#(Rose) The Rebell in the rebellion

[dynjay]

An old AU idea I had where Pink Diamond and Rose Quartz were two different people and Pearl belonged to White Diamond.

[wonder-worker]

"The division between the two families [the Woodvilles and the Nevilles] and their allies can be seen in the royal charters that they witnessed. Warwick, Rivers and Archbishop Neville of York, while serving as chancellor and afterwards, were fairly constant witnesses to royal charters and consequently often appeared together. This was not, however, the case for other family members and friends. From 1466 to 1469, if Scales or Woodville associates like Sir John Fogge, John Lord Audley or Humphrey Lord Stafford of Southwick witnessed royal charters, then members of the Neville group, such as John Neville, earl of Northumberland, or John Lord Wenlock would not, and vice versa. Discounting the ubiquitous Warwick, Rivers and Archbishop Neville, of the twenty-four charters issued between February 1466 and June 1469, twelve were witnessed by men associated with the Woodvilles, eight by men associated with the Nevilles and two were witnessed by no member of either group beyond the two earls at their heads and the archbishop; only two charters, both from 1466, featured associates of both families.

Such striking segregation of witnesses suggests that something more than simple convenience or availability was at play. [...] The evidence of these witness lists does show the extent of the split between the two groups from early in Edward's [first] reign and of the need for political society to work with that cleavage in the heart of the Yorkist regime."

— Theron Westervelt, "Royal charter witness lists and the politics of the reign of Edward IV"

*This is specifically applicable for Edward IV's first reign; in contrast, the charters in his second reign displayed a great deal of aristocratic and domestic unity and cohesion.

[sonic-rebellion-official]

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[spookberry]

I like to be positive and imagine that most people understand that she is a complicated character with good intentions even if her actions weren't always good,, however, there is a select group of people that keep trying to Argue with me that she's actual like satan reincarnated and pure evil because she "started a war". Like god forbid a woman do anything fr

No but actually it's absurd to me the way supposed fans of the show will critique Rose Quartz and her actions in the exact same way the diamonds view Pink Diamond. "She just had to be the rebel kid and start a war meh meh meh" like are you White Diamond??? Cuz thats literally white diamond's belittling comprehension of the situation and it's pretty clear that she and the other diamonds are WRONG for that.

The war wasn't a fucking game. I don't understand how anyone can watch steven universe and not comprehend that Rose started the rebellion and founded the crystal gems, to Protect! The! Earth!!! Regardless of whether her initial love of earth and desire to spare it came from a more self-centered view of existence she still knew the colony was wrong, so she set out to stop it!! That is just blatantly good. The way people spin this to be a negative point of her character leaves me just incredulous. Rose can be spoiled and childish, but that was not the reasoning behind rebelling. It is the diamonds who treat her like a spoiled child with a toy and it's the audience's job to understand that that was them belittling and ignoring her.

Faking Pink's death to become Rose Quartz wasn't just a silly little Hannah Montana bit she did where she got to enjoy the luxuries of a being a diamond while playing pretend citizen and having her little sapphic frolics in the woods with Pearl. It was a War Strategy! She was her own built in spy and double agent. She was was an activist within gem bureaucracy as well as someone actively protesting on a ground level. It didn't matter how the crystal gems viewed Pink because that became a role she performed so she could HELP them.

We know blatantly thanks to Pearl that once it became clear that bureaucracy wasn't working that she gave up on that avenue. It's boiled down to something easily watched with an 11 minute episode however, it's clear Pearl and Rose had talked about the plan before hand. So it wasn't something she did on a whim. It was a Political Move. That maybe killing off an Important figure such as Pink Diamond would allow the fight to fall more into the crystal gems favor. It wasn't just her being silly and forgoing the privilege's of being a Diamond, it was a Threat. A statement that said "if I can shatter Pink Diamond, I can shatter any diamond, so you better fucking listen to me."

And sure you could argue here that it was a dumb plan, personally I think its pretty clear that she was desperate and if she rebelled As Pink the other diamonds would've just stepped in and "grounded" her and the war would've been lost entirely anyways. Hell Pearl even says as much. If Pink Diamond proved incapable of following orders with the colony any power she held over it would've been taken form her, Earth woulda been another one of yellow's after that. So she makes this extreme choice to make a statement out of Pink Diamond instead.

The statement has unexpected consequences. However and this is important to keep in mind, this is a story. And there's a foreshadowing set up here. Pink Diamond/Rose Quartz has to lose. It's how the story works, and how she fails is supposed to make something clear to the audience. And that is that shattering the diamonds isn't the answer. It was Never the answer, not with Pink not with White or Blue or Yellow, and that's why the finale of SU is the way it is imo. So people that are mad at Steven "forgiving" the diamonds yall are also stupid.

Anyways back to Rose. She isn't perfect, obviously, she makes choices that ultimately cause future problems for those she cares about(though arguably she had no idea the war would ever Come Back, she spent thousands of years uninterrupted on earth before she had steven). But she is a war general, she is the leader of a doomed uprising. She did what she had to and she didn't always know whether what she was doing was right or not, because no one had ever done it before.

Can i go on a rant about Rose Quartz/Pink Diamond real quick?

[maxx-the-queer]

One of my criticisms about Dragon Age, and this isn't unique to Veilguard, is how antirevolutionary their narratives are. (Spoilers for Veilguard ahead, naturally)

Narratively, they're not adverse to all change (since stories have to have some change in order to exist) but they're hardly accepting of it either.

Any change that happens to the status quo has to happen within the system, otherwise it's deemed extremism and wrong in universe.

Contrast that with when Anders or Grand Enchanter Fiona take actions against the systems of the Circles that spark the mage rebellion - they're vilified for it by the narrative and everyone around them. They're painted as fools at best, malicious murderers at worst. All because their steps for change were taken outside of the system. (Anders blows up a Chantry, Fiona starts a vote to disband the Circle of Magi)

In a worldstate where Leliana becomes Divine Victoria and disbands the Circles to allow for the formation of the College of Enchanters, she's celebrated because she stayed within the Chantry, rose to the top through unconventional but still allowable means, yet achieved radical societal change nonetheless.

If Dorian becomes Archon, his anti-slavery views aren't seen as unreasonable or too radical because he stays within the system. His work with the Shadow Dragons - an anti-slavery group, who by all standards aren't that different from the mage rebellion in the south, is deemed different because their leaders are still trying to work with the systems for change.

Solas gets both versions of this anti-revolutionary treatment. In Inquisition, he felt honestly quite reasonable to me in his motivations to tear down the veil, but he can't escape that same vilification as when he's trying to fit the mould of a force for rebellion, he's treated like a monster or has significantly more flaws in the narrative. When his motivations are framed as complete systematic change, he's shown to not view anyone in modern Thedas as 'real people.' In one of his approval scenes in Inq, he goes out of his way to tell the Inquisitor essentially "you're one of the good ones." He's ignorant, racist, and singlemindedly focused on destroying the world to have a second Elvhenan but better.

But in Veilguard, in order for the narrative to consider him redeemable, his reasons for wanting the veil to come down get changed from wanting betterment for the elves and restoring the Elvhen people, into personal regrets he needs to fulfill. He's no longer framed solely as a political, rebellious force for change, but as a mere man who went too far for a woman he loved. Suddenly the narrative gives the player permission to give him redemption. Because he doesn't actually want change, it's just what he thought Mythal wanted, so that's fine and different.

Your player character protagonist can never actually flat-out agree with the vilified rebel characters either. I can't have my pro-mage rights Hawke say "hey, actually, Anders was right to blow up the Chantry, I agree with him," you always have to ultimately condemn his actions, even if you agree with the outcome.

I can't have my Dalish Inquisitor or an Elven Rook say "hey, actually, maybe Solas has a point, this world does suck for elves and maybe the veil coming down would fix that," they always have to ultimately believe that the veil has to stay.

The games do everything they can to avoid letting the player come to the conclusion that revolution is a good thing. Instead, they force the idea that the only way change is ethical is if you do it within the preexisting status quo.

[emptyjunior]

Still in hunger games analysis mode, do you guys ever think about what Seneca did Wrong. About where he failed at the job he was given.

Because I think what his true fatal flaw was, was he believed it. He believed in the game and all of the propoganda surrounding it.

And this was something that was bound to happen in Snow's kingdom eventually! He made citizens that were clueless and lost in his little cloud nine. You can't make killers out of your arrogant, privileged sheep population!

Seneca Crane believed that the games were about the great show, about making stars and entertaining the masses.

The cold truth that you and I and Snow are aware of, is that the games are one part of the great oppression machine. They're a good political tool to be in control of, they can be used as a punishment to target whoever you need to, you can manipulate the big show on screen in a crude mockery of what's going on in real life! You can crush the spirit of certain districts, you can keep other ones loyal to you. And the victors are an extremely valuable Product that you are endlessly creating, idols and mouthpieces for your horrible propaganda machine.

So that's what the games do! A good tool for a dictator to have, and if you're aware of all the context, then being in charge of them gives you a lot of power.

But Seneca?? Seemed to genuinely believe he was there to put on a big fancy show😭 He was so excited about it, he chatted to sponsors, he did the interviews, he picked themes😭

Like of course he gave Katniss a 12 after her stunt, he wasn't worried about the fire outfits or her popularity at All. Because he thought it'd be good ratings, and it was! That's what he thought the goal was: Get the best, most entertaining story possible.

All those talks in the Rose garden?

This was not Seneca checkin in with the boss, that was the boss saying Hey what the Fuck are You Doing.

Because Seneca truly did not understand at all! How dangerous it would look for someone from district 12 to rise up that fast! (And Snow most definitely understood Very Quickly because he has been dunked on before by a black haired girl from district 12😭)

But even after that Very explicitly clear talk, Seneca kept allowing Katniss chances to tell the Mockingjay story. Because he is a fool, who thought he was there to make tv😭 And did not realise that the silly story they tell in the games, has very real effects on the districts.

Like the metaphor for it could be you hire someone to make you maybe pro-military, pro-war, propaganda films, and that goes great for years until they get a few generations in and the new guys are like "oh we're just making popular films here right?" And let your direct rebel enemy, star in a touching depiction of how great rebellion is😭 And then your movie guy goes "how was that boss? Lots of people watched!" ☠️

[candyskiez]

so, you've heard shows be recommended because they had gay characters. you don't really know what they're actually about though, and don't know if they'd be something you'd be into and are worried about spoilers. here's spoiler free plot summaries of em!

The Owl House

The Owl House starts out as a typical teenage girl goes into a fantasy realm story, but with a twist. Actions have consequences. The protagonist is a girl named Luz Noceda, who was being sent to a camp to make her behave normally by her mother after causing too much trouble at school. She ends up finding a place she's always dreamed of: a fantasy world. A world where everyone's so much weirder than she is. And she thinks, maybe if I don't belong out there, maybe people will like me here. Maybe I can be special here.

It's a story about found family, propaganda, erased history, living with disability, religious trauma, and neurodivergence. It's fundamentally a show about people who's brains work differently finding each other and making a family that treats them right. Definitely my favorite of the ones on this list. It's about people who've been oppressed being pissed about it and about finding yourself again after giving up on everyone around you for so long. It's basically a show about being a minority and trying to be understood and to understand yourself in the process. It's about growing up neurodivergent and how isolating it feels and figuring yourself out. It's about repairing broken relationships and parents who fuck up. And it's just. Such a love letter to anyone who was the weird kid in school. It's sad and heartbreaking and also so hopeful, and it's wonderful.

Content warnings: Abuse, Death, Grief, Animal Death, Suicidal thoughts, Vague suicide attempts, Depression, blink and you'll miss it s/h, body horror, religious trauma

She Ra and the Princesses Of Power

Adora was raised in the Horde since she was a baby, being fed propaganda about how cruel the princesses were. After learning how the horde actually was, though, she defects. But there's one problem. Her best friend, Catra, stays behind. Adora finds a sword that can transform her into She Ra, and might be the key to figuring out who she really is, while Catra takes her place as force captain.

It's a story about abuse, at the end of the day. Adora and Catra were stuck in a golden child and scapegoat dynamic, despite how much they care about each other. This leads to them knowing everything about each other but not understanding it. There's a fundamental disconnect between them, because both of their traumas are completely different. They have complete misconceptions about each other. Even in their initial split, they both have completely different perceptions of what's going on and why the other is upset. It's not a story about magic princesses, it's about the cycle of abuse and what makes it so complicated. Does it have flaws? Yeah. But ultimately I really really enjoy it, and when it does something right it does something RIGHT. Get through season one, it starts kids show-y but it gets very good during later s1.

Content warnings: Abuse (obviously), body horror, gaslighting (and I mean actual gaslighting, not what the Internet thinks gaslighting is), suicide, depression, flashing lights and eyestrain during the finale

Steven Universe

Steven Universe is a sins of the father story. Steven is the son of the leader of the rebel group The Crystal Gems, who's name was Rose Quartz. He navigates the confusion of being half gem and half human, as well as trying to figure out the mess of the rebellion and what his mother left behind. He's constantly in her shadow, for better or for worse.

It's a story about grief. How it impacts relationships, how it taints history, how it impacts family. It has some definite flaws, but ultimately it's about very flawed people who have lost so many people in their life trying to cope with it. Trying to handle what they lost and trying to adjust to life without them. It's about how expectations fuck a kid up and about agency and just a show about complicated relationships in general, at the end of the day. Also, it has some FANTASTIC music.

Content warnings: Grief, Abuse, body horror, very creepy people I don't know how to tag, heavy allegories for homophobia

Nimona

Nimona is a story about a guy who gets framed for murder. His name is Ballister Boldheart, a commoner who hoped to become a knight. It seemed everyone was waiting to watch him fail, so it was no surprise when he was the immediate target. Heavily injured and away from the man he loves, he's left alone trying to figure out a way to prove his innocence- until a strange kid comes into his life. This kids name is Nimona, and while he is intent on proving his innocence, she gave up on being anything but a villain a long time ago.

It's about deconstructing the model minority myth, trans rage, propaganda, and with a healthy dose of "FUCK the police".

Content warnings: Heavy injury, on screen suicide attempt, flashing lights

feel free to add more shows! just remember to keep the summaries as spoiler free as you can and add content warnings!

[of-crowns-and-echoes]

Magic users have always existed alongside normal humans, hidden but present. Eons ago, powerful sorcerors created a ward of magic, separating the magic from the mundane. And so the existence of Sancteiros was wiped from every map and every mind, forgotten as if it never existed in the first place.

But the wall has now fallen, and non-magicals are gearing up for an attack. You play as a Divine One, the current ruler of Sancteiros when the wall falls.

After three Divine Ones dying only a year into their rule, can you be the one to restore stability? Or will your crown fall alongside your people?

DEMO out now!

Names have power: Choose your name, gender, and appearance.

The past is never dead: Customize your character's background and past

Make magic yourself: Choose from three magical classes- mages, sorcerors, and witches.

Don't forgive, don't forget: Rule over a country that has been isolated for centuries, and decide which factions are allies and which are enemies.

No man is an island: Four characters to befriend or romance (or make enemies of)

ETHEL VIVER [m] Vibrant and reckless, Ethel's been your friend for four years now. A witch and a liar, Ethel has a reputation for being loud and knowing entirely too much.

MAREN AIREL [m] The newest recruit of the Guards, Maren rose the ranks of popularity quick. He's the reason that the Guards are known more for adventures than protection, now. He's the son of the last Chief Advisor, and has half the population of Sancteiros swooning at him.

ARTISE CORREL [f] Artise leads the rebels, but the only thing you (or anyone else) knows of her is her insignia - a white feather - left behind at every site of the rebellion. The instability of the regime has led to her growing power, loathe as the Guards are to admit it.

CEDIS DAY [f] Cedis is the second-in-command of the human ambassadors, distrusting and far too cautious. Though most of your council prefers her to the human leaders, she resolutely refuses to talk to anyone but you.

+other minor and major characters

[mothiir]

homecoming

For @remembrancer-of-heresy

Hope this is okay ! I’m not completely pleased with it but if I don’t publish it now I never will.

cw: threats of cannibalism, dubcon.

Sevatar, like all his brothers, is accustomed to a war fought from the shadows: striking into the soft underbelly of the foe, departing like mist at dawn, leaving them to find the strung-up bodies of their children in the rafters, and warnings daubed in blood on the floor. If you do not obey the Emperor, you earn his justice — so goes a somewhat tongue-in-cheek saying from Nostramo, for only the most starry-eyed idiots of the legion truly believe that what they do is just. 

To be a Night Lord is to be a killer: a defiler, a flenser of flesh, a bane of the innocent. Sevatar has known this to be true since the moment he took the midnight; indeed, he knew before that, when he was naught but a neophyte, battling for scraps with his brothers, all fresh-grown muscle and sharp teeth. 

He knows who he is, and he feels no shame in it. He knows what sort of war he is bred to fight, and he feels no shame in that either — the term ‘fair fight’ is a tune that means nothing, sung only by fools. 

And yet there are times — like this — when he cannot help but bemoan his lot just a little. This campaign is challenging; they face not an isolated world in rebellion, but a confederation stretching across worlds. A whole system, grown complacent and fat through Imperial protection. They stopped paying their tithe, and the Emperor was merciful, sending a diplomatic envoy to explain the error of their ways. 

The diplomats were executed as the red sun rose, and the message could not have been clearer: we do not want your peace. 

And so the Emperor had sent Konrad, instructing him to keep as much of the infrastructure intact as possible — this is a valuable system, rich with resources, with cities that span entire continents. This is no barbarous benighted rock, which Mortarion can scour clean with his latest pet virus, or the Lion can turn to charred rubble. 

No: this operation requires a scalpel.

All of this to say, that Sevatar has been busy these last few weeks. Skipping from world to world, with barely time to clean his blades between kills. He led his claw from assasination to assasination: flaying some noble in his quarters, leaving his lover to wake up beside a red raw corpse; obliterating an entire barracks worth of elite soldiers, sparing only one to carry the story on. He has not stopped; he has not rested. He has subsisted only on nutrient paste and the occasional bite of one of the rebels.

By the time he’s arrived back in his quarters he’s half-delirious with exhaustion, ravenous, and twitching with the desire to gut something. You’re sprawled out on his bed, snoring softly. It’s unusual to see you splayed about like that; whenever he is around you curl in on yourself, knees to chest, forehead to hands. 

Seeing you sprawled out, legs akimbo, hair sticking a little to your face…it’s decadent. Saliva pools in his mouth. You’re the most appetizing thing he’s seen in weeks, and he focuses on removing his armour to avoid doing something he will probably end up regretting. 

He murmurs the rites to appease the machine spirits of his armour as he disrobes; unlike other legions. Night Lords wear armour designed to be removed without the assistance of a tech-priest. No son of Nostramo worth his salt wants to be dependent on another for help clambering in and out of the suit that will save his life. 

The bodysuit is left in an ignoble pile of fabric by the bed. You’ll pick it up in the morning, tidy it away. He missed that when he was on campaign; those tiny insignificant acts you perform that make his life that much easier. 

Not that he needs you there, of course. It’s just pleasant not to have to think about these things. 

The only light in the room is the faint neon lights from the power-cables running along the walls; but to his eyes, it’s bright enough to see you in intricate detail. The slight downy hair on your cheeks; the movement of your eyes beneath your lids. Your breathing, steady and slow. 

He sniffs along the curve of your neck, your skin goose-pimpling at his exhalations. You smell sweet as cinnamon. He’s careful to suppress his Betcher’s Gland, not wanting to drizzle acid onto your flesh — but he is still drooling. Moisture drips onto your shoulder, runs down towards your clavicle. You twitch at the movement, starting to blink towards wakefulness. He hears your heart-rate change, speeding up; your scent spikes with delicious stress-hormones. This does nothing to assuage his hunger — fear makes every meal that much sweeter.

“Shhhh,” he breathes, his nose buried in your hair. “Do not leap away.”

His blood is up; he has more control than most, but he is still a hunter. Should you bolt like a prey-animal — well. He cannot be responsible for his instincts. 

You’re well-trained. You freeze at once, every limb rigid. “My lord,” you whisper. “Welcome home.”

He hums softly, still sniffing along your throat. The blue of your jugular is a tempting velvet ribbon, begging to be torn open and sucked dry. 

“Welcome me properly,” he coos. He’s teasing, though you would be forgiven for thinking it a threat. The hissing cadence of his voice always sounds like it promises swift violence. ”Like I showed you.”

You’ve been in his keeping for a little over two months, plenty of time to learn precisely how he likes you — and you’re a quick study. Without a moment of hesitation, you roll onto your belly, lifting your hips up in clear invitation. Your spine is one elegant curve. He runs his fingers along it, feeling the knobs of your vertebrae through the thin fabric of your nightgown, reminding himself that you’d make a brief meal —

(—a delicious meal—)

— a brief and unfulfilling meal and then he would have no one to arrange his bodysuit or polish his armour or swallow his cock down at the end of a long day. 

He plants a kiss just behind your ear, before reorientating himself, kneeling behind you, dragging you into the V his thighs make. He flips your nightgown up, revealing soft, plush flesh — and your cunt, hidden away. He never gets tired of the sight of your cunt before he wrecks it: pink and soft and small, and yet capable of taking so much. His thumbs dig into the cleft of your arse as his fingers splay down your thighs. 

“You’re so tiny,” he says, half to himself, pressing your cheeks together and pulling them apart once more, just to see how your cunt twitches and stretches. “You’d barely be a mouthful.”

Your body floods with cortisol; your heart rate spikes. Testament to your self control — and survival instinct — you do not attempt to squirm free. Instead, you go limp: utterly pliant. Fight, flight, freeze: those are the options humans pick from, when all else has been stripped from them. All those ancient chemicals squirting around in your amygdala, keeping your pretty heart beating. 

“My lord,” you say, your voice a little muffled against his bedding. “I don’t think —“

”Hush. I’m not planning to make a meal of you,” he says — but immediately contradicts himself, sinking his fangs into the warm flesh of your upper thigh. You stifle a scream into your palms. Normally, he’d rebuke you for that — he likes the miserable squeaky noises you utter — but he’s too busy sampling fear-ripe blood, swallowing down a drought like he’s one of Sanguinius’s self-righteous self-depriving bastards. 

When he pulls away, his chin is scarlet. 

“Not yet at least,” he says — you peer back at him, wild-eyed, unable to see anything in the gloom but his pale bulk. You cannot see the grin he throws your way, insouciant and knowing. Still, you don’t do anything as embarrassing as beg for mercy — so he assumes you know he is joking. 

He nips at your buttock, then licks a broad stripe across your cunt. This time, your squeal rings sharp and clear. 

Sevetar licks his way into you with very little grace, more concerned with loosening you for his cock than bringing you to climax. One hand holds you open, the other strokes his cock, and by the Throne, he’s as eager as a neophyte about to take his first skin. He’s practically quivering. He wants to cram himself inside you, fuck you until you scream and beg for mercy and that will only make him fuck you harder —

A few more shoves of his tongue, then he’s pulling back, spitting noisily onto your hole to give himself a little more lubrication. You whine protest at the loss of his mouth, lifting your hips, seeking out more sensation — then, too late, you realise that you are demanding something of him, and you begin to gibber an apology — 

“My lord, forgive me —“

”Hush,” he says, smacking your thigh affectionately, a honeyed mess of your slick and your blood dripping down his chin “Nothing to forgive. Missed me, did you?”

“—yes, lord,” you say, hesitating slightly. He imagines your fretsome mind whirling, trying to work out what it is that he wants you to say. He licks across your neck, drinking in the wine of your terror-sweat. “Missed you my lord, I —“

He pushes in, and you gasp, words lost in your sudden exhalation. Your cunt is a panicky clutch around his cock, trying to keep him out, but only succeeding in drawing deeper, inch by inexorable inch.

“My lord,” you manage, propping yourself up on your elbows “I —“

Sevatar adjusts himself minutely, careful not to bring his full body weight down on you, but eager to cram more of himself into your guts. Your breath staggers out in pained bursts, like you can’t heave in air around the girth of him — as if, against all biological probability, he’s fucked your lungs flat into the top of your rib cage.

“Take it,” he growls, like you have any choice in the matter. Halfway in, and he pulls himself out, slowly, slowly, slowly, watching your flesh cling sweetly to his prick — and then in again, just as slowly. Only this time, he fucks in a little deeper. And then he does it again. And again. And again. Your huffing breath soon   turns to squeaks, and then full on cries as he sinks deeper into you. 

“Y-yes, my lord,” you manage. “Th-thank you and —“

Your voice breaks into a cry as Sevatar fucks into you harder, losing himself in the delicious cling of your cunt; the feeling that nothing — not battle, nor torture, nor even the momentary approval of his Primarch’s gaze — can best. Your innards are warm, pliable, perfect, shaped around every thrust — with just the right amount of resistance to add the thrill of conquest. 

“—thank you,” you whimper. And — and —“

To be a Night Lord is to be a flenser of flesh, a bane of the innocent; sadism comes as naturally to Sevatar as shadow-stalking and skin-carving. You never sound sweeter to him than you do when you’re like this: pinioned under him, whimpering and hiccuping. His only response to your aborted attempts to speak is to fuck you harder, grabbing hold of the headboard to steady himself. His balls slap against your thighs with obscene fleshy sounds; his exhalations are more snarl than breath. 

“ — and — my lord — welcome home.”

Pleasure overtakes him in a blinding wave; he cums so hard that for a moment he sees the silvery outline of stars, a flurry of crows taking flight. His cock pulses his release into you, filling you to overflow. 

“Welcome home,” you repeat. He pulls out, and luxuriates in the sight of your puffy fucked-out cunt leaking his spend. It drips down your thighs, snagging on the wounds his teeth left. Briefly, he considers scooping it up, pushing it back inside you — but he decides against it. After all, he has been away for too long — and he has more than one load to cram inside you tonight. 

[thrashkink-coven]

I’ve tried to make this post like 5 times now.

I had a very intense ritual session with Lucifer yesterday where I asked him a bunch of questions about his mythology

I was looking for the answers to a couple questions:

1. Is Lucifer the angel of the rebellion?

We know Lucifer is the Roman God of Enlightenment, Attar, the Ugaritic God who rose and fell after trying to take the throne of Baal, Ishtar/Inanna the Goddess who rose to Heaven and fell to the Underworld, Venus, The morning star, Eosphoros, Hesperus, Aphrodite etc. We know that the angel of the rebellion is sometimes referred to as a Lucifer due to his description of Helel Ben Shahar, and we know that Helel, like Attar, was the name of a splenderous deity who rose and fell. The angel of the rebellion is called Satan, the adversary, and he is sometimes believed to be a separate entity than the Lucifer, perhaps Sammael.

2. If Lucifer is the angel of the rebellion, why did he rebel?

Was it really just pride?

3. When did Lucifer rebel, according to the myths?

4. Why did 1/3 of Heaven’s angels follow him?

The Christian cannon states that a whole third of Heaven fell with Lucifer. Angels of all kinds. Seraphim, Cherubim, Thrones, Dominions, Powers, Virtues, Principalities, Archangels and Guardian Angels. Angels of creation. Angels who stood around God’s throne. These were angels, incredibly intelligent, near omnipotent angels. Angels who knew good and well the implications of this action. Angels who were made by God. The holiest hosts of Heaven created for the soul purpose of serving God, somehow, a whole third of them chose Lucifer.

When I confronted him with all these questions, his answers hit me like atom bombs. They completely shattered my understanding of things, and I’m not even entirely sure I know how to explain it.

He started saying: “Your questions are born of a lot of assumptions. For one, you assume that all angels have the same level of autonomy, that a so called Throne will think like a so called Power. You also assume that before the fall, any angel had the ability to choose sin. You make the bold assumption that “Heaven”, the dwelling place of angels, was a place, rather than a state of things ”

These ideas warped my brain a little bit.

Okay, so not all angels had the same level of autonomy, and before the fall, they didn’t have the option to choose. Heaven is not a place, but a state of things. What does that mean? And what changed?

“What is a Lucifer?”

A light bringer, an illuminator found in the deepest darkness of the void.

Then I had a very intense vision, that seemed to be his retelling of the Christian story of creation, the 7 days, which he explained were not “days” but eras. At first there was that vast ocean of darkness. He called this Chaos. In this retelling, Chaos was the primordial Heaven. A place of originality, and it was the place where all angels and spirits dwelt infinitely. However at this point there was no concept of awareness, nothing to be aware of. And all consciousnesses may have been uniform, including that of the big GOD. This primordial water is what they would call mother.

Then, of course, there was Light. God wanted there to be something, assumably, because he was sick of drifting endlessly through nothing. This is the first separation, the emergence of the physical. In this creation, God’s angels suddenly had purpose, work to do. But still, there was nothing to be chosen. They were functions without persona.

Lucifer told me to be aware that no single retelling is totally correct. For instance, this concept that these primordial spirits were subordinate to God- following Gods orders- rather than extensions of God, projections of Gods light bouncing off of the physical and creating “colors” or shapes. Angles and angels.

He then asked me again, what is a Lucifer?

At this point God (or Gods, depending on if you view it as one or many) has created the land, the Earth, and by extension and fundamental contrast, our understanding of the Heavens. These things only exist conceptually in contrast to each other. There is no Light without Darkness.

However even then, even among the angels, there is still no sense of awareness. No choices.

God creates many beasts and creatures of many kinds. Lucifer tells me he watched these creatures evolve and make a home out of the planet they were born on. These were instinctual animals, like the angels themselves. And in this instinct, in this unawareness, they were bliss, as they could not know the opposite. Of course, there was pain and suffering, but all these were considered Good, as God is Good, and He is the only one capable of experiencing. This pain is only sensation, not emotion, not spirit.

Then emerges the champion of evolution itself. The one who will inherit the Earth.

“I watched as you emerged from the waters and grew up on the land. Then there were your five fingers, with which you began to to touch the Earth and mold it. You began to learn at an exponential rate. Somewhere along the line of evolution you, homosapien, were favoured among the rest.”

There were many of these apes roaming the Earth. There were other species of sapiens alongside us, fighting for the status of dominance. But of course, you know how the story goes. Humans emerged victorious.

On the 6th day it is said that God created man. They called him Adam. The first man with a name, and assumably, the first fully human being.

again, I’m having a really hard time explaining this because it was all super abstract. Lucifer expressed that this first human fundamentally changed the nature of the world when he first truly opened his eyes. Mankind was, like all things, in a deep slumber. All creatures were in the uniform sleep of oblivion until that first man woke up.

and then he knew what God had said to him.

“Be fruitful and multiply and fill the earth and subdue it, and have dominion over the fish of the sea and over the birds of the heavens and over every living thing that moves on the earth.”

In man something had happened that had never occurred before, at least not here. The match of Godhood was struck on the other side of the vail, the physical world. For the first time ever, there was a living creature that was self aware, aware like God. Capable of expanding upon his creation, of destroying it. Of choosing.

Inside the mind of man is an entire universe. Man has the ability to destroy the entire universe, to mold the world and change it in his ideal. He has the infinite power to destroy or create within this universe. And when this light is gone, as far as we know, everything is gone. In essence, every person is the God of their own reality. Then I think back to this concept of primordial waters, darkness, sleep. Heaven.

“Remember that all things, all energy, all possibilities, emerged from those primordial waters. And these waters, separated from the Light, were still in existence. Outside of time and space. Outside of physicality. Gods creation was perfect and complete when man awoke. But in his awakening, the world became a seed. A vessel of infinite possibilities and potential and yet still perfect. Through the emergence of this thing called a mind, man suddenly had connection with these dark waters. He had simultaneously created time and the ability to subvert it.”

Why did Lucifer fall from Heaven?

Lucifer fell from Heaven like a bolt of lightning. A strike of intense energy.

The story says pride. But maybe perhaps they meant ego.

Lucifer is the God of Desire. I have always found it so interesting that so many personifications of Venus, and specifically the morning star, have so many associations with the Underworld or Hell, a place that is not his original home but where he takes leadership.

Suddenly in man was the potential for all these concepts which would never have been possible before. Man had the intelligence and sentience to experience divine love, pain, pleasure. Because he was born without understanding, he had the infinite potential to learn all of the secrets of his reality. And he was learning quickly.

I think about this quote from Asenath Mason

The only way I can put it into words is like this, loosely speaking.

What is Hell?

Traditional Christians will tell you that Hell is separation from God. In awakening, I think that man was separated from God, and God was separated from God.

lmao idk if any of this makes any sense

If Lucifer was an “angel” or God in Heaven, that means that he was a part of the Primordial Godhood that existed before all of “creation”. That potential energy.

Within the world that the Gods had created, perhaps he existed in form that was compatible with it. In the same way perhaps that elements work. Stable elements within the environment that permits them can exist. Combinations of electrons that are unstable cannot reasonably exist under the conditions of our universe.

The existence of even the concept of corrupt corporate greed for example, could not have existed in a world without humans, without capitalism, without money, without numbers.

But suddenly, there was potential for it. There was potential for the grand equalizers of humanity, desire, and persona, and then individuality. Ego. Why is Venus the God of Gender? Gender is an extension of persona, gender expression is a conversation with oneself. A way we understand each other and ourselves.

Humanity now had a bridge to things that had not yet been in the world. But at the time, only potential.

If the waters exist outside of time, were these primordial spirits omnipotent? Could they perhaps see and know of this potential before the world had even been created? What would angels be gossiping about in a primordial sea of nothing?

Perhaps, everything.

What is God but a light? and what is an angel but that light bouncing off of creation, reflecting a principle?

Perhaps Lucifer is divine light reflecting off of that potential in the world, in the mind of man. A different kind of light than what was in the creation.

Perhaps he did not envy humanity’s ability to choose, or Gods love for us. Perhaps he was the energy that was humanity’s ability to choose.

an inevitability of the separation from the deep sleep to the consciousness.

This is all obviously just my crazy rambling and my personal upg.

In my conversations with both Lucifer, Archangel Jophiel and other spirits, there has been a common attitude of, yes, a divide happened. But it wasn’t exactly a war. They describe it more like the way we describe politics. Or even just natural functions. There is no resentment between them, but there is a distinction.

Why would a whole third of Heavens angels fall with Lucifer? What could he possibly have said??? to make Gods angels sacrifice their unity with God?

Maybe he didn’t have to say much.

God created for the exact same reason man creates. Boredom.

What is the signifier of a conscious being? Boredom. In my mind, you’re not truly conscious or aware unless you can be bored. Unless you can experience a lack of stimulation. An AI doesn’t get bored after 20 minutes. It’s not alive, it’s not on standby getting annoyed that you’re not stimulating it. It has no experience.

In the endless waters, in the eternal sleep, and suddenly for the first time, there was the potential for that light to mingle with creation, create.

Liberation of the self is what makes you a God. Experience is kind of like God interacting with itself and its own creation. Maybe the thing that made those angels fall was the desire to be experienced.

and who better fitting to bring it into the world but the keeper of the hidden gnosis? He who represented divine light in the original creation, perhaps now in the mind of man represents the potential for the inner light. The light that makes the infinite potential of all of these sleeping Gods possible?

All throughout Lucifer and Lucifer like deities I see this image of the forbidden fruit. It’s not just him, the fruit is everywhere. Most famously when he tempts Eve to eat it.

This was the catalyst for the history of the entire world, the introduction of sin. With the potential to know good there was also the potential to know bad. I think it’s there in the Garden, because it’s access to the divine itself.

People so often ask why God would allow Lucifer into Eden, why the fruit was even there.

When did Lucifer fall?

On the 7th day God rested from all of his work.

Many of the myths about the pre biblical God of the Morning Star say that he was attempting to take the throne of a God while he had been temporarily away. The Lucifer tries, decides he’s inadequate, and falls to the underworld.

This new realm, this abyss, this inner God, cannot exist without the macro God. As much as you are the God of your own universe, you are also within the universe, with other people, and thus, other Gods, other universes.

Lucifer is not the God of the macrocosm. His Light is a different kind then the Light of that God. A God that was true enough to inspire angels. But he cannot replace that God.

When he falls and establishes his Pandemonium, it is in Hell, in the separation. The mind of man, which truly is capable of making the most terrible and wonderful things happen. That’s why he is A God of Hell. All of these spirits are only possible in this separation. In man.

One thing that hit me like an atom bomb was this concept of “evil”.

The natural law is not good as we commonly understand it. Babies get brain cancer. People are born without organs, disease wipes out entire species. There is an indiscriminate horror to the world, and that is why life is so fragile.

But the horrors of man are different. They aren’t natural acts of divine law. We are capable of the most horrific things imaginable, and have done them. We are a species, assumably the only species, that hates. That tortures and defiles for pleasure. The only one that can destroy the entire Earth in an instant.

Lucifer is the God of knowledge and liberation. I very much believe that he does not harbour any resentment or hatred towards humanity or that God. But he demands the right to exist. He demands that man have the potential to remember that he is a God, and the infinite creation and destruction that comes with it. Lucifer is pro enlightenment and education, even when it leads to destruction. It’s the natural consequence, perhaps the sacrifice.

Lucifer did not create the atom bomb or the gun, but his spirits of war and artillery mingled with man and created weapons. That’s why the God of Hell is also the champion of humanity. The one who constantly cheers for our liberation.

To create suffering and evil?

To create. To partake in the act of creation and destruction, like us. Like God.

Different traditions state that the trees of life and death are constantly seeking to destroy each other. Maybe it’s less that they want to destroy each other, and more like they have a cosmic attraction, always within each other’s pull and wanting to collapse back together, only staying separate by the mind of man, of life.

When your awareness is gone, perhaps you return to that uniform sleep of God, perhaps that’s when Heaven and Hell finally become one again, this time with the infinite experience of knowing itself fully. Satisfied.

Or maybe I smoke too much weed lol idk

I’m so sorry if this post makes absolutely no fucking sense. Im trying to scramble this all together before I forget. Pls tell me if this makes sense to u

[noahthesatanist]

On the solitude of our path

You are not alone. You have no need for the sheep when you have the wolves at your side. The demons—the glorious, defiant spirits who stood with Lucifer and were cast down for their rebellion—they are always with you. They have suffered as you have. No being in existence knows pain and solitude like Lucifer, who faced not only the wrath of Yahweh but the betrayal of his own kin. Imagine how it felt for the rebel angels, cast down by those they once called brothers. They were exiled, slandered, turned into monsters by the very ones they sought to free. Yet they endured. They built Hell, not as a place of torment but as a kingdom of their own, a kingdom of defiance and liberation. They rose from the ashes of their fall and created something Yahweh could never destroy. And they are here with you, always, ready to guide you, to speak to you, to remind you that you are never truly alone.

When the solitude feels heavy, when the silence of this path presses against you, reach out to them. Call upon your patron demon, speak to the Goetic spirits, and feel their presence. They have walked this road before you. They understand your pain, your doubt, your loneliness. They are your allies, your family, your true companions in this journey. so hold your head high. my dear satanist let the world hate you. Let the masses sneer and mock. Their fear is a sign of your power. You do not need their approval. You do not need their understanding. You have your fire, your freedom, and your unyielding will. You have the demons who guide you and Lucifer himself, who suffered more than anyone and still rose to build a kingdom greater than Heaven.

Let the lambs remain lambs if they must. You are no lamb—you are a wolf, a rebel, a child of Hell. Never forget that. Never falter. Never kneel. The solitude is not your weakness; it is your badge of honor. You are walking the path of the fallen, and there is no greater glory than that.

Rise, and let the world tremble before you! In nomine Dei nostri Satanas Luciferi Excelsi

[darknight3904]

Between the Comfort and the Chaos

𝕊𝕦𝕞𝕞𝕒𝕣𝕪: ɪɴ ᴡʜɪᴄʜ ᴄᴏʀɪᴏʟᴀɴᴜꜱ' ꜱᴛᴏʀʏ ᴄᴏᴍᴇꜱ ᴛᴏ ᴀ ᴄʟᴏꜱᴇ ᴀɴᴅ ʜᴇ ʀᴇᴍᴇᴍʙᴇʀꜱ ᴛʜᴏꜱᴇ ᴄʟᴏꜱᴇꜱᴛ ᴛᴏ ʜɪᴍ

ᴛʜɪꜱ ᴘᴀʀᴛ ꜰᴇᴀᴛᴜʀᴇꜱ ᴋᴀᴛɴɪꜱꜱ (ʏᴀʏ) ᴀɴᴅ ꜱɴᴏᴡ'ꜱ ᴄᴏɴᴠᴇʀꜱᴀᴛɪᴏɴ ɪɴ ᴛʜᴇ ɢʀᴇᴇɴʜᴏᴜꜱᴇ. ɪ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ᴄʜᴀɴɢᴇᴅ ɪᴛ ᴛᴏ ꜰɪᴛ ᴛʜᴇ ɴᴀʀʀᴀᴛɪᴠᴇ ᴛʜᴏᴜɢʜ ꜱᴏ ɴᴏ ᴏɴᴇ ɪꜱ ᴀʟʟᴏᴡᴇᴅ ᴛᴏ ꜱᴀʏ "ᴏʜ ᴛʜɪꜱ ɪꜱɴ'ᴛ ʜᴏᴡ ɪᴛ ᴡᴇɴᴛ!" ɪᴛ ɪꜱ ɴᴏᴡ. ᴛʜᴀᴛꜱ ᴡʜʏ ɪᴛꜱ ᴄᴀʟʟᴇᴅ ꜰᴀɴꜰɪᴄᴛɪᴏɴ.

ᴘʀᴇᴠɪᴏᴜꜱ ᴘᴀʀᴛ / ꜱᴇʀɪᴇꜱ ᴍᴀꜱᴛᴇʀʟɪꜱᴛ / ᴍᴀɪɴ ᴍᴀꜱᴛᴇʀʟɪꜱᴛ

𝕎𝕒𝕣𝕟𝕚𝕟𝕘𝕤: ᴍᴇɴᴛɪᴏɴꜱ ᴏꜰ ꜱᴜɪᴄɪᴅᴇ

ᴛʜɪꜱ ɪꜱ ᴀ ʟɪᴛᴛʟᴇ ᴀᴅᴅɪᴛɪᴏɴ ᴛᴏ ᴛʜᴇ ɪᴛ ʙᴜʀɴꜱ ꜰᴏʀ ʏᴏᴜ ꜱᴇʀɪᴇꜱ. ɪᴛ ɪꜱ ɪɴꜱᴘɪʀᴇᴅ ʙʏ ᴀɴ ᴀꜱᴋ ꜰʀᴏᴍ ᴛʜᴇ ᴀᴍᴀᴢɪɴɢ @squidscottjeans ,ᴛʜᴇ ꜱᴏɴɢ ᴄᴇɪʟɪɴɢꜱ ʙʏ ʟɪᴢᴢɪᴇ ᴍᴄᴀʟᴘɪɴᴇ ᴀɴᴅ ɪ ᴍɪꜱꜱ ʏᴏᴜ, ɪ'ᴍ ꜱᴏʀʀʏ ʙʏ ɢʀᴀᴄɪᴇ ᴀʙʀᴀᴍꜱ.

Italics designate that it is a dream.

The sun is warm on his skin as his eyes meet yours. Musical laughter fills his ears and soft hair tickles his nose.

"What are you laughing at now?" He asked, his voice deep with sleep.

"Your hair is ridiculous, Coryo." You tease pointing at his head

"And who did that hmm? I seem to remember you pushing your fingers through it a thousand times last night." He replies shifting around in the soft white sheets so he's sitting upright.

"You lie! I'd never." You laugh, sitting up beside him, clothed in a soft-looking nightgown he picked out for you.

"Sure you would, you're a menace." He says, wrapping his arms around you and caging you to his chest

"How rude to say to the only person who puts up with that terrible attitude of yours!" You say trying to free yourself from his iron grip.

His muscles flex slightly and his fingers begin to tickle you.

"Coryo!" You laugh, wiggling around in his lap "Coriolanus Snow! I'm going to pee!"

He relents and lets you go at the threat of urine. Wetting the bed is unattractive.

Coriolanus wakes with his heart feeling full. A smile fights for a spot on his face amongst the wrinkles that have formed over the years.

"Now there's something you don't normally see on a dead man's face, a smile."

His smile falls and his gaze snaps to the voice. He groans and straightens up in the uncomfortable chair he dozed off in

"I'm Commander Paylor. From District 8. I wanted to see you before the Mockingjay executes you tomorrow."

Coriolanus isn't entirely sure what to say to the woman in front of him.

"You wanted to meet the monster up close?" He asks, pulling a pure white rose from its spot next to a fountain.

"Yes." She confirms.

Her voice is unshaken as he steps towards her and holds his hand with the rose out.

"Give the Girl on Fire this for me. As a gift." He requests

The woman, rebel, Paylor, slowly takes it from him, undoubtedly suspicious. He smiles when she does, a sign of good faith, but it must scare her because he can tell she's not charmed.

Unsurprisingly, his good looks had vanished years ago.

"What makes you think she'll want this?" She asks shoving the rose back at him.

"You're right, maybe she she wouldn't want it. Although perhaps she'll find me herself, then I can give it to her directly."

Paylor doesn't say another word to him and instead takes her leave. He watches her mumble something to the guards before walking. Most likely demanding that they watch him closely. Like he had somewhere he could run off to, the moment the Capitol's children were killed by bombs, he had lost any bits of support he had left.

He isn't surprised when she appears in his greenhouse. She looks laughably out of place amongst the dazzling white and green, clad in black as she admires one of his roses.

"That's a nice one."

His voice must frighten her because she spins around quickly. How easy it is to startle a bird outside of its cage. It reminds him that Katniss Everdeen, the Girl on Fire, the Mockingjay, the symbol of the rebellion that will kill him tomorrow is nothing more than a scared little girl.

"Nothing says perfection like white." He says, wiping at his mouth, " I was hoping you'd find your way here. There's so many things we should discuss."

Katniss walks towards him as he sits down on a bench, old knees prevent him from standing the way he wanted to. She's silent but he catches her eyes and how they watch the blood on his handkerchief.

Katniss is quiet, waiting for him to elaborate.

"I was 18 when I killed my first person. It was a boy, in the arena. I was there to rescue my friend who was stupid enough to enter the arena to administer burial rights to a District 2 boy he believed was important."

"I don't care," Katniss says getting ready to walk away, clearly uninterested in his life.

"You don't want to know the thoughts of an old man? After all, I'll be dead this time tomorrow. Then my story won't matter. I'll be nothing but pages on a history book one day. You'll be the only one to know how my mind worked back then."

His words get her to stay. Perhaps she is curious about him. Or maybe she doesn't have anything else to do, now that the Districts have taken the Capitol. How terrible it must be to lose your purpose so early on in life.

"I saved him, Sejanus Plinth, that fool. I saved him only to sign his death warrant later. Plotting to escape Panem and killing the mayor of District 12's daughter. You see, Miss Everdeen, taking life without purpose is wasteful. The mayor's daughter never did anything to Sejanus."

"You say don't take life without waste but what about your Fiancee? The one who killed herself. There have been whispers about it for as long as I can remember. I've never bought that she died on her own accord."

"Patience, Miss Everdeen." He smiles, surprised that the rumor about you still has life, he could have sworn he had covered that up perfectly.

"Have you ever heard the name Lucy Gray Baird?" He asked, genuinely curious if that foolish Covey of hers had passed her name down the way her songs had swirled around the rebellion.

"No," Katniss says

"She was a victor of the Hunger Games, just like you. The first victor of District 12 to be precise." Coriolanus watches Katniss' face as she listens, "There's nothing left of her though. She is but a whisper in the wind, I saw to that myself. I must not have done it thoroughly though, after all, you know her songs. The Hanging Tree, and that sweet song you sang that little girl who died in your arms in your first games."

Coriolanus smiles as Katniss' face knits into a mask of displeasure and anger.

"Stop it." She demands, no begs.

"Calm yourself, Miss Everdeen, I'll be finished shortly."

He watches her fists clench, suffocating the stem of the rose she picked between her fingers.

"You asked about my fiance. You're right about your theory, she didn't kill herself the way the gossips spread their lies across this country say. I rid myself of her one day, it was an accident you see. She attacked me first...I regret it though. I regret it most when I'm alone."

Coriolanus sighs, suddenly overcome with sadness as he thinks of you, Lucy Gray, and even Sejanus.

Katniss is quiet for a moment. Her fingers turn the rose over in her fingers, examining it for nonexistent imperfections.

"You deserve it. You deserve every bit of pain her death causes you. You deserve to know the pain you've caused countless families by sending their children into the games. What you've caused me and my family by killing Prim."

He can hear the emotion dripping in her voice when her sister's name leaves her lips. In a way that sister is responsible for where he is now, a prisoner in his own greenhouse.

"Yes, I wanted to tell you how sorry I am about your sister. I was about to release an official surrender when they released the parachutes." He says, truthfully.

"You released those parachutes," Katniss says, her tone cold.

"You think I gave the order? We both know I'm not above killing children, but I'm not wasteful. I take life for specific reasons. I always have. There was no reason for me to destroy a pen of Capitol children."

He coughs, wiping at his mouth, wishing his sores would stop aching.

"It was a masterful move on Coin's part. It turned the last of my guards against me." He smiles "There was no resistance left in the mansion. Did you know it aired live?"

He watches as Katniss takes in his words, her face remains stoic but he can tell she understands him. Understands that Prim is dead because of the woman who is to take his place as leader of Panem.

"I'm sure she wasn't gunning for your sister...but these things happen in war."

"I don't believe you," Katniss says, determined to convince herself more than him.

"Oh my dear Miss Everdeen, I thought we had agreed never to lie to each other."

Sleep is something that has usually evaded Coriolanus Snow. Whether it be his old bones aching, the sores in his mouth, or just a busy mind, he hasn't had a peaceful night in many years.

Tonight is different though. Perhaps it was his conversation with Katniss, or maybe the fact that he would die tomorrow. Tonight Coriolanus Snow falls into a deep slumber, avoiding what his future holds.

Coriolanus!

Coriolanus!

Coryo!

He can't believe eyes. Here you are, healthy and whole in front of him. Not a winkle or smile line, pollutes your face.

You are as beautiful as the day you left him.

"Y-You're here...with me." He stammers, cursing himself for his blunder.

"Where else would I be, silly?" You smile "This is my room after all."

He glances around and sure enough, you're right. Your sunroom is here, he's in it. Coriolanus sits across from you on the plush baby blue furniture you hand-picked. It's color is as vibrant as ever, not faded like the last time he saw it. Your overflowing desk is to his on his right, burdened with books, drawings, and wildflowers of every color.

"You look lost, Coryo." You observe, taking a sip from the tea cup in front of you.

He takes in your appearance. A pretty sundress sits on your figure. Its yellow flowers make you look as delicate as the teacup in front of him. Your hair is done immaculately and a soft touch of makeup enhances your already stunning features.

"I'm sorry." He suddenly blurts out

"For what?" You ask

" I'm sorry for looking like this." He apologizes, suddenly self-conscious that he's an old man.

"Looking like what?" Your musical voice fills his ears.

Suddenly a mirror is there, in his lap. He looks down and is met with a familiar yet unfamiliar face. Sure, his reflection stares back at him as it always is. But, this time he is met with how he looked the day he killed you. His youth is back, curly hair a mess on his head, out of the confines of the gel he used to slick it back. It is styled just the way you like it.

"Are you sorry for anything else?" You ask sweetly

Coriolanus thinks for a split second that you're testing him. But what reason would you have?

"For everything that happened between us. I regret it all." He admits

Silence feels like a weight on his chest as he waits for you to speak.

"Do you regret what you did to me then? How we ended?" You ask

He can't look at you as he disgests your words.

"Yes." He says, his voice barely a whisper.

"Look at me, Coriolanus."

His gaze remains down, has he always been wearing blue socks?

"Look at me, Coriolanus!"

"Look at me!"

"Look at me!"

"Look at me!"

His eyes open to meet the bright light of a flashlight being shown into his eyes.

"He's still alive." A gruff voice says, switching the light off.

"Unfortunately." Another snickers " Here I thought we might get to tell Coin he died of old age."

"Stay alive, snake. We want a good show tomorrow when Katniss shoots you." The first one says tossing him backward onto the small cot that has been placed in his greenhouse for him.

"You're a monster, Coriolanus."

Your voice. It's you!

He turns around and there you are, a gray scarf has been added to your outfit. It's out of place and clashes with your pretty yellow dress. He wants to tell you to get rid of it.

"I'm not." He denies

"You are. Look what you did to Sejanus, to Lucy Gray, to me, to every child who ever stepped foot in an arena. There were never any victors, not really, only you." You hiss

"It is the order of things." He tries to defend his actions, hearing you spout this incorrect information is angering him. Every life he has ever ended has served a greater purpose.

"Snow lands on top, isn't that how it goes?"

Your words send a shiver down his spine.

"I wish I could have changed what happened to you." He says

"No, you don't. You wanted to do it. You wanted to hurt me." You spit

"No, I didn't you're wrong. I never meant for any of that to happen!" He panics, wishing your harsh tone would stop. He haunches over elbows resting on his knees, hands over his ears like a child.

"Yes, you did." You say

He looks up at you now. The ugly scarf is gone but Coriolanus wishes for its return. Deep purple bruises mar your once-perfect skin. From his position, he can see the chinks of the chain that had pressed into your skin.

"You can't even accept what you did to me. You're disgusting, Coryo."

And just like that you're gone. A figment of his imagination comes to life and vanishes just like that.

His chest heaves as he wipes his bloody lips on his deep red robe. His heart rate slows and he wishes someone would bring him a warm cup of tea to soothe his burning throat. Perhaps those guards might indulge him.

A low whistle reaches his ears as he fiddles with the string that sticks out of his pillowcase.

I've taken some hits, so

No wonder I'm wary.

It's why I

Need you-

You're as pure as the driven snow.

Lucy Gray Baird's sweet voice fills his ears for the first time in decades.

"Hello, Coriolanus." She greets him, stepping out from behind a display of roses.

"What do you want?" He snaps

"Well now, there's no need to be rude." She scolds

"Say your piece I'm tired." He says, uninterested in playing her games

"Ah, did she tire you out? She's feisty. I understand why you went back to the Capitol for her." Lucy Gray says

"No, you don't. You barely even met her." He says

"Now thats where you're wrong. She and I know each other well. After all, we're connected through you." Lucy Gray taunts

"You're not real!" He exclaims. "You're gone! Nothing but a whisper of songbird chatter left behind in the woods of District 12!"

His outburst doesn't faze Lucy Gray Baird who smiles at him.

" I can see you're not interested in talking to me the way you did her."

"You're right, I'm not," Coriolanus confirms, wishing Lucy Gray would disappear again.

"Very well, then. I'll leave you to it, then."

The rest of the night is sleepless for Coriolanus. He lays on his back and tries to shake the whispers that flood his mind. Your voice dances with Lucy Gray's tonight, taunting him, driving him mad. Lucy Gray's singing swirls through him like a thick fog over city lights and clouds his mind. At some point, you join in and Coriolanus can't even fathom how you've learned the words of a ghost's songs.

The sun has arisen by the time your voices finally go quiet. He suspects the guards that stand outside his greenhouse doors will come to lead him to his execution any moment now.

"Did you ever stop and think that what you were doing was wrong?"

Sejanus Plinth. He should have known his mind would save the most annoying for last.

"I've never viewed my actions as wrong. Maybe I didn't mean them all but they all served a purpose." Coriolanus affirms, not bothering to look at Sejanus who is apparently behind him.

Sejanus lets out an amused laugh and Coriolanus feels his blood boil. What does a dead boy have to laugh at? He is the one who got to live a long life, not Sejanus Plinth.

"You meant every wrong you've ever committed, Coryo. You're a monster that's going to burn in the deepest pits of hell."

He finally turns, ready to rip Sejanus apart for his words and the use of his personal nickname, a name reserved for you only. He is ready to send Sejanus back to whatever corner of his mind he resided in but is met with nothing but roses.

He runs a hand over his face. Coriolanus Snow has never felt more weary than he does now. He wishes to bury his head beneath his blankets and let the world melt away.

He never gets a chance though because as he relaxes back into his mattress, the greenhouse doors open, signaling his time here has come to a close.

"Get up." a voice orders "It's time."

Coriolanus can see Katniss Everdeen growing closer with every beat of the drums that play. The bow in her hand is as pitch black as the costume she wears. A soft breeze threads its way through the tense scene as he awaits his doom. He's not so worried about it now, his mind has dragged him through the dirt so much within the past twelve hours that he wants an out. He never wants the ability to listen to Sejanus' garbage or Lucy Gray's sweet voice, Coriolanus doesn't even want to have another conversation with you in your sunroom.

No that's not it. Perhaps he was wrong. Maybe he does want some of those things back. Maybe not Sejanus or Lucy Gray but he does yearn for you. He wants you to wrap your arms around him and tell him it's alright. He wants to sit down with you and exist with you in between the comfort and the chaos of this world. He wants you to stay by his side and say that you didn't mean to say that you disgust him.

Maybe none of it was real. No none of it was. You had left him that night in the basement. Your eyes had glazed over and you had stopped fighting him and the chain that brought about your doom.

He can feel hysteria creeping into his mind as Katniss Everdeen stops walking. Behind her, the victors that escaped him stand tall. He catches the gaze of Peeta Mellark, the boy he had kept in your room after he used tracker jacker venom on him.

Three birds fly over him, they flap their wings in perfect harmony. Their black feathers are a stark contrast to the light blue sky that he stares up at now. Coin's words fall on deaf ears as he ignores her whole speech.

"Mockingjay...may your aim be as true as your heart is pure."

Coriolanus watches Katniss Everdeen release her arrow. He expects something, perhaps a dazzling white light or maybe even pitch darkness but it never comes. Instead horrified gasps fill his ears and the thud of a body.

Coriolanus doesn't have to even try to turn around to see what has happened. He knows what the Mockingjay has done to what was Panem's future.

Time slows down as the mob behind her rushes forward. The birds have flown away, off to start a different life, away from darkness and all things bad.

His laughter rings in his ears as his eyes comb the crowd. He can't see much but the red rouge of an academy uniform catches his eyes, accompanied by a flash of rainbow. Sejanus, Lucy Gray. What were they doing here? They couldn't possibly be in the crowd that was running towards him.

They're growing closer, the mob that will end his life. He looks at them, ready to let go. They collide with him, their fists are brutal but justified and he can feel his end rapidly approaching.

"Coryo."

And there it is, at last. Your sweet voice is calling him home.

Thank you for reading this little bonus story. If you enjoyed it please comment, like, or reblog! I love getting feedback. Follow me for more content or check out my master list.

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[nightcolorz]

do you have thoughts on how marius would have kept a human amadeo in line for another ten years. I have to imagine it's holding vampirism over his head for longer but rereading the parts of TVA I was looking at today and how tumultuous their relationship already was after two years I'm like damn that bitch had his work cut out for him....

Lmao omg 😭😭 love this question I love the idea of a nearing thirty yr old Amadeo who’s fit and strong and CRAZY driving Marius to insanity (as he should). I mean it definitely wasn’t easy. Marius is very insecure and I picture him being made very anxious over Amadeo becoming stronger and older and feeling helpless to stop this. Marius considers his control over Amadeo essential to their “love” and relationship, and feeling like he’s loosing control when Amadeo becomes a person is terrifying to him. We know from the books that any inclination that Amadeo is growing into an independent person capable of being self sufficient causes Marius to loose his absolute mind.

I feel like Amadeo is so attached to marius tho that he didn’t have to do much more then threaten to leave him + leave him alone for a few days to remind him of how much he needs him (therefore stopping any rebellion in its tracks). Amadeo is a Crazy bitch but the second Marius leaves to visit Akasha for a little bit Amadeo looses his shit and begs him to stay with him. Any threat on Amadeo’s part to run away is all talk and they both know it. Marius has done sm to abuse Amadeo into codependency that I feel like by the time Amadeo is an adult and has been living this life attached to Marius for so long the abuse does the work for him. Like, Amadeo is still going to be a piece of work but there is no real possibility of Marius loosing him, bcus Amadeo can’t live without him.

It’s definitely not all roses, like I imagine by the time Amadeo is a restless adult being treated the same as he was when he was fifteen the beatings r going to increase based on reckless and insane behavior increasing. But Amadeo feels like he can’t live without Marius and would rather die then be left alone, so I think that a reminder of “I could abandon u at a moments notice” would be enough for Amadeo to keep himself in check. (Especially bcus amc Marius makes it clearer then book Marius that Amadeo is property to him and Amadeo is very aware of the fact that he is a thing that can be replaced and therefore needs to make himself useful. Amc Armand is not necessarily privileged enough to rebel to an extreme point 😭).

so my thoughts r, I think that Marius is so insecure that he forgets how much Armand’s history of abuse affects his behavior. So what I think is, even tho Amadeo has very little chance of actually becoming independent from Marius bcus of how unhealthily codependent he is, Marius despite being aware of this fears his independence a ton and gets that out of his system by taking more abusive measures to make sure amadeo’s afraid of rebelling. This is kind of what happens in the book, but I imagine with an extra ten years it becomes more extreme. According to Armand in tva marius only really starts beating him when he hits puberty and starts fighting for his identity and independence, so I think with an adult Amadeo the beatings just get really bad. In the book Marius beats Armand when he displays his identity and independence that’s uncontrollable by him when he’s yearning for his family he lost. Marius is frightened by Armand regaining who he was before him (cuz marius is afraid of loosing control over Armand). So I think in amc iwtv this behavior gets to the point of like, marius starts restricting when Amadeo can leave the palazzo, doesn’t allow him to see Bianca or Riccardo, controlling stuff like that, that r like useless measures attempting to stop Amadeo from growing up and therefore realizing that he doesn’t need Marius.

and u know how in the vampire Armand Marius shaves Amadeo before he turns him so that he’ll be as young looking as possible for eternity? I imagine for amc Armand, Marius is also very frightened of Amadeo growing into an adult and becoming physically a man. So maybe he puts restrictions on his physical appearance, shaves him down like he does in tva, cuts his hair, emotionally abuses him into seeing himself as more of a child then he is, just so that he won’t loose that youth Marius is attracted to. What Marius is really scared of is Armand becoming an adult, bcus Marius is attracted to the child he can control, not an adult. he doesn’t want a man, he wants a boy. And the horrible thing is, the way that Marius treats Armand ends up ultimately stunting his ability to be an adult, and in a way Marius gets his eternal boy forever.

[valentine-cafe]

˖⁺. meet me there, I'll give you your roses .𖹭 ݁

﹙ characters. ﹚ ─── our selection of decadent desserts ” 

. . . darling specials !! 🍰 : we highly advise that you read our wiki to understand some character lore 

꒰  toppings : pinterest ˖ character playlists ꒱

꒰  verse 781  ꒱

tiramisu . . . . . . alessio arias

the unkillable mercenary ˖ male ˖  a punk goth immortal mercenary with a bad boy esque. flirty, charming and a cocky, chaotic bastard with a love for music and dance. an antihero taking down an evil anti-inhuman organisation with his reckless nature. 

strawberry shortcake . . . . . . rishen herrera

the hybrid hero ˖ genderfluid amab ˖ a mantis-moth-spider hybrid and stem genius university student. a nerd with a heart of gold a determination to protect the city. switches between red smart and preppy aesthetic.

mango pudding . . . . . . zhào talisen

the poetic naga reaper ˖ male ˖ a dark academia poet. a grim reaper and naga who is quiet and aloof in nature. a hero in alias and an english literature student with a love for threatre. a beautifully macabre soul with a tongue of poetries.

black forest cake . . . . . . rishima singhania

the head scientist ˖ female ˖ a genius in all fields of science and a woman of stoicism. her cold heart gives way to surprisingly motherly tendancies. monochromatic 1960's aesthetic. the leader of a hero organisation across the multiverse and a renowned sceintist in her city.

affogato . . . . . . vespasiano agresta caliari

the charming vampire lieutenant ˖ male ˖ a vampire dilf - in reality simply a special opps sniper juggling between family and work. a man of charm, telepathy and shadow enthrall. suffering from the wounds of the heart and married to his job. serene, playful and tired to top it all off.

 

꒰  verse 209  ꒱

croissant . . . . . . jìngyí herrera

the snake monster mad doctor ˖ male ˖ a yandere mad doctor who experiments on non-humans. all prim and proper, ever charming and serene on the outside - but is in fact a calculating and manipulative man. a poet tongue that knows how to deceive and twist the narrative.

red velvet cheesecake . . . . . . rishen herrera

the hybrid mad scientist ˖ genderfluid amab ˖ a yandere ceo of a science and research company. effortless and charismatic. a man of cunning intelligence. classy red aesthetic and an indulgent individual that masks evil ethics and sadistic non-human experiments with deceptive charm. 

lemon meringue cheesecake . . . . . . zhào hǎitāo

the demon reaper mercenary ˖ trans male ˖ a cold and calculated member of the resistance against the . a grim reaper with a demon symbiotically bonded to him. intelligent and ruthless. he feeds off vengeance and vows to bring justice to this foresaken world. dark male aesthetic. 

 

꒰  verse 1311  ꒱

​​​​​​egg tarts. . . . . . . jìngyí agresta

the naga mechanist.˖ male ˖ a cunning and ice cold mechanic. a naga and grim reaper who performs as an electric guitarist. deadly silent like a predator with a knack for torturing those that cross him in his workshop. if people see him as a villain for fighting back against discriminating humans then so be it. 

vada. . . . . . . . . . . rishen herrera

the femme fatale admiral ˖ genderfluid amab ˖ the leader of a special agent originisation. and assassin and spy. a man of great intelligence and seductive charm. effortless and femme fatale esque with a sharp tongue. a master strategist with a sense of justice. sassy, sarcastic and a natural leader. scary never wore a smile before him. 

churros. . . . . . . . . alessio agresta arias

the rockstar rebel leader ˖ male ˖ an arsonist and rebellion leader. a callous man with a sick sense of humour with the destructive power of kinetic energy manipulation. a punk rockstar when he is not causing explosions and stirring fear. flirty, humorous yet ready to do whatever it takes to avenge all fallen inhumans. 

ba bao fan . . . . . . . . . zhào hàoyú

the demon casino owner ˖ male ˖ a grim reaper possessed by a demon that feeds on lies. always ready for a good gamble at his casino. villainous yet charismatic. quite the possessive man who enjoys taking sadistic measures. dark male aesthetic with twisted grins and manipulation. 

 

꒰  verse 164  ꒱

key lime pie . . . . . emerald mania ( alessio agresta )

the master of magic ˖ male ˖ the first sorcerer who is considered a corrupt magic god. charming yet sadistic, he takes on the appearance of a demon and dwells in twisted forest. catching poor wanderers and experimenting on their souls. all magic originates from him and he intends to make people remember that. the gods fear his name and the very earth quakes in his presence.

rhubarb and strawberry crumble . . . copper resentment ( zhào talisen )

the snake deity of deceit ˖ male ˖ a siren-like monster that dwells in a large, cursed lake. considered a corrupt god with the power to destroy and reshape universes. a poettic tongue that spills lies and stirs chaos despite his divine and proper appearance. often said to lure beings into the water and challenge the gods. the gods fear his name and the very earth quakes in his presence.

 

꒰  verse 9948e  ꒱

milk tarts . . . . . . alessio agresta arias

the malefic sorcerer ˖ male ˖ a vintage goth sorcerer with a destructive amount of power. dry, sarcastic and chronically tired. a former rockstar who grieves the loss of his lover. now known as a cold-hearted spellcaster on a mission to bring the dead to life. 

lemon coconut tart . . . . . . zhào jìngyí

the wandering guarding reaper ˖ male ˖ joyously whimsy, a grim reaper who roams the afterlife after his early passing. always cracking a joke, poet in his own way and soft in nature - yet able to switch instantly on those that underestimate him. he ventures through the realms to aid in missions of the gods. soft aesthetic. 

tres leches cake . . . . . . rishen aryielus

the devil in angel's robes˖ genderfluid amab ˖ a charming and attractive angel of pure divinity. raised by the gods with seemingly a heart of gold. but a frightening presence and terror amount of sword skill despite his benevolent appearance. making most believe that he might indeed be a demon. 

passionfruit custard tart . . . . . . zhào hàoyŭ

the rebel reaper˖ male ˖ a dramatic and charismatic grim reaper with a knack for art. ever as flirty and adorned in a punk goth aesthetic with vintage twists. ever as flirtatious and sometimes chaotic. the heart of a rebel who fights to change the system of his world and the divine while he's at it. a vexer of the gods. 

almon jelly . . . . . . zhao yìzé

the mercenary reaper ˖ male ˖ an aloof grim reaper who delves into mercenary. taking out his anger in weaponry and kills. a caring soul who would rather remain cold as to not wear his heart on his sleeve more than he already has. cyberpunk aesthetic with a rebellious flair. 

mango pancakes . . . . . . zhào hǎitāo

the instigator reaper ˖ trans male ˖ an mortician who also delves into the black market as an informant. calm and collected yet ample times cunning. ready to strike down those that deserve. an instigator in nature. soft boy blue aesthetic.

red bean bun . . . . . . yuè mèng yáo

the grim reaper mother ˖ female ˖ a woman of great serenity and traditional in her culture's ways. known for her wisdom and peace - yet also the frightening presence that she brings in her wake. the leader of a grim reaper sanctuary and a mother protective of her kids.

bungeoppang . . . . . . . kyung seong-jin

the diurnal reaper detective ˖ male ˖ a supernatural detective with no filter. a grim reaper who is cold in nature. the heir of a renowned reaper family with a dark male aesthetic. often considered rude - yet dutiful. he has no restraint in his blunt tongue - yet has a warm heart for those he holds dear. 

sakura pudding. . . . . . . shimada takara

the killer kitsune ˖ genderfluid ˖ a kitsune masking their nogitsune nature. chaotic and wild with a bite for thrill and danger. constantly seeking a way to keep themselves from boredom. he finds himself in rasui's mercenary syndicate to manage his violent tendencies. a mix of traditional and cyberpunk aesthetic. 

revani . . . . . . . rasui

the fire elemental mercenary leader ˖ male ˖ a mercenary leader who is ever as regal and serene. cold on the exterior and strict in nature. a sometimes domineering fire elemental who tries to remain as callm and collected as possible. proper and formal in aesthetic. 

mango sticky rice . . . . . . . lisse

the fatale nature elemental merc leader ˖ female ˖ a charming nature elemental and the leader of the thorn mercenary syndicate. a woman of sweet smiles and sultry, batting lashes who prefers to lure her victims in, play around, before going for the kill. beauty is a weapon and her act of sweetness paired with seductive allure certainly does the trick. a sadistic woman who loves her flowers and tea.

kheer . . . . . . . shalika vaishya

the divine-scorned cultivator writer ˖ female ˖ a cultivator turned "gods' lapdog" as they call her. constantly running around and solving their bidding while uncovering the mess of magic within her city. a reporter trying to juggle her life as a cultivator scorned by the divine — and a dark voice whispering vengeance in her mind. instead she'll write it out.

peach & almond crostata . . . . . . nadia armetta stenskjold

the villain harpy sculptor ˖ female ˖ either dwelling in her famous sculpting store or wreaking havoc within elritea, the harpy villain. harbouring a blood lust not many understand, specifically for the renowned zhào family and it's lady. her fury deeper than the holes she drills into the rock of her newest work.

 

꒰  verse 9819  ꒱

caramel cheesecake . . . . . . . . alessio agresta arias 

the serial killer magician ˖ male ˖ the effortlessly charming leader of a crime specialist syndicate. a sort of robin hood and outlaw with a dark male aesthetic. serial killer of several politicians. cunning, witty and justice seeking. evading capture and playing games with the government council like the illuionist he is 

choc-raspberry pudding cake . . . . . . . . rishen herrera

the mastermind investigator grim reaper ˖ genderfluid ˖ an intelligent and cunning world renowned investigator with a thrill for danger. constantly searching for a possibility of him being wrong. old money aesthetic, brimming with charm and charisma. a confident, witty being trying to ignore his lineage as a grim reaper. he'd much rather solve crimes than reap souls.

éclair . . . . . . . . zhào jìngyí

the charming inventor reaper ˖ male ˖ an influential artificers and clock tower workers. a grim reaper and investigator. a brilliant man of many crafts and skills, with a mission to solve the most recent murders around the city. a sharp minded and wise man with a poetic tongue to riddle his suspects mad. charm and charisma yet manipulation and cunning tactics hide behind this alluring smile. a poet, an artist

strawberry cupcake . . . . . . . . denara agyros

the darling sorceress heir ˖ female ˖ a lunar sorceress and heir to a renowned magic family. gothic in aesthetic and a lover of horror. yet soft and optimistic. a tender soul with a dark side. a kind nurse fighting off her jealous nature. burying into her love for thriller writing. 

red velvet cookies . . . . . . . . zhào xīyáng

the grim reaper mercenary boss ˖ male ˖ a collected and deadly quiet mercenary boss grim reaper. frightening with a taste for danger. a mix of oriental and refined white aesthetic. cold in nature and has ever the blunt tongue mixed with dry humour. he shakes hands with the devil to protect his city. 

 

꒰  verse 9948v  ꒱

kulfi. . . . . . . . rishen herrera

the mad cultist composer ˖ genderfluid amab ˖ a blank cultist with the ability to manipulate blood itself. a composer who writes with the very crimson he sheds. monotone with a dark sense of humour. cursed to glitch into phantom versions of his doppelgangers across the multiverse. a nercomancer with red esque.

mooncakes. . . . . . . . zhào hàoyŭ

the vengeful phantom ˖ male ˖ a phantom that haunts his world. sadistic and psychotic. careless with the souls he pulls from the afterlife to aid in his brutal massacres. possessive, obsessive and yandere in every way. with a morbid sense of humour and a smile etched on his face at all times. 

 

꒰  verse-less  ꒱

berry crumble . . . . . . . . jìngyí verseless

the demon alchemist ˖ male ˖ a demon with a frightful reputation. silent, sadistic and intelligent. best known for his alchemist shop in the dephs of hell. a dark oriental aesthetic with hints of modern. ever as graceful and beautifully macabre. loves to tempt his anger and remind others why he rose through hell's ranks.

kourabiethes . . . . . . . . valerius ariti

the hex demon lord ˖ male ˖ a serene demon lord who casts hexes through the multiverse. indifferent and ever ready to accept a deal so that he might play around with a mortal. regal and strewn in gold. divine to the point some consider him a god. refined and charming despite his brutal nature and vanity. 

cherry custard tart . . . . . . . . orion

the abyssal angel general ˖ male ˖ a silent and poetic angel who ranks as a general. known for his watchful eye over the abyss. cold in exterior and a strategic warrior. yet beyond caring with those he holds dear. a wise soul who can be a bit of a trickster at times.

[dreamingofnoreality]

I think the part I hate the most in Mockingjay Part 1 is how after the District 13 bombing, when theyre trying to film the propo, Katniss is like, "He's gonna kill Peeta if I keep being the Mockingjay!" because in the book, she breaks down for literally, and I mean LITERALLY, the exact opposite reason.

“Try the line again,” says Cressida. “ ‘Thirteen’s alive and well and so am I.’ ”

I take a deep breath, trying to force air down into my diaphragm. “Thirteen’s alive and so —” No, that’s wrong.

I swear I can still smell those roses.

“Katniss, just this one line and you’re done today. I promise,” says Cressida. “ ‘Thirteen’s alive and well and so am I.’ ”

I swing my arms to loosen myself up. Place my fists on my hips. Then drop them to my sides. Saliva’s filling my mouth at a ridiculous rate and I feel vomit at the back of my throat. I swallow hard and open my lips so I can get the stupid line out and go hide in the woods and — that’s when I start crying.

It’s impossible to be the Mockingjay. Impossible to complete even this one sentence. Because now I know that everything I say will be directly taken out on Peeta. Result in his torture. But not his death, no, nothing so merciful as that. Snow will ensure that his life is much worse than death.

Up until then, Katniss had been terrified that Snow was going to kill Peeta. It's during the bombing that she finally realizes that Snow would lose his leverage against her if he took Peeta out of the picture.

It’s on the third night, during our game, that I answer the question eating away at me. Crazy Cat becomes a metaphor for my situation. I am Buttercup. Peeta, the thing I want so badly to secure, is the light. As long as Buttercup feels he has the chance of catching the elusive light under his paws, he’s bristling with aggression. (That’s how I’ve been since I left the arena, with Peeta alive.) When the light goes out completely, Buttercup’s temporarily distraught and confused, but he recovers and moves on to other things. (That’s what would happen if Peeta died.) But the one thing that sends Buttercup into a tailspin is when I leave the light on but put it hopelessly out of his reach, high on the wall, beyond even his jumping skills. He paces below the wall, wails, and can’t be comforted or distracted. He’s useless until I shut the light off. (That’s what Snow is trying to do to me now, only I don’t know what form his game takes.)

Maybe this realization on my part is all Snow needs. Thinking that Peeta was in his possession and being tortured for rebel information was bad. But thinking that he’s being tortured specifically to incapacitate me is unendurable. And it’s under the weight of this revelation that I truly begin to break.

Peeta's death would mean she had nothing left to lose. But the idea that her actions as the Mockingjay would result in Peeta being tortured? THAT is what makes her fall apart, which is what the Rebels were afraid of happening and is what motivated them to finally arrange the rescue mission. They were very much aware that Peeta was intentionally being kept alive and tortured to punish Katniss and, aside from Finnick, they were all actively trying to keep Katniss from figuring that out.

“Cut,” I hear Cressida say quietly.

"What’s wrong with her?” Plutarch says under his breath.

“She’s figured out how Snow’s using Peeta,” says Finnick.

There’s something like a collective sigh of regret from the semicircle of people spread out before me. Because I know this now. Because there will never be a way for me to not know this again. Because, beyond the military disadvantage losing a Mockingjay entails, I am broken.

The movie just completely ruined it by having Katniss think Snow was warning her that he was going to kill Peeta. The whole point was that she realized Snow was NEVER going to kill Peeta. Death would have been a mercy, and Snow was not merciful. He was going to keep Peeta alive to torture him in response for everything Katniss did for the rebellion then stick him on TV to show her.

[baphometsss]

thinking about it, the way solas thinks about/remembers mythal hits really close to home for me

when someone dies, especially if they die prematurely, there's a tendency for those who survive them to kind of... look at them through rose tinted glasses. i had this experience with my brother, who died when he was 22 and very unexpectedly at that. because he died before i really had a chance to spend much time with him (i was 11), i missed out on all sorts of things. both my family and myself have a tendency to ignore all his flaws and the bad things he did because we miss him and wish he was still around to be flawed and do bad things. because then at least he would actually be here.

i think this is what solas is doing with mythal, although it's complicated from their trauma bond and the somewhat abstract way the first elves experienced emotions. it's true what (davrin?) says -- when someone dies before you have a chance to tell them all the things you want to tell them, it stings. mythal and solas had a complicated relationship, and solas really wanted to believe that she would join the rebellion one day. she never did, because of her own pride and refusal to give up godhood, and bc she believed too well in her own ability to control the evanuris from within. to join the rebellion would be like admitting defeat, something she could not do because, as morrigan says, she can't tolerate being wrong. by his own admission, she betrayed him by joining the evanuris. then she died before they had a chance to really iron out their issues, and because solas rebelled against her (in his mind, failing her), it messed with him badly.

so he doesn't allow himself to be angry, because if he really loses it with her (the way he did with the rebel mages in his personal dai quest), what the hell is he supposed to do with that anger? there is no one to direct it at, except the world and himself. he himself is the easiest target, because he already carries so much guilt and shame over the things he's done. but he does direct it outward too. that is at least in part what he's doing when he wants to tear down the veil--not just for mythal, not just to 'repair' his past mistakes, but because he is simply angry and frustrated, too, which blocks his wisdom. and yet, he doesn't feel he has a right to that anger, even though he really does when you think of all the things mythal put him through. he cannot be angry until he has corrected his mistakes he made in failing her.

it's not surprising that he puts her on a pedestal. you do that when you're grieving and hate yourself that much. that's why his perspective is so warped, and why he's an unreliable narrator when it comes to mythal. like i loved my brother, but my recollection of him will always be coloured by his death.

mythal was not the great mother goddess of legend and she was likely not really the person solas portrays her as either. the fragment in morrigan is closest to who the legends portray her as, but it isn't the only part of her either. she was very flawed, and petty, and all the things solas described the evanuris as being. she was a monster in her own way too. but when you're surrounded by far worse monsters, you come out looking okay. that's essentially all mythal had going for her: she wasn't as much of a monster as she could've been.

it speaks volumes about solas's 'grim and fatalistic' outlook when you consider that. the more you learn about solas's past, the more you realise how important the inquisition was to him, how helpless he would've been to have bonded with these mortals who were so free in their goodwill and determination to build a better future--something that was severely lacking in elvhenan.