Putin has in mind was the Rus Khaganate. The name Rus referred to the Scandinavian clan; the Scandinavians borrowed the term “kagan” for ruler from the Khazars, their partner in the slave trade. Vikings were in the area in order to facilitate trade southward for Arabic silver.  The chief goods they traded were at first furs and then slaves. 

During the period in question, the Vikings known as the Rus understood systematic slave raids in the area, killing the adult men and then selling women, boys and girls into slavery. The power center around Aldeigja and Holmgar∂ had its ascent and its collapse. Either it was attacked by other Scandinavians, or it was challenged by local rebellions of peoples subject to slave raids, or perhaps both. The Rus Khaganate seems to have collapse in about 870. Rus and other Scandinavian traders remained active, and trade emporia would be revived and new towns founded, but the first Rus polity seems to have ended then.

4.  The people of this city were in some sense Russians because they were Slavs.

Here one must apply the literary criticism not to the Tale of Bygone Years but to Putin himself.  He never actually says that the people in the Aldeigja and Holmgar∂ regions were Russians; he wrongly believes that they were Slavs, and implies a Russian identity by claiming that their actions laid the basis for a "centralized Russian state."  This is, of course, a trick. 

It is absurd to imagine Russians existing 1200 or 1300 years ago, and Putin avoids the absurdity by slipping in his imaginary Russians by silent implication.  And so the point must be made explicitly: there were no Russians anywhere in the world 1200 or 1300 years ago.  There was no notion whatever of a Russian people. 

The backup position would be that these people were Slavs and thus in some sense proto-Russians.  

That is not how history works: there is no natural, inevitable progression from people speaking a language 1200 or 1300 years ago to the cultural identities or political regimes of today. 

But even if one believes in this political magic, and even if one believes that people speaking a slavic language 1200 or 1300 years ago were somehow proto-Russians, there is still a major problem.  The people who lived in the area at the time did not generally speak Slavic languagues. They were mainly Finns, not Slavs. 

For that matter, Finns seem to have been the most important group not only in the Aldeigja and Holmgar∂ regions, but in all of what is now northeastern Russia, including what is now the Moscow region. (There was, of course, no city of Moscow at the time.)

5.  These Vikings were also in some sense Russians, since they called themselves “Rus.”

Here again we confront an implicit claim, one that is is backed by a semantic trick.  There is now a country called the Russian Federation, which is named after an earlier country called the Russian Empire, which was named after Vikings who called themselves Rus, or after the medieval power centers established by the Rus, the first of which was the Rus Khaganate. 

There is a power in names, just as there is a power in anniversaries and round numbers.  If those people were called Rus, must they not have been Russians?  Well, no. The Rus came first. The Russian Empire was named after them about a thousand years after they appeared. The naming confuses things, but it need not confuse us.  

At the time period in question, other European rulers had no difficulty establishing who the Rus were: they were Swedes.  In the poems and stories they sang and wrote, and in the traces they left in their burial ground, the Rus were unambiguously Scandinavians.  To be sure, they were influenced by the peoples with whom they came into contact: Finns, Balts, Arabs, Bulgars, Khazars, Slavs.  This was a period of the globalization of Scandinavia, and the Rus were part of an exploratory impulse that reached four continents

In the eighth and ninth centuries, the Rus were Scandinavian trading and clans.  Later on, as some Rus settled ever further south, for example in Gnezdevo, Chernihiv, and Kyiv, the Scandinavians reinforced their elite status by marrying Scandinavians from Scandinavia, by treating them as allies and friends, and by expanding upon and sharing in Scandinavian culture. 

After the collapse of the Rus Khaganate, other Rus managed to establish another power center, much later, at Kyiv. Now rather than cooperating with the Khazars they were taking over their land and tribute centers. The Rus (or other Scandinavians) also built the first towns in other parts of eastern Europe, for example in the area around Moscow (which of course did not exist at the time).

After telling his deeply implausible legend about Novgorod, Putin's next move is to cite the Tale of Bygone Years about Kyiv.  The person or people who wrote that saga was concerned to show that the Rus ruler of Kyiv, was the most important prince in the region. By the time of the writing of the chronicle, Novgorod did exist, and so a story presented itself which linked the two places and showed the superiority of Kyiv.

The story is that a Viking from Novgorod managed to take Kyiv by dressing himself up as a trader and fooling the naive local rulers.  At his moment of his triumph this Viking produced a baby and proclaimed that the child was by blood the true ruler of the land. After this improbable succession of events that Viking of the story proclaimed Kyiv “the mother of Rus cities,” a bit of language meant to assure people in the twelfth century that the present rulers of Kyiv should dominate over other Rus in other towns.

One could perform the same kind of analysis on this story.  At the time The Tale of Bygone Years was written, there was no Russia. There were no Russians. There were clans of Scandinavians called Rus, who were engaged in a contest of dominance, with towns and emporia that rose and fell. Part of this contest was a story, set down in the early twelfth century, describing the arrival of the Rus in Kyiv, a historical event of the early tenth century.

Rus did in fact arrive in Kyiv, but not as the story describes. The Vikings in the story could not have come from Novgorod, since at the time the Rus began to settle the Kyiv area Novgorod had not yet been founded. It was much later on, when both cities did exist, at the time of the chronicle, when the Scandinavians in Kyiv wanted to justify both their own pedigree and their own dominance. The story can only be understood in these terms. Otherwise it is just comical.

The baby thing is ridiculous; no Viking ever went to war with a baby on display, nor did any Viking have the idea of a royal dynasty of which the baby would be the heir. The dressup game is a fictional stratagem familiar from Scandinavian sagas as well as contemporary Byzantine war stories. Even if one ignores the legendary and preposterous character all that, the timing of the events is challenged by the recorded birth and death dates of the clever wardrobe Viking and the portable baby Viking.

The hero of the Kyiv story, the clever wardrobe Viking known as Helgi (or Oleh or Oleg in Ukrainian or Russian) is a semi-mythical character. There is no reason to believe that he represented a dynasty coming from Novgorod, since Novgorod did not exist yet, and since the Rus khaganate had ceased to exist. It is likely that, if he came at all, Helgi came from Gnezdovo, which was a rival of Chernihiv and Kyiv at the time. Helgi means “hero” and this Helgi is one of dozens who populate medieval Scandinavian stories. This Helgi supposedly died by fulfilling a complicated prophesy involving his horse, a story which features in multiple north European settings.

The Kyiv incident could not have happened, did not happen, and even had it happened would have no implications for the present war.  It is not really worth the effort to press the point further about Kyiv, not least because the validity of the Kyiv tale, which is nil, would depend on the validity of the prior Novgorod story, which is nil.  

You can see why historians hesitate to engage in all this.  What Putin is doing has nothing to do with history as a discipline.  He is engaged in building a legend, which us based on other legends. And each of his sentences is so rich in various kinds of error that it takes hundreds of words to explain all of the wrongness! 

And in taking the tale seriously, the historian fears that he has made it more serious. This is what I called “dancing with a skeleton” in my book Reconstruction of Nations, where I discourage it. I am only doing it now since the both the myth and the war persist, and people (even outside Russia) persist in justifying the war by the myth.

By concentrating upon the fundamental legend, the one on which all the others depend, I hope to have shown that the structure itself is empty.

The rules Putin sets down for interpreting the past cannot be accepted.  It is nothing more than fantasy following force. This is the most important point. If we grant that tyrants are right to start wars because of fictions of brothers and babies, because of stories that are not even wrong, then every single corner of the world is subject to invasion and the entire international legal order is void.

Even were we to accept the way Putin thinks about the past, which we absolutely should not do, it would lead to a very different conclusion than he thinks. The best guesses of long-dead monks are not a solid basis for contemporary statehood. The Tale of Bygone Years cannot do what Putin asks of it.

If, in order to exist today, states have to prove their ancient pedigree and their durable ethnic and political history, then Putin would have to accept that there is no basis for the existence of today’s Russian Federation.

Were Putin to follow his own logic, he would not be invading Ukraine, but handing over European Russia to Finland or Sweden.

[shiningdesignersreflections]

Chapter 2: Past Glory

Narrated by Modric.

Narrator: The room may not be spacious, but it's still big enough to accommodate an antique grand piano in the corner.

Narrator: Would you like me to play a song for you?

Narrator: It's a bit long, and not quite a joyful one.

Choose either "I'd like to hear it" or "Why?"

If "hear," ...

You: Sure, I'd like to hear it.

Narrator: I hope you won't find it tedious. Perhaps my song will guide you to the people and tales you're seeking.

If "why," ...

You: Why play the song?

Narrator: Music, colors, emotions... Perhaps my song will help you find the link between them all.

--

Narrator: It's been years since the tragedy at the church. I still have nightmares about the shoving crowds and the screams sometimes.

Narrator: My late father's photo still stood on the piano, next to a potted lily that had wilted from neglect.

Narrator: Everything fell apart then. My family lost our enviable status within days.

Narrator: Mother, once filled to the seams with talent, became too depressed to paint after Father passed.

Narrator: She shut herself in her room, refused to eat, refused to listen. Right now, she was no more than a lifeless marionette.

Narrator: Stacks of blueprints sat idly in the attic, edges curled from the humidity.

Narrator: Half-done sketches of robust dresses lay on the desk, forever unfinished.

Narrator: Father's compositions and personal items were the only things that remained neat and intact in the piano room.

Narrator: A room that no one ever sets foot in now. No one besides me.

Narrator: I'd often sit here alone and reminisce over those days when life was still colorful.

Narrator: Amidst the swirling colors was the silhouette of my teacher.

Narrator: The one who taught me to observe all details and sounds, to sense the mottled colors and myriad emotions in music.

Choose "Teacher?"

You: Your teacher? You mean...

Narrator: You should've heard of him.

Narrator: He was normally very solemn. It was my first impression of him, too.

Young Modric: I want to become an amazing artist... just like the legendary Mr. Leonid!

Narrator: He smiled after asking for my name. A kind, sympathetic smile, yet his words were less than encouraging.

Teacher: You'll never become him.

Narrator: But he later added...

Teacher: And you don't have to become him.

Teacher: Art, like the vast universe, can't be defined by a single standard. You shouldn't strive to become someone else.

Narrator: That was how my teacher was... always talking in a confusing way. Always wearing an old cloak, like a figure in a history book.

Narrator: Father attempted to get a stylish outfit customized for him once, but decided against it after my teacher tried it on.

Fathe: Your original outfit seems to suit your scholarly, classy aura much better.

Narrator: My teacher and I both bought the explanation, until I overheard my father muttering to himself one day.

Young Modric: Turned out Father thought you looked striking in the new outfit. He didn't want Mother to see...

Teacher: ...

Narrator: My parents treated my teacher to expensive caviar and freshly-caught fish once. My teacher simply scowled.

Mom: Don't like the taste?

Narrator: Mother asked. My teacher shook his head.

Teacher: I used to live on the seas. I've had too much fish.

Narrator: Out of respect for my teacher, my parents would often discuss my academic endeavors with him.

Father: Shouldn't Modric start lessons in other subjects soon? Perhaps we should hire some tutors who specialize in those?

Narrator: My teacher fell uncharacteristically silent.

Teacher: What other lessons does he need?

Father: History, mathematics, painting, ancient Pigeon Kingdom languages...

Narrator: That was how my music teacher ended up becoming my teacher in a variety of other subjects.

Narrator: On breezy summer nights, my parents would often invite him to a classic opera performance with us.

Narrator: The lights of the opera house were always so dazzling. I could never decipher the words crowding the pamphlets.

Narrator: So, I'd ask my teacher to explain all those difficult terms to me.

Narrator: He didn't even need to refer to the pamphlets.

Narrator: He'd just ramble on about Pigeon Kingdom history. Many passers-by found it impressive.

Narrator: Some girls from aristocrat families would even approach him.

Narrator: My teacher barely acknowledged them, though, and my parents would have to step in.

Narrator: I wanted to be just like my teacher. I started imitating his fancy handwriting and memorizing ancient Pigeon Kingdom texts.

Narrator: And then it happened. One day, my teacher didn't show up in the piano room when it was time for lessons.

Narrator: And he never showed up again. He vanished just like that, as suddenly as he had entered our lives.

Narrator: I tried to follow his teachings, to observe the hue of each melody, to sense all the colors in the world with my heart.

Narrator: But the colors in the world soon faded away to gray.

Narrator: Back then, I didn't know that gray, too, was a color. Just like how pain, too, was an emotion.

Narrator: Time was a tricky thing. It dragged out painful moments and made happy ones seem fleeting.

Narrator: The sun set. The golden glow cast over the piano was as lovely as that of the sunsets in my memories.

Narrator: I placed my hands on the keyboard, yet could not bring myself to play a single note.

Narrator: Then, a pair of familiar hands appeared in my vision and pressed the first notes of the song I've long stopped practicing.

Narrator: I looked up. Those eyes obscured by the silver strands were still the same, as profound and serene as ever.

Narrator: My teacher had returned.

Chapter 1

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

[mostthingskenobi]

CASSIAN'S RECKONING - Chapter 16: The Rogues

CHAPTER SUMMARY: Some gentle fluff to entice you… Do I have an agenda? Yes, I do. Enjoy!!!

READ THE FIC ON AO3

THIS IS A WHUMPY FIC W/GRAPHIC DEPICTIONS OF VIOLENCE. PLEASE HEED THE TAGS ON AO3.

——————–

CHAPTER 16: THE ROGUES

Describing how the Empire murdered his crewmates had shaken Cassian’s nerve. He stood in the corridor outside the ready room, grinding his teeth, breathing deeply through flared nostrils. Part of him wanted to hide in his quarters and avoid facing anyone, but his more practical nature, the part of his consciousness that guided most of his decisions nowadays, told him isolation was a bad idea in his current state. Solitude would lead to unrestrained self-reflection; sitting alone in a dark room while guilt ate him alive was the last thing he needed.

Instead, he went in search of Rogue Crew. Cassian craved their company, their awkward companionship, their grounding reassurance. He was their official commander, but they were such a mismatch group of dissidents the Alliance wasn’t quite sure how to utilize them. They were lumped into the Intelligence branch but that was a vague rubric. Cassian wondered if the Alliance’s ambiguous approach toward Rogue One had to do with the fact that none of the members, apart from Cassian, were actual sworn-in soldiers. Jyn was the only one who’d been assigned a proper military rank, but there was no guarantee that she or any of the other members would stick around for an extended period. Even so, as long as they remained, they were Cassian’s responsibility.

He found them in the mess hall eating donuts and drinking coffee.

“You all look bored,” he said, sliding into the seat next to Jyn.

“You finally look alive,” Baze replied totally deadpan.

Cassian smiled as he reached past Jyn for a donut.

“Welcome back,” Chirrut said warmly.

“Thanks.” Andor took a bite and gestured at everyone. “What did I miss?”

“We’ve been put on leave,” Bodhi answered. “Well, everyone except for Jyn.”

Cassian looked at her. “Really?”

“No explanation. They all got notified this morning,” she said.

“Maybe because they’re going to call you in for more debriefing?”

Jyn shrugged. “More like they have something especially fun planned for me.”

“It can’t be worse than anything you’ve already done.”

She laughed darkly. “True.”

“I’m on leave too.” Cassian bumped his shoulder against hers. “Sorry you have to miss out on all the relaxation, Lieutenant Erso.”

“Bastard,” she teased.

“Now that you’re better,” Bodhi said enthusiastically, “you should start playing sabacc with us again at night.”

“You’re still doing that?”

“We stopped for a bit.”

“When you got yourself captured and we had to rescue you,” Baze interjected.

Bodhi stuttered, nervous that Andor would be annoyed by the guardian’s jab, but Cassian just laughed. “We’ve started playing again,” the pilot continued. “It helps pass time living on this ship.”

Cassian hated playing cards but Bodhi was right, ship life for a grounded crew could be tedious at best. “Sure, why not.”

“Great!”

“Together again as we should be,” Chirrut smiled.

After a little more chitchat, the group gradually disbanded with the understanding they would meet again after dinner. As they stood and began to part ways, Jyn and Cassian naturally drifted together and walked side by side out into the corridor.

“Thanks for the clothes,” he said, leaning toward her and lowering his voice. “You didn’t have to do all that.”

“Planning on wearing medical pajamas to your debriefing, were you?” she smiled.

“Where did you get them?”

“There’s an exchange on board.”

“Can I pay you back?”

“You can pay me back by never getting into trouble like that again,” she chaffed him. “Anyway, you needed them,” Jyn continued, not giving him time to reply. “You lost everything on Yavin.”

“Except this,” he said pulling down on his jacket. “I don’t know how you managed to save it.”

“I brought it with for some reason. I stuffed it in a duffle before we launched your rescue mission.”

“Did you have another premonition? You always seem to know what’s going to happen.”

She absentmindedly brushed her fingers over the kyber hanging around her neck. “Maybe,” she said, betraying her troubled heart.

After a few silent beats Cassian spoke so quietly Jyn almost couldn’t make out what he said. “I wish I had listened to you.”

She knew he was referring to the last time they walked Rebel corridors together, when she’d tried to warn him about Tarkin. Now there was even more unspoken trauma hanging between them; he felt responsible for their fresh discomfort and she felt nervous that their suffering wasn’t yet over. Cassian was strong and wily and intuitive; seeing him broken and cowering beneath the Empire’s boot, bleeding on a durasteel prison floor, was unsettling to say the least. “I wish you had too,” she replied without reproach. “But nothing that happened was your fault.”

He changed the subject quickly, not ready to dive into the reality of his horror. “Where did they assign your quarters?”

“I have a rack with the rest of Rogue One in the main bunk room.”

“I still can’t believe they have you sleeping in there. You’re an officer, you should have a private room.”

“They don’t have the space for a spare like me. I’m not an officer of your stature; I’m just riffraff from the gutter.” She shrugged, only half joking.

“We were all riffraff in the gutter at one point. That’s why we’re rebels. But you should at least be with the other officers.”

They had made their way back to Cassian’s quarters and were now standing in front of his door. Jyn swept her arm dramatically and said, “You mean living in the lap of luxury like you? How do you like your broom cupboard?” she teased.

“It’s hardly big enough to turn around in.”

“At least it has a door,” she scoffed. “The only thing between me and fifty-nine snoring grunts is a fabric curtain. Do you have any idea how loudly Baze snores?!”

He smiled, enjoying how easy it was to talk to Jyn.

“How long are you on leave?” she asked.

“Four weeks.”

“Wow!”

“I know,” he was genuinely pleased. “The last time I had this much freedom I’d just broken out of prison.”

Jyn had a mischievous twinkle in her eye. “Which time?”

He smirked. “I only broke out once.”

She looked offended. “I beg your pardon, but doesn’t breaking out of Tarkin’s cellblock count for anything?”

“Technically you broke me out.”

“I did.” She smiled and crossed her arms over her chest in mock bravado. “I’m quite proud of myself.

“You planning to go anywhere?” she eventually asked.

“I’m not allowed to leave the ship. They’re keeping tight control over who comes and goes until they find a new base.”

“So, you’ll be around?”

“Looks that way.”

She couldn’t deny she was glad.

“Any idea why they didn’t grant you leave?”

She threw up her hands. “No, and I’m a little nervous about it. Why everyone but me?”

“They haven’t given you any assignments?”

“Nothing.”

“And you’ve already been debriefed?”

“A few days ago. They had me hand in the IT-O databank and they debriefed me at the same time.”

“You just handed it in a few days ago?”

“When we brought you into the Redemption’s medical bay, we arrived way ahead of most of the fleet. They were all still in the battle over Yavin while you were floating in a bacta tank. Draven and Mothma just arrived.”

“Did you…” he suddenly looked nervous. “Did you watch any of it?”

She took a step closer but didn’t touch him; she didn’t want to invade his physical autonomy after he had been manhandled by the Empire. “No,” she said gently. “Of course not.”

“I wouldn’t blame you if you had.”

“I saw everything I needed to see in person.”

Cassian’s jaw tighten as his gaze drifted down and away. “That was the worst moment,” he finally said quietly, “when I saw you. I thought they’d captured you.” His eyes became dark as he stared at nothing. “Tarkin said he would make me watch while he tortured you.”

Jyn was horrified by the notion but tried to hide it from Cassian.

“I don’t think anything scares me more than the thought of them doing to you what they did to me. I’d rather live through it all again than ever have them lay a hand on you.”

Jyn bit her lip, fear and anger and guilt getting the better of her. “Cass,” she breathed.

He abruptly looked up at her, startled by the nickname.

“I’m…” she didn’t know what to say. Sorry felt grossly inadequate.

He stared down at her, his expression intense and troubled. “Thank you for coming after me,” he whispered. “I’m glad you came when you did. I think if they’d had the chance to move me to the Death Star no one would have been able to find me.”

Her eyes became fierce. “I would have broken down every single door until I’d found you.”

Emotion flickered across his face before he managed to subdue it. “You risked a lot to save me.”

“I’d risk everything to save you, Cassian.”

Each understood the weight of their confessions.

Jyn’s commlink suddenly beeped loudly in her vest pocket. She reluctantly broke eye contact with Cassian and reached for it. He waited patiently while she retrieved the message. “All officers are being called in to a briefing about the state of the fleet. You want to come or do you want to officially be on leave?”

He shook his head. “I’m going to sleep for a while. But fill me in later?”

She nodded. “Of course.” They shared a warm, knowing smile before she turned and headed up the passageway toward the ship’s central hub.

END NOTES

NEXT CHAPTER IS CALLED "THE ABSOLUTION" - Cassian's demons are still hovering in the background. He and Jyn share a very meaningful moment.

Thank you for reading!

Likes, comments, and reblogs are very welcome!

Much love!

——————–

READ IT ON AO3- Kudos and Comments Welcome :-)

READ CHAPTER 1 “The Razor”

READ CHAPTER 2 “The Scythe”

READ CHAPTER 3 “The Cold”

READ CHAPTER 4 “The Expendable”

READ CHAPTER 5 “The Truth”

READ CHAPTER 6 “The Detritus”

READ CHAPTER 7 “The Salt”

READ CHAPTER 8 “The Power”

READ CHAPTER 9 “The Betrayal”

REACH CHAPTER 10 “The Ruse”

READ CHAPTER 11 “The Reprieve”

READ CHAPTER 12 “The Ghosts”

READ CHAPTER 13 “The Redemption”

READ CHAPTER 14 “The Spoils”

READ CHAPTER 15 “The Interrogation”

READ CHAPTER 16 "The Rogues"

READ CHAPTER 17 “The Absolution”

READ CHAPTER 18 “The Reach”

READ CHAPTER 19 “The Hologram”

READ CHAPTER 20 “The Divide”

READ CHAPTER 21 “The Cost”

READ CHAPTER 22 “The Fallout”

READ CHAPTER 23 “The Wounds”

READ CHAPTER 24 “The Hand”

READ CHAPTER 25 “The Heart”

READ CHAPTER 26 “The Beginning”

[resurrection-of-soul]

Flashback | PSYCHOBREAK 15

Writer: Akira (日日日)

Characters: Koga, Adonis

Kaoru: It’s been quite a while since you last called me “Playboy.” I never mentioned it, but I don’t actually dislike that nickname or anything. In fact, hearing you politely call me “senpai” is, like, kinda gross~

[ For the best viewing experience, please read directly on my blog! ♪ ]

Kaoru: Okay, okay, settle down~♪ You don’t wanna appear all flustered and uncool, right, you two?

Koga: …!? Hakaze-senpai!

Adonis: Is that you, senpai? I mean, are you two the real deal?

Kaoru: Yup. Sorry we’re late. We heard HELLSING was going on a national tour, but, geez! You kept getting further and further away from ES. Catching up was like, super hard. Right, Rei-kun?

Rei: Indeed. Furthermore, there were other pressing matters demanding our attention, so I was quite concerned we would not arrive in time.

Koga: Even Sakuma-senpai is… Wh-what’re you doing here? Don’t you guys have your own shit to deal with, like those silly variety shows!?

Rei: Naturally, we've already taken care of those matters. We are not prone to such oversight, after all. We anticipated this situation and prepared accordingly, making arrangements with the staff and other performers to record a considerable amount of footage in advance. Thus, there is no great hurry for us to return at the moment.

Adonis: How very like you, Sakuma-senpai. How much of this did you predict?

Rei: Kukuku. I can only foresee a small fraction of what is to come, but even that small piece can sometimes be enough to determine one’s fate. 'Tis for that reason I always ensure my preparations are in order. It is as straightforward as that. No longer do I hate the world, shutting myself away from it within my coffin. To avoid falling into mourning once more, I shall learn from thy example, Adonis, and give my utmost.

Koga: That’s right. Get to work, ya Vampire Bastard~ Don’t just spend all yer time dozin’ off without a care.

Koga: I mean, seriously, man… Ya always make me so damn worried. Because ya hardly move at all, I start worryin’ ya might have gone off n’ died!

Rei: I shan’t die. Being alive is enjoyable, you see. Furthermore, I have come to recognize that you are individuals possessed of rare and noble character who shall not rely solely upon me, but rather attempt to overcome difficulties on your own― Nay, I already knew. I have known it from the very first time UNDEAD stood on stage, and that conviction hath only grown day by day. Therefore, I can rest assured. So long as I am with you all, I am certain I shall never feel that being alive is tedious. That certainty is truly appreciated. I’ve been saved.

Kaoru: Ah geez, as usual, everything Rei-kun says is, like, totally cryptic, so let me give you a concrete explanation. And Rei-kun, in the future, instead of just making vague philosophical statements, you have to make sure to explain things clearly, okay?

Rei: Sure thing, mom.

Kaoru: You just stepped on a landmine on purpose, didn’t you?

Rei: Because I am quite certain you all shall love and accept me no matter what, I can make such jokes with confidence.

Kaoru: I’m gonna kick you. …Anyway, we’re in the middle of a live performance, so I’ll keep things short. Rei-kun and I returned to the dream world. In that dream of the past, we found the mastermind behind this incident…and defeated him. That’s why our fakes are bugging out and on the verge of shutting down, see? The person controlling them was neutralized, so they’ve lost control.

Koga: Huh? What? The hell’re ya talkin’ about, Playboy!?

Kaoru: It’s been quite a while since you last called me “Playboy.” I never mentioned it, but I don’t actually dislike that nickname or anything. In fact, hearing you politely call me “senpai” is, like, kinda gross~ And it makes me feel a bit lonely since it feels so distant. On top of all that, seeing the unruly Koga-kun acting like a good kid is totally off-putting~

Koga: Oh shit, my bad. I’ve been callin’ the fakes “Vampire Bastard~” n’ “Playboy,” so it just kinda slipped out.

Kaoru: Like I just said, it’s fine. Anyways, what’s the problem? Do you have any questions?

Koga: I ain’t got nothin’ but questions…! The hell do you mean, ya defeated the mastermind!? Who even was the mastermind!? We didn’t know jack shit about their identity up ‘til now! This ain’t some cancelled manga! Ya can’t just suddenly defeat some powerful villain off-screen!

Rei: The mastermind ‘twas not truly all that grand of a villain. You see, the culprit behind this incident was just the sort of trivial, insignificant person one can find anywhere. Seeing as he called himself a “vampire,” I shall simply refer to the mastermind as “Dracula-kun” for the time being.

Koga: Not that it really matters what they’re called, but… “Vampire”? That name came up a bunch in our past― or rather, in that dream we had, right?

Rei: Aye. We knew no groups by that name in truth. It is a name which only appears in that distorted retelling of history. I suspected that the mastermind behind this incident would also be the one at the root of that distortion. After all, I rather doubted that the culprit’s only goal was to show us amusing dreams. He must have had dreams ― desires ― of his own. There must have been something he hoped to accomplish with all this.

Adonis: You honed in on the culprit by uncovering his motives?

Rei: Indeed. ‘Tis the backbone of any mystery novel, no? Who caused the incident, why, and how? Analyze each piece of evidence, speculate as to the answers, and deduce the truth. Fortunately, the culprit in this particular incident was somewhat careless. He left behind plenty of evidence, making the deduction rather straightforward. Firstly, we identified who committed the crime, and it was none other than one of my former devotees, like those “vampires” from our dream. In other words, he was one of the delinquents who was exterminated by us in that past incident. He idolized me, worshiped me without my consent, and sought to become my successor… But was ultimately crushed by the student council and lost to history as just another one of Yumenosaki’s corrupt students.

Rei: The culprit, “Dracula-kun,” was sacrificed as one of the cornerstones of the student council's revolution. Yet, despite being handed such a harsh judgment, he showed no remorse. Without repentance, he repeated his mistakes.

Koga: ……

Rei: He refused to accept it. He could not understand why he had been subjected to such suffering. He simply felt it was unfair. Frustrated and dissatisfied, he convinced himself that the current situation, that history itself, was wrong… …And so he attempted to rewrite history, setting it upon the “correct” course. In his mind, he envisioned an ideal, righteous world where he was my closest companion, my friend, disciple, and loyal subject — someone loved by me above all else.

Kaoru: This might sound kinda flippant but isn’t that like, basically just us?

Rei: Indeed. The culprit behind this incident was a pitiful ghost who longed for immortality, but was unable to achieve it. Frankly speaking, it is quite probable that he wished to become a part of "UNDEAD."

[ ☆ ]

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[jimpluff]

Godzilla x Kong: First Impressions

Short review: Delicious fast food kaiju

A little bit longer now (avoiding spoilers and just giving overall impressions, so feel free to read even if you haven't seen yet): No, really, this movie's tickets should literally come with a Happy Meal set and one of the blind crystal mini figures. It is a very specific, deceptively expertly crafted junk food pleasure that I sometimes find hard not to love.

I went in expecting a passable but somewhat embarrassing mess. It was a lot better than that, and I actually think Wingard is something of a genius at walking a particular action/comedy/blockbuster tightrope. So many elements are done just enough to satisfy, not so much as to annoy or ever slow the pacing, just the right amount of comic relief, and a sprinkling of drama that's actually fairly tasteful despite being puddle deep. He's also quite the visionary for thinking up ridiculous moments that pay off enough to make you forgive how outrageous they are. I genuinely laughed several times, a first for a MonsterVerse movie, and there really wasn't a tedious moment.

And the thing that will catch the most flak? The new mantra that will annoy the Godzilla world more than even Can't Bin the Shin? Ackshully, Godzilla x Kong is quite a lot like a Showa film.

A few other statements: +Bernie is the best human character in the Monsterverse, and it's not close. +The humor and the Easter eggs in this movie were both done more deftly than in any other Monsterverse film. Did you all catch the 2014 poster in Bernie's place? Did you catch "Punch punch punch?"

+The music was cool, and I'm happy Wingard really put his '80s electronic, neon light stamp on this movie. His confidence in his own tastes shone on virtually every frame, and even when I didn't share every particular preference, it was just a pleasure to see a filmmaker commit to it, even knowing some would sneer. +I was skeptical about all the monkey business, but it was actually all right, and Skar King was cool enough. Shimo looked fairly impressive, too, and grew on me the more it reminded me of Ray Harryhausen's dragon from The Seventh Voyage of Sinbad. + I'm tempted to make a midwit curve meme with GxK on the dumb and brilliant ends and Godzilla Minus One at the 85-115 curve. But that would be hurtful, so I won't. (for the curve peakers - this is a joke)

Criticisms -The biggest one, which others noted and which was apparent from the trailers, was the cartoonish movement of the kaiju. This was most an issue in the final battle, which would have benefitted from a little more money and time just to make it feel more impactful. But the whole movie is loaded with action and Shit Happening that, drawn out toooooo much more, and it could have felt exhausting like KoTM sometimes did. Again, Wingard has a supernatural sense for how long he can get away with things and played it safe and light. -By now, I'm sure everyone knows about Kong's glove. How he gets it is almost laughably glazed over, but again, Wingard knows we don't really care for a drawn-out explanation and sequence there. The ridiculousness of it and the visual flair with how it's executed makes you throw up your hands and say, yeah, I mean that was dumb as hell but pretty sick, and here comes the next crazy moment. -Less a criticism than an anticipation of the objections to positive reviews, but yes, if this type of movie were all the Godzilla franchise had to offer, I think I would tire of it. But we already had Sukiyabashi Jiro level sushi in Shin Godzilla and Gion Kyoto-level Kaiseki-ryori in Minus One. It's cool to also treat the palate with a McDonald's double cheeseburger, fries, and a classic Coke whose sugary sludge we know is going to lead us to needing a very special false tooth. There are many kinds of pleasures in the world.

[classiqals]

closed starter -> @tormxntum

setting -> in a thick patch of woods some ways from the lal qila palace, as night begins to darken, the further reaches of the property considered to the sharma's, probably the edge of guard detail or such

having finally drawn up the courage to venture out beyond sight of the palace, despite having initially been perturbed by the fact her arrival was greeted with an arrest, henriette had been enjoying her long trek through the undeveloped woods that sprawled behind the farm fields behind the lal qila palace. until her horse bolted. thunder sounded in the far distance, and to her dismay ( and sore knee, stickying the fine fabrics of her petticoat with blood and muck from the thawing ground ) henriette was beginning to doubt her ability to walk the miles back to the palace before the rain would hit. she'd never feared the dark back home, nor felt at risk of being lost.

everything felt different here; even the air itself were unfriendly. the trees loomed too in too close like they had eyes desperate to pry, and the animal tracks that she tried to follow were unfamiliar. child of the wild, indeed. henri was beginning to doubt this moniker, so heartwarmingly given by the townsfolk back home.

and yet - she felt at home, with her riding boots now hanging by their laces haphazardly in tow, feet bare against the cold ground and stockings shoved into a slight slit of her skirts, from the tumblr off her horse. should it rain and pour, as the evening sky threatened, henriette fancied herself a tree to scale, to shelter under the branches. a princess not, did the woman appear, as she trekked the tedious horse's path back towards her lodging. when an echo of hoofbeats came against the rocky outcrop, she froze - frightful, naturally, of another accusation of being an intruder, and nearly bolted to hide behind the nearest large anything to avoid another capture. but she moved too slow, and was more of a deer in headlights when the silhouette approached from the path ahead. " i am not an intruder! " henriette announced confidently to them, putting on the practiced voice of a princess, she'd taken the better part of a decade to master. " so do not detain me, sir, for i have already served my time. " a slight sniff of indignation, despite her slight wild appearance that could suggest otherwise. " i am a princess of madagascar, and before you ask, no. i am not lost. just perhaps... a bit left behind. " the explanation was concluded with her holding up her other hand, the one free of her boots, to show the broken bridal from the horse she'd been previously riding.

[apoptomon]

The recently released mission in STO was pretty cool--well, the fights with a Borg octahedron and unimatrix were more tedious than anything--but the rest was neat.

I've long had a not-really-serious headcanon that my Federation Captain got infused with regeneration nanites during the game's original tutorial, as an explanation for constantly dying and reviving on ground combat missions, so it extra neat to see it (assimilation) finally happen in the game's storyline.

Plus, you get the Borg costume parts as a mission reward, so even though in the story Bashir can magic them away, I've kept the headpieces on my captain for now, so that the consequences can last a bit longer.

[sayakxmi]

[Magi rewatch] Episode 6: Warrior Tribe Fanalis [Part 1]

I feel like part of the reason I'm just UGH about having to do this, besides the obvious stuff I've mentioned 300x times, is the fact that I really want to get to the later arcs, which includes the upcoming Balbadd Arc. So I'm just sitting here. Impatiently. Bc I want to be there already, y'know? Oh well.

Also, I'm considering something a little different, partially bc reading the entire arc, and then watching the entire arc is kind of... Hmmm. It is a bit tedious, I won't lie. Plus it feels kinda weird to just do it twice one after another. The idea is, then, to so it more or less at the same time: x number of chapters, then the episode that covers them. It's both because I think it'd be a better experience for me, AND because the upcoming arcs can get pretty long. Like, we're talking 45 chapters/11 episodes for the Balbadd Arc, it just makes sense not to go through it twice. No matter how much I like these arcs, it's just too fucking long to do it that way.

Anyway, PSA over, time for the actual episode.

Hello there, character who's never appeared in this anime.

I usually don't comment on this stuff, but damn, I wish more characters were allowed to have dark skin in this series. Like, it'd make more sense, like, for geography-biology reasons. But lemme tell you, Ohtaka and geography... Let's just say it's not her strong suit. Have you ever seen how she draws the world maps and the Dark Continent specifically? It makes no fucking sense. The best explanation I can provide is that it's just people imagining how the DC looks, since no one was there, as in, beyond the Rift. They're just guessing.

Anyway. Geography rant over.

In the manga their clothes look more SIndria-like bc of the lack of colors, but here you're kinda wondering. But still, my money's on Sindria bc they specifically mention that their country has no slaves, and the two notable no-slavery countries are Balbadd and Sindria. And their clothes don't look very Balbadd. Seriously, sans the colors, it looks very Sindria, actually. Then again, do all Sindria people have to wear white? So it still makes sense, I guess.

Also, seeing Leila again makes me miss Thousand Miles a bit. But that story frustrated me too much at some point. Mostly bc I've lost motivation for it, but, like, aggressively, and just kept on getting notifications for it, even though I've had some stories I was actually proud of, but nope, only that one got the attention. It became annoying over time & I ended up deleting the story completely. In case somebody recalls that story & always wondered wtf happened to it.

Mor.

Also, really, Mor, bc when Aladdin says it, it's Moru-san, but if you go with Morg it's some sort of Morugi-san. Pretty different.

Also, man, Leila's voice just dosen't fit her in my head.

Walkin.

Now I kinda realize that Alibaba's probably the only one who never met these two. Gdi, he seriously always misses out on everything.

Honestly, I really love the lightning in this anime. They make choices I disapprove of, and the animation can get damn sloppy (and art, too), but the colors are always awesome.

Also, wonder how things would've gone if Morgiana stayed with these two.

"I have to come back to my homeland. I promised that to my benefactor." NOW, MY DREAMS ARE WITHIN MY REACH-

Good moment to put the op with these words.

Honestly, I like the scenery in the anime, too.

Gdi, I seriously miss Leila. Also, in the anime she is the one to bump into Fatima.

Lonely.

Tbh, it does look pretty.

Any time Jamil appears I'm thinking abt Ohtaka writing in these extra papers stuff like "I should've talked with Master more" or that she should've tried to talk with him in general, like, god fucking dammit Ohtaka and her dumb Forgive Everything agenda.

No Goltas? -throws down the phone-

Ok, but we have Leila looking out for her, that's actually sweet.

She's offering her some herbs for nightmares, and even calls her a friend. Gdi.

Like, I get that they're probably making up for the characterization they don't have in the anime, but I'm sending it percisely bc she talks about being saved by Sahsa and a mysterious boy. Which never happened in the anime, lmao.

Still, overall, it was a very sweet moment.

MOON

But also. What is wrong with you, why are you (always) blue.

Also, cool music.

I swear, whenever I see a male character with painted lips, who happens to be a despicable person (I'd have two nickles- finish the line), I'm just like... is it lowkey transphobic or am I overthinking it... But also, I wouldn't put it past Ohtaka. I mean, with the joke about the best courtesans looking so manly etc.

Hello.

He's about to be surprised.

And he was.

Mob vs one Fanalis is a very unfair fight. They're about to be murdered.

Whoosh.

Also, I'm starting to think that maybe Ohtaka just really likes the moon aesthetic.

Listen, it's pretty damn close to the manga, I have nothing new to say, so I'm offering you some low quality Morgiana.

Ohtaka let Morgiana wreck shit she loves it 2k23. Nearly 2k24, Jesus.

Understandable reaction.

Evil birb.

He. He has the high ground.

RIP

WASTED

[nilsavatar]

You don’t have to answer this it’s ok, I’m just genuinely curious on how you come up with a full Navi name. I get the structure a bit but how does one come up with a Navi last name? This is a stupid question Ik😭

Hi there and thank you for asking for my advice!🥰 I hope I don’t get too technical in my explanation, but consider it a professional distortion because I specialize in this very field. I will try to keep it as simple as possible but don’t hesitate to ask me further questions if you want to go deeper. Also, no question is stupid, and all deserve an answer. It is right to ask anything about what you doubt or are curious about. If you find someone in me who can satisfy them, I’ll gladly answer, even if within the limits of my knowledge🥹

Na’vi is an arbitrarily created language, like Esperanto, and this makes it a little easier to grasp and study than a natural language, as grammar and phonetics should have no exceptions because of the evolution of the language in time and space. Although Na’vi actually does have them in pronunciation due to actor errors that have become canonical.

Fictional languages for cinematic use have become a very serious area of filmmaking, particularly in historical, fantasy, and sci-fi. James Cameron's will for the Na'vi language to sound authentic is no surprise. The aim was for it to sound alien, but for it to be replicable by the actors, whether they were playing natives or humans approaching the language. So, basically, it involved the phonatory apparatus of the Na’vi being similar if not identical to the human one, but the sounds produced were mixed to make them sound from another world. Paul Frommer (the Na’vi language inventor) combined elements from various languages, including Polynesian, Eastern European, Japanese, and Swahili. From Japanese and Swahili in particular, he took the agglutinative structure. Swahili is a lingua franca that arose from trade between the inhabitants of the East African coast and the Arabs, from whom it has been heavily influenced.

I am doing all this tedious background because the structure of full names in Na’vi is derived from Arabic more or less (Arabic names are far more complex).

Neteyam te Suli Tsyeyk’itan = Neteyam of Sully (family) son of Jake >> te is the particle of belonging to something/someone [a borrowing of the Japanese particle の]. Tuktirey te Suli Neytiri’ite = Tuktirey of Sully (family) daughter of Neytiri >> in the case of words preceded by an apostrophe [‘itan/‘ite and so on], the particle dropped, but the positions between the two objects are reversed.

Just as in Arabic, Na’vi emphasizes from whom you descend, and whose child you are. For male names, one looks to the paternal line, and for female names to the maternal line.

I hope my long introduction did not confuse you and that this was the answer you were looking for. I tried to cram in as much information as possible without getting bogged down. But to give a dry answer on the structure of Na'vi names without at least an excursion into the language itself seemed to me to be fragmentary.

If you’re interested, there are portals on the Internet to generate names, divided into male and female. I recommend this one: https://www.fantasynamegenerators.com/avatar-names.php I use it when I don't know what to call my characters, especially to vary with family names. There are also forums for learning grammar, and phrases. But I recommend you first start with the Na'vi dictionary compiled by Mark Miller and authorized by Frommer, with phonetics and basics. Beware of automatic translators, they are poorly done.

💕Thank you again for asking me. I'm flattered beyond words!💕