#( victor is the only one who knows she killed his father the day she found him and eli )

[clochanam]

aisling as a liar is still my favorite thing like she wants to be a good person but she lies every single day, and ur muses are entitled to call her out on that tbqh--

[yourlittlebunnyy]

snow - azriel x reader

main masterlist azriel masterlist

kallias version

summary: Lover, wife, mate. Until he loses you.

warnings: death, happy but not very happy ending;)

w/c: 3.5k

a/n: this fic is fully inspired by "snow" by maxence fermine.

enjoy!

That evening, over a glass of good wine given to him by his uncle Rhysand, and with his other half, your son said, “I don't even remember what she looked like in the face.” And he laughed chasing away the negativity of the situation.

It was true. He no longer remembered your face. But you remember - no, you observe - his from the day you left. He didn't have you beside him, but you were always there, revelling in his victories and grieving over his sorrows.

That night you visited him in his sleep. He did not recognize you.

“My son.” You greeted him. You were on a flowery meadow. He reciprocated, but showed no signs of affection. You were little more than a stranger to him.

You shared blood. You had carried him for ten months. You had nurtured and changed him for two years. But to him, you were nothing.

“My father never told me anything about you.” He said it as if to justify his distance.

But you understand it, you always understand.

You were as close to your child as you were to Azriel, your beloved. You understood and accepted and respected his grief. You understood and accepted and respected being gone from the world all of a sudden. Your memory kept alive only by your mate, quietly and intimately. And you were fine with that.

“Would you like to know?” You asked him at that point. Your arms quivered for contact. Your son nodded.

And so, your story began.

“I would never have seen the light if my love for him had not been there to enlighten me. And he would never have seen it if it were not for me.” The Fae snorted a laugh, interrupting you.

“That's impossible.”

“Why do you say that?” You questioned.

“I know my father. A female would never be able to reduce him like that. He is a warrior.” Hurt, you shifted your gaze to the lush field in front of you.

“Then you don't know your father as well as you think, honey. That's all right, it's a long story. It would have bored you anyway.”

“No.” He begged, surprising you and himself. “Please, tell.”

“Our story goes back centuries. We were about your age.” You took a deep breath, and dove into the memories. “It all began magically. One winter day, while returning from the battle against Hybern, he fell in love with me. I was very different from the kind of females he was used to. At that time he was the Spy Master of the Night Court. He had participated in a very violent war that had ended in a brilliant, beautiful and unpredictable victory. So that he came back as a victor. Triumphant but wounded. A soldier had injured his best friend, your uncle, Cassian. Killed Amren. Then Rhysand. He had been wounded, too. In the wings. When he returned he still had the senses of that scene: the taste of blood and mud everywhere in his mouth, the memory of hatred painted in Hybern's face, the near-death experience. But it was the age of honor. Those were the joys of war. One had to die or return wounded to be considered victorious.

However, your father never forgot that battle. He could never forget the sight of his family one step away from defeat, from death. It was the most horrible thing he had ever experienced in his entire life. And believe me, honey, your father saw a lot of things. When he returned, he fainted on his bed. His family took him for dead and he lay on that bed for three days, still soiled with the marks of war. It was your aunt, Feyre, who found him, since she was worried about him.

He settled down, but for several days he was shaken. There was still fear in his eyes. Rhysand thanked him for his help, and Azriel was proud, but his pride still remained clouded by sorrow for what he had experienced. Finally, having recovered his energy, he came to a conclusion. He did not want to fight anymore, and not so much because of the wound that had been inflicted on him - he had suffered far worse during his life - but out of sheer disgust with war. He, who had spent his entire life killing, realized that he no longer had any desire to kill.

He therefore left the Wind House and set out on the streets of my beloved Velaris. And it was there, on his walk, that the miracle took place.

Crippled by the cold, at the end of his strength, with the horror of war still in his eyes, alone in the thick of the darkness and the tragedy he had just experienced, alone in the abyss of winter, alone with the vertigo of his loneliness, alone in his silence, where he should have died a hundred times of cold, hunger, fatigue, disappointment and exhaustion, he survived. He survived because what he saw that day, that thing, that extraordinary thing that also came from the other side of reality, no doubt to compensate the horror, that sublime and beautiful thing was the most sublime and beautiful image he had ever been allowed to see in his entire life. That image was me. And he could no longer forget me.

What he saw was me, at the time a young female, balancing on a rope. I felt as light as a bird, felt as graceful as a squirrel as I performed above the silvery river of Velaris. I was sixty feet above the ground. More than walking the wire I was floating in the air as if by magic. I was gliding faintly in the blue up there, standing on my invisible wire, the barbell in my hands. I could have been mistaken for an angel.

Your father slowly approached the river, and my beauty captivated him. He then told me that it was the first time he had seen a female from another Continent in Velaris. I seemed to fly, so, intrigued he advanced again. I was now perfectly above him. A dense crowd had gathered on the shore to witness my strange apparition. He approached an old man and, not taking his eyes off me, asked him who I was. I do not know exactly what he answered him, but from that moment he never stopped looking for me.

I was a funambulist, and my life followed only one line. Straight.

I was from Vallahan, a place far away. They called me Snow. I was nicknamed so because I had skin of glass, eyes of ice, and hair of gold. When I darted through the air I looked as light as a snowflake.

This is how I had begun. One day, while I was still a child, my path had crossed that of a traveling circus. Stunned, I had discovered the possibility of daydreaming. Heedless of the dangers, I had decided to make it my business. I had started with a tightrope stretched a few inches off the ground. Then, little by little, I had gone higher and higher in both height and mastery of my art. And so I became one of the first female funambulists. Up on the tightrope, I never came down again.

I became one for the love of balance. I, whose life unfolded like a twisty thread, excelled in the subtle and treacherous art of doing evolutions on a tightrope. I never felt as comfortable as when I walked on a wire a thousand feet above the ground. Straight ahead of me. Without ever deviating a single millimeter off course. It was my destiny. To advance step by step. From one end of life to the other.

My feats had conquered all of Velaris. By the age of twenty, I had already traveled more than a hundred kilometers on my tightrope, often risking my life. I had stretched my wire between two tall buildings in the Rainbow and balanced several hours above the city, I was like a swan made of wind, snow and silence. Then I had repeated my feats at every place in the Court of Night, each time defying the laws of balance.

I was no mere funambulist. I was proceeding through the air as if by magic. Looking at me so far up there, my body standing upright in the sky like a white flame and my golden hair caressed by the wind, I would have been told that I belonged to heaven. Because for me actually the hardest thing was not keeping myself balanced, or even mastering my fear, much less walking that endless tightrope. The hardest thing was not to turn into a snowflake.

By now I was being claimed in every corner of the Court. I even went to the Court of Nightmares. Then, almost without realizing it, I got as far as the Illyrian Steppes, where your father was ecstatic to watch me. Never before had an artist performed before the Illyrian. And Azriel looked at me and already loved me. In his eyes I was no mere funambulist. I was Snow, and I represented all the beauty of art. When I had finished my performance with the tightrope, and returned to the ground, he could not restrain the urge to approach me. He stepped forward and, in doing so, discovered the fineness of my features, the design of my mouth, the line of my eyebrows, and knew instantly that he could never forget my face. He looked into my eyes, and in turn I squared him. No words were spoken, and that was all we needed. I smiled at him, and in that he lost his soul. He knelt before me and said, “I have been looking for you, mate.”

I, on the other hand, was looking for no one. But his gesture seemed to me of such beauty that I delighted in it. And I accepted the bond. We got married, even. The first years passed happily. A happy event solidified our bond: you. You possessed my features, but your father's strength, darling. Our life was one of peace and silence. Gradually I was settling more and more into this Court. Sometimes I felt homesick for Vallahan, but I never complained about it.

What I missed most of all was my job as a funambulist. One night I dreamed of flying again. The next day, waking up, I thought about the dream again. Then I thought no more about it. The cold weather came. Then spring again. You developed in the ecstasy of light. I was happy. In one hand I held your father's heart and in the other my own, which at the same time I offered to you. And that fragile balance served to keep me balanced on the edge of happiness. But one day that balance became so fragile that it broke. One day the affection you offered me was no longer enough to make me happy. I cruelly missed the life in the air. I thirsted again for vertigo, for thrills, for conquest. I thought only of becoming a funambulist again. I asked Azriel to arrange one last performance. I wanted to stretch a rope from mountain to mountain in the heart of the Steppes.

Surely your father esteemed my desire as foolish, deeming it senseless to endanger my life and the life...of your sister.

But, like a true male, he bowed before me and consented. He had two steel ropes come from the Court of the Day. Then he sent two helpers to secure the longest cable between the two highest peaks.

I slipped the barbell out of my old case, put on my ballerina shoes, and practiced for hours in the garden, passing small mountains of flowers and a pond where yellow water lilies floated. Azriel, on the other hand, never tired of watching me. I was a funambulist without any rival.

On that thread I was happy, free and grateful. I thanked the Mother every day for giving me your father. I had blond hair. I had clear eyes. And I was walking on air.

The performance we stared at for the first few days of summer, my belly barely prominent. A crowd gathered from all over the Court to witness my feats. Lucien and Elain, who at the time had just become High Lords, also came.

When I placed my feet on the cable, the crowd rumbled. Up there, I was so high that those who only looked at me felt dizzy; I looked like a white dot in space, a snowflake in the immensity of the sky.

Armed with my barbell, for more than half an hour I performed high above the ground, slowly approaching the opposite side of the mountain. Below, they were holding their breath. One false step and it was certain death. But I, perfectly mastering my art, advanced inexorably. Step by step. Blow after blow. Silence after silence. From vertigo to vertigo. And your father watched as I danced caressed by his shadows in contrast to my white skin, silently praying for me, for his daughter. For your sister. I never stumbled.

It was the wire that broke. Definitely poorly secured, the cable came off the rock and plunged me into a thousand-foot drop. Me, the barbell and my unborn daughter.

Those who saw me disappear there, in the heart of the Steppes, took me for a bird falling from the sky. And my body was never found again.

I, Snow, became snow and sleep in its whiteness.

Your father never recovered from the loss of me, his mate. He killed the two clumsy helpers with cruelty, hatred and the thirst for revenge commanded his movements. Your uncle allowed him to do so without punishing him. But Azriel felt neither joy nor pity in the act. Killing them would not bring me back to life. He saw only one thing: his own grief. He knew only one thing: that never again would he find the woman he had loved. Never again would he see his Snow again. Never again would he see my beauty again.

Back in our house, now devoid of any joy, he threw away the Illyrian sword with which he had killed the two males. He would never kill again in his life, he promised himself. He would throw himself into pain. In the face of our daughter who died that day with me, in which my own face was reflected, he would weep every tear in his body. There was only one last gift left, one last thing that held him to the world of the living: you.

He sank so deep into his grief that he went blind. Your father accepted it, you know. It doesn't really bother him, he is no longer a warrior. He thinks the Mother no longer saw any sense in keeping his sight, if he wouldn't see me anyway.

I have always been close to him. I have always been close to you, my son. As much as my condition allows me to be.

I have never been given a final farewell. In your house my name is like a curse: it is never spoken and disaster should it be done. Therefore, I have come here, in a dream to you, for one last request. I want to be buried with your father. Come to me.” And you showed him where all that time you were hiding.

“Why didn't you say that before?”

“Because your father would not have been able to go on, seeing my face every day.”

As you spoke, you looked lost in the void, your eyes still veiled by the breath of the dream. The story had been long and paplit. Coming back to reality was difficult. Your son merely smiled and nodded at you, his own eyes wet with tears.

The next day he went to Azriel, who was relaxing by the silver river. He asked him to close his eyes and imagine the whiteness.

“I know where your Snow is.”

At these words, Azriel's face froze. Still with his dead gaze turned toward the river, he said, “Who are you to know this? No one knows where she is. The mountain swallowed her up. A long time ago.”

“That's false. The mountain digested her and returned her body. She is there, under the ice, a meter from the surface. She is there, in a glass coffin, intact and as beautiful as when you met her. In her womb she still holds the fruit of your love. I swear to you that I know where she is. She showed it to me in a dream. If you wish, I can lead you to her.”

Azriel understood that your son was telling the truth, and he could not hold back a tear. “I knew that one day we would meet again. But I did not expect that day to come so late in my life.” He turned to the younger Fae and laid a hand on his shoulder. “And to say that since she died ... since she died I've been looking everywhere for her. I've been looking for her everywhere. In every corner of this Court. In every corner of my mind. In every, single, dream. And now that I can finally see her, I will not see her.”

The next day, after the usual practice, your son asked your mate, “Have you thought about my proposal? When do you want me to take you there?”

Azriel sighed, then replied in a sad voice, “My son. This trip would be useless. I know you speak the truth, but what good would it do for an old blind man to find the grave of a dead lady? Wherever she is, my mate is at peace. May her isolation be respected for eternity.”

“No, father. She told me. Her last request was to be found. To be buried with you.” Azriel disappeared into his garden, leaving his son to be crushed by the weight of his own words.

A month passed. Your son and husband no longer spoke of you. They did not even dare to mention it. Every day, the younger Fae went to Azriel to keep him company, but in the end the two always ended up in oppressive silence. It was as if you were invisible.

But then one morning, standing on the edge of the river in Velaris, Azriel said to your son, “Tomorrow we will visit your mother.” Both of them did not answer, they just smiled.

They left at dawn. Your son guided Azriel with the sound of his footsteps. Every time he offered him a hand to help him over some steeper or treacherous passage, and your husband refused it and punctually overcame the obstacle without the need for help. He may have forgotten that he had been a warrior, but his muscles had not.

At night they slept in the villages. When, upon entering a village, Azriel uttered his name and declared where he was from, the doors opened before him as if by magic. The entire Night Court seemed to know his old reputation. Your son was astonished.

And he understood how fortunate he had been to be able to follow the teaching of such a father.

The journey was long, of unceasing whiteness. White as the cherry blossoms. White like the silence that accompanied the two wayfarers.

Finally, one morning, the first mountain peaks appeared. Their road began to climb toward the sky and its purity. They were the hardest hours. Your beloved began to show signs of fatigue, but your son pretended not to, since they were no longer very far from you. Azriel found the strength to go on only because of you. The journey was coming to an end.

When your son glimpsed the place shown to him in his dream, he trembled with excitement. “Dad!” He shouted. “I found it!” The young man rushed under a rock where, in your dream, you showed yourself lying. He had a cry of surprise.

“What is it?” Azriel asked, trepidatiously. “Has Snow disappeared forever? Has there been an avalanche?”

“No.” He said then. “Far from it. She is different from how she showed herself to me. Snow is here, but her body is closer. It is two or three centimeters from the veil of ice. I can almost touch it. It's as if she has prepared for our arrival.”

You were there. You, creature so beautiful, so naked, so blond, as fragile as in the dream. You were dead. Yet you seemed alive. You were resting under the ice. And soon you would emerge from your grave.

You were not really naked. Your funambulist's dress had been so long under the ice that the weave of the fabric had become almost transparent. And your body so delicate and your skin so diaphanous seemed even more fragile. So transparent were you that your son could glimpse your sweet pregnant womb. He threw himself on all fours and scratched at the ice with his nails. Finally you were there.

Your son grabbed Azriel's hand and placed it on your face. And you, watching the scene crouching beside the two males, could almost feel your mate's gentle caress on your skin. You breathed in that touch.

“Can you feel her face? Do you feel her skin?” Azriel's hand stroked your cheek again. He was blind. But he did not need his eyes to recognize the lines of your face. And yours was so well preserved that a simple touch with his fingertips on your lips turned blue was all he needed.

“It really is her. She is my Snow. You have never lied to me.” He fell to his knees before you and wept hot tears warming your face. He could neither see nor feel you, yet you laid a hand on his shoulder. You could not feel him under your fingers. But you were fine with that. It was okay even just that. Just seeing him.

Azriel never descended from the mountain. He lay down on the ice beside you and closed his eyes.

Your son tried to talk him out of it by saying it was madness, that it was too cold to stay there. But your mate answered him in a serene voice, “Leave me alone. I have found my place. For eternity.”

He fell asleep beside your intact body, one hand resting on your womb.

He died letting the whiteness of the world overcome him. He was happy. At the height of your heart.

[studentinpursuitofclouds]

Hello, I see the asks are open! Here is some of this cake I got after killing a slime in the skull cavern: 🍰 just ignore the purple slime on it, I'm sure it's fine. lol. Definitely not a bribe. Anyway.

I made a character recently who adopted a child. Could I ask for some headcannons for how the characters react to the farmer tearing up after their adopted child casually calls them dad/mom for the first time.

For context, their adoption was from before they moved to stardew valley but is still pretty recent and the child has a few abandonment issues so it's a pretty big deal. If it's ok, could I ask for the expanded characters as well?

*Chewing cake* Oh, I thought that purple thing was plum jam. Hmm... *Still chewing the cake* Delicious 😋 Thank you! So, about the question...

I'm not sure, dear anon, exactly which characters you meant, so I did the bachelors/ettes, also added the ones from SVE as well. Thanks for the question! Enjoy!

Hedcanons is written on a situation where the characters know for the situation of the Farmer and their child, that they had adopted the kid before coming to the Valley, and that the child had a sense of abandonment.

SDV/SVE bachelors:

Shane understands more than anyone how much a tsunami of emotions can knock you down at times like this. The day he put Jas to bed and she sleepily called him "Dad" he'll never forget. The girl had already forgotten it, but Shane remembered it forever.

A feeling of abandonment... When Alex's abusive father left him alone with his mother, and later she passed away... It took athlete a long time to shake off the feeling of being unwanted. It's a blessing that he still has his grandparents, and that this child has a loving parent, Farmer.

If you see a little river coming out of nowhere near your feet, just know it's all Elliott's tears. The writer was so touched by the event, its like as if it was his own child calling him father. Elliott doesn't want to get involved right now, but he will congratulate Farmer later.

Sebastian, without noticing it himself, smiled broadly as the crying Farmer hugged their adopted child. Even though he doesn't fully realize how important this is to Farmer, he's genuinely happy for them.

Sam, who in the absence of his father has become not only Vincent's best big brother but now part father figure, truly understands Farmer, even if their situations are a bit different. Every child should have a family and Sammy is glad that this kid have the Farmer in their life.

Humanity is capable of incredible cruelty, but also great compassion and kindness. And Harvey's glasses get a little wet when he witnesses true kindness. He can't put into words how happy he is for this kid and how proud he is of Farmer.

Victor would definitely need a whole box of tissues, maybe two. The fact that the Farmer's foster child could finally feel like a member of the family touched Victor so much that he cried quietly.

The sight of a crying Farmer hugging their kid makes Magnus both smile and feel unbearably sad at the same time. What it's like when a child calls you dad, alas, Magnus will probably never know.

Lance's heart filled with joy when abandoned children found a family again. The adventurer, however, took it upon himself to scold the Farmer if they risked their lives for no good reason, where a child might be left without a family again.

SDV/SVE bachelorettes:

Penny had to cover her face with her hands, for her face was already a little swollen and red from the endless flow of tears. How happy Penny is for them! The girl wishes all the best for this family.

No child should ever feel abandoned, and Leah is very proud of Farmer that even though they were young, they were able to be a great parent to a child. It's not something everyone can do.

As much as Abigail tried to hide her tears, she failed. And you know what? She doesn't care! Even a man with a stone for a heart would shed a tear. The little one deserves a home and a loving family. Hell yeah, Farmer, good job!

Oh, how happy Emily is for them, how happy she is! Happy people and acts of kindness will always overwhelm her with positive emotions. Especially after all the troubles the kid has been through, she is glad child found people who love and care for them.

"Awww" Maru couldn't help gasp in tenderness, and can you blame her when her friend and their child are so happy? She would congratulate Farmer later, she didn't want to distract them right now.

As Haley was about to take a picture of the happy family to give to them later, she stopped herself at the last moment. It seemed to her that it was too personal to take a picture without asking. So Haley would only observe this beautiful scene. Ugh, her tears made her mascara run....

Sophia is about to cry herself to tears. Such a touching moment, she just can't hold back her tears at the sight of her crying friend and how much a child's words mean to Farmer.

Coming out of Jojamart for a break, Claire happened to witness this moment when she saw Farmer standing in the park in the spot where the cashier usually rested. They were crying and cuddling their child. She was very happy for both of them, and decided to rest elsewhere, not wanting to disturb the parent and their kid.

The happy child and their wonderful parent are sure to be the first gossip Olivia tells her friends. Running a farm and giving a family to an adopted kid is a lot of work and a lot of responsibility, and the woman is genuinely happy for the child and proud of Farmer.

[justrainandcoffee]

Against all odds (Alfie Solomons x fem!oc) Part 11

Crossover Peaky Blinders - Hunger Games

Masterlist. Parts One Two Three Four Five Six Seven Eight Nine Ten

Summary: The pregnant girl is the favourite of the Capitol but Coriolanus Snow hates her. No matter what happened with her, the districts will raise against him. That's why a year later, he makes an announcement for the Quarter Quell: "...the male and female tributes will be reaped from their existing pool of victors." And Rose, hearing that, just wants to die.

Warnings: Angst. || One chapter left until the end of the first part.

Words: 3.3K

Rules were rules and if no one volunteered to take her place then, pregnant or not, the girl was part of the 74th games like all the rest of the selected kids.

That was the year of the 25 tributes. Or 24 plus one.

Contrary of what happened with the twins two years ago and the immense expectations around them, in the Capitol the opinions were divided.

On one side were those who demanded a new female tribute from district 8 and on the other side, were those who wanted to see what the pregnant girl was capable of. Ridiculous because the girl couldn’t run or move too fast.

Her name was Aurora Woods. Her mother was a teacher and her father worked in a textile factory. Her boyfriend, and father of the baby, was a boy a year older than her who worked with his uncle as a electrician. Absolutely no one of her family expected the horrible fate of Aurora.

“If we reaped another female tribute, again,” said Snow to one of his advisors, “then next year we’re going to have hundred of young ladies expecting babies because that could mean that they’re safe. And we don’t want that, do we?”

“No, we don’t, Mr. President. But do you think that people will be happy if the girl dies? The baby…”

“If that happens, we need to have a hovercraft prepared just for her with medics on it, ready to save the baby. If we are quick, we can make it. These days we need to check on her and the fetus to be sure that both are healthy. Right? Then we can return the baby to the family. As a treat.”

“People here could pay a fortune for that baby.”

“No this time, Lysander. Not this time. People in districts need to know that we are doing the right thing.”

“And if the girl survives?”

“Make sure she won’t, Lysander. The games have only one winner. Last thing we need is a symbol of hope. We already have that song…”

“I'll take care of that, then. Mr. Snow.”

“Be sure of that.”

-

Rose woke up that morning, screaming. Her dog, CPU, who was sleeping at her side looked at her with concern in her brown eyes.

Since her mother and youngest brother were killed, the nightmares were so frequently that she didn’t have a good night in a while. The only times she found a bit of peace were when Alfie went there once a month.

“I'm fine,” she said to the dog petting her head. But she was talking more to herself than to CPU. “Let’s have a breakfast, sweetie.”

After the last auction, when she paid for seven tributes, Lawrence accepted her idea of living in separate houses. He was still upset for that and he didn’t like CPU. And Rose under any

circumstances was going to leave her pet.

So he was living in their manor and Rose was in the house she bought next to the lake.

Something that didn’t change was that she was still working for Snow.

A part of her brain told her to act like nothing happened, Snow wanted to see with his own eyes  the damage he caused so the proud woman in her refused to show him that he, indeed, destroyed her soul. But a more reasonable side of her, accepted to show Snow how broken she was. If Snow saw her defeated then he would probably think that he won. And Rose needed urgently to divert Snow’s attention from her.

His cold eyes followed her figure across the room while Rose disposed the different suits in front of him, so he could choose his favourite. Her eyebags were noticeable and her hair looked like she just eft the bed, Which, in part, was true.

“Is everything okay, Mrs. Evert?”

“No. but maybe I just need to rest. But, unfortunately, it's something I can’t do right now. Life is unpleasant sometimes.”

“Certainly is.”

Snow knew that she knew that the one to blame for her family’s death it was him. And he also knew, that he discovered her true identity.

“I like the black  one, Mrs. Evert.”

“Great choice, Mr. President.”

Snow looked at her while she handled him the mentioned suit. “I have the one for the victory’s ceremony prepared as well. But…” Rose looked at the floor, “I want to resign.”

“That’s sad, my darling. Any reason behind your decision?”

“I just can’t keep doing this, Mr. President. It’s my decision to keep working only with district 9. I appreciate the opportunity but I'm sure there are plenty of my colleagues who can do a better job than me.”

“No, I don’t think so, Mrs. Evert. That’s why I called you first. Is this about money? I can pay you more, if you need.”

“No it’s not about money. It’s about me. I've been working a lot, I need to slow down a bit.”

“It’s your final decision, Mrs. Evert?” he asked and Rose nodded. “Okay, then. I'll talk with my assistant so she can send you a cheque for both of your last works plus an extra. If you later, change your mind, let me know.”

“I will. Thanks.”

Rose picked up her things and the suits that Snow didn’t choose and left the room. She was about to reach the door when Snow spoke again.

“May the odds be ever in your favour, Rose Coldwell.”

She freeze. Her name pronounced by his lips sent her chills through her spine. It’s not like she didn’t know by now that Snow discovered her real identity, it was the meaning behind it. For the last 18 years since she arrived to the capitol, she worked hard to be Rosebeth. Because that name provided her with the protection she needed to survive that place. Half of her life, she was two women living in one body. Her real self was safe behind Rosebeth and she was able to appear only when she was alone or with Alfie, or in recent times with other victors or Aberama Gold. But now, Rose was exposed in front of the person she wanted to hide the most.

Rose didn’t reply. She walked faster until she reached the car that was waiting for her. And it wasn’t until she could hide in her house that she allowed herself to cry. For her, for her mother and Louis, too. Alfie and Nina were on their way to the Capitol like every year, but for the first time Rose didn’t want to left the security of her house, not even for him. CPU crawled next to her and didn’t left her spot until much later when Rose finally left her bed and went to the kitchen to feed her pet.

.

The parade, the speech that Snow prepared for the occasion wasn’t very different from the previous ones. Snow was an expert in keep everything under control, including his nerves. He knew that the pregnant girl was a timebomb. Whatever the result was, the districts were going to see in her a symbol of hope. The pregnant girl that died. Or the pregnant girl who lived. It didn’t matter.

The 74th didn’t started yet and Snow was ready to announce the 75th hunger games. He knew exactly what to do.

Alfie was the one who told her two days later after their arrival to the Capitol about the stressful environment in the training centre. The mood of the mentors were altered at it was affecting the new tributes.

Everyone was watching Aurora sitting in the corner of the gymnasium. She was observing her future rivals training with weapons, fighting with the trainers or learning about survival skills. Alfie told Rose that Danny Owen, the male mentor of district 8, punched the male mentor from district 1. Rose knew about the mental instability of Danny Owen, also known as Danny Whizz-Bang. Everyone knew about it. The man won the games after Alfie and previous to Tommy Shelby and the friendship between the last who was well-known. But even when all of the mentors were affected by the Games, some cases were worse than the others and Danny was one of them. And probably the fact that a pregnant girl from his district, one that he needed to protect no matter what, didn’t help at all with his mental condition.

After that, the boy from district 1, fought with the boy from 7 accusing him to steal his knives, all while both mentors were still yelling at each other. Tommy grabbed Danny from his arm and both went out while Lucy stayed there with their tributes from 12. All of that could be funny if it wasn’t for the fact that 23 kids were about to die, probably one of them a pregnant girl, and that the adults there suffered from PTSD. So, no one there was laughing.

District 9 lost its tributes during the bloodbath and it wasn’t something unexpected. The careers as always took care of them. Same as they did with the ones of 10 and 7.

The careers were prepared to kill. They grew up thinking it was necessary. Even fun. They were always the favourites of the Capitol. But as the kids they still were, they weren't ready to kill a pregnant girl. And they didn't.

There was an implicit message, unconscious, because even the deadliest tributes didn't dare to touch Aurora. You just simply can't kill a pregnant woman.

So, the gamemakers killed them instead. The next week, every single one of them perished in hands of nature, gamesmakers or other strong tributes, like the boy from 11.

The boy from 2 named Cato was the last tribute alive apart from Aurora, in the dawn of the 10th day. But he was severely injured thanks to the moots. The arrogant tribute that everyone saw during the first days wasn't there anymore. Tenderly, Aurora approached him and sang to him while Cato was bleeding out.

When I was a little girl, my mama said to me "What's your favorite flower, darling? I'll get you the seed" I said "Dandelion, Dandelion," that one's so pretty.

She said, "Child, that one's not a flower, that one's just a weed"

Cato was looking at her with empty eyes, but crying, he was shaking violently so Aurora covered him with one the blankets that the sponsors sent to her. One of the many gifts she received.

"Then my fragile flower turned into a ball of grey

So I took a breath and made a wish and blew them all away."

Cato died before the song was over and the canon sounded when the girl finished to sing.

"Ladies and gentlemen, the victor from the 74th Hunger Games: Aurora Woods."

Although technically, the 74th Hunger Games had two victors. Something that never happened before.

.

That was the last night in the Capitol. But it felt different from the previous years. Rumours about Snow not being happy about Aurora's victory were too loud to ignore. And the new victor, probably unintentionally, said that she wanted to name her baby Desirée or Charles, depending if it was a girl or a boy, in honour of the twins from district 9, because their song about dandelions calmed the unborn baby inside her.

Tommy said to Alfie that Danny was worried about the girl. Danny was afraid of Snow pressuring the girl too much. And Aurora didn't know yet about the horrors that some victors had to live. Being the protégé of the 74th games wasn't free.

Rose had her head on Alfie's shoulder while he was caressing her hair.

"Do you think the girl is in trouble?"

"No more than us, luv," Alfie said "she's part of the flock now. Sadly, her baby too."

"Yes."

She look at Alfie trying to tell him that, with luck, that was going to be the last year of the games. And Aurora's baby, the Nelson's kid and all the children in Panem were going to be free. The first generation to know what freedom was about.

They couldn't talk there. Previous years maybe it was safer, but not anymore.

"Are you okay?" he asked instead.

"Let me cuddle with you and I'll be fine."

"Come here, sweetheart."

Both of them settled in bed and after giving the order, the bedroom turned out the lights. Rose heard his breathing and his quietness, told her that he was lost in his mind.

"I love you, Rosie," Alfie said after a moment.

"I love you more."

She woke up the next morning with one of Alfie's arms around her waist. Rose wasn't the best person on Earth, she knew that, but she also deserved love. Why not? Only she and her husband. Luckily, in one year, that would be true.

How wrong she was.

Things started to get weird when in December Snow suspended the auction. He didn't say anything apart from his not so sincere apologies. It could be hypocritical of Rose to say she wasn't pissed off, same as the rest, because that was the only chance she had to see Alfie.

That meant that for the next months she was alone. And so was he. And Rose had no way to tell him what was happening. Seven months of total incertitude.

The day stipulated for the announcement of the Quarter Quell, was a warm sunday despite it was cloudy.

Aberama and his son were in her house. The Golds where there to ultimate details. Everything was almost ready. In only days everything was about to explode like a bomb.

Only that the first bomb was dropped by Snow himself.

"What do you think it was going to be?" Bonnie asked.

"Probably all boys," guessed his father, "or all girls, as a punishment for Aurora, but I don't know."

The television show Snow, smiling at camera. In his hands he had an envelope, probably with the announcement.

Everything started as always but this time remembering people about the importance of the Quarter Quell.

“…On the seventy-fifth anniversary, as a reminderthat even the strongest cannot overcome the power of the Capitol, the male and female tributes will be reaped from their existing pool of victors.”

An anguish cry filled the house.

"NOOOO! NOOO! NOOOO! NOOO! SON OF THE BITCH!! HE CAN'T!! HE CAN'T!! HE PROMISED!! THEY CAN'T TOUCH THEM AGAIN! WHYYY!! NOOOO! NOOO!"

Aberama ran to hug his friend who was crying on the floor over her knees.

After those years of friendship he already knew the real relationship between the woman and Alfie Solomons from 9. Aberama didn't say anything, on the floor next to her, he just hugged her because he didn't know what to say. Rose was crying against his arm, while the Golds looked at each other.

That was Snow. Sadistic, psychopath. They knew about it, his men killed Aberama's wife in front of their little son, and god knew how many people and families he destroyed over the years.

"Rose," Aberama finally said, "Alfie needs you. Probably like never before. We're going to help you with this too. If the plan was to destroy this fucker, now we have one reason more to do it. A very solid one."

But Rose didn't hear because she wasn't in that part of Panem. Her mind and soul were with the person she loved the most. With Alfie, in district 9 where the things were much, much worse.

.

"…the male and female tributes will be reaped from their existing pool of victors."

Alfie's mind went blank. For a second he believed the heard wrong. But it was true. He was about to return to the Arena only that this time the other tributes were his friends and Nina, who was like a sister.

Alfie stood up and with his blood boiling, he smashed a mirror with his fist, cutting himself. But he didn't care. Thought the window he saw Nina running away, but he left her alone.

Negative emotions weren't enough to explain his feelings right now. Alfie sat on his couch hide his head in his hands, grabbing his hair.

"FUCK YOU! FUCK YOU!" He didn't realise that the same anger was filling his eyes with tears.

"…the male and female tributes will be reaped from their existing pool of victors."

Those words were repeating in loop in his head. The mug where he was drinking tea was nothing but little pieces on the floor, although he didn't know when he did that.

The idea of getting back to the Arena was a living nightmare. He wasn't an agile teenager anymore but that wasn't the problem. The real issue was so dark and horrible that he couldn't say it out loud. In survival mode, unconsciously, he made a list in his head about the people he could kill and those who couldn't kill never.

And Rose?

His Rosie and her infinite love for him. Those months without her were a torture, but know he understands why. Probably Snow was behind the fact that he couldn't see her. Alfie knew that he couldn't do anything to comfort her, first because he was thousands of miles away and then because no comfort was enough. For her, he needed to survive… again. He couldn't leave her, he just couldn't.

It was dark outside, when Nina opened the door of his house without knocking. Her disheveled hair and puffy eyes said it all. Alfie pat the side of the sofa where he was sitting and she accepted the invitation.

"Kid."

"We're screwed up, Alfie."

"We are."

"I can't... Alfie, I can't kill you! Why did he…? Why?!"

"Because we are nothing for him. Because he wants to punish the districts about the games last year. Because he's a motherfucker."

"We need to wait for the best, don't we?"

Alfie nodded. Maybe the rebels could help them. Maybe they were going to appear before hed be force to kill again. But Alfie wasn't sure.

That night Nina fell asleep in his couch and he let her. Alfie tucked her in and then went to his own bedroom but he couldn't sleep. It was amazing how much he needed Rose's company right now.

He couldn't leave Rose. Even if that meant to kill his friends.

In the Capitol, Rose was now alone. She ripped off the suits that were going to be for the new tributes and started again but this time knowing that one of them was for Alfie. Those costumes were going to be the most spectacular things she has ever done.

She found herself crying again. Alfie, her Alfie, after the horrors he lived was forced to do it once again.

While she was sewing, the tears in her eyes prevented her to keep doing it. So she left it and let her heart speak. Her sobs broke the silence of the house. First her mother and brother and now the person that changed her life. They were only 22 when they met, when they kissed for the first time during the 60th games, her first time working as stylist. They were 37 now. 15 years years later, they were still together. An unconventional couple, she was legally married to another man but it was Alfie who she called husband. And Snow now, wanted to kill him.

Rose swore to protect him. She did everything she could to prevent that other people could hurt him again. And for what? The only person against who Rose couldn't do anything, was the one who now signed his death sentence.

She couldn't stop thinking that she failed him. She swore to protect Alfie... and she failed.

FINAL

[the-cannibal]

I love your writing so much! Can I please request Bo Sinclair (or the sinclair brothers if you’d prefer) with an s/o who is unhealthily obsessed with them? Tysm! I understand if you don’t want to do it and you can completely change the topic to whatever you’d like or not do it !

Awww thank you so much! That means a lot to me! This prompt is so interesting I’ve been thinking about it all morning and I’m so excited to do it for you! Thanks for being the first person to request something, I hope you like it!

Bo Sinclair X Reader who is unhealthy obsessed with him

Gender neutral reader - they/them and you is used

Written on mobile so sorry if the format is weird

You had known the Sinclair’s practically your whole life. The brothers were your best friends. You did everything together, you’d sneak off to each others homes to play, eat lunch together and skip classes in grade school. But there was one Sinclair you were closer to.

Bo. Ever since the first time you met Bo you had a special bond with him. You would always want to hang out with him. Lester wants to play tag? Can Bo come along? Vincent wants to show you how to draw? Well how about Bo join in too!

Bo didn’t think much of your… Clinginess. You were his best friend, so it made sense why you wanted to be around him so much. In fact, he actually quite liked how clingy you were to him. It was no secret after all that his parents were good to him, which is why the two of you usually hung out at your house or outside somewhere. So the fact that someone wanted his attention, wanted to talk to him and listen to him, he adored it.

But you didn’t just “want” Bo. You craved him. You always felt a special way towards Bo. When you were little you didn’t know what those feelings were. It wasn’t until you were a teen you realized you were in love with him. So you began showing Bo your love. You’d bake him his favorite sweets and cook him meals, you’d help him with cars, you’d bandage up his wrists when he had been picking at them and making them raw and irritated. And when his mama got sick you were there to listen to him vent about all the things he was feeling and what was running through his mind. Despite the fact you hated his parents for what they did to him and his brothers, you’d never talk bad about Trudy. You knew Bo had a complicated relationship with her and somewhere deep down in him he still loved her, even though she didn’t feel the slightest bit the same for him. Her world was Vincent. Bo and Lester were just extras she had to “put up with”.

And then Bo killed his father.

Bo would always tell you that his dad committed suicide. That the death of his wife drove him mad. But you knew the truth. You saw it after all.

You were going over to bring Bo a box of old car parts you had stolen found for him, when walking past the window to Victors office, you saw Bo holding up his shotgun and pointing it at the man. You saw him pull the trigger, and Victors blood and brain splatter on the window. The sight made you smile, you were proud of Bo for standing up to that sick son of a bitch and putting an end to everything once and for all. But you couldn’t tell Bo that, so instead you turned back to your home and pretended like you saw nothing. The box of car parts helped cheer Bo up after his fathers “suicide”.

A few years later and the two of you were adults now, and you had finally won Bo over. He was officially yours now and yours only. You moved into Ambrose relatively soon. The town had always been small, but you had began noticing it was getting smaller. And then one day you saw a group of people roll into town, claiming something was wrong with their car. Bo being the kind man he is offered to help them, and told them to go to the house of wax to keep themselves entertained while they waited.

“Darlin can you help me for a sec?” His sweet voiced called out to you.

“Of course, Bo! Whatcha need?” You skipped over to him with a smile.

“Well it looks like they have a broken fan belt, problem is that I don’t have the right size here. Could you go into town with Lester and get one for me?”

You nodded with a smile. And he smiled back down at you. “Thank you, darlin, I appreciate it.” Bo wrote down what he needed on a piece of scrap paper and sent you on your way. You were happy to help Bo, and you got to hang out with Lester! That was a bonus!

When you got back to town with the part you noticed those peoples car was gone, and so was Bo. So you knocked on the basement door to ask Vinny if he had seen them. He shook his head and you thanked him with a smile, turning to walk away but stopping midway. “By the way, those are some neat sculptures you got down there. Trying to keep up with your ma’s art?” You asked with a sweet smile. Vincent nodded. “Ah, I see. Well you did a great job as always! It almost looks real.”

And that was when you found out the brothers had been killing off the town one by one and anyone who crossed in it. You found the pit soon after that, or well, you smelled it. But best of all, Bo thought you were completely in the dark.

He’d wake up, give his partner a kiss before waving goodbye to them as he went out to get some more muses for his twin. Meanwhile his partner was subtly helping him out. They’d make sure their partners clothes was clean of any specks of blood, clean the garage extra carefully, and of course give him the biggest sweetest smiles. You had watched Bo do his special little hobby, in fact watching him became a part of your routine. And he suspected nothing.

“Welcome back, honey!” You shouted over your shoulder as you put dinner in the oven. Tonight was your turn to cook. Bo mumbled a hello back to you and slumped on the couch. You frowned, tossing the over mitt onto the counter, and making your way behind him. “Something happen?” You asked with concern.

Bo sighed, rubbing his temples and leaning his head back. “Jus’ been a long day,” He answered. “I’m so exhausted.”

Without needing another word you wrapped your hands around his shoulders and began massaging them, doing your best to work out some knots. Bo melted into your touch with a sigh. “You always now exactly how I like to relax.” You hummed with a giggle. “I know a lot about you, Beauregard. A lot more than you think.”

“Is that right?” He spoke. “Alright smarty, what else do you know about me?”

You hummed in thought. “Well, I know despite all the blue you wear your favorite color is actually green.”

Bo snorted. “You know my favorite color? Big deal, that’s too easy.”

“I’m not finished,” you spoke, moving your hands to lightly massage his scalp and temples. “You don’t like any green. You like a darker green, like a fir tree. You also hate neon colors because they hurt your eyes.”

Bo simply hummed in response. He was slightly impressed, he’ll admit.

“But I also know things about you that even you yourself doesn’t know.” You said, getting Bo’s attention and making him perk up. You swung around the couch and lightly kissed him on the nose. “Like you ain’t as sneaky as you think.”

Bo chuckled and grabbed you by the waist, pulling you into his lap and covering your neck in kisses. “What’s that supposed to mean? You know where I hid your birthday present or somethin?”

You giggled and shrugged. “Maybe,” Your moment was interrupted by the over timer. You got up and took the dinner out and looked back at Bo. “I think ill take some of this to Ms. Locket , if you don’t mind.”

Bo’s face twisted to a sad pout, a very fake one. Oh how he’s never been good at faking emotions, other than a charming southern man. “Didn’t y’a hear? She passed away this mornin.”

You frowned, slowly setting the food onto the counter and looking down. “Oh…” you mumbled. “She was so sweet…”

“Oh darlin, come here.” Bo held his arms out and took you in, holding you close. You buried your head into his shoulder and could smell gun powder. “I know it’s sad, but you’ll get through it. I know you will.”

You hummed and smiled, gripping your hands around Bo tightly. Around your Bo. Yours and yours alone. He might not know just how enamored you are by him, but that’s okay. Because you know, and that’s all that matters.

[romerona]

The Worm

Surviving the game and losing yourself in the way.

"Don't go underestimating the power of a small force, it may be the only thing that can slip through the cracks."

ROSEMARY BLACK X OC!SNOWMALE.

ROSEMARY BLACK X PRIMROSE EVERDEEN.

"Rosemary Black, district 10, the youngest ever victor in the Hunger Games. Don't let her age fool you, she a force to be reckoned with, known for her cunning wit and speed she managed to-"

"I remember her… I found it hard to believe it then and still find it hard to believe it now."

"Well, then you know that with the right motivation, she's unstoppable."

Rosemary Black × OC!SnowMale? // Primrose Everdeen?

A/N: There would be a few inaccuracies but please, remember this is a fanfic. I'm unsure If I will match Rose with anyone yet but I'll think about it as the story goes.

Masterlist.

Next

[THE SCORE]

Rose was scolded by practically everyone in her ‘team’ for getting into the bad side of the careers in her very first day. From Allen, who she was sure had almost giving up on her, to freaking Lennox, who decided she had condemned Eugene (which to be fair she kind of did) to a horrible death. Before she could even explain herself she was STRONGLY advised to steer clear of careers for the remaining of the training days.

Rose was already planning on doing that, the second Blaze Rafferty dangle her from her shirt, Rose knew she had to stay as far away from him as she possibly could.

That would prove to be a challenge, however, for the next day, while trying her best to stay away and picking up a few skills like archery ( to which she’s more than pleased to know she’s decent at it) or spears (too heavy for her to hurt someone let alone kill) she could feel the heated gaze of the careers, it was burning her back and settling a deep hole in her bowls.

They made her beyond nervous.

But it wasn't until lunch when Rose heard Blaze and Xury speak with District 4 tributes, which after 1 and 2 were the biggest threat for the other 18 tributes, that if either Blaze or Xury didn’t kill the worm, (as they had nicknamed her) in the bloodbath, the first one to do so will be able to join their alliance. That made Rose feel terrified.

They were loud enough for every other tribute to hear, of course, Rose knows it was on purpose. It was an open invitation, a challenge, yet another game, for the others to join.

After that, she was in autopilot after that and refused to looked at anyone she simple and almost in daze continued her archery practice while Blaze’s words repeated in her mind over and over that not even Eugene, who tried his best to keep her mind of off it, could make her heart to stop terrorizing the inside of her chest.

That night Rose escaped to the rooftop of the building, because where else could she go? She felt suffocated in her disgustingly luxurious room.

Leaning against the railing, ignoring the view of the capitol and the chilling breeze that came form within the mountains, Rose took a shaky breath, then another and another but no matter how much she breathed nothing seemed to be making it to her lungs.

It seems that whatever courage she had excited her body.

‘I won’t accept the fate they all believe I’ll have’

‘but I refuse to leave the Games in whatever form that is without trying my best.’

‘I promise I’ll make it.’

It was all a load of bullshit, wasn’t it? She’ll never make it. Allen was right she’s going to die in the arena, and she’ll never get any sponsors or make people like her, she a lost case they all know that, and until now she refused to believe it because she’s so optimistically blind, she stubborn and so fucking stupid.

What was she thinking when she convinced Allen that she could handle this? She can’t, he was right and now she has the burden to live up to her stupid stupid deal.

So fucking stupid.

Her brother, her father, her grandfather… she can only hope they forgive her for not making it back to them, for not keeping her promise. She hopes they live a happy life, she hopes that Finn finds someone who will make him happy, she hopes her father doesn’t beat himself up, and she hopes her grandfather lives the rest of his life healthy. And her friends, Harper and Chet, she hope they end up marrying each other and living a happy life or as happy as this life can offer.

Rose will miss dancing in Buckaroo's Bar, she will miss singing with her father, she’ll miss the heat of the day, she’ll miss the sun, she’ll miss the stream near her house, she’ll miss… Rod.

‘I promise I’ll make it.’

It was all a load of bullshit, wasn’t it? She’ll never make it. Allen was right she’s going to die in the arena, she’ll never get any sponsors or make people like her, she a lost case they all know that, and until now she refused to believed it because she’s so optimistically blind, she stubborn and so fucking stupid.

What was she thinking when she convinced Allen that she could handle this? She can’t, he was right and now she has the burden to live up to her stupid stupid deal.

So fucking stupid.

Her brother, her father, her grandfather… she can only hope they forgive her for not making it back to them, for not keeping her promise. She hopes they live a happy life, she hopes that Finn finds someone that will make him happy, she hopes her father don’t beat himself up, she hopes her grandfather lives the rest of his life healthy. And her friends, Harper and Chet, she hopes they end up marrying each other and live a happy life or as happy as this life is able to offer.

Rose will miss dancing in Buckaroo's Bar, she will miss singing with her father, she’ll miss the heat of the day, she’ll miss the sun, she’ll miss the stream near her house, she’ll miss… Rod.

Suddenly, Rose felt something nudge her foot forcing her to look up at the perpetrator, it was a woman, she’d seen before, the spiky brown hair and wide-set brown eyes was too familiar. “Get up, kid.”

The woman said, nudging her again with her heel. Was she a tribute? No, she couldn’t be, not dressed like that, surely. Not with the bottle of a crimson liquid in her hand. Not with the bored eyes she stared at Rose with. And she hasn't seen the woman at the training center either.

“Why?” Rose mumbled, only realizing that she had somehow ended up on the floor and hugging her knees for dear life.

“Because it’s pathetic.” The girl took a swing out of her bottle turning to look at the view. “And the only place I can relax in this goddamned place is here and you’re ruining it, so up.”

Rose couldn’t but scowl at the woman, “Who are you and why should I care about you want?”

That made the girl turn to her. She leans down a little to stare down at Rose. “I think the question is why are you here crying like a baby for?”

“What do you mean—“

“Wake up, kid.” The girl snaps at her, “Tears are not going to help with anything. Stop whining, will you?”

"Go fuck yourself," Rose swiftly wipes away her tears, glaring up at the girl.

The mysterious woman raised an eyebrow at Rose's sudden defiance.

"Well, look at that. A backbone," she remarked, taking another casual sip from her bottle. "But let me tell you something, kid. Nobody cares. In here, it's every person for themselves. You cry, you die. Simple as that."

A wave of bitterness washed over Rose as she processed the harsh reality laid out before her. She hesitated for a moment, then defiantly retorted, "If it's every person for themselves, why bother helping me up?"

The woman's eyes flickered with a mix of annoyance and amusement. "I didn't say I'm helping you. I said you're ruining my spot. There's a difference."

"Whatever," Rolling her eyes, Rose braced herself as she stood up. "Even if I stop crying I'm dead anyway, why does it matter?"

"Don't tap out so quickly, kid. Your chances might be better than you think inside the arena,"

"Right, because kids my age usually make it out," Rose scoffs a bitter laugh.

"Well, that is true," The woman shrugs and moves to lean against the railing looking down at the street, "But at least most of them go down fighting and not whining,"

"They probably did," Rose mumbled under her breath, crossing her arms as she felt the cold of the mountains.

"Whatever kid, if you want to go and die in the arena be my guess, I don't give a shit," The woman took another sign of her bottle before muttering, "And If I'm honest, I think death is better than this shit,"

Rose frowns, hugging herself tighter, she regards the back of the woman's head, she is so familiar but Rosemary can't pinpoint from where.

"What do you mean?"

The girl glances back at her, and she sighs looking back at the view, "Nothing. Just leave already if you're going to keep whining."

Rose stood there for a moment looking at the view of the Capitol skyscrapers. The air was cold but fresh, far too different from the dry wind of her district. Her district. They will see her in a few days fighting in the arena, they are counting on her, on Eugene. Eugene, her partner, he has been so supportive these past few days, he's been training, fighting against the odds to help them when they were in the arena... and what is she doing? crying. The girl is right, that's pathetic. Imagine how disappointed would be her family if she went down without a fight.

Rose can't disappoint them like that neither can she disappoint Eugene, he has been giving his all so she should too if not for her at least for him, for her district, and for her family.

"Thank you," Rose mumbles lowly, just enough for the girl to hear. She isn't all aware of why she's thanking her but it feels right.

Without waiting for her response (which Rose thinks won't come anyway) she made her way back inside with a newfound determination.

No more crying, no more whining, no more feeling bad for herself. The future ain't written in stone.

The next day rolled around, the last day of group training. Rose decided that she would try hand-to-hand combat, after all, her skill with knives works better when close to the victim.

Rose stood in the training center, surrounded by the faint hum of activity as tributes prepared for the imminent Games.

The trainer demonstrated a few basic moves, showing her how to break free from a rear chokehold. He emphasized the importance of swift reactions and using her body's natural leverage.

"Remember, it's about using their momentum against them," the trainer explained. "Now, you give it a try."

Rose squared her shoulders, mentally preparing herself. The trainer approached from behind, mimicking a potential threat. In a split second, Rose executed the techniques she had just learned, twisting her body and breaking free from the hold.

"You're a fast learner, good," the trainer praised.

Rose grins at him, "Yeah, well, when your life's at stake, you tend to become one,"

The trainer huffs a laugh, "Okay, now, let's say someone comes at you with a frontal grab. You want to create distance and be ready to react. Keep your hands up, elbows close to your body, and stay light on your feet."

They continued the session, with the trainer guiding Rose through various scenarios. In the short hours, she learned to deflect grabs, escape from holds, and use her body to create openings to attack.

Each move is a step closer to survival.

As the sessions continued, there were times when Rose failed to execute a manoeuvre or became momentarily disoriented, but she refused to let the setbacks define her.

The trainer observed her progress and noted, "You won't get it right every time, Rose. What matters is your ability to get back up and keep going. Adaptability is the key to survival."

During surprise attack simulations, there were instances where Rose found herself momentarily overwhelmed. Yet, no matter how many times she hit the mat, she rose again, determination burning in her eyes.

With each fall, Rose learned. She absorbed the lessons of her mistakes, and despite the setbacks, Rosemary persevered.

Soon after lunch, they were calling the districts, one by one in order. District 1 is first the dumbass of Blaze and then Xury. Then goes District 2, Devon and then Aria and then 3 then 4 and so on until it was their turn.

"Eugene Dion," the voice called making Rose nervous fidgeting to stop. She felt Eugene squeeze her interlaced hand.

"Good luck, make them remember you" Rose mumbled squeezing back.

Eugene nods, and he sends her a smile. It was as if she was nervous for both of them. "Right back at you, Rosie,"

With that, they let go of each other and Rose watched him walk through the doors. Her nervous fidgeting came back as she waited for her name to be called; she tapped her feet, crossed and uncrossed her legs, drummed her fingers, and played with her hair that somehow Pearl had managed to put in a bun.

Another minute ticks by and she looks at the back door thinking of Eugene. Rose has no idea what his skill is, all she knows is that he is good at milking cows which means he has a good grip right? He might been able to learn something like climbing or something, hell, maybe he even learned how to use an axe or--

"Rosemary Black,"

Her heart did a summersault. Rose took a deep, shaky breath before standing up and with all the confidence she managed to gather, Rose walked through the doors.

The Gamemakers, all sat on their platform, some talking amongst each other, others drinking wine, others eating and very few looking at her, paying attention.

Shit. Okay. Okay, It's cool.

The cold metal of the training weapons gleamed under the artificial lights. Determination etched across her face, Rose decided to focus on close combat. She approached the weapons rack and selected a set of knives. The weight felt familiar in her hands, a comfort amid the impending chaos.

Summoning her courage, Rose decided to address the indifferent Gamemakers. "Hey, ya'll!" she called out, her voice carrying a playful twang that turned a few heads. Rose flashed a radiant smile, acknowledging those who bothered to look her way.

"I reckon I'm interrupting some important business here, but I promise it's worth the while," she continued her facade, her eyes sparkling with mischief.

A few Gamemakers exchanged glances, curiosity piqued by Rose's unexpected interruption. She seized the moment, more confident in her ability to make an impression even if it was just shit-talking her way out or rather up the ranks.

With a sly grin, Rose twirled her knife with flair. "Now, I know you've seen tributes before, but trust me, you haven't seen one like me." She struck a pose, emphasizing her point with a touch of sass.

With knives in hand, Rose moved to a designated training area, an open space where combat simulations could be enacted. She eyed the target dummies lined up, their fabric surfaces waiting to be pierced by her blades.

As she moved into her lively demonstration, Rosemary infused it with a comical touch. The rhythmic sounds of the knife striking the training dummies were accompanied by a playful commentary.

"I call this move the 'Dodgin' Districts.' It's a real crowd-pleaser."

The Gamemakers, initially surprised, found themselves chuckling and exchanging amused glances. Rose's charismatic, talking her way up, approach is working.

She continued her demonstration, her strikes were deliberate, aimed at vital points while mixing dance-like footwork with quick jabs at the training dummies.

Rose finally stopped, catching her breath, and gave a mock bow. "Well, what do ya think, folks? Ain't that a sight for sore eyes?"

With a final wink, Rose exited the stage she had created, leaving the Gamemakers amused and hopefully thoroughly charmed. Rose had successfully showcased her close combat skills with a knife while infusing the moment with her 'charm' good or bad as it may be, Rose was sure she would be memorable.

-----

"How did it go?" asks Caine the second she steps into the District 10 suit.

Rosemary glances at the familiar and expecting faces of Allen and Eugene before looking back at Caine. "I.. think it was okay,"

"Okay?Okay?" Caine huffs, "Just an okay?"

"We want to know what you did, kid," Allen spoke from his place on the sofa.

Rose moves to the sitting room, "I don't know I showed them that I can use a knife and sort of talk to them through it,"

"Talk them through it?" Caine asks slightly scandalize.

"I made them give me their attention," Rose turns to Allen who was regarded with curiosity, " A character, right? Charming them up and whatnot,"

"That only works with the audience, kid,"

"Maybe it'll work with them too," Rose looks at Eugene while sliding down next to him."What about you?"

"I didn't have much to show them but I climbed and built some shelters," Eugene shrugs looking away, he purses his lips "I don't think I'll get a good score, I mean they didn't even look at me,"

"I'm sure it'll be okay, Gene," Rose tells him, with a reassuring smile.

Allen spoke again, "Sometimes it's better to get a low score. Keeps the targets off your back, y'know."

Pearl and Lennox arrived just before dinner, both stylists asking the same questions about their private session. This time around Rose decided to keep the details to herself.

After dinner, Pearl sat beside her on the sofa as the team waited for Ceasar to announce the scores on her other side was Eugene. The team was chatting among themselves waiting for the show to start, meanwhile Rose was drumming her fingers nervously on her tight.

She hears the music of the intro of the show and everyone quiets down, compulsively she reaches for Eugene's hand, and she feels him squeeze it but at the moment she is more focused on the television.

They showed a picture of Blaze Rafferty on the screen and below it, his score, which of course, was a 10 because her life couldn't be easy. the same with the rest of the Districts. The careers got the usual high score, the lowest being the boy from 4 with an eight. Then the rest of the tribute's scores were average.

And after some minutes it came theirs.

Rose's stomach churned as the television focused on Eugene's image. She felt the squeeze of his hand, a shared moment of solidarity. A five appeared beneath his picture, and a murmur of encouragement spread through the room.

"That's an okay score," Caine offered reassuringly. "It's the half of the punctuation, not so bad."

Eugene nodded but remained quiet, disappointment lingering in his eyes. Rose shot him an encouraging smile, silently communicating that they could overcome this together. The arena was where they'd truly prove themselves.

Then, it was her turn. The camera shifted to Rose's image, and she held her breath, bracing for impact. To her surprise, a seven flashed beneath her picture. A wave of relief swept over her, and a triumphant smile tugged at the corners of her lips.

The tension in the room gradually lifted as Rose's seven was announced. The weight on her shoulders seemed to ease, and she allowed herself a moment to bask in the relief. Glancing at Eugene, she saw a subtle smile breaking through his disappointment. It was a moment of shared triumph amidst the pressure of the Capitol's judgment.

Caine, the team mentor, grinned approvingly. "A seven! That's a solid score, Rose."

Allen, ever the pragmatic strategist, nodded in agreement. "He's right. We can work with that."

The team, though not entirely satisfied, began to see the silver lining. The scores were decent, and the anticipation of the upcoming challenges fueled their determination.

As the broadcast continued, showcasing the tributes from other districts, the atmosphere in the room shifted. The initial disappointment transformed into a quiet resolve.

Rose squeezed Eugene's hand again, this time with a hint of pride. "We got this, Gene," she whispered.

The redhead took a breath turned to face Rose and nods, "We do,"

The room buzzed with subdued conversations and strategy discussions for the upcoming interview with Caesar Flickerman. This would be their very last chance to secure sponsors and stand out in the eyes of the Capitol audience.

[li-esonthefloor]

i'm gonna start biting. AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH FUCK

all three are great. 10/10. put me in the ground. ofc julius and elle both surviving is paiiiiiin. (julius probably gets mistaken for elle's dad sometimes and fjdksljfs what does julius even know about victor... the party probably told him what victor said, julius getting to ruminate on a fractured self that would have stopped ludger from killing bisley... one that would have however implicitly defended bisley using elle?)

and elle... who doesn't really know julius as his own person and more just someone ludger occasionally mentioned, suffering because ludger loved julius enough to die for him and that making her identity crisis worse, because surely ludger loved julius more... ofc everyone tries to convince her otherwise, and julius himself is also suffering something similar because, well ludger should have lived and he should have died for that.

there is just pain everywhere... and that's before you get into julius once again looking after a child and being strongly reminded of the person who once cared for them... (ludger is never even going to know about claudia...)

but i am very 👀 about ludger chickening out in julius' fd. i've seen like two... three takes where prime ludger murders fractured ludger and takes his place but, two ludgers...

ludger was a bit young to be mistaken for elle's father even though the other him actually was her father.... but julius is the right age.... and looks a lot like her... how can you blame someone for coming to that conclusion :D (elle can blame them. loudly.) (julius probably makes up some story about something something cousin. nobody is alive to say otherwise :zany_face:)

i typed too much

aside from them being basically nothing to each other at first, the fun thing is julius doesn't remember (never knew-) how to take care of a child ^o^ and this on top of the grief and failure to cope well. so he fumbles so bad. and he can try to be The Authority Figure but that doesn't work too well, esp in the beginning....... elle isn't quite as self-sufficient as ludger was (had to become) at her age, but she ain't a normal kid. he will never be her father or even really her uncle (laughs bc her father murdered the him that was her uncle)? but i imagine they might eventually have something like. a combination of what juiius+ludger and ludger+elle had. living together kinda family weirdly equals. ludger trauma buddies

then maybe elle won't lose it as much when people think julius is her father... not because that's who he is, because she has only had and will only ever have one of those and he's dead too, but because it's less offensive because at least they care about each other now....

BUT FIRST. THE TRAUMA. THE GRIEF. THE FAILURE TO COPE-

i wonder if julius can one day tell elle the things he never told ludger.... she'll tell him exactly what she thinks of him and won't sugarcoat it :thinking: is that better or worse..... if he hoped for ludger's forgiveness, one day, she can't give him that on his behalf, but maybe.... :thinking:

as for the julius fd one,,

I THOUGHT ABOUT LUDGER KILLING FD LUDGER. it might even fit considering he is bad in the head enough to threaten to straight up sabotage julius' attempt to fix the world because he wants to keep him so bad... :'D however, consider, instead, Julius Gets Two Ludgers. and the ludgers have to both deal with 'the other guy is the one nii-san really wants' and figure out how to coexist with someone who is basically the same person taking the same space they've always taken up alone. and the ludgers can one day also k*ss each other. i found those very convincing arguments.

[eolewyn1010]

Dragging Frankenstein - Chapter 21

The one where I get immeasurably sick of Victor! I mentioned the capslock-yelling? It begins here.

You know I can’t stand Victor, so I’m happy if he’s inconvenienced. But he and the Creature can hardly be the only people who canoe around there, can they?

Also, the “handsome young man, about five and twenty years of age” – is everyone gay here? DAS GAY: 35

And if poor Henry’s body was not yet cold and they thought they could still revive him, did the Creature bring him over to Ireland alive to kill him there? How???

“The first part of this deposition did not in the least interest me” -.- Victor is such a twat. Someone is dead? Whatevs, don’t care! IT’S ALL ABOUT ME: 25

He gets another one right away because even Henry’s death is just cause for another self-centered whinefest. “the agonies that I endured”, yeah, sure. IT’S ALL ABOUT ME: 26

I find this line highly interesting: “Death snatches away many blooming children […], how many brides and youthful lovers…” So. Children, brides, lovers. William, Elizabeth, Henry, nah? DAS GAY: 36

“Of what materials was I made, that I could resist so many shocks?” This right there. This is the good shit. Victor is more and more estranged from his own human nature, speaking of himself in the same terms that can be used for his Creature.

Then it’s two months angst coma, and when he wakes up, of course he complains about the lacking luxury IN FUCKING PRISON WHEN HE’S IN FOR MURDER, VICTOR. Sorry. I hate him. I SO PRIVILEGED: 12

“and [the nurse’s] countenance expressed all the bad qualities which often characterized that class.” AAAAAARRRRGGHHH! *jumps up and strangles Victor* I HATE YOU! I HATE YOU, YOU PHYSIOGNOMIST-BULLSHIT SPEWING, LOATHSOME, CONCEITED, JUDGY, SHALLOW, SNOB TWIT!! HOW DARE YOU LOOK DOWN ON A WOMAN WHO PUT IN ALL THE TIME OF HER DAY TO KEEP YOU ALIVE WHEN YOU ARE USELESSLY LYING AROUND BEING A BRAINLESS PIECE OF FLESH, A STRANGER IN THIS COUNTRY, AND ASSUMED TO BE A MURDERER!!! DIE!!

*ahem* Count? I SO PRIVILEGED: 13

And then she’s also indifferent. Can you believe that. How dare she not pity Victor appropriately; his life is so haaaaard.

“I turned with loathing from the woman who could utter so unfeeling a speech” – dude, 1st, she literally just agreed with what you said, and 2nd, she’s perfectly polite. I can’t with him.

“careless” and “brutality”, what is with him? He was fed. And medicated. Through a coma. Of two months. She probably wiped his ass in the meantime! Jesus Christ with this guy.

“Mr Kirwin had shown me extreme kindness”, best room and all, easy-peasy. I SO PRIVILEGED: 14

I’m so spiteful right now, I want to give him another one for complaining that Mr. Kirwin is not permanently fluttering around him and “wretched indeed was the best”. What an incredible snob. Read the room, for once.

“Can I do anything to make you more comfortable?” Mr. Kirwin, crawl out of his ass for a second there, will you? Zero respect for that guy, too.

“on the whole earth there is no comfort which I am capable of receiving.” – then why won’t you stop complaining about your accommodation?

“doubtless, evidence can easily be brought to free you from your criminal charge.” – considering the circumstances in which Henry and Victor were found, it should be about as flimsy as the evidence for his guilt. What even is this case?

“a friend has come to visit you” Urgh. Dude, just spare us the dead herring and SAY right away that it’s his father; I hate it when Victor gets excuses to spew paranoia around. As if the Creature would officially speak to people in broad daylight and all that to come visit Victor in prison. Has Victor lost his last brain cell during the angst coma?

…and Victor hops right from “wah, take him away!” to “why does he not hasten to me?” in an instant. Whew, I hate this brat. IT’S ALL ABOUT ME: 27

me-me-me-me-me! Sorry, this recap is getting exceptionally salty.

I’m wondering why the magistrate treats him like a child. Isn’t Victor the same age as Henry, aka obviously an adult? Eh, but that’s picked up by Frankenstein sr. Gotta baby the baby a bit.

“…and Elizabeth, and Ernest?” – Ernest? Oh yeah, that guy! He sure is a person that exists! He’s so important for his family, isn’t he? Good, dear Ernest.

More whining, complaints that he actually has to sit through a trial, would you believe the audacity of these people…

“proved that I was on the Orkney Islands when the body of my friend was found” ??? How’d they do that? Victor was completely isolated; he wasn’t talking to anyone. Who could have professed his presence anywhere at any time at all? Eh, convenience.

Shelley seriously calls Henry’s eyes “dark orbs”. I blame her purple-prose husband, and wanna bitchslap him for it. What is he, My Immortal’s author?

Also, can you stop gushing about your dead boyfriend’s beautiful eyelashes? DAS GAY: 37

Geez.

“My father tried to awaken in me the feelings of affection.” – Heh, good luck. As if Victor would feel for his fellow humans. IT’S ALL ABOUT ME: 28

“At these moments I often endeavoured to put an end to the existence I loathed” – good. Do it.

“to watch over the lives of those I so fondly loved” – I don’t believe you. You don’t care, so I won’t.

“put an end to the existence of the monstrous Image which I had endued with the mockery of a soul still more monstrous” – first of all, word-for-word repetition of phrasing. Second of all, this. DELUSIONS OF GRANDEUR: 16

As if.

“I was a mere skeleton” – poor Elizabeth; that wouldn’t have been a fun wedding night even without the visitor.

He’s also laudanum-addicted now. I found it tragic with Emil Behring. It only makes me roll my eyes at Victor and go, “of course the little wimp does that, too.”

If there weren’t a ton of kind people around him, he never would have survived till now.

With his third victim, the Creature has apparently acquired a taste for killing Anyone But Victor, and isn't that just super convenient. Wouldn't it be a much more apt demonstration of power to set an end to his creator's existence, seeing as he owes his miserable existence to him? A life given, a life taken. Sounds way more logical to me than killing a ton of innocents. But then again, this fits right in with how Victor considers those close to him only as extensions of himself - he's a true narcissist that way. William dies? Oh, how Victor suffers! Justine gets killed? Oh, how bad that makes Victor feel! Elizabeth is depressed? Well, it can only be on Victor's behalf! And the Creature buys right into it, God bless. Good that at least he doesn't have a family.

[battlebuilt]

( taron egerton. cis man. he/him. ) ⸺ 🐏 greetings, bighorns ! walking around campus, sporting his shit - eating grin we’ve spotted THEODORE "THEO" COYNE, a thirty two year old who contributes to our thriving community as a GENERAL TRAINER / GUARD. according to our intel, he's been around the sanctuary for five years and what we know about him, aside from the fact that he does agree with the decision to close the gates, is that he arrived in handcuffs, becomes more of a mystery with every question answered, enjoys a whiskey sour in the evenings. doesn’t that make him fantastic ? we think it does, and that’s why we appreciate him so much, grateful for what he gives to our community.

i.

full name: theodore rhys coyne.

nickname: theo.

age: thirty two.

gender + pronouns: cis man + he/him.

orientation: bisexual.

birthday: april 16th, 1991.

originally from: brooklyn, new york.

job position: general trainer / guard.

ii.

weapon of choice: anything close range.

typical pocket contents: doesn't carry much, currently has only a green lighter in his left pocket and a carton with three cigarettes in his other.

moral alignment: chaotic evil.

horoscope: aries sun, leo moon, scorpio rising.

inspired by: victor strand ( ftwd ), richie gecko ( fdtd ), wolfgang bogdanow ( sense8 ), faith lehane ( btvs ).

iii.

he can't remember anything before the age of seven and it's one of the things that angers him most in the world. it was when he was seven that he lost his mother, his whole world shattering the second she left. theodore then had only his father, a man who had never once said anything kind toward his son. without a mother to protect him, his father no longer played nice. if theo even dared to glare at him, he would end up regretting it. he learned to hide the bruises by dressing differently and would shut down anyone who questioned anything. this went on for years, theo distancing himself from the reality of his pathetic situation - until one day, he saw a glimpse of hope.

though most of the world didn't have a kill count until after the outbreak, theo can't exactly say the same. he technically didn't do anything... but that's as far as anyone knew. his father had been fixated on a football game, screaming at the television with a lit cigarette in one hand and a beer in the other. by the time the game was over, his father was hammered, beer spilled everywhere, cigarette almost out. a dropped cigarette, an accident, and the man burst into flames. maybe it happened that way, maybe it didn't, but that was the official story - theo's story.

finding out he did in fact have a relative left, his father's brother, was a whirlwind. he'd never met the man before and in turn, his uncle had never known he had a nephew. though certainly rough around the edges, he wasn't cruel by any means and actually became a solid father figure. it was through him that theodore learned everything he knows : about stealing, lying, general thievery, the likes. his known skill was safecracking, something he found immense pride in. his uncle was involved in organized crime so theo dipped in toes in.

knowing the right people and keeping his head down did him a lot of favors. his ego, however, cost him a lot and would often get him in trouble. it was during a bank robbery that he'd gotten greedy and went for a hidden safe in the back office. his team had left him in the haste and without a getaway, he ended up getting caught. aged eighteen at the time, he was tried as an adult ... which landed him with a sentence of twenty years, his record not doing him any favors. he spent four long years in a prison somewhere in missouri until a very odd day came where the guards didn't show up. a lot of people thought it was a test, but they didn't have to tempt theo twice - the second they were left to themselves, theo started brainstorming.

while not quite sure how it happened, he's just sure that it did. whether someone had done it accidentally, purposefully, or potentially even hacked them, a few days later every single cell door opened. he walked out of prison like he'd been gifted a get out of jail free card. it took some time to get rid of his outfit and into what seemed like civilization. he hadn't been out in four years and what he'd come back to seemed... broken. not having left anything behind before he went in, theo moved forward and adapted.

theo bounced around from camp to camp. at first it was because someone recognized him, then because he threatened someone who joked about eating his rations. after that, it was on purpose and he stuffed his pockets full of supplies before sprinting away. the most recent one before uec involved someone who had an... "accident" and ended with theo in handcuffs. he managed to sneak away, still handcuffed, stumbling his way onto uec's doorsteps. definitely not the best first impression, but he understood their caution. hell, it was safer to be. he wasn't sure how to offer his... immoral skills, so he lied about previously being a boxer with self defense training. though he wouldn't advertise as such, he was more than willing to do the more... gruesome tasks if that's what it took to secure his spot.

charismatic when he wants to be, he's willing to do what it takes to survive. his name may or may not be his legal name and may lie more than he tells the truth, but at least he's cute ??

[wherethewillcwsgrcw]

Name: Willow Dubois

Nickname: Will (She will happily stab you if you call her Willow)

Age: 43

Gender: Genderfluid

Pronouns: She/They

Home: District Seven

Current Residence: District Thirteen

Role: Victor of the 48th Hunger Games, Mentor, Rebel

Personality: Grouchy, crass, honest, loyal, decisive

Song: I don’t wanna do this anymore - Pvris

TW: death, depression, murder, child death, blood, sex trafficking, drugs, alcohol

-Growing up, Willow was smack in the middle of a group of five children. Aspen, Elm, Willow, Birch, and Laurel were all born within ten years of one another, Birch only minutes before his sister Laurel. For a family in Seven, having five mouths to feed would be hard. For the Dubois family this was no different. But Honey and Johnathan Dubois never let their children know that. The children went to school while Johnathan worked ten to twelve hour days in the lumber yards and Honey worked in a paper factory. But dinner was always on the table at a decent time and the family never wanted for food even if it was bland. Life was okay for the Dubois family.

-That is until her father had a very unfortunate accident when she was fourteen and lost his leg. Suddenly the family so used to two incomes and the relative comfort it provided them were lurched into a life of one less than stellar income. Aspen already had his own wife and a kid on the way, he had his own family to support. And Elm who was on track to a better position than even their father had refused to break away from his training to help and ultimately left the family over it. So Willow took it upon herself to get a job, pretend she was older, drop out of school, and begin working in the very same lumber yards that had nearly taken her father’s life so that at least Birch and Laurel wouldn’t go hungry. The days were long and hard, and she didn’t earn as much as her father had. She sometimes skipped a meal here or there, but at least her little brother and sister were fed. 

-But cruel is fate. In January of 48 Birch grew ill, a nasty virus that refused to leave and ultimately claimed his life. The family was struck with grief. Her mother grew depressed, refused to leave bed, no matter how much Willow or Johnathan or Laurel begged her to get up. She’d loose her job at the paper factory. Willow would take her own grief and anger out on the lumberyards, work sunup to sundown. And sit around a bar for hours after sundown.

-She was sixteen, almost seventeen that year, only a year and a half older than Laurel, the year her sister’s name rang out over the reaping square that morning, Willow wouldn’t think twice before volunteering for her sister. She couldn’t loose someone else, not so soon after loosing Birch and Laurel… Well Laurel had only known the ‘just okay’ life Willow’d ensured her sister would never miss out on. She couldn’t win. There was no way. 

-Willow was sweet and quiet in the Capitol. She had a plan in mind and she’d stick to it. She scored a three in private training, shared how much she missed her family during her interview, and ultimately was passed off as canon fodder by the career tributes and sponsors alike. No one, not even her mentors knew the true story behind her ploy. Enter the arena though and she already had a leg up, coniferous trees abounded as far as the eye could see. But she did nothing, hiding amongst the branches. She’d follow some tributes, but only to hurry down the tree when they weren’t looking and steal food or other items. One such item being an axe her district partner had received as a sponsor gift - it sucked to be him that day. She’d killed two before the finale, one who’d found her at a river and had ended up with the axe in his chest. She’d refused to let herself see the dead tribute as anything other than an animal, convincing herself that she was fine and it was nothing more than killing a wild boar back home. The second she had met and allied with for a day before the girl had tried to kill her in her sleep. It’d been the other’s own dagger that had ended her life - lithe muscles still working despite ongoing hunger from the arena. Both a surprise as she’d always seemed to meek and weak.

-They’d been ushered together by the game makers and mutts, she’d offed one on the way, but stuck to the high branches of the trees away from mutts and other tributes. She watched as two of the careers converged on her district partner before taking on each other. She watched in curiosity as the final stood in the clearing, a clearing she was sure hadn’t been there before, mutts circling but not attacking. She heard the boy shout he was ready to get out of the arena. She’d been forgotten. Good. He hadn’t seen the axe come flying out of the tree. 

-She’d arrive home and move her and her family to her new home. No one would see her though, for the following several months. She’d refuse to leave for anything or anyone at least until she was forced for her victory tour. It was during her victory tour that she decided she preferred to be called Will. She was no longer Willow. Willow had been a quiet, albeit strong, girl who was naive to the actual cruelties that the world around her sustained, cruelties much greater than those she’d experienced in Seven. She was no longer Willow.

-That fact was only solidified when at eighteen, she was summoned to the Capitol, just weeks after the Quarter Quell to have a personal audience with Snow. She’d refuse his offer and before she could even get home, her parents were dead and the little sister she’d volunteered for was being held at gunpoint. She’d accept Snow’s proposal via teleconference, further distancing herself from the girl Willow was and deepening her identity in Will. Will could withstand so much more than Willow ever could have imagined. 

-Will would spend the next two decades in and out of the Capitol for the Games, or visiting sponsors, or being forced to meetings with Snow. Getting high and drunk became common past times, anything to stay complacent, to keep the nightmares at bay, and make her visits to the Capitol at least something she could withstand. But twenty years is a long time to be complacent. And Will was never complacent even if they acted the part well enough, acted the part of being controlled by Snow’s hold over her in the form of her family. So when the whispers of a rebellion started, Will didn’t spend to long in finding the right people to get themself involved with. And when the arena of the seventy-fifth hunger games blew up, Will was already on their way to District Thirteen. 

[themculibrary]

WandaVision (TV Show) Masterlist

Links Last Checked: May 20th, 2024

part two

and maybe even to float a little (above this difficult world) (ao3) - andibeth82 clint/laura G, 6k

Summary: Wanda thought, at first, she’d go south. She needed to get away from Westview, away from Monica, away from her mistakes and her healing and her traumas. She thought she’d go south, reset herself with a newfound sense of calm and peace, with the time to acquaint herself with the magic she now felt coursing through her body at every second of the day.

Instead, she found herself flying towards a quiet, solitary farmhouse in the middle of Waverly, Iowa.

[a post WandaVision story.]

Avengers: Pandemonium (ao3) - Agent66 wanda/vision, scott/hope, clint/laura N/R, 145k

Summary: In the aftermath of Westview, the Flag Smashers, armor wars, and multiverses, the last remaining members of the Avengers are brought together by an extraordinary set of circumstances.

dearest/darling/husband/wife (ao3) - impossibleman (ghoultown) wanda/vision E, 10k

Summary: The Maximoffs in the mid-1930s. Wanda learns of a new way to love her husband.

family is forever (ao3) - lady_romanov wanda/vision T, 35k

Summary: “So long, darling,” Vision says, as the walls of their house turn to dust, and Wanda watches as he disintegrates right from her hands, floating away in a cloud of gold as the real Westview reappears around her. Wanda’s empty hands fall back to her sides as she struggles to breathe evenly, and just as grief is starting to claw its way up her throat to choke her, she is startled by a voice behind her.

“Mom?”

(AU: Tommy and Billy survive.)

husband and wife (ao3) - ghoultown wanda/vision G, 3k

Summary: A few Avengers wax poetic about what they'd do if they weren't busy superhero-ing.

Vision wants to be a husband. Wanda thinks that's cute.

Journey's End (ao3) - msmaxximoff wanda/vision E, 16k

Summary: During two blissful weeks in Edinburgh, Wanda and Vision make some monumental decisions about their future together. She's done running and he's not sure how much longer he can keep deceiving people.

But is true love really worth the risk?

keeping me keeping you keeping me warm (ao3) - ghoultown wanda/vision T, 6k

Summary: The Vision wakes up in a field, someplace. His skin is white. He knows what he's meant to do.

It is hard to warm up your wife when you seem to be made of ice.

Late in the Day (ao3) - wisteriafic wanda/vision E, 59k

Summary: After the fall of Novi Grad, Wanda chooses to remain there to rebuild her homeland instead of becoming an Avenger. Over the years, she and Vision build separate lives for themselves, but they establish a long-distance friendship. As the tenth anniversary approaches, they get together for drinks, and they reconnect.

My father, my step-father, my father (ao3) - Dandybear wanda/vision M, 10k

Summary: Post-WandaVision. Wanda gets the kids and finds White Vision to get her happy ending. But, rebuilding a family isn't easy.

Synthesis (ao3) - englishmajor226 wanda/vision N/R, 296k

Summary: This is a Wanda/Vision fic that alternates from the events in Wandavision to a lead-up of all past events until Infinity War, exclusively from Vision’s POV. Hang tight, kids. It’s gonna be a long one.

tell me that you love me (and I shall sleep in peace) (ao3) - olsenbcttany wanda/vision M, 16k

Summary: Set in 1917, Wanda Maximoff has been alone since her family were killed in the ongoing war, working her hardest to keep their family farm running. Victor Shade is an injured soldier who stumbles upon her farm. Despite her reservations, and her hatred of the ongoing war, she chooses to spare his life and nurse him back to health, hoping that his presence will make her life less lonely, if only for a while.

(“Men die. People die. War…War hurts all. War…It is not for a man’s pride. No one is proud when you are dead. No one.”

“I…”

“You join to make daddy proud, but daddy sent you later…punishment. Punishment for being stupid boy who thinks war is for pride!” She exclaims, standing from the couch in frustration. “Now, you nearly die! Where is your pride?”)

visions are seldom all they seem (ao3) - msmaxximoff wanda/vision T, 5k

Summary: In her dreams, this is the moment where she cries. This is the moment where she lets herself get swept up in the romance of it all and finally finds her happily ever after despite the entire multiverse conspiring against her.

But this Vision is the stuff of nightmares.

In the aftermath of everything, Wanda and Vision finally learn how to heal.

Vision & The Scarlet Witch Vol I (ao3) - Agent66 wanda/vision G, 82k

Summary: After the events of WandaVision, Wanda Maximoff and the Vision try their hand at retirement, with very expected results.

What Happened in Westview (ao3) - Cyan_Rain wanda/vision T, 55k

Summary: I didn't mean to, but after watching the WandaVision trailer I had a new story idea.

The quiet town of Westview disappears into a pocket dimension. Several different parties try to figure out how, why, and what to do about it.

what is grief, if not love persevering? (ao3) - hunkahulkaaburningfudge wanda/vision G, 63k

Summary: The Avengers watch their future.

A WandaVision watch-it fic.

Z to A (ao3) - memoriaeterna wanda/vision, pepper/tony T, 88k

Summary: The moment of disorientation was nothing compared to the next thing he saw. He was standing in the midst of an airport, looking directly at a girl with the familiar red leather coat. The mutual recognition was instant. Leipzig.

Or, Peter and Wanda sent back in time to stop the inevitable. Good news: they are not alone. Bad news: who and from when.

[heartwithavacancy]

Per @trixxiephantomhive I’mma do this. Challenge mode only AO3 and Public works.  Rules: Pick any 10 of your fics, scroll somewhere to the midpoint, pick a line (or a few), and share it! Then tag people!  IDK who to tag. 

Lost & Found | Miraculous Ladybug | WC :1548 | Gen.

Gathering up his resolve and bracing himself for possibly needing to flee, he’s moving to the crates and peering into them. At first, he doesn’t see anything so he has to reassess this plan, the alley is too dim. After a moment he’s taking his phone from his pocket and turning on the flashlight function and crouching own. That’s when blue eyes finally see the tiny creature and his heart gives a painful little lurch. “What heartless son of a- Come here, baby, I got you. Don’t worry.” 

Flares Over Paris | Miraculous Ladybug (AU/PV)| WC: 4295 | Explicit |BriLix

“You can’t be…” That hardwired thought sparks and fragile hope shoves hard against what he knows - what he’s been told; what was drilled into his very bones. “She… died.” It’s a strained whisper, distress making itself known in his voice.

Bridgette’s hands rest on his chest and she’s taking in a sharp breath, brushing tears from her eyes she’s shaking her head. “Did He tell you that? Guess what, he’s a lying liar - surprise, surprise.” Her fingers reach and she’s taking hold of the zipper on his suit, tugging it down. A simple thought to Tikki and she’s taking off a glove and pressing her warm bare hand to his bare chest.

“Does this feel like the hand of a dead girl, Felix?”

Then she’s shifting leaning forward kissing along his jaw. “Or this?” Her lips trail along his neck slowly - gently.Felix takes in a broken breath, that touch to his chest is perfect. It’s warm and comforting somehow in a way he hasn’t felt in years. Bridgette always made him feel warm, soft… Bridgette had been the only one to make him feel that way the only person to push beyond the walls he’d built up.

In Colors | Yuri!!!! on Ice (Soulmate AU) | WC:1298 | Gen/Soft | Victor/Yuuri

Victor was not one of these people. He had always wanted to find his soulmate. Always. Ever since his days as a child, basking in his parents love; seeing the pink glow that his mother left upon his father’s skin when she took his hand and pulled him up into a joyful dance. Or when they embraced him or  kissed his forehead at night; lilac mixing with rose - the colors rare among the populace but they were so very soothing to young Victor.  Victor wanted that. He wanted exactly this and he would shake every had he had to to find it. Yuuri never really wanted to find his other half. He had enough trouble as just himself and his anxiety was a vicious thing; feeding into his fear that he wasn’t ever going to be good enough or good for anyone. He was just this side of a little chubby, horribly insecure with a bad self-esteem and image… No one wanted someone like him for a soulmate. So he donned gloves, black leather gloves for when he was out about in public.  It was for the best even if he did want someone to have that kind of connection with..

Memories Paint These Walls | BBC!Sherlock/Lucifer (Crossover/AU) | WC: 3721 | Gen | Myc/Greg, Lucifer/Charlie, implied Johnlock

Greg nodded swallowing. If this was true then why was it so hard for Mr. Holmes to accept that Mycroft was with someone like him? Granted, he wasn’t much of anything special, nothing remarkable but… “You’re saying they were lovers. They cared for one another.” “Yes, and again yes, deeply. Lucifer was devastated when he thought that Charlie had died. It seems that he like you had an uncanny ability to survive things that would kill men with less luck than you. Life goes on but they kept in touch; separate lives but another with each other.” He rather wished he was that brave, to have had a life like Lucifer, to have fought for them. “Again this isn’t why we’re here – well not the sole reason.”

I Celebrate You | BBC!Sherlock | WC: 1804| Gen| Myc/Greg 

The door opened only to close. He wasn’t sure who or what to expect given this day. “I hope you don’t mind a bit of company.” The voice that came was not the usher but the voice was much deeper and one he was far too familiar with. He glanced over his shoulder to find Gregory standing there, dressed in a tailored suit; a bit more formal than his usual attire; holding a box of chocolates and wearing a smile. His heart did a strange thing, a flip and twisting flop, slamming against the cage of his chest. Oh dear god.

Maybe Something New | Miraculous Ladybug | WC: 1137 | Gen | Felinette

Marinette Dupain-Cheng was a lightweight. That was the first thing Féllix learned after their third event date.

Another Song | Miraculous Ladybug | WC: 1225 | Gen | Lukathaniel

“Oh, definitely. To be honest, I thought if anyone stood a chance to break Adrien’s hold on her it’d be you. You’re a total package and I just don’t get what she sees in Adien that you don’t have to be totally frank. I mean Marinette’s not shallow or anything like that - I know that but I just don’t get the appeal. He’s arguably handsome, polite, thoughtful but yeah you’re definitely all those things - plus you don’t come with the baggage that is control freak Gabriel Agreste.”

Distracted Vendue | Miraculous Ladybug | WC: 2220 | Gen | Felinette

The instant green eyes fixed on the now-familiar face of the ever enchanting Marinette Dupain-Cheng he knew he had to win the evening with her. Even if they just spent it here tonight dancing, drinking, nibbling food the servers brought out - he wanted that time with her. He'd send her a few times since the video incident, a couple dozen of those in person, three of those as Ladybug.

To her, he wasn't Felix Graham de Vanily; admittedly his first impression on her hadn't been a good one but eventually, they smoothed things out and she'd become something of a friend... perhaps more. He certainly hoped one day it might be more but he wouldn't force the issue, unlike someone.

But truthfully he just wanted more time with her, no matter the confines of it or how they spent it. 

We Were Gods | Miraculous Ladybug (Human Kwami AU) | WC: 2808| Gen | Plikki

Plagg is shifting back to normal, staring at her. Of course, he should have known. Her powers, he’d seen them first hand to a small degree back when they were wilder and beyond her control. It takes a minute for it all to click then he’s moving closer to her.

“Tikki.”

His whisper of her name makes her jump like a door slam. Tikki is peering up at him in shock. “Please, don’t come any closer. I don’t - I don’t want to hurt you. I just wanted to bring you a gift. That’s all. I - I'll stop if you want me to.” She’s shaking, taking rapid steps back for every step he takes toward her.

Strange and Familiar | Miraculous Ladybug (PV/AU/GenderSwapped!Bridgette) | WC:2294 | Gen | FelBrett 

The stranger seems to go on alert the instant LB arrives and turns glancing over his shoulder. “That’s my cue.”

The spotted hero shakes his head, swinging onto the stage. “No. Stay.” It comes out as a sharp demand and the stranger bristles so Brett softens it with - “Please.”

Choices We Make in the End | Miraculous Ladybug {Pirate AU} |WC:1856 | Gen | Past and  currently onesided FeLuka

A sure sign of internal injuries. Now that he’s closer yes, there’s blood under the hand on his abdomen and Luka’s breathing is starting to rattle. The scent in the air around the pirate isn’t just blood - it’s death. Felix knew that smell far better than he would have liked to. And there isn’t anything that anyone can do - well nothing that anyone but Felix could do.

“There’s my favorite pirate. You’ve gotten yourself in a real mess this time.”

Felix is moving and with a gentleness that Felix reserved for those he truly cared for, he eased Luka up from his positing and gathered him carefully against himself. He doesn’t care about his clothes becoming bloodied. He doesn’t care about anything more than bringing Luka as close as he can. If he’s going to do this...

[rivenvictors]

Name: Riven "Riv" Victors Occupation: Book editor Age: 32 Sexuality: Bi Species: Witch (minor coven — Circle of the Reverie) Hometown: Columbus, Ohio Relationship Status: Single Personality Traits: sarcastic, lazy, daring, forgiving, insecure, sly

Biography (tw: violence)

"Do you believe in magic, Riven?"

He was only six, when the word magic ignited his soul. Set it aflame — just like that look in his mother's eyes. Burning with something wild, something that couldn't be tamed. A magician pulling a bunny out of his hat, the size of his fist — something his father used to dress as, for one of his birthdays. The whole crowd of small chidren gasped and clapped and gathered around the man who tought them how to juggle later that day. Tossing oranges into the air was the only magic his father's ever known.

Yet Riven's never had his father's eyes.

He was born out of something else entirely. His mother's child — her very own protégé.

And she treated him as such, even when he was too young to know what holding such power even meant. Did he ever stop to question his own mother's sanity? No, never. She could do no wrong in his childlike gaze. But man who's fallen from their pedestals liked to drag the rest to muddy waters, and when his chid no longer felt liks his, the magician prepared for his greatest act. A dozen swords, long and sharp, a woman inside a box, and a boy who's never known violence until this day.

"Do you believe in magic, Riven?"

He did not speak for a year. When the woman who introduced herself as his aunt took him in, she believed he's gone mad. The old woman was not a blood relative, but a friend of his mothers. A familiar face in that coven of people he did not know, nor wished to.

Troubled, and always lightning a match where even a spark would be too much, Riv found his voice within the next couple of his teenage years. He found more than just his voice. He found the flame to his matchstick hands. And Aaron — he didn't mind the burn.

Riv often wondered when that magical click happened; when a stranger turned into something worthy of knowing, when an acquaintance turned friend, then a friend turned lover. He wondered where the line was and how certain people managed to cross it without his permission.

When his magic found shelter within his, and how exactly was it that when he wielded the shadows of illusion, it was Aaron's magic that gave them voice. The dreams that boy who watched his mother's flame dry out, created were now alive — more real than they've ever been.

Not a soul asked him, if he believed in anything anymore. Not magic, or love, or the meaning of life. He was too old to answer silly questions. But if someone wanted to talk about magic less, and witness it's madness more, he'd gladly sneak inside their minds and show them.

Headcanons

Riven has heterochromia, which explains why one of his eyes is blue, and the other brown.

Scars cover his entire back, from a time when his father was still around.

No one has ever died in his hands. Rivan could never bear the thought of it. His magic could threaten and burn, and wound but he'd never take it as far as to suck the life out of somebody.

Wanted connections

THE DREAM REALM / Witches from his minor coven — the circle of reverie. The coven has been created by a group of close female friends, and eventually their children. They would've spent their childhood together and worked on their magic from a very young age.

MY SHELTER / His mother who he believed had died. She has been stripped of her magic powers and turned into a vampire. The former witch would've tried to reconnect with her coven, yet they turned her away and never told Riven, she was even still alive, in one form or another.

MY FAVORITE GAME / Although Riv had never killed anyone, he loved to toy around with humans. Invading their minds and senses, tormenting them for the fun of it.

FOES/ALLIES/FELLOW WITCHES/

[percontaion-points]

Lifeblood chapter 20

Today's review might be difficult for some; reader discretion is advised

Click to see the rest of the snark & image descriptions

Chapter 20

My parents were good to me...at first. The older I became, the more involved they became in their work. Dad was a representative in the House of Myriad, helping to pass realm laws for humans. Mom had her paintings. One day, I woke up, cooked my own breakfast and realized I had been raising myself for years. 

They spent time with me only when I required discipline, and the knowledge had hurt. Badly. I’d become an afterthought to the people who were supposed to love me.

Not only that, but they were still expecting for her to blindly follow in their footsteps simply because they demanded it? Yet at the same time, couldn’t be bothered with their own child? 

It’s even worse when you think of how the book is trying to redeem Ten’s mom. Like sorry that you started having second thoughts, but it’s literally too late. Especially when you remember that mom broke the law and had a second kid, but subjected said BABY to a life of suffering, and almost immediate death. A LITERAL BABY. 

At sixteen, I became a bargaining chip. Because of my supposed Fusing with a Myriadian General, the realm offered my parents more money, more fame—but only if I made covenant. I wasn’t a daughter. I was a key. 

I’m pretty sure that I said this a lot during the first book, but not one single person seemed to give a shit about Ten. They only wanted her power, and the things that she wanted to do didn’t seem to matter. 

Look me in the eye and tell me that Troika gives a shit about Ten’s wishes. They talk an awful lot about free will, yet demand that she go into the field after like a week of training. 

“And my dad? How is he?” 

“He’s being trained as a Laborer, but not with the new arrivals. He has a private tutor because he’s on the fast track.” 

I’m not surprised. At the end of his Firstlife, my dad’s love for me—if he ever really loved me—had darkened into hate. He blamed me for the loss of his fame and fortune, and paid to have me killed.

I enjoyed how Myriad had branded daddy dearest as a traitor who tried to get around the child clause in his contract by having a second baby. But all of that was apparently for show, since they’re treating him WELL in Myriad. 

“Any leads on the spy?”

 “Nothing yet.” 

Who could it be? Kayla, Reed, Deacon, Victor? I trust them. Elizabeth? I would love to blame her. Levi? Even though I’m angry with him, he doesn’t strike me as a fox but a shepherd. He fights foxes, keeping them away from his flock.

I don’t know who needs to hear this, but the entire idea of a spy is acting like nothing is wrong. Even if you’re sometimes acting against the side that you’re spying for in order to maintain your cover. 

So literally any one of those could be a spy. 

He can’t pass through the Veil of Wings to reach me in Troika, but I suspect he would try if he thought I was in trouble—try until he died.

Chapter 20 summary: Ten and Killian start making out on the patio of the French cafe. As he pulls her away to somewhere more private, Ten randomly thinks about how shitty her parents were. Not only at the end, but how neglectful that they’d been before that. 

They start making out in an alley, but then they move to the cave that they camped out in right after Killian and Archer helped Ten escape from the asylum. There, they continue to make out. Killian eventually stops her, and says that he doesn’t want their first time to be when they’re wearing their shells, which is fair. But it’s also kind of a terrible thing to say, especially since he’s still refusing to deflect. 

Killian tells her that Levi comes to him sometimes. But during their last chat, Levi told him that he’d found a barrister for Ten’s mom, so now her trial is going forward. Ten is relieved to hear that, and asks about her father. He’s basically being treated super well, which pisses Ten off something fierce. 

They talk about the Troikian spy. Killian says he kidnapped Victor to prove that he wasn’t the spy. But even after all of that, he’s still not convinced Victor wasn’t somehow getting messages out while in captivity. He also says he didn’t wipe Victor’s memory, which is super suspicious right now. 

He goes on to tell her that he knows that the souls in Myriad are not resurrected. Ten says she thinks that they end up in Many Ends, but he isn’t sure about that. He explains his reasoning in the resurrection thing in explaining about his mom. His leaders had been hedging around about the new identity of his mom, which was frustrating him to no end. So he looked up the info on his own, and went to visit this woman. Except he knew that it wasn’t her when she tried to sleep with him. Ten isn’t sure about that, since Killian died when he was a baby; he never knew his mother, so how does he know that she wasn’t a slut? She goes back to the Many Ends thing, and describes the lake that she, Kayla, and Reed had to swim through to get to Myriad. Killian is lost in thought, so she thinks that there’s a similar lake in Myriad. 

Before they leave, he gives her a Pi necklace, with an emergency beacon connected to him. She gives him the gun-ring Meredith had given her. 

[crackspinewornpages]

Les Misérables 365/365 -Victor hugo

361 

One day Valjean left his house only to go back in and the next day didn’t leave, eat or drink to his portress’s dismay. He only left to get a cross and remained in bed for a week. The portress believes his daughter has a bad marriage and the doctor agrees he is very ill. “He is a man who, to all appearances, has had cost some person who is dear to him. People die of that.”p.906 (he’s literally dying of sadness and loneliness)  

362 

Valjean made an effort to sit up and dress himself, get Cosette’s mourning clothes and candlesticks, it exhausted him. In the mirror he didn’t recognize himself, he looked like he was dying, his strength failing. Trembling, he wrote to Cosette that Marius was right to send him away, love him and writes about black jet as he’s about to die, he wants to see her but he’s alone. 

363 

That same day Marius got a visitor and a letter, the smell of tobacco from it triggered a memory of Jondrette, the letter said he had information that could ruin his family. It was signed Thernard, (didn’t even try with that alias did you) he found one man, now if only he could find the man who saved him. He has the man sent for and he comes in disguise. There is a Jew (oh this book is going there) in Rue Beautreillis that changes crooks to honest men for a while. The man gave a fake story, Marius was never at the places he mentioned or the people and demands to know who he was. He gives a story that America is dangerous, and people go for the good and he wants to establish himself and needs money. 

Marius has him state his case, he has an assassin in his house under a false name, his real name is Jean Valjean, he knows him and that he is an ex-convict. Marius could see the fury in his eyes and the man says he’ll keep the secret for twenty thousand francs. Marius won’t give it as he also knows his name, Thenardier, also his aliases and he had a house at Montfermiel and threw five francs at him. Thenardier takes off his disguise, a humiliation worth five hundred francs, he didn’t make the connection between Marius and Pontmercy of Waterloo. Through Azelma and his research he found who Valjean was in the sewer encounter but didn’t know who Cosette was and didn’t have proof she is a bastard. (even says going up to a guy and accusing his wife of being a bastard with earn him a kick to the balls) 

He ought to have drawn back and change tactics, but he wasn’t compromised yet and knew what he was talking about. Marius was humiliated he owed a villain but content to settle his father’s debt and maybe Thenardier knew the source of Cosette’s money. Marius tells him he already knows Valjean robbed a manufacturer and assassinated Javert, he recounts Madeliene’s history and how Javert was shot by Valjean. Thenardier says his information is wrong, Valjean is Madeliene and Javert killed himself, he has papers as proof and Marius felt joy at being wrong. 

Valjean was really an admirable man, he is really Madeliene, a saint and his savior and Thenardier says while he didn’t rob Madeliene, he is a murderer. What he knows is unknown, a year ago in June, during the insurrection, he was at where the sewers enter the Siene. He had hid in the sewers and heard someone in there with him, he had the air of an ex-convict and was dragging a corpse. He had a key and talked to buy time, the corpse was young and had an air of wealth and disfigured with blood, he had torn off a bit of coat without notice. He unlocked the gate and the assassin threw the corpse into the river.  

He brandishes the strip, stained with filth and blood, Marius springs to his feet and opens a cupboard where his grandfather stored his clothes from that night. He declares to Thenardier he was that young man and the torn strip fits. He shoves a thousand francs at Thenardier. “You come to accuse that man, you have only justified him; you wanted to ruin him, you have only succceeded in glorifying him.”p.918 He knows enough of Thenardier to have him sent to the galleys only Waterloo protects him so get out go to America. (it was played for comedy but at least in the movie Marius sees Thenardier is a complete rat bastard) Thenardier didn’t understand any of it but was happy he had money and left for America with Azelma under false names and set up as a slave dealer. “Contact with an evil man sometimes suffices to corrupt a good action and to cause evil things to spring from it.”p.918 Marius rushed Cosette to get ready and left for Rue de l’Homme Arme and tells Cosette to call Valjean father, he is the one who saved him and they will bring him back, Gavroche must have delivered his letter to him, Cosette didn’t understand but went with it. (if I was his wife I’d have a million questions) 

364 

Valjean let them in his room and he was joyful to see Cosette and hugged her, he asked if they forgave him, he was at the point he accepted he wouldn’t see them again, how funny God is to send him an angel. Cosette scolds him for going away so long and not letting them know he is back or tell them how ill he is. Marius bursts out that he saved his life, gave her to him and sacrificed himself, while he is the guilty one, why didn’t he tell him the truth. (says the person who never asked and acted like a jackass) Because he thought he was right to send him away, if he had known he would have had him stay which would lead to embarrassment. Marius won't have him stay here, not even until tomorrow, Valjean says he won't be here, not even with them tomorrow. (he’s too lonely and sad) Cosette won't have him leave again, they’ll go home, be a family and he’ll have a little garden and they’ll eat strawberries, Valjean would like that, but he is dying. (the sadness is too much) 

Cosette insists that he must live, maybe with them here he won't die, Marius says he is full of life, he won't have sorrow anymore and has forgiveness, (make a hastag Valjean did nothing wrong) he will live and live with them. Valjean says that won't change what he is, God thought it useful for him to go, he has Cosette to be happy, she’s better off with him. The doctor came in and with a glance let Marius know it wasn’t good and the doctor figured out it was Cosette Valjean wanted. “It is nothing to die; it is dreadful not to live.”p.922 Valjean walked up to the crucifix and told them to behold the martyr. (ok stop being dramatic and get back in your death bed) Cosette starts crying, begging him not to leave after they found him again. (he never left this house) Valjean had a moment of lucidity and tells Marius what pains him is he hadn’t touched the money and explained what he did with black jet. He refuses a priest, he already had one and it was the Bishop. (remember him from the beginning of the book in the movie Fantine was there as well) 

Valjean was falling, heaven already in his eyes, he had Cosette and Marius come closer as he had last words. He loves them and it's nice to have them by his side but they must be happy and assures Marius the money is honest so use it to live nicely. He leaves Cosette the two candlesticks and he doesn’t know if the person who gave them to him is pleased, he’s done what he could. (sometimes that’s all you can do and sometimes it’s enough) He wants to be buried in a poor plot, no name on the stone but he would be happy if Cosette visits. He asks Marius to forgive him for not always loving him, he’s grateful he makes Cosette happy. He has five hundred francs for the poor and still has Cosette’s mourning clothes, does she remember the forest in Montfermiel, does she remember the happy years, but forgive the Thenardiers, her mother’s name is Fantine, she suffered and loved her. “She had as much unhappiness as thou hast had happiness. That is the way God apportions things.”p.924 He sees us all and knows what he does. “There is nothing else but that in the world: love for each other.”p.925 He has other things to say but no time, he hugged them and stopped moving no doubt in the night an angel awaited a soul. 

365 

In the cemetery of Pere-Lachaise, far from fancy tombs, in a deserted corner, lies a stone, aged by time and nature. it is plain and has no name. Many years ago, someone wrote on it with pencil and the lines have been washed off since. “He sleeps. Although his fate was very strange, he lived. He died when he had no longer his angel. The things come to pass simply, of itself, as the night comes when the day is gone.”p.925  

This took me a fucking year and damn 

a bunch of miserable and desperate students and working class dying for what they believed in against the government spurred on by economic hardships and an epidemic really makes you think as we recover from the last few years and head into 2023 

people get what they deserve or what they don’t deserve 

people suffer by circumstance or their own doing 

they change their ways or are entrenched by them to their doom  

how the past has consequences for the future how everyone interconnects with fate’s tapestry for a little moment insignificant to the larger piece of history but significant to your own  

How you can give your life for a cause and it means nothing as the cycle repeats itself 

The more things change the more they stay the same 

it is a good book but definitely one I only plan to read once 

once was enough 

...and next is War and Peace 

FIRST

[horizon-verizon]

I think Rhaenyra did have some feelings for Criston too, even if it was a simple infatuation or light crush.

Disclaimer: Criston Cole is one of the ASoIaF characters whom I hate the most. 

I agree that both Book! and Show!Rhaenyra had a crush on Criston. 

(And this is nothing against you, anon, I’m taking this ask as another opportunity to hate Criston.)

HotD

But Show!Rhaenyra seemed to just want him as a protector when she meets him for the first time. She emphasized his superior candidacy as her protector through his real military experience, not through his looks or how she found him attractive. 

From there--and in the missing moments due to the jump cut--it seemed to have developed into her looking to him for intimacy at a time when she was being forced into an unwanted marriage to a gay man. 

It seems that she develop feelings for him a few years later, but this doesn’t excuse Criston for thinking that Rhaenyra would/should run away with him to abandon her dragon, her responsibilities, and publicly disgrace her family and house.  and give up the opportunity to become a queen. If Criston is supposed to be all about honor, here is he actually is going against his own beliefs about honor and expects Rhaenyra to also commit "dishonor" for his sake when he was the one to freely wanted to have sex with him.

Fire and Blood

Whereas in the book, Rhaenyra was 7 when she asked Viserys to make Criston her protector when she was 7 years old at a melee after Criston asks for her favor before defeating Daemon in the joust. 

The book Fire and Blood’s “A Question of Succession” has Gyldayn write that:

Though many lords and knights sought her favor, the princess had eyes only for Ser Criston Cole, the young champion of the Kingsguard and her constant companion. “Ser Criston protects the princess from her enemies, but who protects the princess from Ser Criston?” Queen Alicent asked one day at court.

AND

With his pale green eyes, coal black hair, and easy charm, Cole soon became a favorite of all the ladies at court...not the least amongst them Rhaenyra Targaryen herself. So smitten was she by the charms of the man she called “my white knight” that Rhaenyra begged her father to name Ser Criston her own personal shield and protector. His Grace indulged her in this, as in so much else. Thereafter Ser Criston always wore her favor in the lists [the staked line in front of the audience stands that are also embanked] and became a fixture at her side during feasts and frolics.

AND

In the final moments of the fight, Ser Criston knocked Dark Sister from Prince Daemon’s hand with his morningstar, to the delight of His Grace and the fury of the prince. Afterward, he gave the seven- year-old Princess Rhaenyra the victor’s laurel and begged for her favor to wear in the joust.

And when she is 17, she rejects him at her own wedding tourney. The one where he kills Joffrey Lonmouth not long after. Alicent enlists Criston here as well.

So the continuation of that crush can go either: she never seriously considered him as a lover, or that she did try for him. But that last point uses Mushroom’s idea that Rhaenyra got into “lessons” with Daemon just to attract Criston. And the way that Mushroom talks about Rhaenyra and Daemon shows that he was trying to gather the spotlight for himself, so he can’t be entirely trusted on letting us know what Rhaenyra's thinking:

He began by giving her kissing lessons, if Mushroom can be believed. From there the prince went on to show his niece how best to touch a man to bring him pleasure, an exercise that sometimes involved Mushroom himself and his alleged enormous member. Daemon taught the girl to disrobe enticingly, suckled at her teats to make them larger and more sensitive, and flew with her on dragonback to lonely rocks in Blackwater Bay, where they could disport naked all day unobserved, and the princess could practice the art of pleasuring a man with her mouth. At night he would smuggle her from her rooms dressed as a page boy and take her secretly to brothels on the Street of Silk, where the princess could observe men and women in the act of love and learn more of these “womanly arts” from the harlots of King’s Landing.

Just how long these lessons continued Mushroom does not say, but unlike Septon Eustace, he insists that Princess Rhaenyra remained a maiden, for she wished to preserve her innocence as a gift for her beloved.

(Fire and Blood; A Question of Succession)

...But Mushroom wasn’t on those rocks, he could not have been with D and R when they went to Flea Bottom, and he definitely wouldn’t have been allowed to join them in their alleged sexual activities.

I think Criston was still inferior to Daemon/Harwin in her mind since the RhaneyraxDaemon history itself is too strong for Criston to have ever “competed”. Plus, again, she wouldn't have wanted him to ruin his own vows in her admiration of knighthood itself, which is closely tied to the vows and oaths through chivalric ideals. And her own legitimacy or ability to keep her throne partially comes from the oaths Viserys had many lords make to her, so.....