#There's a lot of Primrose this time around

[dallasstarsdyke]

primrose's ch3 is GOOD btw

[innerfare]

Flowers

Summary: what sort of flowers (or alternatives) they give you

Characters: Luffy, Zoro, Sanji, Ace, Sabo, Law, Kid, Usopp, Robin, Nami

Genre: fluff

——— 

Luffy: Not one to buy you flowers. Instead, he picks them. Sometimes they’re weeds he thought looked pretty, other times, he presents you with a lush bundle of pink carnations you think he must have picked from a commercial flower field (this man has no concept of private property). He’s always very proud to present them because he worked hard to secure them; you'd better give him a kiss for his effort. Has, on occasion, accidentally brought you some that are poisonous. Also once brought you a bundle of radishes because he thought you would like the color. Receiving flowers from Luffy can be a bit like receiving a lizard from your pet cat.

Zoro: He won’t really think to buy you flowers until one day you mention that camellias are pretty. He takes that to mean you like camellias, specifically, and not that you’d like to receive flowers in general, so he always buys you camellias, and you think it’s so sweet that you never correct him. He’s not actually a proponent of apology flowers because he thinks a ‘bribe’ cheapens it, but he will bring you flowers when he knows you’re having a hard day. He might also buy you a small bamboo plant that you two end up treating a bit like a pet, giving it a name and everything. 

Sanji: Classic red roses, at least a dozen at a time. He’ll buy you roses in shades of white and pink, as well as the occasional yellow, but a dozen red roses is his go to. He also makes very good use of the petals. Doesn’t need a special occasion to present you with a bouquet. In fact, he always makes sure you have fresh flowers on your nightstand. Additionally, he’s learned to cook a few dishes with edible flowers in them for you, presenting you with all manner of chamomile, chive blossom, and pansy dishes. 

Usopp: Will buy you cheap supermarket flowers on his way to come visit you and will regale you with a long, fanciful tale of crossing oceans and deserts to secure them from the only spot in the world those particular flowers grow, a tale filled with sweet and funny anecdotes that makes you giggle as you trim the stems and place them in a vase of water. He’ll tell you that the flowers have special powers and properties, such as bringing you luck or living forever so long as you smile every day. 

Robin: Is an expert on hanakotoba, the language of flowers; she read a book on it once and thought it was so sweet and beautiful that she read it cover to cover several more times. She always buys you flowers with a specific meaning and then happily explains that meaning to you. Giving you flowers brightens her day as much as it brightens yours. White anemones (sincerity), daffodils (respect), and forget-me-nots (true love) are some of her favorites to give you. 

Nami: Not a traditional kind of girl. She won’t hesitate to buy you roses if you like them, but she gravitates more toward violets, daisies, and the like, smaller flowers that speak to both of you. She’s also a proponent of buying you a single flower that you can put in your hair, and she has bought you a selection of floral hair accessories so you always have flowers for your hair on hand; her favorite is the primrose crown she bought you. 

Ace: He’ll bring you bouquets with a lot of variety that the nice lady at the flower shop helped him put together. He usually builds these bouquets around sunflowers or orange lilies, and he gets very smug when his flowers brighten your day. He’ll also pick flowers for you, but he’s very conscious to only pick the ones that are not weeds. If he finds a field of sunflowers, you will be getting as many as he can carry. Never, ever visits you empty-handed, always brings at least a bouquet of flowers with him. Treats securing flowers for you like hunting for dinner and is always so proud of his bounty.

Law: Gravitates toward orchids, especially in darker shades of pink, purple, and blue; they feel a little moodier and less kitschy than the red roses Bepo tells him he’s supposed to buy to woo you (side note: imagine Law getting relationship advice from Bepo). One night folded an origami flower for you, and you liked it so much that he spent the rest of the night folding an entire bouquet, though he pretends it only took him five minutes. He doesn’t actually give the origami bouquet to you so much as he just sets it on your nightstand one day and mutters something about how the flowers won’t need water. He gets kind of annoyed if you make a big deal out of it. 

Sabo: He’s gone for very long periods of time, so when he returns, he’ll bring you a bundle of peonies or calla lilies, but he also bought you a cherry blossom bonsai tree so you can have flowers even when he’s away. The bonsai tree ends up becoming his baby, and when he is home, he spends quite a bit of time tending to it, to the point you get a little jealous. But it brings you lots of comfort when he’s away, a symbol of your love that’s firmly rooted and eternal. Side note, he will most definitely use flowers to seduce you. 

Kid: If it’s at the point where he’s buying flowers, this man is so far beyond pride he won’t flinch at purchasing a bundle of pink tulips, even if they clash with his outfit/aesthetic. He also presents you one night with a bouquet of metal flowers he made himself. He spent ages on it, but he really didn’t mean to. He intended to make one but got absorbed in his work and made an entire bundle of dainty little metal flowers. He’s oddly proud of himself for making something so delicate and would be crushed if you ever got rid of them. 

———

Hope you enjoyed it! If you want more, you can check out my masterlist here!

[ccraccz]

Hello! I'm a new follower of yours~ I may not know how much are you in the manga, so this might be a lil spoiler for you (sorry). Suo actually knows the language of flowers! Maybe this could be a req of him courting fem!reader owo

Have a nice day!

SO CUTTEE!! THANK YOU FOR BOTH THE FOLLOW AND THE REQUEST!!

Flowers for you

Suo x Fem!Reader

TW: assault, reader being used as a hostage, implied bullying? (PLease tell me if I missed a TW!!)

The first time it happens is on a random Monday. A bouquet of different colored camelias being given to you by Suo, a sly smile and unearthly attractive smile on his face as he hands them over. His uncovered eye squinting as he watches you blush at the situation.

"For you, my lady," he says, confirming the main question that was swimming in your brain.

"But... Why?" You ask, genuinely wondering about the reason of the sudden gift. Suo chuckles as you grab the flowers in your hands and hold them closer. "Well..." He starts, turning to walk beside you, hands behind his back as usual, he looks at forward, ignoring your eyes that were intensely looking at him. "They reminded me of you, and there was a special on them, so I decided to try and make your day start in a good way."

That was a lie. Well, part of it was a lie. The beautiful, multicolored camelias did remind him of you, but the bouquet was going to be a lot more expensive if he wasn't recognized by the flower shop owner for saving his daughter from some perverted gang members. Not only was the bouquet free as a payback for saving his daughter, but as a thanks for helping around the town.

"Well then..." You pout, looking away as you arrive at the bridge that connects you to the gates of your school. You genuinely didn't want to leave him there, but you had cleaning duty to go to and if you're one minute late, your class would chew you up, especially now that you had a bouquet of flowers in your hands.

That day you started your day with a smile, and ended it with that same smile.

Suo was right, these flowers did make your day start, and stay, a good way.

The second time was the day after he, and his group, fought a group of drunken, old, perverts decided to take you and your girlfriends from your class as hostages. The glare that Suo sported that day before he quickly beat up the guys that were between him and the guy holding you was still burned into the front of your memories.

His eye seemed to glow under the street lights of the town, movements swifter than a cat but stronger than a bear. The drunken man holding you faltered at the sight of his men being beaten down, quickly seeing the disadvantage he's at. Due to that, he quickly pushes you away, having you land harshly on the ground and enraging Suo further.

After the fight, Suo was silent, too silent for your comfort as he walked you home. His arms weren't behind him, now one was wrapped around your waist and the other in his pocket.

The day after, there were flowers on your door step. Another bouquet and a plush of a fluffy puppy holding it.

The flowers were in a beautiful arrangement of white gardenias, daffodils, primrose primulas, and white heather flowers, a red ribbon tied around the bottom of the stems to keep them together. Under the plush, there is a note from Suo.

His hand writing is gorgeous, letters smooth and readable, sentences arranged in such grace it was shocking to think that this was written by a teenager in a delinquent school.

The letter said: Dear [Name],

I hope this letter finds you well and recovered from what happened yesterday night. I can only imagine how hollow you might feel...

And the rest was history, as tears bubbled up in your eyes and dribbled down your cheeks, the flowers tight in your embrace as your tears soaked into the paper and the top of the plush.

The third and last time was at the end of the day, two months after the incident, and a week before your birthday. You had been talking to some girls, who were gushing and blushing about their crushes while you stayed quiet. Walking out of the school and over the bridge, you see him.

Suo was standing at the other end of the bridge, another bouquet in his hand, a small gift box in his other hand. You paused as the girls beside you start fawning over Suo, talking about how attractive he is, and wondering who those flowers were for, and what about that box?

You were internally sweating, starting to walk behind the girls again, who were giggling and bumping into each other before you.

"So?" One of the prettier girls walks forward, having the guts to confront the delinquent. "Is that for me?" she asks, bottom lip bitten seductively.

Suo smiles at her, "Definitely..." He pauses and looks around the group. "Not," his smile drops before he walks forward and breaks apart the group, until he was in front of you.

"[Name]?" Suo smiles, eye closing with a light blush on his face.

He looked ethereal, better than any mythical, historical, or fictional character you've ever seen in your life. The sun was the perfect shade, hitting his face in every attractive way it could.

"I'm here to give you these," He speaks, his voice soft and nearly musical. He holds out the flowers towards you to take as your cheeks flush a beautiful pink as the situation registers in your mind.

"For me?" You whisper in shock.

"Yes," He nods "for you gorgeous."

In her hands was a large bouquet, filled with white gardenias, red roses, white camelias, baby's breath, and a multitude of gloxinias. "Those white gardenias represent your purity and how lovely you are, the roses represent my love for you, the white camelias describe how adorable and perfect you are, the baby's breath are a symbol of-"

You cut him off, putting the flowers into one arm as you grab him by the cheek and slot your lips onto his.

The show of affection makes the girls around swear and leave, while, somewhere in the bushes, there is a sensor going off, smoking even.

That wasn't the last time he brought you flowers, and it definitely was not the last time he described them, since every time he did, it would lead to something more.

[literallymikewheeler]

i fully believe that after the war, peeta loved katniss even more then he did before.

like, this man was trained to KILL katniss, yet he still fell back in love.

his original love towards katniss was first, and unconditional love. he saw her as beautiful no matter what and failed to see a lot of her flaws. however, when he gets hijacked, her flaws are ALL he notices about her. the line "you're not very big, are you? or particularly pretty?" makes it clear that the old peeta is gone (or is he??🤨) and he is noticing for the first time that katniss is completely average looking. but while the book progresses, so does peetas feelings for katniss (obviously.) this is most apparent when he blocks her from killing herself. why did he do that?? he didnt have to. he owed her nothing.

but he couldn't. and whether he knew it or not, he couldn't live without her. he was still trying to protect her.

the very end of the book is when we see the most love come from peeta (and again, obviously.) whether it is the fact that he came back to 12, or that he planted primroses for prim, he loves her. platonically and romantically. and i think that after all they have been through, it is just beautiful. and eventually seeing that he feels comfortable enough to sleep with her again, after he was hijacked to try to kill her every chance he got, it shows that he trusts himself a lot more around her.

finally the ending "you love me? real or not real?" "real." confirms that not only did he love katniss, but she loved him too.

anyways thanks for coming to my tedtalk!

[thegreenthepeacetheorange]

i really resent this idea of "i'm so sad that peeta will never love her how he used to!!!" i see flying around on tiktok/social media a lot

peeta's love for katniss never went away. it was always there but the hijacking had overtaken it. post-war, post-healing from his hijacking, peeta loves katniss just as much as he did before, if not more. it's a more adult love, a more committed love. to love someone, to see their best and their worst, to allow them to see your best and your worst, to go through significant changes and loss and terror and still choose each other every time? that is quite possibly the strongest form of love.

we know peeta comes back to himself, throughout the latter half of mockingjay. he fights hard to get himself back. his charm and kindness to others, the lamb stew he offers her, the moments he remembers, saving her from the mutts underground, trying to help when she's on fire, not allowing her to take the nightlock, planting primrose to help her the same way he gave her that bread all those years ago. that's all katniss's peeta.

of course he has moments, because like johanna said, they've all gone through the most awful of circumstances and changed, but by the end of mockinjay he's fully back, with all his love. there's no way katniss has children with him if there's any chance of danger, she wouldn't do that - so we know for sure that her peeta is there right beside her when she's ready. he finds his way back to her, and equally katniss finds her way back to him. they grow back together.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Like a Stone 1

Warnings: non/dubcon, power dynamic, age gap, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Characters: Loki, Tony Stark (Professor AU)

Summary: your work as a TA is complicated by more than your advisor. (tall reader)

Part of the Bad Professors AU

Note: Please leave some feedback and reblog <3 As always, I love to chat with you all. 

The day begins unfortunately. You are a stickler for details but by some carelessness you end up at the wrong office. Rather than Laufeyson, you’d stumble upon Odinson and his rather stuffy office mate. If you think someone is uptight, they must be. 

Still, the mistake doesn’t set you behind. You approach the correct office door and double check the placque set in the wood. Dr. Laufeyson. Hm. One day you will wear the same title. 

You knock lightly and stand staunchly in wait. Even without your rigid posture, you are tall. You never pay that attribute much attention until someone points it out, often with a childish joke about the altitude or the like. 

You wait and when no answer comes, you knock again. 

“Yes, do come in,” the impatient bark from within tightens your muscles. Well, this is a great beginning. 

You turn the handle and let yourself in. It’s not very polite not to answer your own door. Well, he hardly has to worry about your evaluation, no, the situation is quite the opposite. And you shouldn’t be ungrateful, you fought for this opportunity. 

“Hello,” you enter and linger at the threshold, “open or shut?” 

“However, you like,” the black-haired man doesn’t look up from the book on his desk. 

“Right, Dr. Laufeyson, I believe we were scheduled to meet. I’m Primrose. Your TA for this session.” 

“Yes, yes, I’ve it all ready. The green folder there,” he gives a slight tip of his head, a gesture that puts your eyes to the corner of the desk. 

“Thank you, sir,” you approach and put your hand on the folder. “I thought maybe you’d like to go over the duties.” 

He stays as he is, shoulders curled forward, his lithe and long figure hunched over the desk, his beakish nose pointed down. Only his green eyes move. His black tresses are bushed back so the spirals cluster behind his neck. 

“They are listed inside. Along with the syllabus and what I expect of you in terms of classroom duties and lesson planning,” he remains fixated on the pages. You’re slightly irked by his indifference. 

“I understand,” you lift the folder and hold it to your chest. The buttons of your blazer press into you. “Well then... I suppose it was nice to meet you.” 

“You will send your first lesson plan tonight and I will return my feedback,” he flips the page, “no time to waste then.” 

First lesson? You withhold a blanch and nod. He isn’t very accommodating. You wouldn’t expect less given the lot of professors you’ve encountered, but you though being a TA, he might have more interest in you than some dusty tome. 

“Thank you,” you turn on your heel and bite down on your irritation. 

You pull the door shut and it isn’t until you’re alone in the hallway, that the disappointment hits you. You’re not an optimistic person. You define yourself as a pragmatist and yet, that was not what you expected.  

You've been dismissed, disposed even. If he were not effectively your boss, you might go back in and let him know just that. Yet if you did, what good would it do? Men rarely hear above their egos. 

You lower the folder to your side and march down the hallway. Your heeled boots echo around you and down the stairs of the foyer. You come out and shield your eyes against the glare reflecting off the paned walls of the engineering building. Typical, yet the arts and humanity buildings look as if they could fall to dust. 

You twist around but the light blinds you from seeing the other body headed in the opposite direction. You stagger back as the folder falls from your grasp and the papers flutter all around. You wince and quickly bend your knees to gather the mess before it can all blow away. 

A chuckle crackles in the air and you glance up at the older gentleman you ran into. 

“Apologies,” you say as you swipe up the papers, moving awkwardly with bent legs. 

“Not at all, sweetheart,” he steps on a page to keep it from riding the wind. “Here, let me help ya out.” 

He bends to shuffle a few papers into his hands and holds them out. You take them and shove them into the folder with the rest. You huff and stand. He does too. You’re taller than him and would be even without your heels. He looks up at you with a glimmer in his dark eyes. 

“Wow, glamazon, love the look, sweetheart,” he winks. 

You narrow your eyes as you take in his groomed goatee, his silvering hair along his temples, and that arrogant crooked smirk.  

“I’m not your sweetheart,” you snip. “Thank you for your help.” 

You hug the folder and sidestep him. Or try to. He moves with you and blocks your way. 

“Well, you could try being sweet,” he goads. 

You back up and look him in the face. You don’t know how to respond to that. Most men don’t bother and when they do, they get one sneer from you and run. 

“Step one, smile,” he purrs. 

Your lips curve but not upwards. You teethe the inside of your lip and lock down your anger. First Laufeyson, not this character. 

“Pardon me,” you say at last but as you try to pass, he hooks his arm around your waist and pulls you in front of him. 

“You don’t gotta be shy. You a freshman? I can show you around,” he offers. “Wanna see my office?” 

You calmly put a hand on his shoulder and shove until his arm slackens. You back up and set your chin. Your nose flares. 

“I am not a freshman and I’m not interested in old men. Good day.” 

Instead of trying to push past, you turn and stomp in the other direction. Your legs are long enough, you can outpace him. Easily. Not to mention his age. 

Just another unexpected turn. You’ll just have to go the long way. Not ideal since you have a lesson due in only a few hours. 

[mellarked-katnisseverdeen]

Sweet and sad headcanon: Willow, as she is really young and growing up and only beginning to make sense of the family she has that has passed and when her mother talks about Prim, she whole heartedly believes she has an older sister who no longer is around.

She is too young yet to understand but the way Katniss talks about her, with such love and care, the only thing she can compare it to is how her mother loves her. Any pictures of Prim show a blond hair, blue eyed girl it's easily to believe is related to her Daddy. So it just makes sense to her 2 or 3 year old brain that she was her sister.

This goes on for a bit until she decides she wants to make a drawing of her sister and present it to mommy, and draws her whole family with Primrose amongst her namesake flowers in the front of her house, labeled with the word 'sister' in soft baby blue above her. Proudly presenting it to her parents.

Katniss, try as she might, has to hand her off to Peeta and go into the forest for the night. Peeta explains, as gently as he can, that Mommy is not mad or upset at her, she is just missing Primrose.

It's hard on her, when Katniss comes back and they sit her down and explain. That Primrose wasn't really her sister, though her Mommy cared about and loved her a lot. That instead, she is her Aunt, and has passed away a long time ago.

But she can't shake how similar the love she sees her mother still have for Primrose. When Rye comes, though she loves her brother to the moon and back, she can't say it's the same. She eventually comes to remember Primrose as her sister eventually, after hearing the story of her parents Games and the Rebellion. It connects them, the similar way they are loved by Katniss. And though they may not be sisters by blood, they are in that way.

[screamintoad]

TWST oc Blanche Primrose

“I believe we’ve met before. Perhaps…once upon a dream.”

Voice claim: Nobara-Jujutsu Kaisen

Character info

  Blanche is a typically headstrong girl. Her temper isn’t as bad as some of the other students but she’ll call out others wrong doings. If she’s not doing anything too important or tedious then she’ll often be found day dreaming. Now as a second year she is fully herself and many of the students see her as a sisterly figure as she always checks up on people and make sure they’re taking care of themselves.

  The summer before she started attending NRC, she was told by her grandmother that Blanche is expected to be enrolled at a stuffy all girls private school that her grandma attended. Later that night a raven delivered a letter to her windowsill that spoke of how she was recommended to be a student at NRC by a few upperclassmen. She knew that night that she was going to choose her own fate rather than a path that her grandmother curated for her. As she pretended to be a boy at NRC she chopped her hair into a pixie cut and when Vil first saw her he wanted to faint but understood what she was trying to do. Eventually her grandmother found out about the ruse but allowed her to keep attending NRC since it made her so happy. 

Fun facts: She used to live in the same town as Jack and Vil and they’ve been friends since they were kids. She spent her first few months at school pretending to be a boy since, as far as her grandma knew, she was at that stuffy private school. Her red sweater was originally her mother’s. She’s half wolf beastfolk. That same summer before coming to NRC she would frequently dream of meeting a young man with silver hair. 

Basic info

Age: 17

Height: 179cm, 5’8

B-day: September 7th (Virgo)

Dominant hand: Right

Family: Hazel (her grandmother), Amelia (her mother), unnamed father

Nicknames: Petit Rouge (Rook), Harp seal (Floyd)

2nd year

Class B

Club: Film studies

Best subject: Herbology

Hobbies: Baking, Tending to plants, Writing short stories which is why she joined the film studies club to fuel her inspiration

Pet peeve: Selfish people

Favorite food: Berry muffins

Least favorite food: Seafood

Talent: Quick thinking (does not equal smart thinking)/Singing

Unique Magic: Thorny Heart, she can grow thorny vines around her and even grow various plants from the vines. Such as ones that are just pretty or ones that have medicinal values. Sometimes when she’s startled she just SPROUTS the thorns and freaks everyone out for a second. 

Character dynamics

Vil: Childhood friend number 1. He’s like a mother hen towards her, constantly fretting over her grades and appearance. It drives her up a wall but she knows he means well. These habits are especially prominent when she first starts attending.

Jack: Childhood friend number 2. They first met when Jack was playing outside and he found her picking berries in the forest while she was wearing a hooded red cape. As schoolmates they’re both striving to help the other. That could be helping each other study or timing track runs.

Rook: Creepy dorm mate. Honestly, she doesn’t like him, like at all. She knows he possibly means well but he still unnerves her. They have lots of debates in French. 

Ruggie: She didn’t trust him at first, his scheming made her nervous every time she heard him giggling. Now as second years and in the same class, she scolds him when he steals stuff but she always makes extra food so he can have some as well. 

Silver: Love interest. Despite the dreams during summer, they didn’t recognize each other until way later, like Book 5 later. After that it was nothing but sweet sweet slow burn but one thing’s for sure. Everyone loves silver and gold.

Malleus: They both get a weird sense of deja vu when they’re first getting acquainted. They met one night when they stumbled upon each others walking routes. Neither could place it but they felt as if they had met before. Maybe in a dream, maybe a different time entirely. They get along and teach each other a lot, eventually Malleus joined in on Lilia’s teasing when it came to her and Silver together.

[apathysack]

Watership Down OC Sketchdump

Have I been doing anything productive?

No.

Have I been binge-watching the 1999 Watership Down tv series and doodling?

Absolutely.

Thorn - My main Watership down FC. She is a mystic with empathic abilities, and is able to feel what other rabbits around her are going through emotionally and physically, which is a very overwhelming and exhausting ability that Fiver and Silverweed are helping her learn to control and meditate so she's not overstimulated all the time.

Thorns parents - Thier names are Ivy and Bracken. Her mother was a Hlessi who joined her fathers small family warren after falling in love with him. They are basically a large rabbit wife and her tiny husbun <3 Thorns mom is a big fluffy lady, while her father is small and sleek. Thorn gets her size and build from her father, but her coloring from her mother. They both died as a result of the nearby stream being poisoned and tainting the plant life around the warren. Thorn is the only surviving member thanks to her Mystic sensitivity, though she was a child and unable to save her family because no one believed her about the grass being bad.

 I like to think about her sometimes - I was listening to Alternative by Rory and I think it's a good song for Thorn, dreaming about what her life would have been like if she hadn't been orphaned, or wasn't born with her abilities. 

She has stared the darkness in the eye - Who is she from Centaurworld was another song I was listening to and thought about Thorn. I think that the voice actress for horse would be perfect for her tbh. also, Thorn has faced death many times, watching her entire family drop off like flies, so confronting the Black Rabbit of Inle isn't out of the realm of possibilities for her.

Briar - Another OC. She's Primrose's younger sister. I wanted her to have a similar shape and color palette, but not look exactly like her. Briar has a lot of anger and resentment built up against her sister, feeling abandoned by her in Efrafra. to be fair, Primrose had no idea where her sister was in the warren, or if she was even alive, but Briar thinks that since Primrose escaped, she should have tried harder to rescue her sooner.  

[highly-flammable]

Do you think Peeta mostly recovers his core self and core qualities that the hijacking tried to strip away?

Well, he still had his core values, as clearly demonstrated during the mission in the Capitol (he was upset that he killed someone during his episode, wanted to die rather than bring more danger to the squad, was trying to be kind to Pollux, gave logical inputs when Katniss tried to plan to draw out Snow, wanted to go out into the Capitol undercover instead of hiding in Tigris’ basement, etc). He had his memories from the first 16 years of his life as well. I think the memories that were targeted were events with Katniss that were on footage. Aside from that he had a private life, one which Katniss was part of (they spent a lot of time together and he was even confused about those memories as mentioned in MJ).

While trauma can change you, and it certainly did for Peeta, I don’t think the hijacking could really take away who he was deep down. The thing about hijacked Peeta is, he was mainly just extremely afraid, primarily of Katniss. A lot of his anger and hatred came from that. Plus he had been physically abused a lot, that will also leave its negative impacts on someone’s mind. He was also still righteously angry about everything the Capitol did and part of the hijacking was to make Katniss look like a Capitol mutt to him. But we see that he was still capable of being gentle (being nice towards Annie in District 13 cafeteria), and he was still in touch with his artistic side (the wedding cake for Finnick and Annie). And then since he made newer memories with Katniss during the mission (not good memories but memories that counterbalance the negative, fearful view he had of her), I think by the time they went off to the city circle, he was fairly at peace with the idea of her, even though he had so many messed up memories (I’m sure the real or not real game helped a little, especially the bit where Katniss told him all the little things about himself, which is a clear proof that she genuinely cared about him). This is demonstrated by the fact that he saved her life multiple times during the mission and didn’t recoil when she touched him (the time when she tries to put him to sleep by stroking his hair, the kiss, her bandaging his wrists, the farewell hug). It’s also entirely possible Peeta was the one who managed to follow her to the city circle and help her during the bombing because he was one of the only people who knew her disguise, and he was later in the burn unit too.

The biggest proof that Peeta, in spite of everything he went through, was still Peeta, is this: he immediately shot down the idea of a Hunger Games with the Capitol kids. His values were still intact. He was appalled that Haymitch would agree to it, and furiously confronted him in front of everyone, calling it an atrocity that Haymitch was going to be party to. Even with everything that he was subjected to by the Capitol - being in two Hunger Games, losing his leg, losing his entire family, being tortured and brainwashed to the point of utter brokenness - he still did not want mindless revenge and a spectacle normalizing the things the Capitol used to do, in the name of giving them a taste of their own medicine.

And after Katniss killed Coin, he immediately stopped her from ingesting the nightlock pill, saying he couldn’t let her go, proving pretty damn well that he loved her. Then after his treatment had progressed enough that he could return to district 12, he went back there, and made the very sensitive gesture of planting primroses around Katniss’ house in memory of Prim (btw he was doing this at dawn, the day after he was allowed to leave the Capitol, so it was basically one of the first things he decided to do after getting home). Then he and Katniss and Haymitch just lived their lives, they did their thing, made their memory book, Peeta and Katniss actually got together and had kids eventually. And those kids clearly were growing up happy, because while they knew their parents had some trouble being relaxed (Peeta’s flashbacks maybe and Katniss’ nightmares), they were well-fed, cheerful kids. Peeta even comforted Katniss when she expressed her worry about telling the children about their role in the Hunger Games and rebellion, and this was what he said: they could make the children understand in a way that will make them braver. That very much sounds like the considerate, quietly optimistic, mature character we know and love.

So Peeta was alright in the end. All that torture and brainwashing still couldn’t take away the values that he had, and this is why he is one of my favourite characters ever.

[darlingpwease]

primrose

If stars are lit // It means there is someone who needs it // It means someone wants them to be ©

2 drabbles (~3000 words) + 5 headcanons (~4500 words)

♡ unhealthy behaviour (clinginess, obsessiveness, possessiveness, mutual dependency, overprotectiveness, stalking if you squint, elements of forced relationship if you squint), mention of emotional breakdown, mention of blood, poly relationship

♡ nsfw warnings in the end

You have always been loyal to Xie Lian, even back when you followed His Royal Highness the Crown Prince of Xianle, full of the bloom of youth and ambition, who wants to make the common people happy, but does not understand, does not know the realities that he was going to correct. He has always been like this — "run, because His Royal Highness is already going to make your life better, it doesn't matter if you want it or not, and as a result your life will get better, but nerves will have to be treated for several more years."

... After all, you have known him since childhood, always following his radiance like a shadow, as if your place is in the darkest place, which is right under the lantern. You couldn't tell if it bothered you or not — you've been known as the Crown Prince's loyal companion for as long as you've known yourself, and you couldn't say that his radiance ever darkened you or made you uncomfortable. Rather, it seemed that his very light was aimed at making you shine even brighter, as if he was the light of spotlights aimed at you as the main star of any time of the day or night, and you didn't want to do anything about it, allowing him to just hide behind your back and look at the world from there. But even so, sometimes he was especially... incredible, and not only in a good or bad way.

(Once it was suggested that "yes, of course, we should inform His Royal Highness about this, but, to be honest, it's somehow safer to be without him," and although it was half-joking, everyone understood that there was only a fraction of a joke in every joke, even when he showed royal restraint and calmness, keeping his back perfectly straight, slightly lifting his nose, and was like a straight but flexible bamboo.)

Xie Lian was always like this — passionate, ardent, almost capricious, full of innocence and kaleidoscope, and it seemed to you that there was a lot in him: charm, emotions, ambitions, words, strength, hopes, intentions, beliefs — there was a lot of everything and stormy, like a fast-flowing river or the blooming of the whole forest glade. It was as if he could not and could not help being passionate, absorbing and loud; loud not with sounds, but with emotions, especially when he looked at you with pure burning eyes, like the scorching summer sun, from which you could not hide under any shadow.

Xie Lian was not insane, even if everyone recognized his extravagance — but he was a beloved, happy and passionate, and even if you saw his naivety and ignorance in matters of everyday life, how could you blame this individual of royal blood, which is destined to fly like a butterfly, from flower to flower, untouched no "base", "earthly" problems?

In the end, his potential for ascension only convinced you of this thought — unlike you, if Xie Lian does not make any mistakes, then he will spend his whole life without knowing sorrows and disappointments, like the most luxurious songbird.

And when he calls you again, asking you to be with him....

... He's so cute that you sometimes want to cry.

Xie Lian does not deserve misfortunes and troubles, even if sometimes his slight royal arrogance, ardor and impulsiveness cause a headache, especially when you walk behind him, closing the formation, but he always turns around at you, smiling playfully, always glad that you are here, as if he believes that you can go somewhere. You believe that it is only the 'springtime' and the crown prince wants only the best, worrying and asking about you, gently taking your hands in his jade-soft, and eyes shining like precious stones, gently saying that you can always turn to him, and you dare not answer anything but consent and a gentle bow, because even then he won't let go of your hands.

It is obvious to everyone that Xie Lian, His Royal Highness the Crown Prince of Xianle, adores you, and this does not bring you anything good, especially when stories about the "eccentric, but adoring prince and his faithful, cold lover" are spreading more and more often among the people every year, but Xie Lian only dismisses them, assuring you that there's nothing to worry about — 'ordinary people need fairy tales, and these stories sound decent', although you are sure that he understands what 'prince' and 'lover' they are talking about — and you can't go against him, seeing that he is adamant in things in which you don't want to see inflexibility.

Xie Lian was never 'persistently strong-willed' — he sought to bring good, and there was a core in him, but, unlike you, his leading others behind him never carried such a strong aspiration. He was closer to the 'follower' and following in the footsteps, believing that you would lead him to where he needed to be, obeying your decisions and words, — and you also always found it natural until the eyes of others were riveted to you and you were not obliged to obey the official understanding of your positions.

But when it was principled things, like the stories that went around among the people, or your thin ribbon tied around his ankle, he was adamant, and the softness became a diamond that it was useless to try to break or scratch. Even if his obedience to you and willingness to follow you were from childhood, you also more than knew about his stubbornness and firmness, which will not disappear even if you break him.

And no matter what, no matter what the words of others, no matter what rumors are going on, no matter what views, you obeyed him — and his capricious, desperate desire that you never go anywhere, no matter what.

... After all, you were and will be his companion, no matter if it's the His Royal Highness the Crown Prince of Xianle, Martial God, army leader, 'demon', teacher, 'traitor' or a wandering immortal living in garbage. Your place is nearby.

And so it will always be.

“Never leave me. We will always be together. Always... Say it. Please.”

The child in your arms is small, like a tiny fox cub that has fallen out of a hole, and when he lands in your hands, you can feel as if you are holding something even more fragile than porcelain and more delicate than jade, even if he looked like an ordinary street child with an awkwardly bandaged right eye.

His Royal Highness brings the procession to an end, despite the excess, while you hold the child in your arms, waiting for him to be released, feeling how the tiny creature lies silently, not even twitching, like a frozen herbivore in the arms of a predator, and you want to calm him down somehow, but you know what will do it Xie Lian, who will definitely be interested in learning about this child and why he was in such a situation and why you were so lucky to be around, especially considering that it was you who asked to change your position to be at the wall.

You have nothing to answer to such accusations, however.

It's just... 'instincts'.

You can't find an answer to his accusations or his questions, no matter how hard you try. It was as if you just knew it was going to happen and acted on that knowledge, even if you couldn't find any logical or rational explanation. After all, you saved the festival in some sense, so it's not that your actions are a problem, right?

(Xie Lian looks incredulously, flashing eyes like the radiance of a thousand lightning bolts, but can't find any words that could prove that you are deceiving him or hiding something.)

The child looks like a 'mongrel', which are often found if you move closer to the south, but for some reason you can't help but feel emotion and regret, looking at his childishly round, but dirty face. However, you cannot go against the words of Xie Lian, who found out everything that was needed — just like about his request to hand over the dirty, fragile lump to Feng Xin while you go with him, since the most interesting thing is yet to come, as if you are not his bodyguard or helper, but some kind of companion (as if the current rumors about the closeness between you and the Crown Prince are not enough).

(However, you can't help but secretly give this child your little accessory, which should not attract a lot of attention to him, but will also give him some money so that he can afford food and water for a long time with a small consumption.)

(You don't know why the fact that the Crown Prince has all the earrings in place gives you a strange feeling, especially when Xie Lian looks at you with a strange bewilderment mixed with hope.)

(And the fact that he gives you one earring in the evening as a sign of 'friendship' while wearing the second one does not help too much.)

(Of course you're not so silly to wear it properly.)

... You don't know what you feel when you see this small, dirty child again and again — or when you gently comb his hair, washing, as if trying to express everything that you feel but can't show, feeling how you are moving away from His Royal Highness, although it should be the opposite.

Perhaps you are simply not... cut out for your job — especially when you braid the child's hair the same way you did it for Xie Lian once.

Undoubtedly, you are still as loyal to Xie Lian as your Crown Prince and childhood friend, but perhaps, perhaps, you have already... outgrown these sympathies — especially after you have remained on earth, preferring to move according to the circle of reincarnation, if you cannot reach Heaven on your own without being his 'helper'.

You deserve to be something more.

Hong'er, sweet precious child, convinces you for a moment that it is dangerous for you to be with him, but you do not hesitate to brush it off — after your childhood with Xie Lian, you are sure that nothing can kill you anymore. You yourself doubt how you managed to survive.

Hong'er looks on with a mixture of interest and amazement while you comb his hair, feeling the experience of the 'wrong time' receding. As if you really do not belong to this era or the world.

Using a child as an anchor is wrong, but it's the only way you know.

You also know that Mu Qing would definitely judge you silently, looking at you with his face of a chaste, irritated maiden, as if you are not just doing your own thing, but harassing him simply by the fact that you can't stop, — you don't know what exactly to 'stop' — and that Feng Xing doesn't approve too much of your, it makes no sense to take a principled position, even if he tries to understand, but you don't mind.

Spending time with Hong'er, who is shy from such attention but does not mind at all, it's like talking to a little kitten or a fox cub — and he does not mind this unexpected closeness, especially while the kingdom is beginning to change, and not at all for the better.

You are still living in a bubble, finally feeling comfortable and safe, spending everything you can on a cute child who still naively believes that he can ruin your life, but still clings to you, looking with a huge eye. When you first remove the bondage from him, exposing a blood-red eye, more like the same bloody wounds that you received while you were training to be worthy, you can't help but tell him that he is the most worthy and beautiful, even if you are sure that your words are not enough — people are like dogs, and that you praise a wild puppy for the thing for which he was constantly scolded, will not do any good.

For the first time in your life, you are glad that you are wrong when he cries in your arms, trembling like an autumn leaf, and spring moisture fills his eyes.

Your good boy. Your most beautiful boy.

If you could, you would stay in this 'reality forever, ignoring everything that happens...

... Of course, you can't stay away.

Of course you can't stop him when Hong'er follows, joining the army, and you know that if it wasn't for your duty and your devotion, you would have stayed with your Hong'er, who will forever remain for you a tiny fox cub that fell into your hands, as if marking your new life, bursting into your life like storm and letting you know that everything will change. In the end, as soon as it seemed to you that you had a family, they take it away from you again — and when it's not your blood dripping from your sword yet, you don't understand what you feel inside.

What will happen when the war ends? What happens if your army loses? What will happen to Xie Lian if he brings not victory, but defeat?

You have never liked comparisons with a faithful dog, but you know that you will follow him to heaven and hell, no matter what. For you, he will always be your Xian, full of innocence and naivety, who wants to do what he considers right and bring happiness and well-being, 'so that no one leaves offended', and now, looking at how you win or lose, you do not feel anything, although you would have felt pride or annoyance before.

You may have outgrown that, too.

Perhaps you have outgrown too much.

... You follow your duty even when your heart demands that you find Hong'er — but you know that it is useless and hopeless, you don't even know if he is alive after that incident and where he is now, and your helplessness poisons you when you see what the person you promised to protect at the cost of your life.

Perhaps Hong'er was wrong — perhaps you were the one whose destiny it was to destroy your loved ones, not him.

In the end, the King and Queen feel no better, and although you don't understand whether you are angry or feel despair, at the same time realizing that Xie Lian would have gone down anyway, he couldn't help but do it, even if it would lead to his fall, but at the same time feeling angry that everything had to to happen exactly when you finally found a person whom you could call a 'family', with whom you were not because of duty, but because of the desire of your heart, who found an equally lonely and abandoned child, to whom you were ready to give yourself just to keep warm.

And when you see how the one whom you considered your infallible idol and perfection, despite all his actions, sinks to the very bottom, looking for a way to continue to exist even when your kingdom, your home is no more, and instead you live in a completely different world, seeing how people throw off statues of Your God, refusing from faith, — you gently hold his hand, remembering for a moment that Hong'er's palm was colder and smaller, but just as fragile.

And there's nothing you can do.

Nothing.

Even when the spiral of madness pulls him even more, while the young man hiding behind the mask for some reason seems too familiar to you, impermissibly familiar (Hong'er?), but you can't pay attention to it, even if the thought that he is now dead, never returning home, not returning to your little pretty home, squeezes your heart even harder, as if threatening to break it.

You have lost everyone you can, and when Your God is looking for something in your eyes, you don't know whether he finds it or not.

You have followed your duty, and you will follow him to the end until your life ends, no matter whether your heart, your mind or something else dictates it to you. Xie Lian has always been the most precious thing in your life, and the fact that your attempt to start living with someone other than him was only shattered only confirms this.

Perhaps you were never destined to be with anyone but him — perhaps you were destined not to be with anyone at all when your Crown Prince squeezes you in his arms, looking for something that can be his anchor, and you try to be him for him, to be his support and pillar, until then until your heart stops and you disappear from the circle of reincarnation.

No matter where, you will follow him — save the way back if he realizes that he has gone the wrong way, and follow him into the thick of it if he says that this is the right way.

The darkest place is under the lantern, but sometimes 'being a lantern', hiding it and protecting it from the world that was not ready for it, becomes your task. And the fact that you have to protect this 'lantern' to keep it in undisturbed safety is your duty. After all, Hong'er, your sweet sweet Hong'er, will definitely meet in the future, in his next reincarnations. Definitely.

You will not call yourself a zealous fatalist, but you know that such meetings are not accidental — you just need to wait.

Wait and think. About many things. And about your precious.

... Your Hong'er's hands are small, narrow and a little rough, but when you took them in your palms in the past, they seemed the most gentle and affectionate, even if he looked up like a little fox cub or a puppy that you managed to tame by giving only 'home' and 'affection'.

Xie Lian's hands are warm, smooth and soft, but when he caresses your face or hair, you cannot restrain a gentle loving smile.

To realize that after all the forks, all the choices, all the paths, all the decisions, you are here — repairing your cozy house, you can't even believe how much you've been through.

And you know that everything is just beginning.

For the three of you.

𔓘 Despite the fact that you have known one since childhood, while you have partially raised the other (even if you never managed to become a 'real family'), you still learn from each other various little things and behavioral patterns, as if looking for something in the dark while standing in the light. They are not radically different, but they are not at all similar — even if they have much more similar qualities than differences inside, especially when it comes to the attitude towards you, the fanaticism and obsessiveness of which they do not 'divide', but multiply.

There is more mutual understanding between HUA CHENG and XIE LIAN, — an unpleasant thing, of course, as if they have a multi-year history with each other, and not 'they communicate less than the fifth time in their lives, but for some reason they understand each other on the fly, especially when it comes to you', — but you are not sure on what it is built, taking into account that they both have an extremely anxious type of attachment that requires you to look and want only them, which makes their clinginess even stronger and sharper, surrounding you from all sides.

Perhaps this is for the best — given your "fatal attraction" quality, it would be problematic to attract someone else, but when you can't dismiss any of them, since he will receive the support of the second, then you begin to doubt how closed a relationship was a good choice, even if you see that two of them more than comfortable, despite the need to share your attention and affection. Perhaps this is because they are surprisingly compatible by themselves, despite the moments when their needs and views simply do not converge on some things in which each of them does not want to give in, — and you do not know whether it is 'stubbornness' or some kind of internal growing problem that in the end she has shown itself in this way, — which is why you are forced to intervene and be a peacemaker if you do not want the relationship to become complicated. XIE LIAN can be unnaturally stubborn, HUA CHENG can be hot-tempered in flashes, and their general acute sensitivity, when a vulnerable spot is touched, leads to rare and quickly disappearing conflicts, which, however, still leave tension and the ground for a new conflict.

This is especially true of the dynamics of the relationship with you and the search for satisfying passion, the absence of which leads to the problem of jealousy, which neither of them raises explicitly, and therefore you can easily skip it until it's too late. And you don't know which is worse — when they are jealous of each other (which is very rare) or when they are both jealous of you for others (much more often) and unite to return you to the 'home nest', considering the possibility of your exit as unnecessary. And despite your usual dominance in a relationship with comfortable subordination of both, when they unite, not just 'cooperate', there is little you can do — whoever you are, fighting with the strongest Martial God and one of the Four Great Calamities is a lost cause in which it is easier to just agree.

In a relationship with them in general, you get a huge amount of experience in the form of 'it's easier to just agree', because this is actually the easiest way to deal with them when there are too many of them, and their obsessive tendencies from 'cute and soft' becomes 'sharper and darker'.

𔓘 They are very affectionate and sticky — to an unhealthy degree, where it seems that if they leave you for more than a few seconds, they will immediately die without taking a couple of steps. With HUA CHENG'S absolute, unconditional loyalty, which cannot even be questioned unless you want to attract very extreme consequences when he will feel that you are questioning his love and devotion, since from the very beginning he feels 'unworthy' of you, and XIE LIAN'S obsessive addiction, which over the years has become even closer and stronger to rely on looking at you as the center of his life, entrusting the need to make decisions and point to you, you find yourself in turbulence between balancing between their desire to constantly be around and your personal freedom, even if your own traumatic experience has made you much less independent and prone to finding time 'for yourself', — you had more than enough of it, — but the usual desire to sometimes think about life and what happened has not disappeared.

XIE LIAN likes to just lie next to you, sometimes falling asleep slightly, enjoying your warmth and hugs, and in general has a more modestly tenacious and shy nature at the same time, where it is enough for him to just cling and snuggle up to you to be happy, although you know that whenever you look down, you will see the brilliance of his adoring the eye, although it did not even show signs of any movement.

HUA CHENG is different — you will never feel that he is 'not there'; even if you are lying peacefully, he almost always tends to move and fidget, constantly pressing you closer to him, unless you tell him that you want to lie down quietly. But when his hands tremble slightly while you hug him or let him hug you, it seems even nice to you with how touching he tries to be respectful — especially when he tries to captivate you with what he is good at, like creating your sculptures or creating paintings with you, as if trying to immerse you in the atmosphere absolute acceptance and unconditional adoration, giving it all to you and only to you. Everything he has is for you and only for you, and you cannot help but feel this exclusive and absolute fixation, in which there is no possibility to move away or refuse, since there is no space where you could move away.

But even in those moments when HUA CHENG straightens the sleeves of his clothes, constantly tries to look attractive and shyly takes a step back or forward, trying to adjust to your pace and not rush or delay, at the same time wanting to devour you and stay within the 'bounds of decency', concluding an unspoken pact that he will follow you everywhere, as long as you allow him to follow, but also allow him to penetrate into every corner of your life, as if trying to close you into the bubble of himself and always know what is with you to protect and protect, supporting at any stage — and immediately returning to the role of a flirtatious but modest admirer.

XIE LIAN is much less modest — and you yourself do not know what this is due to, given that XIE LIAN is much more quiet and calm, but his courtship is more manifested in service, and has a more almost shamelessly physical character, like strong hugs from the back, lying down together, working together, eating together, creating for you, the ideal physical environment is through the preparation of a bath or treats, bringing (usually together with HUA CHENG) gifts — as if in an attempt to make up for all the time that you were apart, XIE LIAN becomes your free supplement, even if you can't say that you're 'uncomfortable' because you don't feel uncomfortable.

There's just something about it that makes you want to carry it with you and say that if someone offends your little crown prince, you'll break that person's arm.

It's not that it's 'not mutual' — although XIE LIAN is less prone to open confrontation and aggression, preferring to solve everything in a peaceful way, his parental instinct and a very clear manifestation of hyperprotective nature, which became even more noticeable after the kind that HUA CHENG can calmly show it and you don't mind, lead to that in moments of aggression or the need to defend, he can be even more savage and ferocious than HUA CHENG, and the fact that he is the strongest of your three does not brighten up the situation too much.

You're fine anyway — although HUA CHENG'S mania for watching you to make sure you're okay goes too well with XIE LIAN'S hyperprotectiveness about you, while XIE LIAN'S silent clinginess resonates with HUA CHENG'S love-starved soul, from which their tendencies are only further strengthened and fueled by each other. to a friend, leading to the fact that they strive for even greater isolation and the creation of an "ideal home" where you will only be with them and no one else will distribute, when you are close to feeling almost discomfort from too aggressive and melting adoration — they immediately move away before you have to show that you want to stop, as if their very needs are tuned to you to perfectly match.

And although HUA CHENG is definitely the most passionate and shy, while XIE LIAN is the softest and wildest, you prefer to just call them your 'beloved husbands',

not that you have at least a chance to escape from them, however.

(Ruoye and E-ming madly adore you too, and when you realize that, you need to sit down and think about what you've done with your life.)

(It's like you've got two more, but this time smaller and more manageable puppies. Although Ruoye regularly tries to wrap itself around you, while E-ming vibrates enthusiastically at any of your manifestations, at some point you even begin to like it.)

♡ heavy petting, hypersexuality, discipline, rough sex, crying + drooling, dommale elements, free use, consensual noncon/dubcon, group sex / threesome, light bondage (xl, hc, reader), body worship (xl, hc, reader), praise kink (xl, hc, reader), loss of virginity (xl, hc), hyperstimulation (xl, hc), breeding (xl, hc), light degradation (xl, hc), lingerie (xl), orgasm denial (hc), nipple play (hc), oral sex (reader), using Ruoye as a sex toy with consent

𔓘 XIE LIAN is on the more 'shameless' side regarding his sexual desires than HUA CHENG, and moves much faster from foreplay to sex, needing emotional and intellectual stimulation rather to try to seize the initiative and in your expression of desire to immediately intercept and react — and when XIE LIAN saddles your hips for the first time with a ruddy face, hastily taking off your robe, you can't believe to the last that he is serious, constantly waiting for him to stop — but as he remains more and more bare, letting the fabric slip off his broad shoulders, you realize that no, he is absolutely serious, and more than calm, even if you can easily feel a slight tremor when you put hands on the soft thighs, warming, encouraging him not to stop, although you yourself no less excited, looking at his slender waist, strong legs and arms, easily able to even playfully press you to the bed or floor to such an extent that you will not be able to move.

It's not that your shock is not justified; after all, his path involves chastity and the absence of any sexual relations, but to think that this will somehow stop him from what he wants — you — is very naive and even a little silly. You've known since childhood that XIE LIAN was very strong-willed and persistent when he wanted to, but the last thing you thought about was that his persistence would be relative to 'I WILL fuck my spouse no matter what the cost!!!', because if your past self found out that you had caused His Royal Highness' cultivation to deteriorate, you would definitely strangle yourself.

After all, why did you suffer for so many years, following him and living in the temple — just to fuck him and these many years of work because he is a 'very hot thing' and does not mind at all that you let him ride you, drool while you drive into his sensitive body, experiencing such intense sensations for the first time, from which he cum already at the moment when you drive in, and in the end can only bury his nose in the pillow, whining while you praise him for what a good boy he is, you move your hips so good, Your Highness, while your fingers firmly hold smooth long hair, part of which sticks to his wet hot back?

XIE LIAN does not like — quite strongly — when people remember that he is a royal person, especially when you do it, since the very thought that you are with him only because of 'duty' drives him crazy in a bad way, but he does not mind at all if you do it when 'Your Highness kneels in front of with this servant', when you stroke his hair and face, gently explaining, looking into his darkened pleading eyes and at his beautiful face, wet with tears and heat, telling that this is his new duty to you — after all, he is so gorgeous, so charming, so perfect, that this is not a problem at all, right?

... And even knowing that the desire for your absolute power over his body, to the same extent as your power over his heart and mind, is his desire, you can't help but allow yourself a few almost humiliating, laudatory words about how he looks, being in such a pitiful and submissive state, having completely lost all royal dignity. You also deserve a reward for your faithful service, don't you? And the minimum he can give you is to give you all of himself, even if your desire is his body — "Your Highness, let me undress you", which quickly turns into almost-compulsion, especially at the sight of his red and confused expression, if not for the sweet trembling in his flexible you and a feverish gleam in his eyes when the 'faithful servant and childhood friend' forcibly takes his Crown Prince, who is unable to resist and fight back.

"In the end, Your Highness behaves like a lustful needy young man from an entertainment house" — when your palm shuts his mouth, not hiding a laugh when you feel him trembling, more than obviously not intending to resist, withstanding only the necessary minimum in the form of attempts to leave soft weak thighs squeezed, but easy to lift up and throw on your shoulders.

His short nails scratch you to bloody scratches; XIE LIAN squirms under you, mixing pleas for continuation and for 'mercy on him' while he watches you drive into his wet weak body, taking advantage of your advantage over him — or when you let him ride you, watching from the bottom up as he moves his wet hips with squelching sounds and moans, breathing heavily, with a bright ruddy shame and excitement on his tender cheeks, but not slowing down the rhythm, while whispers how good it feels, putting your palm on his stomach, letting you feel how much he is filled, stopping only to let you see how petite and tight his body is, as if XIE LIAN is not a Martial God, but really nothing more than a depraved young man from the spring house — only your young man, who can serve only you, as if his body itself has become addicted from this and from you.

... If XIE LIAN could, he would spend time only with you in an embrace, connecting as closely as anyone could ever with him or with you.

𔓘 HUA CHENG is more shy and needs a lot of foreplay, even if his attraction is more stable, even 'permanent' — but if you want the initiative from him, then you will have to wait until he warms up and stops walking around, hitting the bush instead of directly talking to you. HUA CHENG is much less confident in his right to your attention and love, especially the right to receive your love in such an intimate way, and willingly follows any of your desires and words, but for a long time he warms up to the idea of his own desires and the opportunity to express them, preferring to serve you, feeling much more comfortable when he worships you on his knees, dissolving, and getting only what you want to give him than daring to ask for anything.

After all, his place is next to you, even if you have always been in his access zone — but you have never been someone he could really touch, even when you lived almost as a 'family' during his childhood.

You have always been the sun, which HUA CHENG does not dare to even look at without squinting, let alone touch you without permission, and even when he became the Ghost King, having the opportunity to throw everything he has at your feet, he still did not dare to look at anything except from the bottom up — and do not hesitate to get down on his knees for this, worshipping you as a Deity even if you are not, always remaining the only one in whom he believed and asked for a blessing when he went through the most difficult periods of life, hoping that in the future he will be able to be there not just as someone who needs to be protected, but as the one who can protect you and be useful so that you never have to be left with a broken heart because of him again.

When he was dying, he had only one regret.

And now, kissing your skin, letting your hands get tangled in his hair, ideal for combing and braiding your favorite pigtails, HUA CHENG looks out from under his covered eyelashes with barely restrained servility, finding his meaning only to stay where you need and be the one you can always lean on and have who will you seek protection from.

It doesn't matter how long and painfully he will have to go and fight, if in the end he earns a place next to you, even if for this he will have to use claws and fangs, tearing out his victory and right with blood, — just like when HUA CHENG tries to lie motionless under you, breathing heavily, feeling his head spinning at the same time with delight, feeling euphoria from thoughts of unreality and excitement, trembling slightly while the body feels completely jelly, obeying any of your movement and desire, letting you easily wrap his legs around your hips, gently asking is he comfortable just to hear a soft meow as consent; breathing deeply while you hold his hand, gradually letting his body get used to you, even if it is not such a necessity for someone like him — but you can't help but be affectionate, kissing his face and whispering so that he doesn't rush things, even if he breathlessly whispers your name as a prayer while you gradually fill him with yourself — the last part of his body that is not yet full by you.

When you gently rub his chest, giving him pleasure, assuring that you feel good when he looks so defenseless and vulnerable, even if such a position is unusual and almost uncomfortable, — but you speak and he obeys without question, no matter what exactly you say and what your desire will be, even if HUA CHENG almost cries from stimulation while his eyelashes tremble and sharp strong teeth bite his own palm; feeling painfully pleasant waves while you rub his sensitive nipples with undying interest, from touching which his toes curl, — but he's still silent, letting you just see how the tears shine in his eye, threatening to slip from the corner down his face, leaving a shiny transparent path, but the thought that you made him feel this way at the same time excites you and him, not daring to bother you even when his body becomes so responsive to an obsessive caress, as if you are trying to make him become so sensitive that every movement will cause him to stifle a groan.

You don't try, however; you do — and the fact that HUA CHENG gives himself completely into your hands, letting himself lie submissively under you, accepting everything you want to give, everything you want to fill, makes his body tremble from a mixture of excitement and anxiety, from which he can only strive to give you more and also, taking everything you have with the same insatiable greed. Even if he is usually nothing more than a 'cozy nest' in which you can find what you want, he is also prone to outbursts — when you accept him for what he is, especially when you let his more aggressive side find a way out, fixing on you, almost digging sharp teeth into your flesh, growling when your nails dig into his skin, helping to move, even if he does more than well, purring hoarsely with a mixture of cooing and irritation while you take him closer to you, not letting him slip out anywhere but your strong embrace.

Isn't this happiness?

And even when he's breathing heavily, drooling, feeling like his mouth is full of you and saliva, but just not daring fight somehow, knowing that this is your desire and aspiration, even if his head is completely empty by the new round, — such a good boy while you use him again and again, enjoying completely destroyed appearance, as if you were almost able to fill an immense black hole before it managed to absorb and want more. Your hand looks perfect on his neck — but even without it, he suffocates when you push inside again and again, not letting him hide his face from you, demanding that he look into your eyes while writhing under you, trying to move away from the painfully pleasant touches to an overly sensitive body, — but it's easy for you to bend him to he couldn't move anywhere at all. HUA CHENG does not resist — never, even if his arms are wrapped around your neck while he meows and mumbles something pathetically, hiding face in your shoulder or trying to cover with hands with shame.

Because no matter what, he will accept everything.

𔓘 You can't tell if you have sex together 'often' or not — it just happens when you are together, especially considering that they get along well with each other and don't see anything 'special' in joining forces, even if it's not exactly what you expected from them, lazily lying before see the interested burning eyes, clearly already tacitly agreed on something with each other and now watching your reaction to their more than straightforward hints. Talking about whether you are better off with such a combination or worse is problematic, because although they are both exhausting, needy and demanding, when they are together, they are much freer and brighter to take the initiative, repeating after the other, mutually pushing each other and themselves forward — but this is exactly where part of the 'exhaustion' lies, especially if there have been outbursts of jealousy and anxiety about your loyalty and devotion before, which makes them completely focus on you, demanding more and more, and their mutual support turns into an obsessive desire from 'satisfy you as best as possible' to 'mark you as much as possible brighter' so that no one dares to claim you.

If XIE LIAN decided to surprise with some 'beautiful lingerie', hearing the advice that it brings a spark in bed — even if you see him blushing and looking away, — then you can expect HUA CHENG to support the initiative, although he is more likely to take a female form (especially if you have a thing for certain female behaviors and appearance) and will abuse it to let you know how much smaller and lower he is than you, shamelessly flirting and emphasizing it. XIE LIAN can take a female form if he sees that HUA CHENG was successful in this and your reaction was positive, even if it is unusual and very exciting for him to look like this in front of you, letting you touch his body in this guise — and while HUA CHENG coos in a sultry voice, saddling your hips, XIE LIAN shyly hides your face in a lush soft breasts, almost trembling with blush, much less confident (but no less excited) than HUA CHENG.

And yes, they both melt when you tell them how great they are — and if HUA CHENG is always sensitive to praise, although he especially reacts to him in his 'real' appearance, especially when you and XIE LIAN accidentally "catch" him at the moment of sex and start talking about how good he looks or how sensitive he is and gorgeous, such a cutie, completely leaving him dumbfounded and red in an attempt to cover up only to have XIE LIAN catch his hands and not allow it, being much stronger and indulging you even when it comes to driving his 'ally' crazy. It's not that HUA CHENG easily turned a blind eye to it afterwards, but XIE LIAN has always been easy to make blush from any proximity, so you prefer to think that HUA CHENG does not intentionally put him in situations where XIE LIAN does not know whether he should snuggle or hide, remaining frozen in place while HUA CHENG watches with pleasure how XIE LIAN twitches in hands like a butterfly in a spider's web.

Perhaps, with the same pleasure, you are only watching when Ruoye (who does not need much persuasion to agree to any of your adventures, especially if you rub it and call it a 'good little thing') wraps around XIE LIAN'S hands when he least expects it, giving you full access to his body, whining when you ask Ruoye to also wrap around his legs and raise them — or when Ruoye tightly wraps around HUA CHENG'S mouth, not letting him make a sound until you let, whining weakly even when your hand rubs his cock or clit red from excessive stimulation again and again, encouraging the two of them to 'calm down' and 'stop lashing out at you', arranging an almost-punishment, giving them not only a sense of 'what an obedient pretty thing Ruoye is', but also keeping them next to each other as an example of what you will do to the other if he does not obey. When HUA CHENG whines from rubbing and caressing for too long, trembling, unable to even move or beg, while you pump him up again and again, purring that he deserves it, being such a restless and naughty boy, while XIE LIAN drools, not hiding tears, whining when you leave sticky slippery traces of another orgasm on his hot inner thigh, — it will definitely help His Highness get rid of excess energy, — and use it as a lube for HUA CHENG.

After all, you don't have many ways to stand up to the two of them at the same time, and even if you can somehow be stronger than HUA CHENG, but being stronger than XIE LIAN is impossible and practically was not possible even when he was human — but when it comes to cunning, then you are quite good at that in order to at least control your husbands in this way, who easily become completely uncontrollable and wild, like a flower garden that will instantly overgrow with weeds if you do not pay attention every day.

(However, Ruoye does not mind at all and wrapping his arms around you, rather even gladly using any opportunity to be close, clearly preferring to touch your thighs more, changing the compression force and reluctantly getting away while red XIE LIAN tries to force him to let you go (with almost the same blush with which HUA CHENG irritably looks at E-ming who vibrates at the sight of you), but also readily agrees with the ideas to wrap around your body when XIE LIAN or HUA CHENG suggest it, restraining them, giving them the initiative, even if Ruoye shamelessly reacts to your command to untie you and easily indulges, which, among other things, leads to situations when you knock them down while they are not expecting it and seize control. No, Ruoye is not ashamed.)

[undiscovered-horizon]

"Embroidery" - Kaz Brekker x Reader

SUMMARY: Gloves are important to Kaz - it's the only way he can relatively safely interact with the outside world. They are also slightly more privileged than you as they can accompany him anytime and anywhere. To aid this inequality, you stitch a white primrose onto one of his gloves: Someone waits for you to come back.

WORDCOUNT: ~ 1.2k

>>Grishaverse-inspired playlist<<

☽ REQUESTS ARE OPEN ☾

There was something wicked in your patient anticipation for this moment like a predator that seems to have all the time in the world while waiting for the prey to breathe its final breath. But contrary to a pouncing lion, you had to remain inconspicuous until your plan has been brought to life. That shouldn’t come as a surprise - Kaz Brekker is a lot more wary than a dying gazelle. 

You’re used to Kaz being somewhat restless and uneasy but today he’s jumpy. Usually, when he comes to visit you at your home, he allows you to come incredibly close to him and he doesn’t shy away from touching you. This time, however, something’s wrong. Unintentionally, he’s holding one of his hands away from his body - the same way one does upon cutting their finger. Hanging his coat and hat, he’s using mostly only one of his hands as though he did hurt himself earlier that day. Then, when you reach out to help him, Kaz suddenly flinches away from you.

With eyebrows knitted close together, you’re watching his bizarre act. Over the time you’ve known him, he’s come to you bloodied and beaten but never… averse. That’s when you notice the tiniest detail that, truthfully, you’ve been waiting to appear but maybe without this whole strange change in his demeanour: his left glove is pierced through, revealing pasty skin underneath.

“There's a hole in your glove,” you state. You’ve imagined this very scene so many times, you simply have to play your part perfectly in spite of the excitement bubbling in your chest.

Kaz gives you a quick glance but it's enough for you to notice the nervousness and uneasiness in his eyes. He’s clearly on edge, barely clinging to sanity. “I’m aware,” he answers in a shaky voice.

“Let me fix it for you.”

“I can do this myself, thank you.”

“Come on, I can tell you’ve been through a lot already. When was the last time you ate? Or slept?”

Kaz clenches his jaw. Reluctantly, he takes off his left glove and hands it to you. In a vain effort to appear a lot more laid-back than he truly is, he puts his bare palm into the pocket of his pants.

“It’ll be over before you know it.”

You disappear around the corner, leaving him to his own devices. Without anything better to do, too restless and shaken up, Kaz just sits down on the edge of the sofa. He rests his elbows on his knees and places his chin atop his fists, staring into the corridor you have just disappeared in.

After a moment, his eyes begin to wander around the living room. What caught his eye the first time he came here is the amount of knick-knacks gathering dust. Windowsill, table, mantlepiece, windowed cupboards - items he’s never seen moved or used. For the longest time he couldn’t understand why you’d leave this clutter around but the better he’s got to know you, the more he understood. All of those useless things are like postcards sent by the people you care about: ‘Life goes on and maybe we don’t talk as much as we used to but I’m thinking about you’. There was a time when Kaz felt envious of the knick-knacks as their immovable character is to your life like a scar is to skin. But then he realized his position is much better. He’s here, after all. His presence in your life can not be limited to a porcelain doll or a cross-stitch of the port in Os Kervo. Kaz is not a scar but more a knife that’s still slicing open a wound. Maybe he’s even more than that - maybe he’s a blade piercing and penetrating your body. And the only way to live is to leave the knife in to stop the bleeding, despite the pain it brings.

Thinking about knives and porcelain dolls, he doesn’t notice you come back at first. Only when you speak up does he shake away from his slightly macabre thoughts:

“I fixed your glove.”

In a strangely panicked manner, Kaz almost snatches back his garment. He’s quickly putting in on and when he turns his wrist to examine your sewing, his breath hitches in his throat.

He recognizes the flower almost immediately. The white and yellow petals make him remember a painting he’s seen somewhere, although Kaz can’t be sure where exactly but that doesn’t matter. What he is certain of, however, is the scenery presented on the canvas: an army marching out of Os Alta. Women run after men in uniforms, shoving white primroses in their hands. Silently, they beg the Saints, generals and kings to let their husbands, fathers and sons return home safely. Maybe a frail flower is nowhere near enough to protect a soldier from a Fjerdan or a Shu Han highlander but it’s the only thing they can do for the men they love so desperately.

“A little silly, I know,” you interrupt the tense silence. “I just wanted you to have something to remind you of me.”

What a stupid thought, that he could ever forget you.

Kaz clears his throat. “Thank you,” he answers slightly awkwardly. He wants to say something meaningful to you, make it known that not only does he understand your thoughtful gesture but he also shares the sentiment: ‘As long as you’ll have me, I’ll always come back. Even if I have to cross the world tenfold or fight death itself,’  he wishes to say, ‘The days I spent without you are mere existence, not living.’ Nonetheless, Kaz can’t force words of vulnerability past his lips.

For a moment he thinks a shadow of disappointment dances across your beautiful face. It pains him, even if untrue. If only he could make his doting known…

“Anytime,” you say casually with a slight shrug of shoulders.

Time seems to slow down significantly as he’s watching you smile softly at him and promptly leave the room, heading to the kitchen to make tea. If he could, he’d spend entire days just watching you calmly go about your life. Sometimes, when he’s staring at you doing mundane things, he swears he can almost figure out why he’s so drawn towards you as though his downfall began with the way you hold the bread knife or carefully stir your coffee. One day he’ll know how come you’ve tied and bonded his very soul to you, he’s sure of it. 

He looks down at the glove again. The small, white flower makes his chest sting. Maybe there is, after all, a way for him to show you his devotion without using words.

If Kaz Brekker was a better man, he’d think of the white primrose as a reminder to be careful and wary, to choose his battles wisely. Alas, he’s nothing short of a crook and the flower begs him to be callous and merciless, to become feral and willing to do absolutely anything to find his way back to you; like raging seas that relentlessly wash tall cliffs until the soil gives in and landslide falls into the deep, dark abyss. 

He can’t be a lighthouse so he settles for a wildfire.

[canyouhearthelight]

Not the Chosen One, Ch.2: "Waffles and Wards"

OH, did y'all think that I would actually write a slice of life fic without a nosy/overprotective sibling?

Is there a sibling they never mention? Possibly, but this is reality... I never talk about the sibling I don't talk to. But you know who I don't shut up about? My sisters. Which means Stef has an awesome sister.

Hey, I said this was fluff. And in the real world, these sibling bonds exist. Can attest, do have one.

Thanks go to @baelpenrose and @writing-with-olive for your glee and feedback throughout this.

I was pouring a cup of coffee when my property told me a welcome guest had arrived.  Without looking, I grabbed a second cup and pulled a box of frozen waffles from the freezer.  Trey was still asleep in the hammock, but I started toasting breakfast two at a time just in case. My guest strolled in the front door just as I was taping a note to the back door to warn the kid that there was another adult in the house, albeit a trusted one.

“One of these days, you’ve got to learn to check your messages when you wake up,” Benji grumbled as she dug in my fridge for creamer. “Or better yet, actually answer them when you get them.”

“It was late, I was tired, and I knew you would be over here this morning anyway,” I pointed out, sliding over butter and a bowl of syrup. “But yeah, a stray wandered in last night, he needs somewhere to stay, so he’s in the backyard, asleep right now.”

“You keep saying ‘he’, so I’m guessing this is at least a mammal?” Tearing a chunk off the buttered waffle, she dipped it in the syrup and popped in her mouth with a hopeful glance.

I sighed and brought my coffee up to my mouth before muttering. “He’s a kid.”

Benji stopped mid chew and stared at me in disbelief. “Like, a human kid, not a goat kid, kid?”

“Yeah, unfortunately.”

“Runaway?”

“Castaway.  Parents kicked him out.”

“Bastards,” she swore into her own coffee. “Could he be lying?”

“Bluebells and primrose say no.  He was sitting right next to them and they didn’t even budge.”

“And he obviously got on the property without issue,” she tapped her chin before her eyes suddenly darted to the back door. “Guest.”

A very hesitant knock could barely be heard, even though we had stopped talking. “It’s okay, Trey, you can come in.” I composed my face into a pleasant expression as the door creaked open and an absolutely insane ball of black bed-head poked through.  “Hey, bud. This is my sister, Benji.  Benji, this is Trey.  He stayed over last night and might be around for a while.”

Benji held out a hand to shake while I popped more waffles in the toaster. “Peanut butter okay for the waffles? I’m out of margarine, only other thing is dairy butter until I hit the store after breakfast.”

“You don’t have to - “

I pointed a fork at him sternly. “Rancid. Bacon. Trey. You were going to eat rancid bacon if I hadn’t woken up.” Pretending to ignore the barest hint of a smile that Trey was trying to hide, I snatched the waffles out as they popped up and put them on a plate. “Do you do coffee?”

“Black please,” he managed to force out, glancing nervously at my sister.

She just smiled and shoved a chunk of waffle in her mouth. “There’s more syrup for the waffles, if you want.  And honey, probably several kinds.  Stef keeps a lot of it.”

Great, now the poor kid was glancing between us and looked like his head was going to explode.

“Benji practically lives here,” I assured him. “She has her own place across town, but since they don’t allow pets and she can’t have a garden, she hangs around here pretty often.  Probably where the soup came from.”

Curious, she walked over and looked down in the recycling bin. “Nope, that’s not from me.  I don’t even like that brand.”

“Me either!” I threw my hands up in frustration. “No clue where it came from, then, but at least it was there.  I forgot how much growing boys eat.”

As she glanced down again, I could see a muscle tighten in Benji’s jaw.  We were making light of it, but I knew she was as furious at Trey’s family as I was.  She stuck another waffle in the toaster before sitting back down. “So, Trey. You look very confused and terrified, so let me just get this out of the way: whatever questions you have, you can ask. No one on this property, much less in this house, is going to hurt you. Ever. It’s warded specifically against harm to others or yourself.”

“To myself?”

“Well, deliberate harm to yourself,” I admitted.  Pulling up a sleeve, I shoved my forearm towards him. “I was in a pretty bad spot at one point.  When Benji here found out, she practically burned that caveat into the property line and my bedroom walls.”  I shook myself and put on a smile. “But! That means you are free to ask any questions you want, worst case scenario is we decline to answer.”

“This has to be a dream,” Trey mumbled. “Kids aren’t supposed to ask adults questions.”

My sister and I both whistled at that one. “And who told you that? Names would be great, just so I can…. Avoid them?” Benji suggested, not even remotely selling the lie.

He blinked hard before glancing at me. “Answering that sounds like a bad idea…”

“Eyeah, don’t recommend telling her that if you ever hope to reconcile with your family.  It’s wild what weapons grade magical shields can do in even innocent situations.”

He nodded, squinting suspiciously at my sister. “I think I like you.”

She smiled brightly. “Thanks! I think I like me, too. Wait, there were blueberries?”

I did a double take. “Not in the house… Trey, before you eat any of those, where did you find them? You aren’t in trouble, I just want to make sure they are safe to eat.” I’d warned him after his shower the night before that some of the plants on the property were poisonous, but there was not telling how much of that he remembered half asleep and hungry.

He paused, waffle and berries halfway to his mouth. “There was a bush near the fence.  A couple of the branches go over to the other side, so I figured they were safe to eat or you wouldn’t let it do that.”

Collapsing in a chair, I dropped my head on the table and gave a thumbs up. “Hokay. Awesome.  I still have poisonous plants in the greenhouse, and I was scared you got them from there.  The ones by the fence are totally safe.”

A screeching chair and some frantic shuffling later, my back door slammed open.  I looked up, and the poor kid’s face was wide-eyed and confused again.

“Fresh berries, what can I say?” I shrugged apologetically.

“She is… not what I expected when you said your sister was a shield maiden.”

“Witches are just people with special talents.  Benji is a people, and people have interests and lives and whatnot.  And usually people care about children and want them to be safe and sound.”

“Can I ask - “

“Yep. Always.”

He giggled at that. “If she is mainly here, why doesn’t she live here?”

“Oooo, that is a good question,” I approved. “But that’s one you’ll have to ask her.  I know the answer, but it’s her business if she wants you to know yet.  Just like I haven’t told her why you got kicked out, since that’s your choice if you want her to know.”

He chewed on a waffle while he thought over that bit of information.  It didn’t seem like he’d been allowed to make very many choices in his life, since he seemed to be very deep in thought about the possibility of privacy.  Silence descended until Benji came back with a basket filled to bursting with blueberries.

“Whoa, something heavy just happened,” she said, stopping dead in her tracks in the door.

“It’s rude for us to talk with our mouths full, that’s all,” I responded, winking at Trey reassuringly before changing the topic. “Did you just strip the whole bush? Geez.”

“I wish,” she scoffed. “I don’t know what you did differently this year, but there’s at least this many more still ripening.”

“You didn’t have a basket when you left…” Trey observed, still adapting to the whole weird situation that was my life.

She set it in the sink and snapped her fingers. “Stef keeps the clean ones in a stack in the shed, next to the empty pots.”  Without a second thought, she started washing the spoils of her work.

Every time she grabbed something from a drawer or cabinet with absolute certainty, Trey glanced at me. I nodded my head and then tipped it towards her. It’s okay, ask.

“You really do practically live here, don’t you?” Trey asked in a wavering voice.

“You have no idea,” she responded, dropping her head back dramatically. “I would have moved in a long time ago if I thought it was safe. But my work is pretty dangerous and I tend to piss off really bad people, so…” She waved one hand around in a nonchalant circle.  “It didn’t seem fair.  Instead, I live in a very high security apartment.”

“Your work is dangerous?”

“Stef wasn’t joking about the weapons-grade shields.  Not a lot of people can do them, and the stronger they are, the less we tend to be able to do outside of wards and shielding.  I get pretty steady work contracting for various governments and labs.  I’ve even worked in a few wars, shielding civilians from crossfire.”

“Whoa,” Trey gaped. “You can stop bullets!?”

“And bombs,” she nodded, turning around while drying her hands. ��If I know in advance, at least. They take a while to set in place, and I don’t know if you knew this…” Benji lowered her voice and whispered conspiratorially. “Bullets are fast.”

“This is so cool…”

Benji shook a finger before pointing at me. “She’s more versatile. Shields and wards have to be constantly renewed, and the more complex they are the more often they need to be worked on.  After all, you are blocking something from doing what it wants to do.  Stef is the opposite: she encourages plants to do what they want to do anyway. Grow, nourish - or poison, heal, what have you. Which is whyyyy….”  She strode over to my pantry and grabbed a box. “She makes me tea!”

“I make it because I love you, dork.”

“That, too. But your teas are just more relaxing!”

“Lavender and chamomile do like to relax people,” I admitted. “There’s a jar of honey in there, too.  Immune support since I know you’re traveling soon.  Don’t worry, it isn’t the topical one this time.”

“To be fair, that stuff works great, it just tastes awful.”

Trey was blinking hard with thought again, processing everything.

I let him off the hook from having to respond. “Come on, kiddo. Let’s get these blueberries in pints so I can take them to the farmer’s market and trade for some groceries.” I pointed to the pantry, which Benji still held open. A couple of pretty ugly potatoes were on display, along with a very forlorn jar with all of ten pieces of pasta in it. “As you can see, I wasn’t kidding last night about needing to get food.  I grow a lot of it, but slaughtering animals is right out.”

He looked a little sad at the thought of all the blueberries going away. “We get to keep some of them, right?”

There it was.  That little ‘we’ made my heart bloom with hope that he would be okay in the end.

“I’ll even make you a pie.  After I buy ingredients for it.”

[ughigottaheadache]

Okay, expanding time on this

Caccia Mellark. Everlark’s son is often called Rye or smth bread themed in next gen works but it just felt so generic to me when compared to the clear hard work Suzanne put into how she named characters, so I went looking for words. To start I went through the wiki of every bread known in history, and felt myself being tugged towards to bread Focaccia.

It’s a simple bread with not a lot of steps and it’s very clearly Italian, and with so many names in Panem being Latin or Roman, I thought something of this vein was fitting, but I didn’t want to name him straight up Focaccia, so just to give a placeholder I shortened it to Caccia. Then I grew curious, surely Caccia is an actual word, let me look up what it means.

Guys. Caccia is Italian for hunting.

Not only is he the son of the boy with the bread, he’s the son of the girl who hunted in the forest. It’s too perfect and all of this originally happened in the span of like twenty minutes.

As their kids are born well after the Capitol government has collapsed, it also makes thematic sense for the names to graduate from Latin, to old Roman, to Italian, yes? The progression of time reflected in the progression of names.

Now. Robin Mellark.

Admittedly, she took a long time to name. I’d already so quickly landed on Caccia and it was so perfect so quickly I knew it’d be difficult to give their daughter an equally good name that mixes aspects of her parents.

Now, at first I wanted to make her after a plant, like Katniss and Primrose, I was never going to name her Primrose bc Katniss never felt like that kind of person. So, at first I thought Rhubarb themed names, even it’s Latin root of Rhuem, but it didn’t click for me like Caccia did.

So, I went a different way. Her mother is a mockingjay, her father is a lark, why not make her a bird, but not just any bird, something untouched by Capitol experiments, something small and sweet like Primrose. A Robin.

A Robin is small, but it doesn’t bear roots, she can fly off into true freedom, she’s not her mothers little duck, that will always be her aunt. And there is symbolism in a Robin.

Good luck, happiness, rebirth.

Some old folks take that when a Robin comes around, it’s a sign from a lost loved one.

Caccia I see as looking like the spitting image of his mother, but Robin I see as her father and her aunt.

And that concludes my personal thoughts on the names of the Everlark kids, thank you for coming to my TedTalk.

[gowerhardcastle]

The Tally Ho Post Mortem Analysis is Complete!

I've just finished writing an exhaustive, ten-part lookback on the writing of Tally Ho, in which I muse on the fine details of the game's structure, how the characters were introduced, and how the branching works--as well as some discussion of my very favorite bits of the game.

I think it will be of interest not only for people who have read Tally Ho, but also for those who are interested in how a long piece of interactive fiction gets put together.

Here's a teaser from the start of my discussion of Chapter One:

-------------------

Tally Ho Chapter One Post Mortem:

I didn't know what I was doing when I wrote Chapter One of Tally Ho.

I was working under the assumption that each chapter needs to have a specific, bite-size thesis of a goal.  In this chapter—meeting Rory and Aunt Primrose.  Period.  I didn’t have any, and I mean, any, thought of serious branching.

This chapter is the simplest chapter, structurally.   I had written Midsummer before this, but Midsummer is pretty linear until chapter six, and even then, it's still pretty linear.  Tally Ho doesn't really start to branch out until chapter two.  In Chapter one, I was still thinking about my chapter design in terms of overcoming challenges.

Aside from the stat building, it is built around three big challenges.  It's hard to build a character who can succeed at all three challenges the first time around.  The challenges are Rory reading the book, making the meal, and Rory getting the debt taken care of.  The first two challenges, though, are important in that they modify the chances of Aunt Primrose paying the debt.  

Lots of little things feed into those three challenges (Rory's appearance, your attitude towards the two of them) but the endpoint of the chapter will always hit either a full success (debt paid); partial success (partly paid); or failure (not paid) which matter to the player in terms of Rory's mood, the amount of money you start ch.2 with, and which class train car you are allowed to pick.

So in a standard branch and bottleneck, you might look at the challenges as just funnels that take you to one of the above results, and then channels you into the start of ch.2, and only the stats are different and a bit of flavor text....

-------------------

If you'd like to read more, all ten parts are available to patrons here. In principle, you could purchase all ten parts here, but for a pittance more, you get access to almost all of the writing on the site.

General writing tips for interactive fiction from earlier this month is available here for the low, low cost of becoming a free member.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Hidden Treasure 1

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as dubcon/noncon, obsession, and other possible triggers. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: your quiet life is interrupted by a tempestuous man. (reader is Blair from Follow You Anywhere)

Characters: Thor

Note: I just did it, okay?

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me <3

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Asking for more or putting ‘part 2?’ is not feedback.

Love you all. You are appreciated and your are worthy. Treat yourself with care. 💖

You lay out the hand-sewn coin purses along the left side of the table, completing the array of your hand-made and repurposed goods. It’s a good day to sell, sunny but not too hot, the early days of spring when people are eager to get out. At least it should be. Despite your selection, you’re not the most personable vendor along the square. 

The last detail is the hand-painted wood sign. You did it yourself; an antique frame you added a gold hue to and filled with a thin sheet of board. It isn’t much but it tells people what they’re looking at; handmade and renewed goods. 

You fold your hands and hover behind your table. You’re a one-person operation. It’s your own table, your own money, your own everything. It brings in enough for you to live. Just you and your cluttered apartment. 

The coin purses and the sleepers you sew by hand are the more popular sellers. Anything for children goes first, you notice. Everyone seems to be having them. The older crowd radiate towards the old candlesticks you polished to a shine or the glass-shaded lamps you tediously re-wired. Most try to haggle but your prices are fair enough. 

You peer around at the produce stands, the soap and candle makers, and the crocheted stuffies of your fellow sellers. You do a bit of window shopping but never follow through on your wandering eyes. You don’t need to waste the money on the pretty new things, you have lots of lovely old things. 

The traffic picks up and you busy yourself with the browsers. A woman with a stroller buys several of the infant dresses and headband, a group of older ladies peruse the aged hardcovers and pick out a few, while a couple comments on the brass-based lamp with the dangling chain. You do your best to smile through the transactions. 

The rises higher in the sky towards its apex. The steady flow keeps you busy, with some time in-between to work on fixing the binding of one of the old editions. You like to keep yourself distracted, thinking can be dangerous. With how much time you spend alone, it’s hard to avoid. 

As you lock up the cash box and tuck it back under the table, a shadow passes over, large than any other. For a moment, you think a cloud’s passing over the sun. You look up at the sky as a broad figure stands across from you.  

You don’t know how you didn’t see the man’s approach. He’s huge. Tall and wide. He doesn’t seem the type to be interested in your selection. Still, he leans in to eye the embroidered coin purses and gives a rumbling hum that sounds like distant thunder. 

He picks up one with primroses sewn into it. His thick thumb brushes the threaded design and his large hand makes the coin purse look even smaller. You tap your fingers on the table as his eyes flick up and meet yours. 

“Hi, uh, how can I help you?” You whittle out of your tight throat. It’s not often a lone man finds interest in your things. You cater to a more femme audience. 

“This is nice,” he remarks, “do you make these?” 

“Uh, yes, I do,” you give a tight-lipped smile, “I just embroider old used purses.” 

“Just? That’s splendid work,” he brings it closer to his face and looks down his nose at the little flowers and leaves, “my mother would love this... mother’s day is coming, eh?” 

“Oh, um, yes, I suppose,” you agree. “It’s five dollars. Cash only.” 

“Mm,” he traces his thumb over the metal clasp as he taps his back pocket with his other hand, “don’t think I’ve any on me. Could you hold this for me?” He offers the coin purse, “I’ll find the ATM.” 

“Sure, I could do that.” 

You take the coin purse, fingers brushing his rough skin, and you set it aside. 

“Thank you,” he smiles broadly, blue eyes twinkling as lines creases around them and across his forehead. 

He reluctantly trails away and you watch him go. His golden hair is longer than most, twisted into a low bun behind his hand as a few strands dangle freely around his face. He wears a denim jacket over dark red tee and grey jeans, along with a pair of scuffed brown boots. He stands out even in his casual attire. 

You shrug off the encounter and turn to your next customers. More baby clothes. The women chat about a baby show and you point them to the newborn sizes, telling them about the fabrics you use for each. They buy a few bibs along with the sleepers and diaper covers. 

You back up and sit in the folding chair, drinking deeply from your bottle of water. You don’t know if it’s the interactions or the sun making you dizzy. It’s close to noon. You always start to feel it around this time.  

The hours surrounded by strange faces and buzzing voices are clustering in your head and chest. Only a little longer; the market only runs until two. If the world didn’t require money to survive, you might never leave your apartment. Yet your table is the only means you have to keep walls around you. 

You sit a bit longer and get up again. You’re okay. You should’ve eaten before you left the apartment. How silly of you to forget the overnight oats you had put in the fridge just the night before. You do forget quite a few things. 

The market thrums with the late morning rush and you brace yourself for the final stretch. If you can clear off half the table, you might not have to come back next weekend. You’d be all too content to stay in your own little world, the one beyond is too loud and too bright. 

🕰️

You fold your table up and push the hook around the peg to keep it shut. You fold up the chair as well and lean both with your boxes. As the market clears out, you pull up your small two-door and load your wares into the back hatch. 

You peer over at the other vendors and their vans and trucks. Crews of half a dozen or more pack away goods and chatter just as loud as the previous crowds. It’s an isolating moment. You don’t mind going unnoticed but sometimes you feel so small. 

As you put a box in the back of the car, your keys slip off your finger. You bend and feel around the tire to retrieve them and sense a shadow above you. You clasp your hand around the keyring and stand-up suddenly, turning to face the figure behind you. There’s no one there. 

You peer around but find nothing out of the ordinary. You return to your task and pause. You don’t remember putting that box away yet... 

You shake your head. You’re just tired and forgetful. Your cardinal vices. Your mind wanders too much to rest, too much to keep order. 

You put the last box away and close the hatch. You get in the driver’s seat and turn the engine. It putters softly but it runs well enough. The old car has gotten you through the years just fine. There was a time that tiny thing was your home. 

You pull away down the lane parallel to the edge of the market square and pull out into traffic. You drive without seeing, led by habit as you stop at signs along the way, turning around corners mindlessly. You stop and wait to pull into your building’s lot and notice the large storm grey jeep behind you. It strikes you as peculiar; you enter from a back street to avoid the rush. 

You steer into the lot and the jeep continues down the street past the building. You forget it as quickly as it rolls beyond the faded brick. You find your spot, parking pass dangling from the mirror, and shut off the engine. You linger and take a breath. You're hungry and tired. 

You leave your things in the car and go upstairs. You slow as you pass your neighbour’s door. You saw her yesterday, she was in trouble about something. The police came as she hid from her boyfriend in your apartment. You didn’t even know she had one. You tried not to be nosy but she seemed real upset. 

Your cheeks tinge as you stare at the numbers on her door. She’s the only person who’s ever been inside your apartment. You don’t welcome people in, not into your home or your life. You hadn’t meant to let her in but you were so tired and confused, you couldn’t stop her. 

You cringe and continue down to your door with one last glance over your shoulder. You put the key in the slot and turn with a grind. You scurry inside and quickly lock the door, afraid she might once more emerge and follow you inside. Or that man, the big one with the beard. 

You twist the latch back into place and put your keys in the tray on the cramped shelf. The apartment is dark, the windows shrouded in black fabric, and you flip on the overhead light to guide you down the hallway. The walls are made tighter as their lined with endless shelves and tables, all filled with your collection of curiosities. 

You go to the fridge and take out the mason jar of steeped oats. You sit and eat the soft, pasty oats and the berries. You didn’t add enough cinnamon. It doesn’t matter, your stomach greedily mulches it. You put the kettle on and wait for it to steam. 

As you pace around, you hear a loud rumble. An engine. You don’t think much of it but you go to the window to peek out around the dark fabric. A woman walks a large dog past a grey jeep parked along the curb. Is it the same one you saw before? 

The question doesn’t pique your mind much. That’s the way of the world, you find. It’s a lot smaller than it seems, yet to you, it’s inexorably vast. It’s too fast, too unpredictable. You retreat as the kettle whistles. 

Your apartment is small and warm and safe. The world can’t follow you back here. Not if you don’t let it in and you won’t be doing that again. 

-🕰️

You decide, against your better instincts, to go to market. The weather is nice and it wouldn’t be so bad add a few extra bucks to your nest egg. You never know what might come up, or what you might find! Too many times you stumbled upon an antique you just couldn’t afford. 

You go through your usual ritual. You set up the table and the chair, and arrange your things in the same way around the wooden sign. As you put your boxes to the side, you hear a rattle at the bottom of one. You look into the crate and notice the silver ring. How’d that get in there? You didn’t bring any jewelry. 

You put down the box and reach inside. You take out the ring and turn it. You’ve never seen it before. There’s a strange stick symbol on the flat face. Maybe another language or a run of some type. You turn it in your hand and tuck it in your pocket. You’ll have to give a closer look at home. 

It’s early and a few stragglers trickle in, but they all walk by your table without pause. 

You sit and take out the jar of oats. You remembered today. You’d woken up with a hunger so deep, you almost ate before you left. You know better than to eat too early. Instead, you had your tea and got yourself moving. 

You stir the blueberries in and eat slowly, trying to measure your bites so you don’t feel sick after. You watch the other vendors, some still setting up, and lazily swallow down the thick oatmeal. It feels like it might rain after all, there’s a touch of damp in the air. 

You finish up and put the jar away. As you wipe your mouth with your sleeve, a woman’s voice trills and pricks your ears. Silver hair with a few wisps of gold peak out from her silk headscarf. The teal fabric matches the pattern of her blouse, tucking into a finely pressed skirt. She’s not alone, she has her arm hooked through another. 

Her companion is younger than her. His golden hair is pulled half up at the crown of his head as he towers over her lithe frame. You squint, they might be related. As they approach, you get a whiff of deja vu. 

“Yes, it was this one, mother,” the man’s voice is deep. 

“How lovely, look at all these treasures,” she slips her arm free as she approaches, “hello, dear, is this all yours?” 

“Mhmm, yes,” you stand up, “are you looking for something in particular?” 

“I think we’re just browsing,” she smiles brightly, her lips painted a gentle shade of rose. 

“A coin purse,” the man says, “with prim rose? Do you recall?” 

You look at him. Faces aren’t easy for you but his voice strikes something in your mind, and his size. You haven’t seen a lot of men that big, only the one in your neighbour’s apartment. You think you remember holding something but the customer never came back. 

“This one,” you point to the coin purse, set back in the row. 

“Yes, that was me,” he chimes, “mother,” he pulls the primrose purse to the top. She takes it and he looks back to you, “I apologise that I didn’t return, there was an emergency and I had to be off.” 

“It’s okay,” you shrug, folding your hands together. 

The woman is looking at you. There’s something in her gaze that makes you squirm. Her eyes linger just a bit longer before she aims them at the purse, admiring the embroidery as she feels it beneath her thumb. 

“Yes, I do like this one,” she says. 

“I brought cash this time,” the man booms and reaches into his pocket, “five, I believe you said.” 

“Yes,” you accept the bill from him, his skin rough as his fingertips touch yours, “thanks. Erm, did you need a bag?” 

“For this? No,” she wiggles the purse playfully and reaches for the man, her son, with other hand. She caresses his knuckles as she faces him, “you were right. Very beautiful.” 

He smiles broadly, proudly almost. It’s just a purse. You hide your discomfort as you grip your arm at your elbow. 

“Thank you,” the woman chirps back at you, sending another grin in your direction, “you might see us again.” 

She hooks her arm once more through her son’s and leads him to the next booth. You peer after them as her attention clings to the purse as she continues to feel it between her fingers. She leans into his arm as she speaks to him quietly. They seem close, it’s sweet. Your own mother had never been so affectionate. 

You look away before the scene can pluck in your chest. It doesn’t matter. You’re grown up now. That’s all behind you.