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flowerandblood · 7 months ago

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The Lost Haven (8/16)

[ modern mafia • Aemond x niece • female ]

[ warnings: incest obviously, smut, the angst, broad description of suicide attempt (blood), forbidden relationship, half-manipulation, imprisonment, mention of murder, kind of toxic behaviour, violence, uncomfortable conversations, bad, bad things ]

[ description: The vacation from eight years ago still haunts his memories and doesn't let him forget what happened between him and his niece, the daughter of his sister and Harwin Strong. Their paths separate and he immerses himself in his father's mafia world until the day she calls him for the first time since those events. Sexual tension, dark, dangerous, withdrawn, thirsty Aemond. ]

Author’s note: As promised, this is another, this time official modern version of The Fall from the Heavens. In this version, Daemon is not related to the family, but is simply Rhaenyra's husband and the leader of the second gang, Alys and Larys are also not related to each other, but Larys is Harwin's brother. I will partly refer to the original series, hiding some easter eggs, and some will be a completely new, fresh plot. As in every universe, only Aemond calls her Rhaenys and this is not her real name (she is unnamed character and the others also do not know that he calls her that). There will be a lot more brutality and angst in this version, so watch out. You can read this as a standalone story.

Series & Characters Moodboard Aemond & Rhaenys Moodboard

* English is not my first language. Please, do not repost. Enjoy! *

Next chapters: Masterlist

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She knew that she was paying for her naivety and stupidity, for not listening to Daemon and her premonition. She wasn't even able to fully blame her uncle for what had happened, because even though he was the one who had imprisoned her, she had thrown herself into his arms herself.

She let him thrust into her body, she let him fill herself with his warm seed, thinking that perhaps there was a way for them, no matter how twisty and difficult.

Lying in his room on his bed, pretending she didn't see his pleading, desperate looks in her direction, she had plenty of time to think about herself and her life.

She realised that everything she was doing, her naivety, her desire to help him stemmed from the belief that if it was possible to fix him, to set him on the right path, to free him from this sullen, dark fate, there was also hope for her.

The hope that one day there would come a moment in her life when she would feel peace.

Meanwhile, instead of peace, something else filled her.

Emptiness.

She felt nothing when it turned out that he had taken her phone, when he locked his room door when he left, when he spoke to her or asked her something.

She pretended that all this wasn't happening, that she was actually on the beach, gazing out at the endless sea, listening to its sound.

She couldn't bear the sight of him, the smell of him, his touch, and everything she had dreamed of and held dear became, in her eyes, foreign and hated: hearing him, she felt as if a stranger, with whom she wanted nothing to do, was speaking to her.

She did not want his explanations.

His apology.

She felt nothing, experienced nothing, needed nothing.

She didn't even feel the need to go home: even if she were free again, it wouldn't change anything.

Her uncle had broken something in her and they both knew it.

Her heart trembled in sympathy and grief only at the sight of Helaena: his sister had been patient, warm and affectionate caretaker towards her. They did not, however, usually exchange even a word.

There was no need: she knew that Helaena was a hostage and prisoner of her family as much as she was, and that there was nothing she could do to help her.

"I'm worried about Aemond." She said one time, handing her a towel in the bathroom.

She could have covered herself with a curtain in the bath, but Helaena needed to be in the room with her.

They wanted to be sure she wouldn't hurt herself.

She looked at her and put on the T-shirt she got from her that served as her pyjamas.

She didn't answer.

She didn't know what.

Helaena looked at her fingers, playing with them in a nervous gesture exactly as her brothers had done, all probably inheriting it from their mother.

"I caught him browsing your Instagram account one evening, couple of months ago. He was sitting in the living room with a drink and thought he was alone. He was about to do something with our grandfather. He didn't hear me come downstairs and freaked out. He turned off his app as soon as he saw me."

She looked at her in disbelief, feeling a squeeze in her heart, discomfort, pain and heat ripple through her body at the thought that, contrary to what she thought, he hadn't forgotten her at all.

"I tried to help him and he took advantage of me. Forgive me, but I am no longer able to sympathise with him." She whispered, picking up her things from the floor. His sister swallowed hard, looking up at her.

"Since that night. Since our father died. Since he saw you. For a moment, something changed in him. He seemed content. Calmer than usual. He told me he was thinking of going to university part-time. I didn't know you were the one helping him with that." She muttered, stepping closer to her, looking somewhere to the side, as if distracted.

"You can't save someone who doesn't want it." She said in a trembling voice, wondering what she wanted from her, how could she think that after what he had done to her she would care about his decisions and what he chose to do.

He had mocked her, objectified her, humiliated her.

He left her with nothing, stripped her of all virtues and values.

"Our grandfather knows when to act like part of the family and when to act like a ruler. He does this to each of us. He knows our weaknesses. Our unfulfilled desires, our flaws, our complexes. He knows who among us is the most miserable, the most vulnerable. The most weak." She said, avoiding eye contact with her, looking around the room, tense.

She pressed her clothes to her chest, feeling the squeeze in her throat at her words, the sympathy and pain that showed she was no different from him.

They both were weak.

They always were, even then, during that summer.

They were sad, hopeless and small children, finding each other in the end, comforting one another with their presence.

"I can't help him anymore. He's made his decision and I'm here. I don't think there's anything more we can say to each other."

That night she couldn't sleep: he hadn't been back for a long time wherever he was, and the thought that perhaps someone had shot him or taken revenge on him didn't fill her with peace.

Despite everything she felt, she didn't want him to die.

She shuddered when she heard footsteps in the corridor and then the sound of a key turning in the lock. She closed her eyes and pretended to be asleep when he came inside, closing the door behind him.

She heard him pull off his jacket and shoes, trying not to make any noise, and then he came towards her, leaning over her with a quiet sigh. She swallowed hard when he gently covered her with the duvet, when his wide, warm hand combed through her hair as if she were a small child.

She was furious with herself that she felt tears under her eyelids as soon as he pulled away and lay down on the mattress, when she heard him say hello to Vhagar, who licked his fingers.

She was furious that some part of her still craved his closeness, that his touch made her feel safe, just as it had then, that summer.

The only joy in her days filled with shame and grief was Vhagar.

Her uncle's dog was gigantic and had big brown eyes. Vhagar was as distrustful as he was and did not approach her at first, but watched her closely as she lay on the floor, and when she held out her hand to her, she sniffed the air, wanting to smell her with her large, black, wet nose.

Like him, Vhagar required patience and understanding, respecting her barriers.

Eventually, however, she allowed herself to be touched, sealing her acceptance with a long, sticky lick from which her fingers were all moist. Being with her and touching her soft, warm fur was a form of therapy for her: she couldn't find comfort in his arms even though she craved it, and she knew he was dying to touch her.

However, if she broke down and let him, she would lose the remnants of her self-respect and her own dignity.

Although she tried to reject these thoughts and feelings that filled her, what she had repressed during the day came back to her in her dream: she saw her uncle lying in a pool of blood, his face cut, his eyes gouged out in revenge for what he had done to one of the men who had not paid him on time.

The scream she let out seemed inhuman to her and she didn't even know she had really let it out. She pulled herself up on the bed, terrified by the darkness and the fact that she did not recognise the room she was in when she heard something move on the floor.

"– Rhaenys? – Rhaenys, what happened? –" She heard his voice and looked at him with big eyes, whooping with her own tears, sobbing loudly as she felt relieved despite everything he had done to her.

He was alive.

"– did you have a bad dream? –" He asked, looking at her with a sincere worry from which she felt pain in her heart, thinking in disbelief that she wanted to throw herself into his arms and cuddle up to him.

"– hey – hey, baby – it's okay –" He whispered soothingly, rising slowly, approaching her uncertainly. She lifted her shoulders up, simultaneously wanting and not wanting this.

She felt a pleasant shiver as he sat down beside her, his hand gently touching her shoulder.

She swallowed hard when he dared to put his other hand on her head and sank his face into her neck – she felt like bursting into sobs feeling his familiar scent, his familiar warmth, her body relaxing involuntarily into his embrace against her will.

"– shhh – easy – easy, little one – no one will hurt you –" He assured her, only to sink his face into the top of her head a moment later, stroking her shuddering body soothingly with his hands.

You've already done it, she thought with pain.

The person before whom she was most vulnerable, whom she allowed to touch her naked body, whom she allowed to be deep inside her, as intimate as possible.

She thought, feeling her body convulsing as she tried to calm her breathing, that she had nothing left.

"– I'm not sure I want to live anymore –" She mumbled out, surprising herself with these words that came straight from her heart.

She heard him draw in the air loudly, terrified, rocking her in his embrace as if she were a small child.

"– no – don’t say that – it won’t take long – my grandfather is in contact with your mother – they will soon come to an agreement and you will return home –" He whispered as if he thought that was what she meant.

That she just wanted to go home.

"– you broke my heart –" She said, wanting him to understand that her going back anywhere wouldn't change anything, because what he had done to her no place could fix.

She didn't really care now where she was or what was happening to her.

She felt regret towards herself that when she heard him burst out crying she involuntarily felt sympathy for him.

"– forgive me – I regret this like nothing else in my life, I swear – I will spend my life trying to make it up to you –" He muttered, his warm, full lips starting to place wet, lingering, desperate kisses on her face, wanting to somehow soften her words and what she had said, but she felt worse and worse.

"– I love you – I love you in every sense of the word –"

Lie.

"– I don't believe you –"

She heard him wail quietly, hugging her as tightly as if he wanted to break her bones, melt into one with her so she could never escape him again.

"– I understand it – and I don't dare ask for it –" He whispered with difficulty, and she clenched her eyes shut, herself feeling the hot tears one by one begin to run down her face.

They were just empty words that couldn't change anything.

"– that feeling I had inside me was the only thing that allowed me to breathe – and you took it away from me –" She whined into his neck, finally saying what she had been feeling all this time, the regret, the disappointment, the terror and the emptiness she felt deep inside her flowed out of her mouth.

She was sure he was going to start denying it, saying he would make it up to her, but instead she heard his mournful cry, his kisses on her face, neck and shoulders loud, sticky, ravenous, his breath heavy and raspy, making her feel a pleasant tickle between her thighs in spite of herself.

"– I love you – I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you so fucking much –" He mumbled out and she snuggled into him harder, wanting to hurt and comfort him at the same time, to reject and accept him deep inside her.

Some part of her wanted to believe him again.

She gasped, surprised to feel her nipples grow hard, to feel her warm cunt pulsate around nothing as his broad hand slid slowly under her t-shirt, trailing down her back while his swollen lips did not pull away from her bare skin.

"– I love you –" He assured her, the strokes of his hand, his wet, hot lips increasingly ambiguous and intimate, the tips of his fingers trailing down her spine, making a wonderful shiver run through her again and again, from which she finally moaned.

"– you hurt me –" She mumbled out regretfully through her tears, inhaling his scent, hating him for how good she felt with him, hating him for how much she wanted him, hating him for needing him so badly and him taking advantage of her.

"– no more – I swear – all I want is you –" He breathed out, pressing her tighter to him, her lips in some subconscious, involuntary reflex brushing against his neck, tasting his sweat and his perfume.

"– please – please, baby, please –" He exhaled, their fingers clenching tighter on their bodies, proving where this was going, how much they both needed comfort, reassurance, a moment of pleasure and warmth, what only they could give each other.

She shuddered and froze when she felt his hand slide down her back to her bare buttocks, digging his fingers into them, feeling the cold sweat on her neck.

She pushed him away, panting heavily, and quickly moved away, pressing her back against the cold wall. She looked at him with big eyes, feeling her whole body quiver with desire, her cunt pulsing greedily, dripping all over from her wetness.

"– no – no, no, no, you're doing this to me again –" She cried out, shaking her head, horrified at the effect he had on her, how easily he manipulated her.

She was a stupid idiot, exactly as Daemon had said.

Her uncle shook his head, moving closer to her, in some pathetic, helpless gesture grabbing her calves, kissing her knees as if he wanted to fall to her feet.

"– no, I swear – I want you so badly –"

"– your grandfather told you to do this? – to soften me up so that in case my mother didn't agree he would get shares in her companies through me? –" She asked with anger, thinking that surely that was the case, that this was just part of their plan.

She couldn't let them down, she couldn't make a fool of herself once again.

Her uncle looked at her with eyes red from tears, his face all swollen, his lips parted in a heavy, raspy breaths.

"– no – I was the one who demanded that I could be by your side – that no one but me could bother you – to make sure you were safe –" He muttered and she shook her head, thinking she couldn't believe him.

"– I want to go to sleep – I want to go to sleep –" She mumbled out, herself no longer knowing what she was feeling or thinking.

She turned her face to the wall and hugged its cold structure as if she wanted to melt into it, the space between her thighs hot and wet, throbbing from the tension that filled her entire lower abdomen.

She pursed her lips into a thin line when she felt him clamp his hand on her waist, his face pressed against her back.

"– I'm sorry – I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry – please, don't reject me – I promise I'll be good now – I'm studying, I'm going to take my exams, I'm going to go to university – please, be there for me – it doesn't matter without you – my life doesn't matter if I can't share it with you –" He whined pleadingly, falling into hysteria, bursting out in such a loud, pitiful, almost childish cry that she began to weep herself, not knowing what to do, where to go to escape the chaos of feelings and thoughts that were filling her head.

Although she wanted to, she couldn't push him away after those words and she let him fall asleep cuddled into her back.

The next day, lying down, staring at the wall, waiting for him to wake up, she looked between her and the bed and saw something shiny on the floor. She slipped her hand into the gap and when she caught it, she thought with a heavy beating heart that it was the blade to a small bookbinding knife.

She swallowed loudly as she grasped it in her fingers and slowly raised her hand, slipping it into her towel that lay on the chair just above her head.

He had told her that day that her mother would try to reach an agreement with them if she could see her.

She thought with disgust and shame that her mother and Daemon would have to sacrifice what was rightfully theirs because she had been stupid and naive, because she had disobeyed them, because she had shown thoughtlessness.

She decided that she would make it right.

That she would do something that would destroy Otto's entire plan and allow Daemon to keep what he wanted.

She thought that perhaps her step-father would understand that she had done this for him.

That this was her apology.

"I'd like to take a bath."

True to her assumption, her uncle was careful and removed the key from the bathroom lock, informing her that she had ten minutes, however, to her relief, he did not check her towel.

When he closed the door she quickly turned the water on, not wanting him to get suspicious, and slid the blade out of the cloth, turning it in her fingers.

This was her escape route.

Her final word.

She stepped into the tub, sinking into the pleasantly warm, crystal clear water and leaned her back against the backrest, breathing loudly, feeling fear, uncertainty and doubt.

She didn't want this, but there was no other choice.

Even if she went home, she would not escape the prison that was her heart.

She was unable to stop loving him.

This thought made her sink the blade into the skin of her wrist.

She hissed, feeling with tears in her eyes how unpleasant, rough and stinging this feeling was, uncomfortable, exactly as her feelings towards her uncle.

She smiled under her breath thinking that he would be the one to find her.

She wondered if she would break his heart in this way, just as he had broken hers.

When she did the same with her other wrist she dropped the blade on the tiles and leaned her head back, lying in peaceful silence, hearing only the hum of water around her.

She closed her eyes, imagining that she was by the sea again, with him, listening as he told her about how old and valuable the coin they had found was.

Tears ran down her cheeks at the thought that in a moment she would join that boy.

The man standing outside the door had killed him long ago.

And then she fell asleep, and though she heard someone's voice, felt someone touch her, felt someone calling her name, she could not open her eyes, feeling calm and light.

Free.

She hissed, feeling an unpleasant burning sensation in her wrists and twisted on the bed, opening her eyelids with difficulty. She felt the sun shining on her face, the familiar smell of disinfectants all around her, the quiet beeping of the machines controlling her heart rate just above her head.

She looked to the side and saw the figure of Daemon sitting in a chair, looking at her exactly as he had then, when her uncle had brought her home from Heavenly Beach.

She felt her body begin to quiver in shame and fear: even though she tried, she couldn't find the words to express what she was feeling, and although she had never called him that, at that moment something snapped inside her.

"– I'm sorry – I'm sorry, Dad – I believed him – I was only supposed to bring him the books, nothing more – I was trying to fix it –" She mumbled out, bursting into sobs, struggling to catch air between the successive sentences that left her mouth.

Something in her step-father's gaze changed – he swallowed hard and twisted in his seat, clenching his hands into fists.

It seemed to her that some part of him sympathised with her.

"– I know –"

Those words, though short and dispassionate, meant more to her than he could have imagined.

Although he was furious with her, and he had every right to be, he understood why she did what she did and that she believed it would help his cause.

"– you did it for me – didn't you? –" He asked, looking at her wrists.

She nodded, trying to catch her breath, feeling that her cheeks and eyelids were all swollen with tears of sadness, grief and pain.

He lowered his gaze and sighed heavily, turning his head to the side, looking towards the window.

"– don't ever do it again – your mother almost died of despair –" He said, and she nodded again, letting his large hand close over her fingers.

"– you are a naive, stupid child – but mine – you will be under my full control from now on – you will not go anywhere without me, your mother or my bodyguards – do you understand? –" He asked and she nodded, feeling shame.

He was right.

She was a naive, stupid child who someone had to watch over to make sure she didn't mess up again.

Despite her initial horror that everyone would hate her, she was welcomed home with relief and joy: she knew that to some extent this was influenced by what she had done, but at least it made everyone understand that she regretted what had happened.

"– that son of a bitch – I swear I'll kill him with my own hands –" Jace said to her, embracing her tenderly as if she were a teddy bear.

She felt pain and discomfort at the thought that some part of her wanted to ask him not to hurt her uncle.

She wondered how much of this was due to how he was manipulating her and how much was due to how she really felt about him.

She knew that Daemon, Jace and their men had declared war on Otto: every day someone died in a shootout, and she prayed she wouldn't hear his name overhearing the conversations of her father's bodyguards.

"That boy with one eye sold Larys Strong a bullet in the head. His grandfather's partner! They say he just walked into his office and shot him. He must have pissed him off pretty good." He said, and she swallowed hard, feeling her heart stand up in her throat with terror.

She reached into the pocket of her shorts, pulling out the note he'd left her at the hospital and read its contents for the hundredth time.

I will always watch over you.

A cold shiver ran down her spine at the thought that his confession was literal.

That he had killed him for her.

Do you know who did this?

I can take care of it.

For your comfort.

Those were his words.

I can take care of it for your comfort.

She hid her face in her hands at the thought of him sinking even deeper into darkness for her, thinking that in this way he would atone for what he had done.

Daemon agreed to let her return to the University on the condition that one of his bodyguards would wait in the car the entire time she was in the building, just to make sure she didn't leave or run away.

She agreed to this out of desperation, feeling that she was descending into madness sitting at home, constantly dreaming about him.

About someone bringing them news that he was dead.

Along with the end of the semester, the entry exams for all those who wanted to get into university were also approaching.

She tried not to think about whether he was studying, whether he was going to come and try, recognising that it was just his momentary whim, an attempt to make her believe that he was capable of change.

And then she'd see his silhouette in her memory, bent over a thick tome, read through her textbooks.

She hated herself for sympathising with him.

She hated herself for wanting him to succeed.

Since then neither of them had written or spoken to each other.

Even so, the day she knew the exams were to take place had her walking around in a state of complete shock and panic all day.

"Are you alright? I'm worried about you. You look terrified." Robb said, snapping her out of her reverie.

They had been together for a few months during the past year, as they had become very close on a excavations where they had been the professor's assistants together.

His ironic sense of humour, the glint in his eye and his cheeky smile made her feel a pleasant warmth in her stomach, and when he kissed her one evening she thought there was hope for her.

That she could live a normal life.

She spent her first time with him because she trusted him and knew he was experienced. He was tender and patient with her, excited by her clearly lack of skill in this aspect, by the fact that he could lead her by the hand, show her what desire and fulfilment were.

She was grateful to him for making the loss of her virginity only a little painful for her, and beyond that she felt only pleasure.

Nevertheless, she despaired that the orgasms she experienced with him could not compare to what she felt when she herself sank her hand into her leaking womanhood, imagining that it was her uncle's fingers that was greedily invading her slit.

"– go on – after all, that's what you want – that's why you came to me, isn't it? – for your uncle to take care of you – am I wrong? –"

She had to snuggle her face into the pillow so that her siblings wouldn't hear her moan of delight and relief, while wonderful waves of warmth and pleasure shook her body, causing her to fall into a peaceful, pleasant sleep, still holding her hand between her thighs.

However, it was enough for her to wake up in the morning, and remorse, sadness and disappointment in herself made her unable to breathe or eat.

And then she saw pictures of Robb with the women he had embraced at the club, and while part of her felt pain, part of her also felt relief.

When she broke up with him, he tried to explain to her that nothing had happened, that he had forgotten himself under the influence of alcohol but that he had never, never cheated on her because he had not kissed or had sex with any of them.

She then thought sadly that she could tell him exactly the same thing, however she felt that they were both cheating on each other in some way, just not physically.

She decided that it would be better if they remained friends, and although it was hard for him to bear at first, he seemed to eventually get used to the thought.

Neither of them resented each other.

She lowered her gaze at the thought, embarrassed, not knowing what to answer him, not being able to confess the truth after all.

She was, however, tired of lying.

"My friend was supposed to take his entry exams today. But I don't know if he will. He hurt me and I'm afraid to go there." She said, looking across the corridor to the part in the building where the big auditorium was located.

"Do you want me to go with you?" He suggested, and for some unknown reason she felt grateful to him for the offer.

She nodded, and he smiled at her in a way that she remembered vividly from the moments when she thought they were happy.

When they got there, she saw that the door to the room was open, probably because of how stuffy it was in there.

"Can you see him?" Robb whispered as she leaned out, she could, however, only see the first three rows of pews and did not recognise him among any of the people.

"No. But I can't see much." She muttered.

"Well, tough. We'll wait." He sighed, leaning back against the windowsill with his arms folded.

"Is he your boyfriend?" He asked after a moment with hesitation in his voice.

"No." She mumbled, looking at her fingers in shame. Robb raised his eyebrows, stroking his chin as if something in her words comforted him.

"Oh. I see." He said, and she swallowed hard, looking away, feeling that even though she had told the truth she felt like she had lied.

The people who had finished writing the exam started to leave one by one, making her lose faith with each passing minute that he had done it at all, thinking in the back of her mind that he was sitting with his grandfather and brother right now for sure, discussing how to destroy her step-father.

He didn't have time to play University now, she thought sadly, and froze when she saw him in the doorway.

His healthy eye grew wide at the sight of her as if he had seen a ghost and he stopped in mid-motion, pale, glancing at her, then at Robb.

"Is that him?" He asked curiously, extending his hand to him. "Robb, it's a pleasure. I hope you become a student soon too."

She swallowed hard seeing that his uncle's face expressed tension and coldness, a sign that something bad was about to happen.

His gaze full of impatience fell on her again while Robb's hand continued to hang in the air, showing her that if she didn't intervene, he would speak up and she wouldn't like that.

"Thank you, Robb. Will you leave us alone?" She asked in a trembling voice, wanting him to get away from this place as quickly as possible.

Robb blinked, bewildered, looking at her then at him.

"Are you sure?"

"Didn't you hear what she said?" Her uncle snarled in his direction in a way she knew was a warning.

He knew who he was, she realised suddenly with horror.

Then, when Helaena caught him looking at her Instagram account, it wasn't the first time he'd done it.

He followed her social media.

That's why he knew where he should come even though she hadn't given him her university address.

"I'm not talking to you, mate." Said Robb in a tone that betrayed that he had lost patience and she had to stand between them to keep her uncle from pushing against him, his jaw clenched in rage.

"That's enough." She said in a shaky voice.

"Aemond is having a hard time. Forgive him. Sometimes he doesn't know how to behave. He won't hurt me. Am I wrong?" She asked softly with a note of mockery in her voice, from which he swallowed loudly and looked away, embarrassed, trying to control himself.

Robb hesitated, but nodded finally and left them alone, glancing at them intently over his shoulder.

"It was a mistake." She said, shaking her head, herself wanting to leave, recognising that she didn't know why she was doing it, why she cared.

"– no – no, wait –" He muttered, grabbing her arm, careful, however, not to cause her pain. His hand wrapped around her waist in a way from which she swallowed hard, his forehead pressed against her temple.

"– are you two together again? –" He asked in a trembling voice, and she involuntarily burst out laughing, ignoring the stares of the other students who were just passing them by.

"– do you want to tell me how you know who I'm dating and when? –" She hissed, looking at him with fury, his gaze hot and pleading, full of feelings she didn't want to see.

"– do you love him? –"

She shook her head, trying to push him away, not wanting to hear it, having no intention of explaining herself to him.

"– I hope you'll pass – let me go – let me go, I said –" She growled, trying to pull away from him, but he closed his hands on her back, hugging his nose to her cheek like a small child seeking refuge, his eyes closed as he spoke his next words.

"– I killed him for you –" He whispered.

She swallowed hard, feeling a powerful, cold shiver run down her spine, her heart starting to pound like mad in her chest making her struggle to take another breath.

He had killed for her.

He had killed a man.

God, was it possible to wash away such a sin?

To carry such a burden.

She shook her head, her brow arching in pain at the thought that she didn't want to hear it.

"– I killed him because he threatened you – because he wanted to hurt you – I want you to be safe –" He gasped tenderly, enclosing her jaw in his hands, placing again and again warm, soft kisses on her cheek as if she were something he longed to cherish, that he adored, that he loved.

A part of her wanted to ask him if he planned to kill himself too, but those cruel words didn't leave her mouth.

When he hugged her she simply closed her eyes and allowed herself to calm down in the tender embrace of his arms, feeling his soft, full lips on her cheek, neck and shoulders, his hands combing through her hair tender, close, familiar, beloved.

"– I'm not pregnant –" She whispered and felt him freeze for a moment. He swallowed hard, placing a lingering, warm kiss on her temple.

"– I know – the doctor told me – we just have to try again –" He said softly, stroking her back comfortingly as if he were a husband who had just assured his wife that they would have a child in the future.

How absurd his words were simultaneously horrified, embarrassed and endeared her.

"– do you hear yourself? – after what you did to me? – after how –" She mumbled out, bursting into sobs, clasping her hands on his back, for some reason seeking help in his embrace.

He was the only person who understood what she was going through.

"– shhh – I'm here, baby –" He hushed her, stroking her hair and her back, his face sinking into her temple, his warm breath enveloping her neck.

She shuddered when she heard her phone ring – they moved away from each other, and when she pulled it out of her backpack it turned out to be Daemon's bodyguard.

"Your class is over, where are you? Is something wrong?"

"– n-no – no, I'm on my way, I was talking to the professor – I'm sorry –" She mumbled out, scared that the man would start looking for her.

"– it's okay – I'll wait where I always do –" He said and hung up while she breathed a sigh of relief.

"– wait a few minutes before I go so they don't see you –" She said indifferently, tucking the phone into her backpack. She felt him wanting to embrace her again, but she pushed him away, shaking her head and avoided him, unable to look at his face.

We just have to try again.

She burst out crying at the thought that some sick part of her wanted this.

"– you said he's not your boyfriend –" She heard Robb's voice behind her, standing at the entrance to the courtyard, looking at her with pain and disbelief.

She swallowed hard at the thought that he was watching them from a distance.

"– I –"

"– I thought we are friends, that we are honest with each other –" He said quickly, combing his hair with his hand in a gesture of impatience, his words making a cold, unpleasant shiver of shame shudder through her body.

He had caught her in the act, and she was like a small, weeping child who was afraid of the consequences.

"– he is not my boyfriend –"

"– are you serious? – you said he hurt you, and you almost let him fuck you in the middle of the corridor – where is your self-respect? –" He hissed and after a moment fell silent, seeing the look in her eyes, the expression on her face, hearing his own words, knowing that his last sentence was a step too far.

"– I'm sorry – I'm sorry I said that – I didn't –" He muttered, running his hand over his mouth.

He wanted to touch her shoulder, but she moved away from him, shaking her head, not caring that the others were looking at them from the side.

"– is there anything else you want to say? –" She asked, having the feeling that something inside her had broken once and for all, shattered into pieces like a glass vase.

Robb opened his mouth, his cheeks turning scarlet with horror and shame.

She turned tensely, heading for the exit, out of the corner of her eye noticing her uncle's face staring back at her, pale and shocked.

He heard it.

She shook her head letting him know not to follow her and ran towards the car park, thinking about how she wanted to sink to the ground and die.

As she closed the car door behind her, whooping with tears in panic, the man leaned over to look at her face, horrified.

"Are you all right?" He muttered.

"– I didn't pass the fucking exam – can we go now? –" She said with such anger and fury that the bodyguard merely nodded and started the engine, backing the car out onto the road.

She covered her face with her hands, choking and panting, trying to calm down, thinking she deserved it.

Why had she gone there?

Why did she have to see if he had come?

What did it matter?

We just had to try again.

Jesus fucking Christ.

They were both completely mad.

Maybe they had inherited it in their genes, she thought regretfully.

It wasn't until she was home at dinner, feeling Daemon's anxious gaze on her, that she thought uneasily that she had escaped the drowning ship, but had left her uncle and ex-boyfriend far too close. She felt her knee begin to pop up in a nervous reflex under the table at the thought that he might have done something to him.

Out of revenge, out of jealousy, out of whimsy.

I killed him for you.

She thought she would write to him to make sure he was okay.

But he didn't write back.

Unable to stand it, she put a second, new card in her phone, one of the hundreds her brother kept in his drawer to avoid bugging him, and called her uncle, demanding an explanation.

"What did you do to him?" She asked horrified, walking around her room as if in a trance.

"I see you have a new phone number and I have no idea what you're asking."

"Robb, Aemond. He's not writing me back."

She heard him hum on the other end, as if he was pleased with her words and the fact that whatever he had done had forced her to contact him.

"We only talked. His handsome face with brown eyes is unharmed." He said calmly, making her breathe a sigh of relief, still feeling the tension though.

"What were you two talking about?"

"It was our men's business."

"AEMOND."

"That I won't let anyone treat you like that. He doesn't know shit and meddles in matters that aren't his." He said coldly. "I gave him a warning."

For a moment there was a tension-filled silence between them, from which her heart pounded like mad.

She thought it was all some kind of pure madness, that it wasn't really happening.

"– did you threaten him? –"

She heard his loud sigh on the other side and a bark.

Vhagar.

"– I told him to treat you with respect and not to talk to other people about us if he didn't want unpleasantness – no violence, pure persuasion –"

"– manipulation – as in my case –"

"– that is not true –" He protested angrily.

"– LIAR –" She hissed and hung up, throwing her phone on the bed in a gesture full of rage.

She fell back on the bedding, sighing loudly and groaned when she saw that her display had lit up and he had sent her a new message.

She unlocked her phone reluctantly, thinking she had angered him with her words, but saw with surprise that he had sent her a picture of Vhagar.

She felt regret and a sting in her heart at the thought that involuntarily it made her smile.

What he was doing to her was so wrong, so very wrong.

So why did she feel warmth in her heart?

After a while, her phone vibrated again.

She didn't know why she laughed warmly only to burst out crying again a moment later, not understanding why he was the only one who could make her smile, the only one who could make her feel that wonderful warmth in her lower abdomen, the only one who could calm her down.

Why he was the only one she loved.

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lqveharrington · 1 month ago

Note

Can I request I can do it with a broken heart for a Lucifer (Morningstar) x reader? Ty and congrats! <3

With a Broken Heart | L.M.

summary: You and Lucifer's relationship has been strained for years, and Charlie tries to mend your broken hearts.

pairing: lucifer morningstar x fem!reader

includes: arguing, cursing, crying, angst, heart break

a/n: luciiiii! it’s been so long 😭 (rules for celebration here!)

Ever since Charlie was born, your relationship with Lucifer had been strained. You both wanted to protect her from all the harm Hell would reign down on your family, but your methods were quite different.

He wanted to make peace with the Heavens — have them back out of their killings once a year. You wanted to hide Charlie from the exterminators until she was able to take care of herself without you or Lucifer. Or until she was able to use her magic properly.

Down to the second Charlie turned eighteen, you and Lucifer continued to argue about what was considered right. Unfortunately, in the heat of the moment after a horrible extermination, Lucifer finally snapped at you when Charlie walked in. She never saw her dad yell at you, and you clearly weren't expecting it either because later that night you left Morningstar Manor.

You hadn’t seen Lucifer since, but Charlie refused to lose contact between you and her dad. She tried to get you two to meet up, but no avail. Not until she needed help with the hotel and refused to admit she invited her dad over when you arrived.

“Charlie, you didn’t call your father to join us, right?" You asked and sighed when she puffed her cheeks out. She was a horrible liar and you knew that came from her being born from two angels. “Great.”

“Mom, whatever you and dad had going on should be history by now! It’s been what? Two centuries since you’ve last seen him?” Charlie grabbed your hands and squeezed them, looking back and forth between your eyes. "It'll be okay."

You opened your mouth to retort but she had already walked away to find Vaggie. Bringing a hand up to your temple, you silently cursed that she was so determined to get everything absolutely perfect.

Although you never officially divorced Lucifer, he still left you with a broken heart that he never attempted to mend. He left all your broken pieces for you to deal with — not caring that you had to handle all the sinners’ affairs as well when he decided to go M.I.A.

“Oh sweet sweet queen of hell,” Angel wrapped an arm around your shoulder while the other popped open a drink, taking a quick swig of the alcoholic drink. “I’m sure you can handle whatever shit his majesty will throw at you.”

“It’s not what I can handle.” You murmur and shake your head, spinning the golden ring on your finger before glaring at it once you realize what you were doing. “It’s if he can handle seeing me after ages of leaving me on my own without anything but my own fucking tears.”

Angel’s eyes widened before toasting to that, chugging the rest of his drink down and pulling you toward the couch. Honestly, you were ready to fight for your side again until you saw him. It was like nothing affected him.

When Lucifer burst into the Hotel like he owned the place, you noticed the façade he put on just to see Charlie smile. He was always putting on a face so she would see the best of him. He was in the middle of meeting all the sinners of the hotel when his gaze shifted to you, face paling when he met your glare.

As if you read his mind, you turned away and immersed yourself in whatever Angel Dust was complaining about to Husk. Charlie looked between the both of you, defeat etching across her face. Nothing was ever going to get done if the two of you refused to acknowledge each other the entire time he was staying with them.

She had to fix her parents' relationship — despite the way the both of you avoided each other like a plague.

"Charlie, are you sure this is a good idea? I mean, your mom looked like she was ready to kill your dad the second he stepped into the hotel." Vaggie looked up her, eye brows creased in doubt. She was never one to doubt her girlfriend, but the King and Queen of Hell could easily kill all the sinners within the snap of their fingers if pushed far enough.

"They may be upset with each other but we won't get anything done if they keep walking eggshells around each other!" Charlie rubbed her forehead and began to pace the foyer, eyes glowing red in frustration. "Besides, my dad regrets ever yelling at my mom. She just... She doesn't know it because they're both too stubborn!"

Charlie's horns poked out before settling, steam releasing from her mouth. She waved a hand over the room's door and let the enchantments settle before whisking Vaggie away. "Anyway, we have to try and do this. If we don't, we can say goodbye to the hotel forever."

"Charlie, sweetheart, what are we even looking for? I can barely see anything in here." You huffed and moved cobwebs away from your face, snapping your fingers to produce small flames. When you didn't hear her respond, you turned around only to be met with the eyes of Lucifer Morningstar himself. "Where's Charlie?"

"Wha— Uhm, she shoved me in here and told me to look for something." Lucifer squeaked out and waved his hand around, letting golden whisps illuminate the small space. "I didn't realize you would be in here."

You rolled your eyes and continued to push away old pieces of furniture, doing your best to ignore the tugging in your chest. However, Lucifer couldn't help but stare. You were just as gorgeous as the day you met, and the lights shining across your face only took his breath away.

"Do you know what we're supposed to be— Lucifer!" You frowned and dragged a hand down your face in annoyance, letting the flames go out. "You know what? I can't deal with this right now."

You moved to the door and tried yanking it open, only to jerk backward. You looked back at Lucifer before trying the door again, this time the handle burning your palms. Wincing, you glare at the door and call out for you daughter.

"Charlie Morningstar, you come here and unlock this door!"

"Not until you and dad make up!" She shouted through the thick door, mind forcing herself to be confident. "And don't even try using your magic because I will send you back in there."

"Charlie!" You groan and bang your forehead on the door, shutting your eyes in disappointment.

Lucifer tugged his hat down to cover his face and moved to sit on an old crate behind him. He couldn't face you. Not yet. Not when you refused to even meet his eyes properly. It was like the Heavens purposely wanted to see him suffer.

Finally admitting defeat, you sat on the opposing crate and held your breath. You didn't think seeing him would affect you so much, especially since it had been cartularies since you last saw him. But Lucifer was always full of surprises and you knew Charlie got that trait from him.

You blew out a breath and spun your ring, eyes glued to the wooden floor. "Why did you do it?"

Lucifer peeked past his hat and looked around the room like it wasn't just you and him. He swallowed and shifted his gaze over to you, pursing his lips when he saw your wedding band. He opened his mouth to speak but shut it, not knowing what to say to you.

"Why did never try and stop me from leaving?" You whispered out and watched his body stiffen.

"I..." Lucifer shook his head and buried his face in his hands, voice muffled. "I don't know."

You brows creased and clasped your hands together, wanting to stop your fidgeting. "Lucifer, you promised to keep your family safe and you didn't even try to get me to stay." You stared at his hands, eyes hardening at the sight of his own wedding ring. "I don't understand—"

"Because you were so paranoid that something horrible was going to happen to us!" Lucifer finally burst and stood from his spot, eyes red and face contorted in dissatisfaction. He began to pace the small room and rubbed the back of his neck, voice cracking. "You were so overprotective of Charlie that you wouldn't even let me near her somedays."

"You were handling the Heavens, Luce! Did you think I wanted to keep her away from her own father? I didn't want her dead from the hands of an exterminator." You paused at the thought of your daughter ever dying from the hands of a supposed holy figure. When Lucifer shook his head, you wiped a stray tear and turned away. "You never understood what I was trying to tell you."

"Neither did you." He stopped his walking and stared at you with solemn eyes. He knew you tried your best to protect Charlie, but he wanted to protect more than his daughter. He also wanted to protect you, but you never understood his plans to do so. "Sometimes I think you wanted to pretend this wasn't our reality, but it is."

"Was it my fault Heaven kicked us out?" You bit your bottom lip and finally met his eyes, watching them soften instantly. You tilted your head to the side and frowned, "You told me you'd love me for all time but the second we landed in Hell, our time was cut short wasn't it?"

The look in your eyes broke Lucifer's heart even further. He always hated arguing with you and for the first time in so long, he wanted to freeze time and just hold you.

"You may think I've been perfectly fine without you, but nursing a broken heart absolutely crushes a person." You whisper before standing and walking toward the enchanted door, muttering your own reversal charms.

Lucifer reached out to you before pulling back, his own eyes glossing over. "Angel..."

"After we help Charlie with her hotel, we're done, okay?" You stay by the door and refuse to face him, doing your best to not have your voice waiver in heartache. When you didn't hear a response, you gripped the handle harder. "Luce?"

"Okay." He murmured back and tapped his cane to the ground, vanishing to a different part of the hotel.

You choked on your tears and covered your mouth, letting your heart completely dissolve to nothing. You knew crying wasn't going to help, but you had to try and be productive. Afterall, you were the Queen of Hell.

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whencyclopedia · 28 days ago

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Lindow Man

The Lindow Man (officially Lindow III) is the top half of a male body, found preserved in a peat bog in Cheshire, England.

The peat bogs at Lindow Moss date back to the last ice age and were formed by holes of melting ice; they are now a tenth of their original size. Bogs often lead to the preservation of organic materials, particularly human remains, being acidic, cold, and devoid of oxygen. The brown colour of the skin, leathery texture, and appearance of human remains preserved in a bog are due to a type of moss that grows in bogs and when dead, lets out a substance that causes a tanning process.

During 1980s CE a series of finds were made at Lindow Moss by workers at a peat shredding mill (peat was then being harvested as fuel). These discoveries were small parts of the human anatomy, for example, a head known as the Lindow Woman and several limbs of other individuals. The most famous, largest, and important of these discoveries is the top half of a male body (the bottom half possibly lost when a digger cut up the bog) found in the summer of 1984 CE and called the Lindow Man. What is noticeable about this example and significant for study is that the hair, skin, and several of his integral organs were preserved. The body and surrounding section of peat were removed whole and taken away for study by a team led by British Museum scientists. Once safe in a laboratory it was the focus of analysis and has caused a great deal of excitement, producing an unprecedented investigation.

The beard, sideburns, and moustache made it instantly clear that the body was male. By calculating the length of his upper arm bone, it was estimated that he would have been between 1.68 m and 1.73 m tall. He was also well built, weighing around 64 kg. He was radiocarbon dated to between 2 BCE and 119 CE and was about 25 years old at the time of death. He was unclothed, apart from a fox fur armband. Using scanning electron microscopy researchers found that his hair and beard had been trimmed with a pair of scissors or shears. It is thought that he did not do any rough work or hard labour, based on his nails which were all manicured. Although the acid in the bog had removed all of the enamel from his teeth, there were no visible cavities, and what was left looked normal. Overall he appears to have been fairly healthy, but had slight osteoarthritis and an infestation of parasitic worms. It has even been possible to discover his blood group, O. Food residue discovered in his upper alimentary tract shows that his last meal was a griddle cake made from wheat and barley.

The reasons and cause of death have caused debate between scholars. There are signs of two blows to the top of the head with a heavy and bladed weapon and also a knife wound to the throat. There is also evidence for a blow to the back, by a broken rib. He had a thin cord around his neck which may have been used to strangle and break his neck, but some have argued that it was simply a necklace, because it is knotted in a decorative manner. Once dead he was placed face down in the bog. This horrific death may have been a ritual killing, a human sacrifice carried out, perhaps by the Druids. Or he could have been executed as a criminal or murdered by thieves, or if he was someone of stature, by his enemies. It is almost impossible to know for sure why he died, but the Lindow Man has provided valuable information and been subjected to more tests than any other ancient human being.

He was conserved by immersing him in a mixture of polyethylene glycol to prevent shrinking and then wrapped in cling film, frozen, and then finally freeze-dried. He is now on display in the British Museum.

#History #119CE #1980s #2BCE #WHE #[#]

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poeticallyspiteful · 1 month ago

Text

the way things change (ch. one)

ethan landry x reader

fluff/angst

cw: mentions of broken bones, blood loss, nerve damage, scars, burns, hand tremors, physical therapy, wheelchairs, chronic pain, a feeding tube, ptsd, the panic attacks, paranoia, nightmares, insomnia, murder?? like it’s scream, alcohol consumption, allusions to sex, i think that’s it but lemme know if i missed anything

summary: after almost a year of recovery, ethan’s helping you push yourself into some immersion therapy—you’re not loving it.

notes: i hope y’all like the first official chapter, apologies for the ending, it was getting too long so i had to cut part of it to move it to the next chapter. enjoy!!

"do you think this is cute?" you stepped out of the bathroom, lifting your arms as stiff as a mannequin. your party clothes were comfortable but this was the first time in months you've really gotten ready; you couldn't help but feel a stranger in your own clothes.

three broken ribs, severe blood loss, nerve damage in your hands, and a shattered knee— not to mention the scars from burns and cuts and stabs that littered your body from head to toe. you were left quite literally broken into pieces after that night.

but, miraculously, you survived— even if that meant the recovery was mind breaking.

the hand tremors, the physical therapy, the wheelchair and the cane it had been traded in for. the scars, the random, blinding pains, being fed from a tube for months because stomaching food was nearly impossible. the ptsd, the panic attacks, the paranoia and the nightmares that turned into crippling insomnia.

the farther down the road you traveled, the more it seemed like a tunnel with no light at the end.

however, you had ethan. and he made everything infinitely better.

even now, you felt your muscles relax as he looked up from his phone, a small smile breaking out on his face at the sight of you.

“you’re gorgeous.”

you rolled your eyes as you fought back a smile, cheeks heating. “that’s not what i asked.”

“i don’t care. you’re gorgeous,” ethan said, closing the space between you and putting his hands on your hips.

you bit the inside of your lip to cinch your grin as you leaned into his touch.

“this is unfair, you can’t be cute when i’m supposed to be mad at you.”

ethan scoffed, tugging you forward until you were flush against his chest, his arms fully wrapped around you like a cocoon. “i’m making you follow your therapists instructions and attend a small party for an hour. you’ll live, princess.”

“so mean…” she mumbles against his chest, wrapping her arms around his torso.

“i know, i’m horrible. let’s go.”

the second you walked into the god awful frat house, a wave of nausea overcame you. the stench of beer wafted through the room, mingling with a sweaty, musty undertone.

"you said this was supposed to be a small party?" you asked, as a very drunk boy stumbled past you, nearly knocking you over. ethan pulled you tight against his side, though the packed room makes you both felt like you were overheating.

"yeah, on second thought, chad's not a very good judge of these things,” he says, eyes trailing after the drunk that almost ran you down.

you lean against him, looking up through your eyelashes with the needy look he can never deny. “can we leave? please?”

ethan furrows his brow, frowning at you. “we can still have fun! c’mon, just an hour. less than that! just 50 minutes now.”

you whine exaggeratedly as he leads you to a less crowded corner. “last time i was at one of these, someone stabbed me, so i feel i have good reason for hesitation.”

ethan’s expression softens but he does not relent. “you told me not to let you bail, baby. c’mon, let’s get you something to drink.”

blood. so much blood—coating your hands, soaking your dress, filling your senses and splattering on the floor.

“baby? bab— hey, hey, it’s okay.”

ethan’s face blurs and it feels like you’re swaying even though you know your not. it all happened so fast, the room was spinning so fast, everything was moving so fucking fast.

“hey! can you hear me?” ethan again. god, he sounds so worried. you hope he’s not too worried.

you managed to focus your eyes and see that he’s moved you to his lap, his hands covering your own as they press onto your wound. something is soft under your fingers now—his flannel, you realize—and in the same moment you realized your blood is soaking through that too.

“yeah,” you whisper. “i hear you…”

“the ambulance is on its way, just stay awake.”

“where— where’d he go?” you slurred. whether it was from the blood loss, the alcohol, or the panic, you weren’t sure.

ethan shakes his head, pressing down harder on your stomach as he saw your eyes lose focus again. “he ran away, he’s gone, you’re okay.”

she shut your eyes tight as the room started to swim again. “said you… coming…” you managed to murmur, though the blood that had snuck past your lips wasn’t doing any favors for your speech.

“what?”

“he said you had it coming.”

“what do you want to drink?” ethan asked softly, one hand gripping hip as he plucked too red solo cups off of the tower that say on the drink table.

you hummed doubtfully. “i don’t know if i want to drink tonight. maybe just a diet coke?”

“fine by me.” he presses a kiss to your temple before pulling away, pouring two cans of diet coke into two cups.

“you can drink,” you said quickly, suddenly worried you were ruining his night. you knew ethan was never much of a party person but you wouldn’t blame him for wanting to get out of the house, away from you, away from all your trauma and problems and—

“i don’t mind staying sober,” he reassures. “plus, when we’re back at my apartment, we can drink wine, watch a funny movie, and make out until we fall asleep.”

you smile, leaning into him and taking your soda from his hand. “that sounds nice.”

ethan hummed, kissing the top of your head as it rests against his chest. “40 minutes.”

you bite your lip, looking up at him, wrapping an arm around his middle. “what about 30 if i make it worth your while?”

“i’m not some slut,” he chides, a smile creeping on his face.

“i believe i’d be the slut in that situation.”

“oh really—”

“well if it isn’t mr. and mrs. landry!”

and there’s chad. more specifically, a super excited, super loud, and super drunk chat.

“hey, man,” ethan greets, pulling away from you to give his roommate a one armed hug and a pat on the back.

“what are you guys doing here?” chad asked, pulling you in for a hug with just as much excitement. “you haven’t come to one of these all year.”

“yeah, we’re not here for long,” you said, forcing a smile that chad was too drunk to call out. “just wanted to say hello and grab a drink.”

chad nods, head bobbing to the deafening beat of the music playing. he smiled at you, that broad, blinding smile and leaned in to hug you again, holding you against him for a moment longer.

“i’m proud of you,” he slurred whispered, patting you on the back hard enough to make you cough up some phlegm. “you’re doing really good.”

“thanks, chad.” you laughed as you pulled apart. “now go back to partying! your fans must be missing you dearly.”

he laughs, though it sounds more like a giggle and shouts something unintelligible at you as he walks back into the crowd. once he’s gone, your shoulders slump a bit again, leaning against ethan once more.

“i socialized, i’m done, we can leave now.”

“nope. we still have 35 minutes left.”

“what are you, the timekeeper?” you grumbled, feet feeling like cement blocks as he guided you out into the common area, away from the dance floor but still plenty claustrophobic.

“well, i did start a timer when we got out of the car, so yeah,” he quipped, “i am.”

“you’re insufferable.”

“you love me.”

“mhm.”

#fanfic #ethan landry x you #ethan landry imagine #ethan landry x reader #ethan landry #scream x reader #scream #scream imagine

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miscretis · 3 months ago

Text

Discord Mod!Ronin x Discord Kitten!Reader (G.n) [PART 2 OF A CRACK FIC TAKEN SERIOUSLY]

WRITER'S NOTE:

Here's the awaited part two of a crackfic taken seriously! I hope you guys enjoy!!

CW:

- Mentions of Murder

- Cringe

“Breaking news: 3 new dead bodies were found at the Purgatory, an alleyway that the known Serial Killer, The Butcher, roams in. The government has sent out a notice for all citizens to go home safely with another friend.”

Clickety clack

You spiral down the world of words through the immersive writing of your serial killer novel. However that concentration was then interrupted by a ‘ding’. You stared down at the notification from goreboy.

This is my chance. My time to shine.

I swiftly slid into his DMs.

<goreboy> rise and Shine darlin’, How's The Server?

<User> morning to you too, the server was really something to get used to (TvT)

My hands quickly retracted away from the keyboard after sending that text. I felt elation welling inside of me, soon exploding out with a big laughter.

I can't believe it, I did it!

<goreboy> that seems Good, Hope to See More Outta Ya

<goreboy> so don't Disappoint me

Oh, he seems to not care about the typing style, I need to step it up to a level.

Maybe I need my profile to be more ‘discord kitten’

At this time and moment, I'm already mentally rolling on the floor with absolute joy filling me up with giggles. I reached for the mouse, quickly changed my status to add cute emoticons, and put my profile picture with a catfishing selfie and placed a picture of Cinnamoroll as my banner. Now I'm officially a discord kitten, ready to tackle Ronin!

<User> alright!!! I won't disappoint ÙwÚ

<goreboy> alright then, i expect More than just Bark.

One month quickly passed and you were having a blast writing your novel. You managed to craft a perfect serial killer protagonist. Brash, charismatic and manipulative. It was pretty obvious who it was based on. During your past time, you would lurk around the server, occasionally replying to some texts.

You decide to slide into Ronin’s DMs.

<User> hi ronin!! OwO

<goreboy> oh look Who's Here, it's our server's Enigma.

<User> yeeeppp! It is I, the server’s enigma! ÙvÚ

<goreboy> how amusing You Are. Well, let's play a game.

You raised your eyebrow.

<User> what game?

<goreboy> You'll see

@goreboy is calling you!

You picked up the call with no hesitation. Right in front of you was a man with wine red hair, a devil beanie and piercings. He also wore a black jacket over a skull printed shirt. He looked young— but definitely not ‘teenager young’. He looked like an adult, possibly in his mid 20s.

<User> sorry my mic is broken.

Ronin’s piercing eyes stared across the screen, his smirk crept up his face, stifling a laughter.

“Oh please! To speak the truth! I know you're trying to be a discord kitten. It's honestly so amusing to see how pathetic you are.”

“As expected of the devil, you find amusement in me trying to be a discord kitten.” You scoffed as you leaned back on your chair, “So what is this?”

“We'll be playing truth or dare. Now, pick your poison and we shall see.”

“Dare.”

Ronin leaned back on his chair and starting chuckling loudly, the audio glitches a little.

“Alright darlin, I want you to tell the server that you're in love with me.”

You felt the heat rush up to your cheeks

You tried to hide it but failing to. This made Ronin chuckle again, “What is it darling? Cat got your tongue?”

You sighed as you replied, “ Alright, bet.”

You toggled off the calling screen and went to the main channel, typing in…

<User>I've danced with the devil and now I'm obsessed.

<hitmeuppp> Omg does that mean…

<Angelic> …

You went back to the call just to see Ronin’s expression twisting in absolute euphoria.

“Alright then, my turn but I'll play it in my own way. Truth or dare.”

“Heh…dare.”

“I dare you to send me nitro and make me your discord kitten.”

Ronin smirked again, “That's two in one!”

You frowned, “I said I'll play it in my own way. It's counted as one sentence. One sentence, one dare.”

“You're one feisty little kitten. Alright darling, I'll send you some nitro.” his shit setting grin still on his face.

A second later, you received nitro from goreboy. You were surprised that he even did it however it brought joy to your heart. You could finally customise your profile to the fullest extent and use emojis from any server you're in.

“Well, thanks for that I guess.”

“Okay, my turn. True or dare.”

“Dare.”

“I dare you to give me a kiss.”

“Bet, sending you air kisses.”

You pout up your lips and fanned your hand towards the screen. Now that's an air kiss. Now it was my turn, I felt a little bolder.

“I say…dare.” Ronin leads back to his chair again.

“I dare you to tell the server that you're OBSESSED with me.”

Ronin lets out another shit eating grin and after a bit, he replies, “Done and dusted.”

You check the main channel…

<goreboy> im Obsessed with @user

<Angelic> what?

<hitmeuppp> OMG ITS TRUE

Oh my gosh, their reactions are priceless.

At this point, you were thoroughly satisfied with the outcome of the game. You decide to save the rest of the fun for another day.

“Well, that wraps it up. Bye Ronin.”

“Heh, well then. Cya soon, my darlin’ kitten.”

To be continued...

#killer chat #ronin killer chat #ronin beaufort #x reader #discord server #discord chat #discord mod #discord kitten

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autistichalsin · 4 months ago

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My chapter-by chapter analysis of The Hunger Games, chapter 1

Disclaimer: this and all future chapter analyses will contain spoilers for all the books.

What really strikes me about this chapter is what a masterpiece it is; a masterpiece of foreshadowing, establishing moments of characterization, worldbuilding and more, all without ever feeling like we're actually getting infodumped on. This is accomplished with Katniss's stream-of-consciousness storytelling. I've heard it criticized so much, but even aside from the very salient point that it fits her characterization as an emotionally stunted, traumatized, poorly-educated teenage girl, it still helps the story in moments like this. We feel Katniss's inner chaos, and it makes the story that much more immersive.

On to the spoilery part of the analysis:

When I wake up, the other side of the bed is cold. My fingers stretch out, seeking Prim’s warmth but finding only the rough canvas cover of the mattress.

There was a post, a while ago, that I can't find but wish I could. In it, the OP talks about how Prim is literally doomed by the narrative, not "heavily foreshadowed death," but literally doomed by the narrative, and this paragraph is the first sign, because Katniss reaches for Prim and feels emptiness instead. And re-reading this, I agree. The first thing we see Katniss do is reach for Prim, and find nothing. This time, it's temporary, but by the end of the series, it won't be. We've been warned, even if we don't realize it yet: Prim is doomed.

Scrawny kitten, belly swollen with worms, crawling with fleas. The last thing I needed was another mouth to feed. But Prim begged so hard, cried even, I had to let him stay. It turned out okay. My mother got rid of the vermin and he’s a born mouser. Even catches the occasional rat. Sometimes, when I clean a kill, I feed Buttercup the entrails. He has stopped hissing at me.

Katniss loves her sister and will do literally anything for her. Katniss also has no moral qualms about drowning kittens. With just one paragraph, we learn what a simultaneously harshly practical yet beautifully caring, loving person Katniss is. She has no room in her life for useless things like pets, and drowning strays probably helps the people of 12 in the long run by leaving vermin to be eaten by those on the verge of starvation. But her sister wants to keep Buttercup, and so she will. Katniss will sacrifice anything to keep Prim happy.

Foreshadowing. Prim is doomed.

Entrails. No hissing. This is the closest we will ever come to love.

STILL more foreshadowing, for different themes: both for one of Katniss's biggest complexes (I'll get into details about this later) and for the theme of love. Katniss doesn't truly love anyone but Prim. Her entire world, we know, is going to be shaken when she does finally feel that for someone else again. Once again, we are being introduced to the recurring themes of love vs practicality and the classic question, "how much pain is love worth?"

Katniss is going to answer this question again and again: for Prim, there is no amount of suffering too great. For others... she'll find different answers. Eventually.

My father knew and he taught me some before he was blown to bits in a mine explosion. There was nothing even to bury. I was eleven then. Five years later, I still wake up screaming for him to run.

The first hints of Katniss as a deeply traumatized girl emerge. Sometimes, when you're traumatized enough, thoughts can segue into The Event with no warning, just by proximity. And through the combination of blunted language and stream-of-consciousness leaps, we can see just how broken this has left Katniss. Unfortunately, this is only the start of Events for her.

My father could have made good money selling them, but if the officials found out he would have been publicly executed for inciting a rebellion. Most of the Peacekeepers turn a blind eye to the few of us who hunt because they’re as hungry for fresh meat as anybody is. In fact, they’re among our best customers.

A brilliant bit of worldbuilding. The Peacekeepers are working off of deeply corrupt laws, which they ignore because they too are being mistreated and systematically starved, even if they aren't as at risk as the people of 12. The system doesn't care about the very same people it safeguards to enforce its rules. This is the first hint we get that the system isn't sustainable, and it comes before we even fully understand what kind of hell this government is.

The theme of "bread and circuses" is going to be hammered down to us again and again that this is how tyrannical governments, including this one, pacify the masses. But when only the bourgeoisie are being given the bread and circuses, well.... the proletariat aren't going to take it forever.

The book hasn't shown itself to be the anti-capitalist masterpiece it is yet, but this is the first hint that we're reading a tale of class warfare.

“District Twelve. Where you can starve to death in safety,” I mutter. Then I glance quickly over my shoulder. Even here, even in the middle of nowhere, you worry someone might overhear you.

I have seen criticisms that this is an egregious case of showing and not telling, with Katniss constantly talking about the dangers of badmouthing the government while never facing them. But in truth, it's the opposite. Yes, Katniss hasn't been caught despite repeated statements that she could have, but we'll learn, here and in future chapters, that 12 has been receiving a sort of tradeoff with other districts; their more severe poverty places them below notice. No one thinks them capable of causing real trouble, and even their district specialty- coal- is later proven to be basically useless, busy-work. So they get ignored... for now. Until the oligarchs start seeing what the proletariat can actually do and crack down all the harder to ensure they keep their cheap labor.

Are you seeing the resonance with the real world yet?

Even at home, where I am less pleasant, I avoid discussing tricky topics. Like the reaping, or food shortages, or the Hunger Games. Prim might begin to repeat my words and then where would we be?

Here we see the dual themes of parentification and sacrifice. Katniss will be the adult, even though she ISN'T an adult, for her sister. She will keep quiet on things that hurt her, and upset her, to set a better example for her sister and keep her from getting hurt. Prim gets to have the normal and safe childhood Katniss never had, because Katniss has invested everything into ensuring she does.

We are taking a step up the ladder of self-sacrificial acts, here. In other words: more foreshadowing. Katniss will give everything for Prim. Prim is going to die, because Katniss is going to lose everything she cared about in the process of protecting everything she cared about.

In the woods waits the only person with whom I can be myself.

Katniss can't be a teenage girl. She has to be Prim's mom. She has to be tough. She has to be a provider. She has to be a trader. An advocate. She so rarely complains about it, too. But it shows here just how much she's given up. Only one place, and one person she can be herself with, and yet...

Gale.

Isn't this ironic. Because we are about to see, throughout the entire series, that this day is going to be the last time Gale actually lets Katniss be herself (and even here, there are strong hints that Gale wants Katniss to be something very different).*

*Disclaimer, because it seems important: my opinion on the Katniss/Gale vs Katniss/Peeta ship war is "team nobody." I think both of them were very bad for her in different ways. Any comment I make that seems like it is favoring one ship or the other... isn't.

“Hey, Catnip,” says Gale. My real name is Katniss, but when I first told him, I had barely whispered it. So he thought I’d said Catnip. Then when this crazy lynx started following me around the woods looking for handouts, it became his official nickname for me.

Maybe I'm overanalyzing, but I feel like this sums up the Katniss/Gale relationship so much. Katniss tries to speak, and Gale doesn't hear or understand her. Gale projects something onto her, and Katniss rolls with it. Sure, in this case it's a cute nickname, but it represents so much more to me.

Gale doesn't understand Katniss. Fundamentally. He understands the Katniss he wants to exist. The one who will run off with him and play house in the woods and indulge his little fantasies. He doesn't know very much about the real Katniss, at least as long as he's looking at her through a romantic lens.

“Look what I shot.” Gale holds up a loaf of bread with an arrow stuck in it, and I laugh.

Despite what I just said, I do love Gale and Katniss's friendship, and it breaks my heart that their friendship was as doomed as Prim. (Hint. Hint.) Katniss needed someone who understood the unique pain of parentification due not to abuse, but poverty- the kind where you aren't 'allowed' to feel angry at anyone within reach. Which is the worst kind of injustice. Getting mad at someone who harmed you is one thing, but getting mad at a system you can never (... yet) hope to change is different.

She must have really loved him to leave her home for the Seam.

It's said in a casual and sort of admiring way here. But Katniss is going to learn firsthand about the intersection between love and sacrifice. With the generational mirroring as a theme, especially between Katniss and Peeta, we're being given more foreshadowing that Katniss has self-sacrifice "in the blood."

I try to remember that when all I can see is the woman who sat by, blank and unreachable, while her children turned to skin and bones. I try to forgive her for my father’s sake. But to be honest, I’m not the forgiving type.

Another little glimpse into Katniss's pain and trauma. Her mom wasn't there when Katniss needed her most, and Katniss and Prim both almost died as a result. It wasn't her fault, and we see later that she regrets it deeply, but this still leaves scars. Your parents, above everyone else, are supposed to protect you. Katniss's mom didn't, Katniss nearly died, and because of that, Katniss had to sacrifice what remained of her childhood to become Prim's mom.

Katniss and Prim's relationship never goes back to just normal sisterhood after this. From the moment Mrs. Everdeen's trauma rendered her catatonic onwards, Katniss and Prim's relationship was infused with a mother-child dynamic that never left, not even when Mrs. Everdeen became well again.

It's so painful, all the more so because it's so real. I lived this with my little brother, albeit with stakes maybe 1% this high, when my mom became an alcoholic and my dad was too busy just trying to survive to really do anything. I was the one to take care of him emotionally, to show someone cared, to provoke my mom's anger so he wouldn't be hit, to make sure homework got done and he didn't skip school (I failed. Badly.) He still considers me more his parent than either of our parents. It never really goes away, even when you're both adults; that overdeveloped feeling of responsibility stays with you. Always.

And the worst part of it is when the parent who made you have to do this decides, on their own, that the time is right for them to come back. Katniss's mom is far more gracious about it than my own. She at least understood Katniss's pain, and didn't try to force the role on her; it happened only when Katniss was ready. But that too, as we'll see in a minute, was painfully real for me.

“I never want to have kids,” I say. “I might. If I didn’t live here,” says Gale. “But you do,” I say, irritated. “Forget it,” he snaps back. The conversation feels all wrong.

Once again, a hint that despite their sweet friendship and similarities, these are two tragically, fundamentally incompatible people. Katniss is in too much pain to think of ever having a family, and Gale is in too much pain to think of not ever having one. Katniss wants to survive the way she always has (which she doesn't realize isn't her destiny yet) and Gale wants to flee and survive literally any other way.

Both change in the end, but the underlying incompatibilities in their life approaches are still there.

And even if we did . . . even if we did . . . where did this stuff about having kids come from? There’s never been anything romantic between Gale and me. [...] Besides, if he wants kids, Gale won’t have any trouble finding a wife. He’s good-looking, he’s strong enough to handle the work in the mines, and he can hunt. You can tell by the way the girls whisper about him when he walks by in school that they want him. It makes me jealous but not for the reason people would think. Good hunting partners are hard to find.

A few very interesting things are happening here. One, we're getting another hint, first dropped during Katniss's thoughts about Buttercup, that Katniss has a pathological inability to believe others actually like her- romantically or otherwise. Part of it is low self-esteem, part of it is putting Prim on such a pedestal that Katniss feels she can never live up (and giving her more self-esteem issues) and feeling like anything she attributes to herself might take away from Prim, and part of it is just raw cynicism. And maybe a dash or two of the feeling of permanent othering trauma gives you. Especially when that trauma involves a realization that you're never going to be able to rely on others to meet your own needs. You're responsible for your needs and your loved ones' too.

(Katniss is one of the most complex and real characters of all time. I relate to Katniss an uncomfortable amount sometimes.)

The other interesting thing is that you're getting a sense, for the first time, of how much trouble Katniss has recognizing and processing her own emotions- a very common trait in neurodivergent people. She can sort-of-understand a feeling of jealousy, but can't quite put her finger on the reason, and fitting with her attitude of relentless practicality, she decides that it's the worry of losing a useful hunting partner. Because, after all, Prim is the only person she loves, she can't care for anyone else, there isn't room for that. To care about anyone else would be to "take away" something from Prim.

Katniss repeatedly raises the question of when self-sacrifice crosses the line into self-harm by proxy. When altruistic love becomes self-negation instead. It's sweet that she loves Prim so much, but the codependence... If this is the benchmark for love for Katniss, it's no wonder that she feels at this point that she can't feel it for anyone else. This isn't sustainable.

(Prim is doomed. We've been warned.)

I found the patch a few years ago, but Gale had the idea to string mesh nets around it to keep out the animals.

This is going to be a recurring theme; Katniss is too impulsive and lacking a sufficient cause-effect pathway to be a planner/strategist. Gale makes the plans now; later it'll be Peeta and Haymitch.

(Also, this is foreshadowing Katniss's lack of agency. She is about to become an audience member in her own life story. She found the strawberries, but she didn't decide what to do about them. Gale did. That's about to become her entire life.)

No one in the Seam would turn up their nose at a good leg of wild dog, but the Peacekeepers who come to the Hob can afford to be a little choosier.

There is a hierarchy still, where the Peacekeepers are starving, but not as starving as the people in the communities they're sent to. Everyone is hungry, but some are hungrier than others.

Hint. Hint.

“That’s not her fault,” I say. “No, it’s no one’s fault. Just the way it is,” says Gale.

"Remember who the real enemy is." Katniss gets told this repeatedly, by Haymitch and others, and eventually she learns the lesson in time to lead a successful revoltuion.

Gale does not learn this lesson. He will end up destroying everything he cares about in his pursuit of revenge against the Capitol and anyone associated with it.

Gale would normally say that there is a huge difference between Madge, the mayor's daughter who is pampered and comparatively privileged, versus the willfully malicious Peacekeepers; the middle class are still part of the proletariat, after all. But Gale, in his pain and fear, loses sight of it and lashes out. This time, it's just words. By the end of the series, when he gets actual power, it will lead to something far more catastrophic.

Prim is doomed to die, Gale and Katniss's friendship is doomed to end in the most bitter way possible, and Gale is doomed to be his own worst enemy.

Gale knows his anger at Madge is misdirected. On other days, deep in the woods, I’ve listened to him rant about how the tesserae are just another tool to cause misery in our district. A way to plant hatred between the starving workers of the Seam and those who can generally count on supper and thereby ensure we will never trust one another. “It’s to the Capitol’s advantage to have us divided among ourselves,” he might say if there were no ears to hear but mine. If it wasn’t reaping day. If a girl with a gold pin and no tesserae had not made what I’m sure she thought was a harmless comment.

Gale knows he's wrong to say things like that. But again, as said above, his pain and fear get the better of him, and cause pain to those around him. His normal philosophy is correct, but he loses sight of and discards it far too easily.

(Gale is going to lose everything because of his scorched-earth approach to anger.)

Also, a note: this is how the real world operates too. Culture wars to distract from class war. For an entire generation of readers, this was their introduction to the basic principles of socialism.

But what good is yelling about the Capitol in the middle of the woods? It doesn’t change anything. It doesn’t make things fair. It doesn’t fill our stomachs. In fact, it scares off the nearby game. I let him yell though. Better he does it in the woods than in the district.

Katniss is still hung up on practicality. When she rants about the Capitol, she is, subconsciously, crying for help. But venting for the sake of venting doesn't make so much sense to her, given her stunted emotions.

Another bit of characterization I really enjoy here is the realistic teenage behavior. Yes, they're the oldest in their families, responsible for their entire family and only able to support them by hunting, and they should "know better". But they're teenagers in a fascist government, with an already extreme list of traumas and corresponding problems with emotions. Of course they're going to act irrationally at times and scare off game because they're having a meltdown- even non-traumatized teens would do that sometimes!

They're teenagers. Incredibly well-written, realistic teenagers. They don't have fully developed frontal lobes with the corresponding gifts of planning, impulse control, cause-effect relationships, and other things yet. They're more mature than most, but they're still going to behave foolishly sometimes.

Prim is in my first reaping outfit, a skirt and ruffled blouse. It’s a bit big on her, but my mother has made it stay with pins.

This is probably a "the curtains are blue because they're blue!" moment, but this is another bit of symbolism I enjoy. Katniss, at Prim's age, was hunting and entering the Hob. Prim is being kept alive by both Katniss and Mrs. Everdeen. She has a dress that mostly fits. She has good meals now. She is protected where Katniss wasn't. The dress represents both the sacrifices Katniss made for her and the fact that now, Prim has the adoring mother Katniss didn't have. She has two loving people looking out for her, willing to do anything to keep her safe, healthy, and happy.

(Prim is doomed.)

To my surprise, my mother has laid out one of her own lovely dresses for me. A soft blue thing with matching shoes. “Are you sure?” I ask.

Katniss can't comprehend her mom doing motherly things for her. Both because of the parentification, and because Katniss still fundamentally can't believe that anyone, even her own mother, actually cares for her enough to want to do anything for her. Not after four years of Katniss carrying the entire family on her back. It's incompatible with the world she's lived in for the last four years.

Katniss is painfully relatable.

I’m trying to get past rejecting offers of help from her. For a while, I was so angry, I wouldn’t allow her to do anything for me.

Painfully. Relatable.

What Katniss is feeling in this scene, I don't think I can describe to anyone who hasn't been there. It's relief-bitterness-anger-hope-longing-mistrust.

"Oh great, look who's finally here to help now that things are okay again and I figured everything out on my own! I want you back. I want a parent back. I don't want to do this anymore. I can't stop it. I can't trust you not to make me do it again. I'd better keep doing it so I don't get my hopes up. How do I even live without doing this? How do I live as a person and not a caretaking robot for my family? Am I allowed to do that? What kind of selfish person would I be if I did, especially now that I've seen what will happen if you fail again? No, I'm not letting you do this. I'll let you pretend to the little one because they need a parent figure and they deserve to feel normal, but me? Hell no, do you think I'm stupid? I am taking care of myself, I already learned what it costs to trust other people to see to my needs and that is not a price I'll pay a second time, thankyouverymuch. Yeah, mom I love you. I'm glad you're okay now. And thanks for doing this for me, I guess."

It goes something like that.

But I digress.

In just this paragraph Katniss expresses so much of the pain of parentification, so succinctly yet vividly that it makes my chest hurt.

I just really, really love Katniss, okay?

“You look beautiful,” says Prim in a hushed voice. “And nothing like myself,” I say.

Ow. Just... ow. She says it so matter-of-factly. Like she's just accepted it into her worldview; Prim, the embodiment of everything good in the world, is beautiful. Katniss, the leftover, the thing that exists just to take care of Prim, is ugly. That simple.

I wish we could have seen Prim respond here; surely she doesn't like anyone, even her sister herself, talking about Katniss this way? Or maybe Prim is so used to these kinds of casual self-put-downs that she's stopped trying to talk Katniss out of it.

Again: painfully relatable.

I protect Prim in every way I can, but I’m powerless against the reaping. The anguish I always feel when she’s in pain wells up in my chest and threatens to register on my face.

Once more: Painfully. Relatable. You put so much into protecting 'your kiddo'. And then something comes along and reminds you that you're even more powerless than the useless adults in your life. It hurts. It feels like you failed. It's one thing for you to get hurt, you already know how to deal with it, but them?

Ugh. Dystopian fiction isn't usually where my inner abused and parentified child gets validated, but this series unlocked some things in my neural pathways.

Thank you, Suzanne Collins, for Katniss. I feel so seen in so many ways through her and her story.

Sorry. I know this is supposed to be an analysis, not a love letter, but damn if Katniss doesn't play my heartstrings like a fiddle.

“Tuck your tail in, little duck,” I say, smoothing the blouse back in place. Prim giggles and gives me a small “Quack.” “Quack yourself,” I say with a light laugh. The kind only Prim can draw out of me.

Sorry, I am going to try to not repeat myself so much, but once again it just... Prim gets to be a child, because of Katniss. She gets to be a normal-ish 12 year old who makes silly animal noises and can't tuck her dress in. Katniss was fighting for her life and trying to find food. And of course it's not Prim's fault- I love Prim. But there's something just so painful about this contrast. Katniss had her childhood stolen from her, first by the tyrannical government she lived in, then her father's death, then her mother's mental illness, and finally the needs of a child she never should have been responsible for.

It's no wonder Katniss spends so much of the series in that emotional state abused, neglected, and traumatized children know all too well. You're simultaneously precocious and childish. Too grown-up one minute and acting like a child the next. Katniss never got to experience linear growth, and her psychology sure as hell shows it.

Painfully. Relatable.

Also, yet again: Prim. Is. Doomed. She's the most important thing in Katniss's life, the rationale for every decision Katniss makes, the reason she gets out of bed in the morning. The one person who makes Katniss's life worth living. Precious, sweet Prim, who retains her innocence and kindness in a world that aggressively stomps out both, is doomed by the narrative in every possible way.

Anyway, Gale and I agree that if we have to choose between dying of hunger and a bullet in the head, the bullet would be much quicker. The space gets tighter, more claustrophobic as people arrive. [...] I stare at the paper slips in the girls’ ball. Twenty of them have Katniss Everdeen written on them in careful handwriting.

When you're a child, you can't comprehend something awful happening to your parents, because your life experience just hasn't shaped yet to show you that it's even possible. You don't understand that it can happen.

When you're an adult, you can't comprehend something awful happening to your child, because your life experience has shaped to show you exactly how it's possible. You know exactly how it can happen, so you can't believe that it can actually happen.

Katniss is at a stage of her life that would already be transitional in normal circumstances, where she'd start contemplating mortality- but she's already dealt with it for years.

Her own death doesn't scare her anymore. Her sister's scares her so much that she doesn't even think it's a possibility. After all, everything she's done for the last four years of her life has been for Prim. To keep her alive and give her the childhood Katniss lost suddenly and traumatically.

Prim is doomed.

Taking the kids from our districts, forcing them to kill one another while we watch — this is the Capitol’s way of reminding us how totally we are at their mercy.

We got hints of apathy and cruelty before, but now the curtain is, for the first time, being peeled back. This isn't a system built on simple oppression. It's a system built on raw sadism.

It's another sign that Panem isn't sustainable. People can endure a lot of cruelty when their loved ones are hostages, but there are limits. When those limits get pushed (hint), something will have to give.

To make it humiliating as well as torturous, the Capitol requires us to treat the Hunger Games as a festivity, a sporting event pitting every district against the others.

Bread and circuses. The poor give labor (food) and entertainment, and the rich receive them. The rich live sequestered lives full of privilege, yet ultimately just as much under the thumb as the tyrant as anyone else. But still supporting the system because they lack the empathy to want change when they benefit from the status quo more than they would from a new system, so they think. They are simultaneously disgusting and pitiful.

Like the comfortably wealthy Trump-supporting boomers we all know and loathe.

The last tribute alive receives a life of ease back home, and their district will be showered with prizes, largely consisting of food.

Our very first, incredibly subtle hint, that winning the games might be even worse than losing them. The first time reading, of course, you'll take this at face value. Later, though, you'll think of this and realize it was all only mockery and isolationism, a way of guaranteeing that the victors would be scapegoated by their District, ensuring they would never find companionship again even if their trauma didn't prevent it. And they can't complain, because, after all, they now have a life of comfort.

So many things are intersecting here; class warfare (Victors being an allegory for "temporarily embarrassed millionaires" and the American Dream) and the isolation of trauma and mental illness and more.

But suddenly I am thinking of Gale and his forty-two names in that big glass ball and how the odds are not in his favor. Not compared to a lot of the boys. And maybe he’s thinking the same thing about me because his face darkens and he turns away. “But there are still thousands of slips,” I wish I could whisper to him.

Katniss so rarely worries about herself, only those she cares for. Again; her own mortality is okay to her. It's those she protects she can't let this happen to. But since she can't even bear to face the possibility of Prim being chosen (Prim is doomed) yet, she focuses her feelings on Gale, not only worrying that he'll be picked, but worrying that he will be upset that she might be. She only spares thoughts for herself for a few brief seconds, in the next paragraph.

Katniss gets accused of being selfish so many times, but it's notable that those moments only happen once she volunteers to go into the arena, once her survival depends on a bit of selfishness. Before then, she's one of the least selfish people in the entire series, and I'd argue that even at her worst she doesn't count as truly selfish. She's a teenager trying to survive and return home to her family, not a toddler who won't share toys.

I’m feeling nauseous and so desperately hoping that it’s not me, that it’s not me, that it’s not me.

But, of course, even when you are theoretically okay with dying, being faced with the actual thing will still inspire terror. So for just a moment, Katniss lets herself lapse into worry about herself.

For just a moment, she thinks about herself- and just that fast, Prim is placed in danger.

(This is how Prim will die too, by the way; being put in danger the one time Katniss is focused on something other than her. Prim is doomed.)

Effie Trinket crosses back to the podium, smoothes the slip of paper, and reads out the name in a clear voice. And it’s not me. It’s Primrose Everdeen.

The unthinkable has happened, and Katniss's life has been changed forever.

And even though she can save Prim this time, it's only temporary.

Prim is doomed. Nothing in the world can prevent it now. Prim would die in the arena, but by going instead, Katniss has put herself in a position where any and all actions she does will spark a revolution that gives her a Pyrrhic victory.

There is no version of events where Prim lives.

Prim is doomed.

#katniss everdeen #thg #the hunger games #hunger games #primrose everdeen

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demifiendrsa · 8 months ago

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South of Midnight | Official Gameplay Trailer

South of Midnight will launch for Xbox Series and PC (Steam, Microsoft Store) in 2025. It will also be available via Xbox Game Pass.

Title Logo

Key visual

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Overview

About

From the creators of Contrast and We Happy Few, South of Midnight is a spellbinding third-person action adventure game set in the American Deep South.

As Hazel, you will explore the mythos and encounter creatures of Southern folklore in a macabre and fantastical world. When disaster strikes her hometown, Hazel is called to become a Weaver: a magical mender of broken bonds and spirits. Imbued with these new abilities, Hazel will confront and subdue dangerous creatures, untangle the webs of her own family’s shared past and -if she’s lucky – find her way to a place that feels like home.

Key Features

A Dark Modern Folktale – When a hurricane rips through Prospero, Hazel is pulled into a Southern Gothic world where reality and fantasy are interwoven, and ancient creatures from folklore emerge. In this coming-of-age adventure, Hazel journeys forth to rescue her mother and delves into a haunting web of folklore and family secrets, untangling her own identity.

Confront Mythical Creatures – Wield an ancient power to restore creatures and uncover the traumas that consume them. Cast weaving magic to fight destructive Haints, explore the diverse regions of the South, and reweave the tears in the Grand Tapestry.

Haunting Beauty of the Gothic South – Discover the lush, decayed county of Prospero and its locals. Experience a crafted visual style, touching storytelling, and immersive music inspired by the complex and rich history of the South.

#South of Midnight #Compulsion Games #Xbox Game Studios #video game #Xbox Series #Xbox Series X #Xbox Series S #PC #Steam #Microsoft Store #Xbox Games Showcase #Xbox Games Showcase 2024 #long post

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aaajaxolotl · 8 months ago

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Feast Your Eyes: Fandom Cookbook Recipe Review #3

Pizza, Pizza, Where’s My Pizza?! - The Official Five Nights At Freddy’s Cookbook

Tonight's menu: sourced from the Official Five Nights at Freddy’s Cookbook

Main Dish: Funtime Foxy’s 3-Cheese Veggie Surprise, pg 18

Side Dish: Garlicky Pizza Twirls with Spicy Dip, pg 20

BONUS REVIEW 1: Pizzaplex Master Dough, pg 13

BONUS REVIEW 2: Easyplex Pizza Sauce, pg 14

Full review under the cut!

Aurum Leuci’s Log:

[Begin recording.] Hello? Hello, hello? Is this thing on? Okay. That was a close one. Your machine is totally broken, man. This time I ended up in a mall… arcade… thing. With an actual kitchen. I unfortunately didn’t get the opportunity to try and fix the portal generator, because there are GIANT SCARY ROBOTS that for some reason want pizza. I MADE pizza. I don’t know how they’re eating it. But they sure are.

Look, I know you’re getting these transmissions, it wouldn’t let me record more if you weren’t, but I’m not getting anything back from you. I need instructions, or a plan, or something. ANYTHING to make sure I’m not jumping aimlessly across spacetime until I inevitably get eaten by something or other. Please. I want to bring my findings home… At least this pizza is pretty good for a weird robot-infested mall. Aurum Leuci out. [End log.]

Please see this post for my full review scale!

Main Dish: Funtime Foxy’s 3-Cheese Veggie Surprise

RATING:

Difficulty: 5/5

Ingredients: 5/5

Immersion: 3/5

Time: 5/5

End Result: 5/5

TOTAL RATING: 23/25

This pizza… was incredible. Aside from the sauce (see the bonus reviews for that), it was easy, it was delicious, and it gets bonus points for being somewhat easy to make plant based. For full disclosure, I didn’t use the Taleggio cheese (and also forgot to add parsley, but who cares about parsley?) and substituted in Miyoko’s plant-based Mozzarella spread instead— so ours was kind of a two-cheese veggie surprise (parmesan and mozz) but it was incredible. I would never have thought to put zucchini on a pizza, but it definitely impressed me. The only reason this pizza loses points is that I don’t think Fazbear Entertainment would serve something this high-quality!

Side Dish: Garlicky Pizza Twirls with Spicy Dip

RATING:

Difficulty: 5/5

Ingredients: 5/5

Immersion: 5/5

Time: 5/5

End Result: 4/5

TOTAL RATING: 24/25

I’ve been looking forward to tackling this recipe since I got this book as a gift. And it DELIVERED! Like the main dish, I also forgot the parsley on this one (silly me, completely forgetting the existence of parsley) but I really don’t think it would have added anything. These twirls, complete with fresh ingredients and a homemade spicy sauce (using the easyplex sauce as a base) absolutely feel like a delicious arcade snack. My only complaint (and this may have been something that I did wrong) is that I don’t think this recipe really makes 10 pizza twirls. The two on either end of the dough log came out completely devoid of cheese or sauce— still delicious, but not a pizza twirl. Just a bread twirl.

BONUS REVIEWS: Pizzaplex Master Dough, Easyplex Pizza Sauce

Pizzaplex Master Dough:

RATING:

Difficulty: 3/5

Ingredients: 5/5

Immersion: 3/5

Time: 5/5

End Result: 5/5

TOTAL RATING: 21/25

This recipe, despite not getting a perfect score, came out pretty great. I don’t have any real notes on it, just that I don’t think Fazbear Entertainment would make their dough fresh in-house, and also that yeast is really hard to work with. If you’re ever using yeast for anything, just… please look up instructions on the internet. Your cookbook cannot help you. (Same with proofing your yeast. Look it up. King Arthur Flour has a really good walkthrough.) In terms of at-home cooking, though, this recipe was relatively simple, and really, really delicious. And it makes enough for 4 pizzas (or 3 pizzas and a delicious batch of pizza twirls.)

Easyplex Pizza Sauce:

RATING:

Difficulty: 1/5

Ingredients: 5/5

Immersion: 1/5

Time: 2/5

End Result: 5/5

TOTAL RATING: 14/25

OH MY GODS, this sauce. Okay. Okay, so. It’s really good, it tasted great and was versatile (I used it in the pizza twirls, the main pizza, and the sauce for the pizza twirls) but, like… The only step is “mash canned tomatoes through a sieve with a spoon and mix in the tomato paste and spices! See how simple!” and IT IS NOT SIMPLE. YOU WILL MASH THE TOMATOES FOR AN HOUR. Your hands will hurt. You will regret your life choices. Your sieve will take as long to clean as the tomatoes took to mash. You could have just bought and seasoned pre-mashed tomato sauce. It was right next to the can of tomatoes you bought. Freddy Fazbear Entertainment is not making their restaurant staff MASH TOMATOES.

The sauce was good, but once I run out of the other half of this batch of it (probably this weekend, since I’m making another pizza) I’m just going to buy canned tomato sauce and season it the same way. I’m not that much of a gourmet.

Tune in on Friday (6/14/24) for another fandom cookbook review!

#voidlightcomix #fnaf #fnaf cookbook #fnaf pizzaplex #five nights at freddy's #food #foodpics #healthy food #food photography #funtime foxy #fazbear entertainment #fnaf fanart #official fnaf cookbook #pizzaplex #pizza #glamrock chica

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lewovo-poto · 6 months ago

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1988 Phantom of the Opera (Partial) Viewing Experience at The New York Public Library for the Performing Arts, Theatre on Film and Tape Archive. July, 2024

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After learning that it’s possible to make appointments at the NY Library Archive and that they allow viewing of all closed Broadway official recordings for research purposes, I happily booked an appointment. But because I was rushing after watching Cat the Jellicle Ball in the afternoon (great show btw!) and got lost and took the wrong subway, I arrived after 5 PM, and the archive closes at 6 PM. This meant I couldn’t finish watching, so I knew I'd have to come back next time. The archive staff checked my bag and allowed me to bring in paper, a pen, and my phone.

I realized I didn’t have much time, so I thought I’d focus on the key parts. But then, disaster struck again—the computer was about as old as I am, and even my elementary school computer was more advanced. The interface was really difficult to use, and I didn’t really know how to fast-forward or rewind properly, so after wasting 10 minutes, I gave up and decided to just watch it as it was. 😂

(Sorry for any grammar mistakes, English is not my first language)

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**1988 Phantom Review**

The opening captured the surrounding audience, since this was a performance with a live audience. The video quality was average, but if AI restoration becomes possible someday, that would be great. It wasn’t bad, just the typical quality you'd expect from the 1980s.

The Overture was particularly intriguing. I had read in other reviews that there was a female voice, so I was curious, and it turned out there really was a soprano singing along with the Overture, with an “ah—” as the chandelier slowly rose. It sounded quite Gothic. (I wonder when this was introduced and when it was discontinued, as I’ve never heard this version before. It must have been used for a very short period.)

Sarah danced throughout, but there was a moment where she seemed a bit confused, though she quickly resumed dancing normally. After the first part of Hannibal, Carlotta practiced her voice while the old manager introduced everything with a cheerful and enthusiastic tone, rather than the usual tired one (I couldn’t tell if this was because someone else was taking over this mess of a theater or if it was just his naturally cheerful demeanor lol). The conductor squatted down with the sheet music, communicating with the orchestra while waving his arms. I have to say, the immersive experience of the Bucket Show was quite something.

During the iconic “He’s there, the Phantom of the Opera!” line, a male voice also shouted, “There’s a ghost!” Huh?? I hadn’t noticed that before. It seems that the original cast of the Broadway production used British accents (even though most of them, except MC and Sarah, should have been American).

Carlotta looked so small compared to the manager, haha. After getting angry, she said “Ubaldo, Andiamo” in a very deep voice, which I think was the first time I heard that line delivered in a lower register.

Madame Giry asked, “Will the Viscount be at tonight’s performance?” and the manager replied, “Of course, he’ll be in our box.” I don’t think these lines are in the current production anymore; at least, they weren’t in the 25th-anniversary performance.

TOM:

Sarah was so skinny! She really was the wide-eyed ingénue type, with her large eyes. Her dress seemed more teal than green. She wasn’t the lively, bouncy type, but rather, every movement was slow and gentle, and her voice is with lots of vibrato.

Steve Barton’s loud “BRAVO” during the recollection scene was followed by soft, broken out sentences full of laughter, making it seem like he was lost in a beautiful memory.

After TOM, Sarah kept talking and nodding with the conductor, probably reviewing the performance. When MC’s “Bravi” came out, Sarah fell into deep thought until Meg came over and startled her. Meg was super cute, and Sarah’s Christine maintained a frozen, pensive expression while talking to Meg, not really happy until she sang “Angel of Music, guide and guardian, grant to me your glory!” and finally smiled. When Madame Giry said, “Come and practice,” it sounded like there was a male voice saying “Asshole” (though I didn’t see this in anyone else’s report, so it might have been me lacking sleep and hallucinated, or perhaps a spectator’s accidental comment was recorded).

Steve Barton is truly the best Raoul, bars none! He exudes both gentleness and elegance, while his voice carries the excitement and joy of someone who has just fallen in love. When he sees Christine, his face lights up with a smile, and when he says "SOAKED to the skin" to her, he really emphasizes the word "SOAKED" with a pause. Similarly, when he says "Little Lottie," he pronounces it pointedly, like "Li—ttle Lo—ttie," as if savoring the name with each syllable. Sarah’s Christine is also very happy to see Raoul, but when she mentions the Angel, her expression turns pensive and melancholy again. Christine initially declines the dinner invitation, but when Raoul says, "No no, you must change, 2 mins, MY little Lottie" (“MY"!), Sarah’s Christine ends up smiling and looking amused. Because of this, it doesn’t seem like Raoul is being overbearing; it feels like, for a brief moment, the two of them have mutually agreed to go to dinner. It’s only after Raoul turns away that Christine realizes, "Oh no, I can’t go—everything has changed." (Could be me reading too much into it)

When Sarah's Christine first heard MC’s Phantom, she wasn’t scared—it was just… a normal expression when Sarah's Christine thought of the Phantom, the pensive kind, until the “enter at last, master” line when she smiled. MC’s Phantom in the mirror was really… creepy, especially with the makeup and lighting.

(At this point, my notes became too messy to decipher… I was probably too excited at the time.)

Title Song:

During the boat scene, Christine looked very happy, while the Phantom leaned slightly as if about to touch Christine’s face (probably during the “Where night is blind” line).

MOTN:

MC’s Phantom had noticeable… eye bags, lol. MC’s rendition of MOTN felt like a lullaby, but with a Gothic allure. The body language was similar to Sarah’s TOM, with every movement slow and deliberate, very graceful (maybe due to the original stage direction by Gillian Lynne). Sarah's Christine looked somewhat hypnotized. During “Turn your thoughts away from cold unfeeling light,” MC’s Phantom’s fingers almost touched Sarah’s face, coming close to a kiss before pulling away. MC’s “Soar” & “Be” was super long and well-sung. Another part I liked was when, possibly due to the height difference, MC’s Phantom slightly hunched over during “Floating, falling,” making him look extra creepy. It also felt like, after maintaining such an elegant demeanor for so long, MC’s Phantom was finally losing some composure as he got closer to Christine. During “The music that I write,” MC’s voice was particularly seductive, and his lower register was impressive.

Since this was the Broadway version, when Christine was Christine ightened and fainted, the Phantom didn’t carry her. MC’s Phantom looked more like he was in a composed shock—surprised but not panicked, and he gently covered Christine with the cloak. The monkey music box didn’t work well in this performance, lol, as it didn’t play any music (even in the official recording, lol).

When Sarah's Christine woke up, she wasn’t the playful, cute, and mischievous type (like Sierra in 25th Anniversary, and many others). Sarah's Christine looked curious but also more anxious, as if she was unease waking up in a strange environment, which is honestly a very logical reaction after woke up at a strange place, and quite Leroux. When she sang “who’s the face in the mask,” her face showed more fear (though, speaking of which, while its believable for Sarah’s Christine to act anxious when woke up, it’s a bit unbelievable that Sarah's Christine, who seemed so uneasy and scared, would dare to remove the Phantom’s mask. I think I prefer a more playful Christine but that’s more of a personal preference).

After revealing the mask, Sarah's Christine cried and wailed a lot (she seemed very scared, poor girl). MC’s Phantom… my notes got messy again here (probably because I was too excited), but the dialogue used “vixen” instead of “viper.” MC’s Phantom also cried and groaned in pain, crawling toward Christine. I remember he turned his face toward Christine without covering it (though it was hard to see the disfigurement makeup in the dark), reaching out his arm, pleading, and letting out a super sad, sobbing “Oh Christine…” After getting the mask back, MC’s Phantom reached out as if to caress Christine’s face but switched to using his wrist at the last second.

In the Magical Lasso scene, there was a brief glimpse of the Phantom and C. The original Broadway Madame Giry really had a strong witch-like aura, haha.

Then I fast-forwarded because the library was about to close. I remember Sarah’s Christine as the Page Boy was *super* cute. Honestly, that was probably the cutest and most lively I saw Sarah's Christine. Then I fast-forwarded to the rooftop scene, where Sarah’s Christine had her usual fearful attitude toward the Phantom. When singing “So distorted, deformed,” her face seemed to show… a look of disgust (oh nooooo!). But when she sang “in that night, there was music in my mind,” she smiled again. She’s truly a Christine who’s more in love with the Voice... Then the staff had finished clearing the other tables, so I also got up to leave. Through fast-forwarding, it seems like Christine and Raoul had lots of hugs and such. I really hope I can go to NY on a business trip again soon and have time to visit the library to watch the official recording! Next time, I hope I can take my time and enjoy it slowly from start to finish.

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**Personal Reflections**:

Steve Barton needs no further discussion—eternally the best! I've always thought of him as the steady, noble, and gentle Prince Charming type of Raoul. After watching (a portion of) the official recording, I realized that Barton’s Raoul also has a very lively and passionate side, full of the excitement of a young man in love. His voice is full of teasing warmth, especially when he first encounters Christine. Unfortunately, I didn't get to see much of the rooftop scene, but he seems to exude gentleness. In summary, he's a perfect Raoul!

As for Sarah's Christine... uh, well, I have mixed feelings. I've heard others praise Sarah, saying she has a very classical Gothic 19th-century vibe, so my expectations were quite high. I was imagining a mysterious woman with her head in the clouds. Of course, there are also criticisms of her acting, saying it's somewhat lacking (I shall never forgot that one critic was like “She can’t act scared in NY subway at 3am” or something, which is quite mean). After watching this segment of the official recording, I feel... there were some elements in both? She is indeed a graceful, intellectual Christine, with many secrets buried deep in her heart. Her facial expressions seem fine to me, mostly seem pensive and wistful, definitely able to act scared and unsettled. Maybe it's because her Christine always seems deeply burdened, so her expressions often appear serious. But when it comes to her interactions with the Phantom... it feels like her Christine doesn't really love him. Christine only seems truly happy when the Phantom is acting as her Angel of Music or when he has her completely under his spell, but once the Angel leaves or when she's not controlled by the music, Christine immediately returns to reality, filled with unease. Also, during the rooftop scene when describing the Phantom's face, Sarah's Christine actually shows disgust, which really shocked me because I usually see this moment as one of fright (at the Phantom's actions and ferocity) rather than revulsion at his face. So, it's hard to judge—paired with Barton's flawless Raoul, it feels like Sarah’s Christine would be very willing to leave the Phantom. She does give off Leroux Christine’s melancholy and pensive energy——a woman with many secrets, and I really like that about her.

MC’s Phantom—it's a pity I couldn't see the later scenes where the Phantom truly lets loose and explodes. However, from the parts I did see, MC's Phantom is a very classic Gothic "monster." His movements are slow and graceful, yet strangely seductive, and at the same time, quite creepy, especially with the makeup and lighting. His voice is very controlled—except when he's too close to Christine or when his mask is removed, he generally seems like a Phantom who is mostly in strict control of himself. He's very restrained, always keeping his movements and interactions with Christine just on the edge of touching, almost kissing, but then pulls back at the last second (which aligns with the original choreography and the director's intent to express suppressed desire). His anger, perhaps due to the nature of his voice, isn't one of raging madness but more of sadness followed by painful wails, full of pleading. His control over his voice and how he used that to convey emotions is just so captivating and heartbreaking. Oh, how I wish I could see MC's final lair scene, as MC's Phantom is really one who is very composed and elegant most of the time (honestly, it’s more like the Phantom in Kay's novel—one can understand how the old-school Phantoms influenced Susan Kay's inspiration). And I really want to see MC's Phantom with other Christines, like Dale Kristien. I know she’s one of the most supportive of the Erik/Christine relationship and is a fan of MC. I'm very curious how MC and she would perform together.

#poto #phantom of the opera #christine daae #raoul de chagny #erik the phantom #the phantom of the opera #sarah brightman #michael crawford #steve barton #tbh now that I saw 1990 LA bootleg of MC I gotta say his final lair doesn’t disappoint #so much wailing and crying he’s breaking down #the way his voice was void of emotion after being kissed then gradually can’t hold back anymore #amazing #now I really want to see how he acts against Sarah and Steve in final lair

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