#You can't be mad at an unfortunate person

[avelera]

thank you so much for your anti-stupid Jayce post. words cannot describe the rage the phrase "himbo Jayce" inspires in me. or any of the other ways people try to dumb Jayce down.

like, the man invented and entirely new branch of science. by himself. in his spare time. with equipment he cobbled together from scraps. he be smart. he be very smart. the fact that he's pretty much constantly dropped into situations wildly outside his area of expertise does not make him stupid.

it does not take away from other characters to acknowledge the Jayce is hella smart.

Yeah, the term Himbo Jayce definitely annoys me but I do want to note For Posterity that there's a nuance to it like. If it's clear that it's an affectionate nickname and the person knows he's super duper smart (if not perhaps wise) I get that it's just a joke and I try not to be a total pill about it lol

It's more when people just seem to broadly label him as a himbo because of his build that I get sort of eye-twitchy like sure, yeah, we're so cool judging people (well, fictional characters) by their appearance, that's so big brained of us huh, really saying that people who are tall and muscular can't be smart too, let's throw some glasses on him to make him Look Smart because as we know you can only Be Smart if you Look Smart (though I admit, I've worn screen glasses to meetings where I need people to take me seriously and it's insane how much it works, people are actually so freaking image influenced IRL it's so stupid, wearing glasses really does make people think you're smart and it makes me insane).

*Sigh* but yeah, rage button issue aside around people being uncritically judged for their appearance and how much it annoys me IRL, yeah, Jayce is super smart. It's super interesting how the show guides its audience through the story of his arc, how much it relies on people uncritically judging his appearance to mold the perception of him through that arc, so I'm not really mad at people falling for the story they're actively being told, it just makes me sad and annoyed when I see how that thinking is a symptom of a very unfortunate real world tendency for people to judge others like that

[henke-penke]

Slap Slap Revolution

Both Heather and Noah noticed Alejnadro's behavior in New York, and go about it in different way.

Noah becomes a bit more confrontational, I guess. Not antagonizing, just questions Alejnadro's friendly attitude toward the enemy team. (Like in canon but it actually goes somewhere). And like in canon, Alejandro will brush him off and say he's working an angle. Said angle being something Noah might've been able to figure out beforehand.

Meanwhile Heather becomes more pushy with Leshawna ("I know you see it too"). This, paired with some seemingly innocent comments from Alejandro, drives Leshawna up the wall and a fight breaks out. Only this time it's a verbal back and forth, which escalates to a physical back and forth.

Like in canon, Alejandro throws the game leading to Team Amazon's victory. And like in canon, Noah will comment on it, which is where it clicks for Eva.

Back on the plane, her and Noah have a meeting where they confirm to each other that yes, Alejandro is up to something, citing every observation they've made thus far.

And this, my friends, is out first elimination change. I don't know how DJ's rocking with his animal curse in this, but I do know that there's no way Lindsay would vote for someone who threw hands with Heather that doesn't make sense to me. So, DJ is eliminated and Leshawna stays.

The Am-AH-zon Race

Heather gets to be unhinged in this one, as a treat. Like she's not handling that fight with any sort of grace. And it is because of observing this that we get the first properly civil conversation between Courtney and Gwen. They're strangely sympathetic to Heather, but both agree to vote her off when they get the chance.

In economy, Lindsay and Leshawna have a conversation where Lindsay naively says she thought the fight was cool to which Leshawna will snap and say that it very much wasn't. She'll vent a bit about having been stressed out, which Lindsay will empathize with, referencing her own screaming at Heather back in season one. It ends with her giving the same pep-talk she gave DJ in canon.

(Leshawna will also mention something about wanting either herself, Heather, or Alejandro out of the game.)

Episode roughly plays out the same, just with unhinged Heather, less animosity toward Gwen because that was really weird, and Noah and Eva trying to be as discreet as possible while trying to figure out a plan on taking care of Alejandro.

Owen will still get left behind in the jingle, but it will be Eva going back for him. Alejandro might try and insist he do it but Eva hits him with that "I'll. Do. It." (let her be scary still)

I Can't Help Falling in Louvre

Team Amazon is in shambles. Sierra is upset at Cody for voting for her, but here she doesn't revert back to their old dynamic after his apology. Here, she stays mad at him. ("You'd think that after everything I've done for him he'd want to keep me around. I mean, hello! I could've helped him all the way to the finale!")

All in all there's just a bunch of tension running around.

Team Victory still goes to a tiebreaker, and Lindsay is the winner (as she should've have been in canon, also Heather is in the jury so yeet). Lindsay and Leshawna get to have a cute friendship moment at the elimination ceremony (Good luck, wish you could've stayed for longer, honestly I'm glad I don't have to be in this deathtrap any longer, etc)

Newf Kids On The Rock

It has finally clicked for Noah and Eva that they hold majority vote on their team. One small issue, every other member on their team likes Alejandro and they have the combined charisma of a wet paperbag. And unfortunately for them, the person currently crawling through the vent above them will not really help in that regard. Enter Heather !

She crawled up the vent like in canon. And meanwhile in first class, Courtney and Gwen are having their second civil conversation, rejoice. This one is a bit more tense, however, as it centers Duncan.

Back to the haters, Heather (who is only marginally calmer than before) will insist they team-up all three. Noah and Eva will hesitate and ask to think it over. Heather gives them to the end of the day.

All three teams make the relay, no "only the first two teams" bullshit.

Things seem to be going good until all hell breaks loose for Team Amazon. Courtney and Gwen, who've been dealing with tension all day, start arguing about who does and who doesn't have feelings for Duncan. Cody tries to defuse but they snap at him, Heather starts third-wheeling the argument just because, and Sierra is just watching like it's the most entertaining shit in the world ("omg watching it on TV is one thing but being there irl is SO much better!")

Team Chris takes the win (I don't think Lindsay could stomach kissing a cod. But, like she invited Tyler in the Amazon, Tyler will invite her to first class)

Noah and Eva turn down Heather's alliance offer.

Jamaica Me Sweat

Cody takes it upon himself to keep the team functional, starting with Sierra. They end up having a genuine conversation where Sierra apologises (ish she's not that self-aware yet) for crossing boundaries and they embark on the journey of bringing the team together, to varying levels of success.

Meanwhile, and in stark contrast, Team E-scope plus Owen are having fun ! Cute friendship moment because we all deserve it. However, sprinkled in here and there, are Noah and Eva trying to get the other two to catch the hints they're throwing about Alejandro being untrustworthy. These hints are not being caught. Instead Owen makes some big deal about how much he loves his friends, which is much appreciated by our emotionally constipated teenagers.

Plane crash. Both Owen and Izzy are carried away, but Owen is the one to be medically evacuated, and when Izzy comes back with the news Noah and Eva are both visibly upset. (And then in the background you see Alejandro subtly celebrating)

Alejandro sabotages the track and Lindsay is eliminated.

BUT befreo the episode ends, Courtney and Gwen apologize for the fight. Imma be real this scene would be hella awkward. Cute, but so awkward.

Fuck it,

World Tour but with Eva instead of Duncan !!!

Some plot points I conjured up while procrastinating my illustration

Eva ends up on Team Chris Is Really Really Really Really Hot.

She's almost immediately wary of Alejandro, but will write it off since she's not good with people, so it's likely just her reading into things wrong.

However, this changes in Germany, when Noah makes note of his own suspicions.

Owen is the one medically evacuated in Jamaica.

Team E-scope wins the challenge in London, and because there is no Duncan to capture, Team Amazon loses. And realistically, Heather would be voted out, sad but true

This means that Alejandro is in a bit of a situation, because Noah and Eva are both onto him and they along with Izzy have the majority vote on their team. (Which, they've technically had since day one, but Alejandro wasn't aware of their suspicions of him prior, he didn't see it as a threat)

His best strategy is then to take away that advantage. Because of his interaction with Izzy in the Paris episode, I'm going to say that Alejandro manages to convince her to vote herself, and Izzy leaves in Area 51.

Because of this Team Chris now has to stay on a winning streak where Eva and Noah will try their damn hardest to get Tyler to vote with them. Which will be a fucking task because he and Alejandro are friends.

And quickly for the Amazons. Because there's no Duncan, Courtney and Gwen can properly establish a friendship. Absolutely not without a handful of hiccups along the ride, but it'll be much more stable without him being there and they can actually talk out any issues they may have.

If we're rolling with the canon of Team Victory being eliminated in the first half of the season, then the players making the merge will be; Alejandro, Eva, Noah, Tyler, Courtney, Gwen, and Sierra (Cody is eliminated in Australia I have my reasons trust). Which means that with the addition of Blaineley, we get an f/f couple in the wedding challenge hell yeah !!

Oh and Eva makes final four because she's awesome like that

[jhonnyhotbody]

How u one of the strongest in DC but loose to ADHD?

[sergle]

hi sorry to bother. i'm trying to find this one drawing that i'm like 99% certain you've done of like, the default appearance of every white queer person regardless of labels. like some short haired androgynous bespectacled person who you know at minimum 3 of. and everyone kept saying that 'that's literally me' because of course it is. did i just vividly make that up. i cannot find it with tumblr's notoriously bad search function. i wanted to make fun of my boss and like 5 separate other people i know.

YUUUUUUUUUUUUUP THAT WAS ME you are not crazy. this was the art

this is the post this is another version of the post

[ehh-is-the-name]

It's past 11 on a school night and I'm fucking crying over robot sentience.

I could never understand what it would feel like to be created with the intent to kill and maim. Maybe, the intent to work and be worked, but not kill and maim.

I will never understand what it's like to be created with the intention of being a product for the masses, either. I think, I hope, I beg, no one does.

I will never ever be able to fully comprehend why hours of people's work, time, and money would be put into formulating my sentience only for me to be seen as disposable. Even if I could be improved, even if I were "defective", there is no reasonable justification for giving me emotions only to dismiss them by pushing me as a product for a year before starting anew.

It's... It's cruel, to the machines. Sentient or not, it's cruel. Though, I guess we are cruel.

[look-at-the-stars-tonight]

today my coworker turned to my mentor and told him there was something about him that was just inherently likable and turned to me and told me i should work on being less giggly if i wanted to be taken seriously in life

[shidoukanae]

Paris Valerian but i redesign his dragon form for funsies based on how i see him=. Not sure if I like this design bc im not a fan of bulkier looking dragons but for Paris I think this works??

Some headcanons about this design:

has a bit of a bull-like look bc I associate bulls with persistence and madness and idk that fits Paris well so if Fian has a “fox” motif Paris gets a “bull” one for his dragon form 

His design is based a lot on how a stereotypically evil dragon would look???? Because imo OG!Paris reads as a massive antagonist and I think giving him a look that fits that vibe in his dragon form works!! Especially because he still is an antagonist in a way (though god does he not read that way lmao)

he’s stronger in his dragon form than Fian is and he uses this to his advantage to bully Fian around whenever they playfight as dragons. That said, it seems Paris is surprisingly gentle towards Fian in this form and never hurts him.

he uses this form to intimidate people into getting what he wants. He’s not used to getting retaliated against while in this form and quickly respects anyone who does so (read: Fian, Lyla and Helene)

the silver scales on his body can glow in the same way his eyes do. Typically, he keeps them dull-colored (see above) but if he feels a strong emotion of any sorts they’ll glow brightly without him meaning to (noticeably: they glow constantly whenever Helene is around for obvious reasons~).

[thespacesay]

ID: tags. #nuance dies on this site so of course people are interpreting this as saying everyone is innocent. #you should never be enthusiastic to punish regardless of the target #because when you run out of targets the need for that enthusiasm persists #and even among your true targets injustice can be perceived as justice in that enthusiasm. / End ID

it is actually very common for people to say “there are no innocents on the side of my enemy.” against such an opponent you can theoretically justify anything

[carolinanadeau]

you're talking shit for the hell of it. and we see you over there on the internet, comparing all the girls who are killing it. but we figured you out, we all know now, we all got crowns, you need to calm down. I've got a list of names and yours is in red, underlined. Mr. Superior Thinking... no, I don't like you. no one likes a mad woman - you made her like that. I can feel the flames on my skin. you did some bad things but I'm the worst of them. maybe I got mine, but you'll all get yours. I'm shaking my head and locking the gates. this is why we can't have nice things. seeing the shape of your name still spells out pain. sometimes I wonder which one'll be your last lie. now I breathe flames each time I talk. do you still feel like you know what you're doing? because I don't think you do. all you are is mean! and a liar! and pathetic! and alone in life and mean!

and you didn't see me here.

[lumsel]

AITA for not wanting my roommate to use my toothbrush?

Hi reddit. A few days ago I (NB27) was getting ready for work when I caught my roommate (NB27) in the bathroom brushing their teeth with my toothbrush. I got really mad at them for this, but they didn't think it was a big deal and said I was overreacting.

Their logic was that because they were my exact duplicate all our germs are basically the same anyway so it's basically like just one person brushing their teeth twice. But my opinion was that we became "different people" one year ago, when they woke up in my bed beside me one morning without any explanation. But this made them mad because they said from their perspective I was the one who woke up in their bed one morning without any explanation, and they accused me of claiming to be the original again. Things got really heated after this but neither of us was able to kill the other because our abilities were perfectly matched so we basically just declared stalemate like usual.

This whole ordeal had been especially disconcerting to me because up until this point there have been no real points of divergence in our personalities. Every time we have made a decision we would both make the same choice, all of our opinions and beliefs have been identical, and any time we converse it's difficult because we keep trying to say the same thing at the same time. So for us to disagree on anything is unexpected let alone something this big. I was hoping to use this as a clue to help prove I was the original but unfortunately none of my friends or family can remember my stance on toothbrush clone sharing so I was out of luck there.

Anyway they still keep using my toothbrush even though there's another one there because they "like the blue one more than the purple one" but the blue one is mine!!! I really don't think its unreasonable to ask them to use a different toothbrush here, especially since I was here first. AITA?

EDIT: mods this thread isn't a duplicate, they just posted the same topic from their perspective at the exact same time that i posted mine. stop flagging this for deletion.

EDIT 2: I can't believe I have to say this, but a perfect copy of dubious origin is a completely different category of person to a twin!! None of the social dynamics are the same, you can't draw equivalences between them. So when we have sex it is NOT incest. Can we please stay on topic here?

[mad-hunts]

as far as jack could tell, jervis was really out of it; and it made him wonder it was due to something that had happened while he was out with his father, or when they'd gotten here. perhaps both. jack gnawed on his bottom lip, his eyes darting to jervis's hands, which were flexing like he was struggling with something. an eyebrow rose as jack contemplated asking whether he needed some pain medication.

since he didn't receive an answer to his question yet, jack figured he might as well introduce himself. ❝ uhh, well, you don't have to talk to me if you aren't feeling up to it. my sister told me that you fainted in front of her out there — so, i understand if you're still feeling sick. my name is jack, ❞ he scratched at the back of his neck as he continued to observe jervis. whenever the man tried to get up, jack approached him and was about to caution jervis that maybe he shouldn't by lightly touching his shoulder.

but he remembered matilda telling him something about the other really not liking to be touched, so he merely was going to verbally tell him. up until jervis laid back down himself, anyhow. jack couldn't hold himself back from frowning at his poor present state before venturing out of the room with a 'i'll be right back.' and indeed he had been, with two different vials, alongside a few syringes to inject into that IV bag: should jervis want to be medicated. jack figured it'd be easier to just do that rather than forcing him to swallow anything.

he placed those also on the table before tilting his head at the quote jervis had said until it clicked a few seconds later, ❝ that's a quote from through the looking glass, isn't it? and one that the red queen said in the story if i remember correctly. she was basically teaching alice that staying in the same place is falling behind, right? ❞ jack squinted his eyes at that before a thought came to mind. a soft snort left him, but one that was done of an innocent sort of amusement rather than malice. ❝ that is a kind of roundabout way of talking about survival of the fittest. but hey, lewis carroll was all about the whimsy of things, i guess. and its no big deal. ❞

jack pretended not to see the tears that the other shed for jervis's own sake. the blood on his lips was something he couldn't ignore, no matter how hard he tried, though. jack grabbed a washcloth from his pack and held it out towards's jervis's hand. once it was out of his hand was when jack set down that teacup, the slightly too long stripped pants he wore swaying across the ground. ❝ mm, you and dad were both asleep for nearly four hours. sure — i don't think that's silly at all. i keep something on me all the time from when my brother, julien, was still around. ❞ the bracelet he showed the other on his right wrist then seemed to be made up entirely of tiny conch shells.

julien was a big fan of the sea, which jack thought made his death all the more crushing. after seeing the state that the stuffed animal was in, he figured that that bunny must've been really loved; though it didn't really matter by whom it was. the end result was the same, as love changes you. jack knew this well as he'd never wanted anything more than to be embraced by the warmth of it.

he quickly shook that thought off, only to grab the two vials he got from the fridge once more. ❝ eh... the four hours actually went by rather fast. ❞ jack cleared his throat then, ❝ you know, i couldn't help but notice that you aren't looking so hot still, and so i grabbed some meds for you. but i won't force you to take them. i have a pain reliever as well as something that relieves vertigo. are either, or both of these, something you want? ❞

Eigengrau.

A faint hum buzzed in his ears; his mouth was so dry it felt like he’d swallowed a wad of wool.

The thin sheet beneath him brushed his fingertips as Jervis flexed his hands, cracking his eyes open a sliver. The room tilted, everything blurring at the edges. Ah… so he had fainted. Just as he’d suspected. No glasses, then.

"Hey. Ahh, you're awake… That's awesome. How are you feeling?"

The new voice was barely a whisper, young and uncertain—belonging to a boy, maybe sixteen or eighteen by the timber. Was this another of Barton's assistants, a friend of Matilda’s, or perhaps her brother? Jervis couldn’t quite remember; hadn't Barton mentioned something about having more than one child?

He winced, his body feeling heavy, leaden; aching everywhere. Slowly, he exhaled and tried to push himself upright—tried being the keyword. The effort brought only a wave of vertigo, dizzying and blue-hot, making his vision swim.

… ohh, god…

He swallowed thickly, curling into himself. Something wasn’t right. His glasses and gloves weren’t the only thing missing. He was in his socks, jeans, and a now damp charcoal t-shirt, his body slick with cold sweat. His graying auburn curls clung to his neck in tangled ropes. His boots were beside the cot, his messenger bag on a desk across the room. His overcoat and maroon button-down were draped over a chair.

A flicker of discomfort in his right arm. Burning. Tugging.

Jervis glanced down at the source: a plastic tube. A peripheral IV catheter.

"Ah, you know... 'It takes all the running you can do, to stay in the same place,'" he muttered, his voice clipped and hollow; Bermudian accent casual, almost detached. He turned his eyes to the boy; offered him a faint, strained smile. "Keeps things interesting, I suppose... but I appreciate your concern, lad."

He lifted his fingers to his cheek, feeling the moisture trickle down—salt on his lips. Tears, sharp and stinging. Jervis flinched and quickly scrubbed them away with the heels of his hands.

Cold metal pressed into his spine, tight around his neck—the chain with his and Sylvie’s wedding rings twisted against his skin. He must’ve been thrashing in his sleep. There was blood on his lips.

"Forgive me…" His vision swam as he watched the boy set a teacup on the small table beside the cot, just within view. "But I'm afraid I've rather lost my sense of time. How long has it been since I…?" He paused, his voice barely steady. "... if... if you don’t mind, could you please reach into my coat pocket? You'll find a small cuddly toy. A rabbit..." He rubbed his mouth, lowered his eyes. "It sounds foolish, I know... but it... it was my daughter's, you see..."

The boy nodded, moving quickly to retrieve the toy from Jervis’ coat pocket, and placed it on the table beside the teacup. The bunny was missing one of its button eyes, its white fur faded and matted. A pink satin ribbon around its neck was frayed and tattered.

“Thank you,” Jervis said hoarsely. “I must have been out of it for quite a while.”

[kasagia]

Losing your memory

Pairing: Young! Coriolanus Snow x fem!Capitol! reader Summary: He used to be your Coryo. Now he has become the man you don't know. The Plinth heir. The future president of Panem. You pray every day to forget about the sweet boy you fell in love with, on whom you could always count. To forget who he was and lose the memory of the past. Just like he did. Well... not exactly. Unfortunately for you, he still wants to remember you. Inspired by: "Losing your memory" by Ryan Star Word count: 7,2 k ~•♤♤♤•~ Coriolanus Snow's Masterlist ~•♤♤♤•~ Main Masterlist ~•♤♤♤•~

You've been avoiding him ever since you found out he was back in the Capitol.

A month ago, this news would have aroused great joy and ecstasy in you. Your Coryo is back home. He managed to shorten his exile and gain Dr. Gaul's favour again.

But the man who returned from District 12 was not your dear friend or lover. This wasn't your sweet Coryo, with whom you walked hand in hand to school. This wasn't the boy you shared your lunch with. This wasn't a boy who cared about your well-being above his own. This wasn't a boy who joked about snobbish children spoiled by the richest people in Panem with you and Sejanus at the end of the day. (Although he talked with them, trying to keep up good appearances—he used to call that one of the responsibilities of being Snow.)

The man who came back was Coriolanus. The new Plinth heir. The shell of someone you knew. The ruthless, cold pet of the mad creator of the Hunger Games you despised.

Sejanus' death didn't hurt you as much as the transformation of Coriolanus from the person closest to you into someone you barely even recognized. And from the tearful, sad, resentful, and disappointed stories you heard from Tigris, you had an accurate picture of the man who took your Coryo's place.

And you hated him with all your heart.

Especially after what he promised you when you stayed at his apartment for one snowy winter night.

You lay wrapped in the various blankets and quilts Coryo and Tigris could find. It was winter, and they didn't have much money for additional heating, so they mostly walked around the house in several layers and slept under piles of clothes.

You didn't know about that that night.

Tigris lent him her quilt so that he wouldn't have to be ashamed of the poverty his family had fallen into since you were supposed to come to sleepover with him after the argument with your parents.

Cuddling up to your blonde boy, you tried to fall asleep, listening to his heartbeat. You frowned at the sound of it being a little faster than usual.

You lift your head and look at him carefully. His gaze is distant and thoughtful as he lazily draws patterns on your back as he presses you against his chest.

"Coryo?" you whisper, cupping his cheek in your hand tenderly and forcing those blue irises you have loved so much to look at you. "What's wrong, sweetheart?"

He sighs long and presses a kiss on your forehead, the tip of his nose stroking your hair, as he is inhaling your scent. "I just... I just think about the fact that you deserve so much more. My grandma and Tigirs deserve much more than... this." he says with disgusting pointing at the room you were in.

"This..." you say, clasping your hands together and pressing a tender kiss to the back of his hand. "Is more than enough. You are all I need. And one day, when you are President of Panem or any other important figure in the Capitol, none of you will lack anything. This is a temporary state. You are too smart to be anything less than great, Coryo. You know it."

You see him hold back tears. He pushed your head onto his chest to rest his chin on your head. He is not crying. He almost never cries. But you know how close he is to it by the slight quiver in his breathing.

"I know I don't show it often enough... but you mean... everything to me. I can't imagine how I would go through these all without you by my side."

"I love you, Corio. Just promise me you won't forget this. What you went through, what you experienced. Don't forget your struggle. That's something you should never be ashamed of." he tenses at your words but leans in to kiss you passionately and hungrily. Putting all his unexpressed emotions into action and into that kiss that warmed you more than any blanket or radiator could ever.

"I promise. I will never forget how you kept me sane. When you were the only shelter I could go to and the only support that could bear the boundlessness of my troubles and doubts. How you were my only moonlight in the worst of my darknesses." you laugh softly, recognising part of his words.

"Quoting poets will get you nowhere, Coriolanus Snow." you say teasingly, rubbing your nose against him, at which he chuckles, licking his lips.

"Well... I've learned that in some situations, it gets me somewhere. And it's a very cold night tonight, don't you think? I can't let you freeze to death." he says as his hands go under your shirt—actually, his shirt that you stole from his closet.

"Well… I guess there's nothing left for me… but to place myself under your solicitous care." you sigh softly as he pins you underneath him, making sure the cocoon of blankets is still tightly wrapped around the two of you.

"I couldn't have said it better." he whispers and presses his lips against yours, stealing your breath countless times. He pulls away just a little to say against your lips, "You're mine. We belong together. No matter what."

He makes you shiver as you eagerly agree to everything he says. You don't realise how, in the future, you will curse every single intimate, sweet moment you shared with him.

Ironically, you realise how deep he has gotten under your skin the moment he returns to the Capitol, and you have to avoid him, not when he is sent into exile.

It was probably because when he was gone, you were too distraught to bother leaving your room, opening the blinds, or wiping the tears that somehow kept leaking from your eyes to notice how almost every place reminded you of him. If you could, you'd go back in time and tell yourself there's no point in crying over the asshole he's become.

Although maybe you already felt that your Corio was leaving, and it was a way of mourning him?

Anyway, you saw him everywhere. Not Coriolanus. Coryo. He stalked you in the library, the park, the cafe near the academy that you two and Sejanus liked to go to, and of course the Academy itself. Kudos to your parents for not letting him into your house. At least he didn't pollute your room with memories of him.

Involuntarily, you wonder if he also sees you, for example, in every corner of his apartment. Or maybe he renovated it beyond recognition to erase all traces of his past?

You didn't know.

And you didn't want to know.

The information about him that Tigris gave you when you met her at your house when Coriolanus was at the university for classes was sufficient.

Just because it didn't work out with her cousin didn't mean you would abandon your only real friend. And just because things didn't work out with her cousin didn't mean she would stop (more or less subtly) encouraging you to go back to him.

"We talked about you." she says, making adjustments to your dress that she made for your birthday party thrown by your parents. Another one of the unpleasant responsibilities.

"You and your grandma?" you ask, trying to avoid HIM as a topic as much as possible.

"No. Me and Coriolanus." she says, pinning something to your waist—some decorative strip of fabric or something—you're not sure; you're too focused on the window and the bustling city as you are trying to ignore her words. "You know… I think… I think I saw in his eyes… the old Coryo. For a brief moment, but… maybe if you came back to him, he would come back to himself too."

"I'm sorry, Tigris, but I think he went too far on his path to simply go back to who he was. Surely not because of me."

"I understand… I just really miss him." she says it in a soft, broken tone, and your heart breaks at it. You hug her with all your strength, uniting with her pain that you also felt so deeply.

"Me too." you whisper in her ear as she cries into your shoulder.

Tigris was a very strong woman. She always impressed you. You wanted to be as strong as her. But even the toughest had to cry sometimes.

After all, there comes a time when even the snow melts... even if only for a little while.

You held him tightly in your arms as Corio cried into your chest.

His grandmother fell ill. Hard. Without a doctor, she definitely wouldn't be able to get out of this on her own, and they didn't have the money to pay for one, let alone the medicines.

Your boyfriend spent the whole day planning, thinking, and getting any money, but it was not enough even to buy the cheapest antibiotic.

However, you didn't expect that after you found out it all from Tigris and ran to him as fast as you could with the chicken soup prepared by your servants and all your pocket money, he would start crying.

Coriolanus Snow cried like a little baby.

You handed the money and soup to Tigris, who, after feeding up their grandma, quickly ran out with her to the doctor. At that time, you were holding your boyfriend in your arms in the other room, who simply fell apart from his helplessness.

"Shh… it's going to be okay, Coryo. She will live, falsify that stupid hymn and hate me for not being enough for you just as she used to." your attempt to comfort him didn't help. If anything, he only cried more, holding onto you tighter and tighter.

"I should be able to take care of them... I should be the one taking care of you, not the other way around. I'm pathetic and weak. I'm not worthy of being called Snow."

"Hey, my sweet boy, look at me. You are strong. You are the strongest man I know. You are looking after me all the time; you literally give me everything you have, the last piece of your food, to keep me happy, safe, and full when I forget to bring a damn second breakfast from home or don't have time to eat something. You love me, and I love you, and that's how it works. We care about each other. And I have never, ever regretted being with you. Because what we have… is more valuable than anything else in this world. I trust you implicitly, and I will always be by your side. You are not alone with your problems and suffering. Not as long as I am here."

"But for how long will you stay? For how long will you endure with me?" he asks, and after one look at those a little red from crying, beautiful blue iris, you answer without a shadow of hesitation.

"As long as you love me and I can trust you. As long as I breathe. As long as I am in your mind and heart. I am not going anywhere, Coryo. Money can be earned, but what we have... you can't buy it. What I feel for you is more dear to me than any treasure in this world and I will never exchange it for anything else." you promise, stroking his hair tenderly to help him calm down.

You should've then wondered why he doesn't agree with you then. Why doesn't he say that he also feels this way and that he also values you more than money, glory, and honours?

But he blinds you by telling you for the first time that he loves you.

And you cling to him, wiping the tears from his face with your lips and foolishly believing that your love is pure and eternal.

Like a driven snow.

You knew this day would come someday. The day you let your guard down. But you hoped it would take a little longer before you came face-to-face with Coriolanus.

You are completely unprepared for this. You just freeze like a deer in headlights when you see his face at the end of one of the university's corridors as he walks forward, looking for something in his bag. Before you can even think about running away, he looks up, probably feeling watched, and his blue, icy eyes meet yours.

You both stand there transfixed, looking at each other, taking in the changes in your appearance since the last time you saw each other, which was after you broke up with him, when you saw how tenderly he treated Lucy Gray and how comfortable he was around her. And after someone politely informed you that he had kissed her.

"Y/N!" Coriolanus calls out to you and takes a step towards you, but you quickly step back and run through the crowd of people to get away from him. Unfortunately for you, he doesn't give up that easily. He never does. "Y/N! Wait!"

You have no intention of doing so. You run as fast as you can, bumping into several students along the way. You don't even bother apologising; you just run, hoping that Snow will stop being hot on your heels. Which, by the way, was a miserable dream after how fit he was after his training and the time he spent as a peacekeeper.

On the way, you notice a woman's bathroom and immediately run into it. You lock yourself in a cabin, thanking God or whoever is up that you managed to get an empty cabin and hide in it. You hear his quick footsteps and the door opening, followed by the screams of other women in the bathroom. You sigh in relief as you hear him obediently leave the room.

You're not leaving, though. You are not stupid. You know he's waiting at the door for you to come out. You decide to wait here until the end of the break between classes and hope that he will drop the idea of continuing to chase you and talk to you, and he will attend the lecture instead.

As the bathroom begins to empty, you realise that the next lectures must be soon. You stand silently on the toilet seat, listening carefully, waiting for the right moment to emerge from your miserable hiding place.

Just as you are about to reach for the doorknob, the bathroom door opens. You shiver as you hear heavy footsteps echoing off the tiles of the empty bathroom. And you think that you can smell the subtle scent of roses in the air.

"Come on, Y/N. I know you're here. I just want to talk."

Said the snake moments before eating the bird alive.—you think, mentally mocking how gentle he was trying to present himself. As if he could still be your Coryo.

"I have time. I can play hide-and-seek with you, if you want to. After all, you always liked to play this when we were kids. And you always lost."

You roll your eyes, listening carefully to his footsteps. He was opening the first cabin. You were in the middle one—the one a little closer to the door (and him).

"We'll have to talk eventually. You can't avoid me and ignore me, no matter how good you are at it lately. Let's stop this ridiculous, childish behaviour and go talk over coffee and some of your favourite cookies at the cafe near the academy. Just like the good old days. Well, this time all your orders are on me. What do you say?"

You would have snorted if it hadn't immediately revealed your hiding place to him. How dare he invite you to the place where you, he, and Sejanus spent the most time? To the place where your first unofficial date was.

He wanted to manipulate you, to make you believe that your Corio is still there and lives behind the façade of the rich, arrogant asshole he has become. But you knew better. His eyes told you everything you needed to know.

Even without Tigris' help, you realised that he... was a completely different person. He turned into somebody you only used to know in the past.

"Seriously? Still nothing? So you prefer the hard way, then..." he says, opening another cabin. You wait patiently for him to come to yours.

You breathe as quietly as you can, trying not to let him know which cabin you're in. You listen to his slow, measured steps as, with the incredible confidence and calm that is typical of him, he opens each cabin door, moving inexorably towards you.

Your heart quickens, beating madly, when you see his shoes in the whole, under the cabin's door. He reaches for the door handle, and before he can open it, you push the door against him with all your strength.

You hear him curse, taking a few steps back in a daze and holding his nose. You take the opportunity and run to the exit of the bathroom as fast as you can, not looking back.

"Fuck! Y/N! Are you insane?!" he shouts, running after you.

You reach the door just in time and slam it behind you, sprinting out of the university. You get in your car and drive away with your tyres screeching. In the rearview mirror, you see him leaving the building and following your car with a furious glare.

"I can't believe you invited Snow." you huff, fixing your makeup in the mirror. Your father is buttoning his cuffs, and your mother stands next to you, also putting the finishing touches on her appearance. "You hated him when we were together."

"He is an ambitious and clever boy. Plinth did well to make him his heir. You should reconsider whether he really is that bad. This match would have opened many doors for us. Not only among Plinth's allies but also among Dr. Gaul. God knows how she favours this boy. Who knows? Maybe one day he will be president of Panem."

"If so, I will run away abroad." you say it bitterly, putting your lipstick back in your purse and adjusting the necklace around your neck to make yourself look perfect.

"Don't be stupid. Snow wouldn't be so bad for you. Since you are our only child, we must marry you well. Make sure your husband doesn't blow our fortune in a week. And Snow is a thoughtful boy. He wouldn't let you live below the poverty line."

"And he's quite handsome." your mother adds, straightening your father's tie. "Still, he's not a womaniser. I heard he turned down the... special attention of Crane's daughter and a few other Capitol's girls. I guess he's been alone since your breakup."

"Hmm. Great. He wouldn't cheat on me with other snobs in the capital, but he would fuck with whores in the district. The perfect candidate for a husband." you scoff, walking with them to the next room, where the photographers were waiting to take a photo of you together.

“Language, Y/N. You are a lady. Besides, it is not certain whether he and this Lucy Gray actually had something between them. After all, she's a woman from the district.” your mom says this, smiling for the cameras.

The flashes blind you a little, but with your father's and mother's hands on your shoulders, you somehow manage to keep your pose, fake, pretty smile, and opened eyes.

Your father thanks them and leads you out of the room and into the corridor leading to the great hall where the ball was to be held.

"And even if he did, it's good that he had some fun. It will make him appreciate the treasure that you are and see that you are irreplaceable." he says, taking the box out of his pocket. He hands it to you with a warm smile. "Happy birthday, my treasure."

"We've already given her..." your father shushes your mother. You send them a confused look as you open the medium-sized box.

You find a tiara there. A small diamond tiara.

"It will match your dress perfectly." your father says proudly. You nod and walk to the mirror to put it on, despising the object in your hands with all your heart. You may look like a princess, but you've never felt so... disgusted with yourself before.

This feeling intensified even more when, after a toast and receiving wishes from several of your friends and more powerful families, you managed to sneak out to the balcony. Not long after you, all the single, young men of the richest family on the Capitol entered, with Coriolanus among them. They each took a cigarette and started smoking, gossiping about the events of the week…

And their topic of conversation was exactly what you were afraid of when you got that fucking tiara.

"Have you seen this? I bet they're pure diamonds. Old Y/L/N wants to marry her off so much that he's using every trick possible."

"He doesn't need to do much. She is beautiful in her own right. But this character… it's easier to train a dog than such a stubborn cow."

"What Snow? Are you now regretting that the Capitol's Diamond slipped from your hands? I heard she wants nothing to do with you. How unfortunate that it happened at the moment when you started to count in the eyes of the elite, and now you really have any chance of grabbing this precious gem for yourself."

The Capitol's Diamond. You shudder, thinking about the nickname you've been given.

That's what they called you. The sole heiress to your parents' fortune. Diamond of the Capitol, the best match in the city, with a dowry greater than any other woman. Anyone who won your hand was guaranteed to reach the top and success with your family's connections, your charm, beauty, and brain. And these vultures knew it perfectly well.

You were curious how the new Coriolanus would react.

Your Coryo only took advantage of your position in society when he had to. He didn't ask you for money or for you to convince your father to whisper a good word about him here and there. Maybe it was because of his pride; maybe he really didn't care. You have no idea. But Coryo despised that term as much as you did. You wondered if that had changed as well.

"I'm still in the game." he replies evasively, sipping his drink. The others laugh and he frowns in displeasure.

"Sure. Because the way she ran away from you today when you approached her with a gift says exactly that." they mock him. You see him clench his jaw, glaring at them coldly as he considers his next move.

"Enjoy it while you can. Your good mood will end when our cat-and-mouse game is over and the Capitol's Diamond hangs proudly on my shoulder." you huff, shaking your head in disbelief. You come out of hiding, and all the men on the balcony tense up and look at you in surprise.

Especially Coriolanus. Suddenly everyone is staring intently at the garden of your estate, too shy to look at you. Except Snow. He drills a hole into you with his gaze as he thinks of a way to undo what he said.

"Gentlemen." you scoff, walking past them and ignoring Coriolanus' glare. "For your information, I would rather live in one of the districts than marry any of you. Enjoy the party." you add sweetly, walking back to the ballroom.

The party is in full swing. You are talking to Thomas, using a sweet boy in a shameful way—to scare other men away from you. Just as you expected, they started flocking to you like flies to a fire.

So you chose the least spoiled of them. Thomas was nice and funny; you had a good time talking to him, and dancing with him was even better.

He wasn't rich; he wasn't part of the cream of society. You were really starting to enjoy spending time with him. And most importantly... he looked nothing like Coriolanus. He was nice for the eyes, but his dark hair, eyes, and sweet, shy personality made him drastically different from your ex. So he was the perfect break from your dramatic love life. Boring, nice change.

You danced to a waltz with him. He held you gently, close but respectful, not invading your personal space. He was a perfect gentleman. The man of your dreams.

If only Coriolanus' icy eyes weren't focused on both of you like a predator waiting for its prey to stumble, you would be able to enjoy Thomas' company to the fullest.

You are with him at the buffet, sipping drinks, when suddenly the last person you expected to meet here approaches you.

"Mrs. Plinth." you whisper in shock as he stands in front of you.

She looks—probably the way she feels. Nice on the outside and devastated on the inside. The dark circles under her eyes cannot be fully covered by makeup, and the deep black of her dress is a clear reminder of what she is still going through.

You can't imagine the pain he's going through right now. And you wonder why the woman decided to join her husband for your birthday party. Since Sejanus' death, she has rarely left their apartment.

"Y/N. Can I steal you from this young man for a moment?"

"Of course." you say, not even looking in Thomas' direction as you and Mrs. Plinth walk to one of the empty living rooms in your mansion. You close the door behind her and point to the couch. "Can I get you something to drink? Or to eat?"

"No. There is no need, darling. I just… I just came here to give you something." she says, pulling a thick letter out of her purse. "I… the letters from Sejanus are still reaching us. The flow of information between the districts and the Capitol is… very heavy and long. Especially when the peacekeepers are now checking every one of his correspondence. He sent it to you. Or rather, he wanted you to send it to him. Or rather, he wanted you to have it, just in case he couldn't… I'm sorry."

Your heart aches with sadness, seeing her on the verge of tears. She probably has no one to talk to about her son except her husband. After all, Sejanus was a traitor of Panem…

"He was a wonderful friend. The best one somebody could have. I could always count on him. Thank you for... taking the trouble to give me a letter from him. That... means a lot." you say, fighting the urge to hug the woman. The Capitol is not famous for acts of tenderness, mercy, or compassion. You had to keep up a facade. Always.

You take the letter from her and walk her to the exit. You give her one sympathetic look—everything you could afford in your position—and close the door behind her.

You sit on the couch and open the letter with trembling hands, trying not to look too closely at the way he wrote your name on the envelope. You know that will remind you of how you taught him how to decorate letters in his first days at the Capitol. Because everything here had to be perfectly beautiful. Even the fucking handwriting.

A bracelet falls out of the envelope and onto your lap. It is not particularly beautiful or sumptuous. It is a simple strap holding a peg-shaped pendant with some black, crushed stone placed behind a piece of glass.

You place it on the coffee table and open the letter with trembling hands. You already feel that after all this you will have to fix your makeup, which you will probably ruin with tears, but Sej's letter cannot wait until the end of the party.

Y/N, If you are somehow reading this letter, it means that I am not at your 20th birthday party, which makes me very sad. (You know how I love celebrating in your garden away from these Capitol's snobs.) Coming back, you know that I wish you all the best (along with Coryo. He's too big of a stick up his ass to write to you, even though he misses you and can't stop thinking about you. Take pity on me and write to this stubborn idiot, because I don't think I can stand another tirade about you and your perfection. Seriously. Our boy is getting mad because of this despair. I don't recognise him at all.) So, my dear friend, I wish you the best. I don't have any trinkets, interesting books, sweets, or anything suitable as a gift here, so I hope you'll be satisfied with what I came up with. I am not a poet, so don't laugh at me. I shall hear... or not. I made the bracelet, which you've probably already seen, myself. And that stone that is inside (and I hope it survived) is coal. I wanted to give this to you as a symbol of who you are to me. Everyone sees you as a diamond, something precious and beautiful. But for me and probably other people close to you, you are something more. This shiny diamond facade hides carbon. A simple coal, an ordinary soul like many others. But you made something more out of that ordinary coal. You are a diamond. Indestructible, the most durable of all. The purest form, preserved among the other gems and stones of the Capitol, because that's what all these power-hungry assholes are—coals that have decided not to change, to choose what is easy for them. I hope now you can see why I liked that nickname for you, diamond. So I hope you always stay true to yourself. No matter what. That's what I learned here, and I want to pass it on to you. Although I hope that by then the three of us will meet again in the Capitol. Do not wait for us both, Sejanus P.S. I miss you too.

You fold the letter and put it back in the envelope. You wipe away the tears that remain on your cheeks with your hands and take a few ragged breaths, trying to calm down.

You freeze when suddenly someone's arms wrap around you. The scent of roses hits your nostrils.

You get up from the couch like you've been burned and push Coriolanus' arms away from you. The feeling of sadness quickly turns to anger and pure fury as you stare at Snow.

"What the hell are you doing here?" you growl through a clenched jaw, extremely glad that there's a couch between you, or you'd hit him. And it was easier for you to explain your tears and smeared makeup than your red knuckles.

"Sweet, kind Plinth, giving you thoughtful gifts from beyond the grave. You love the dead Sejanus so much and ignore the living me. It must be hypocrisy on your part, don't you think? You accuse me of forgetting about Sejanus when you treat me so shamefully, worse than a dog. Should I die so that you can finally stop giving me the silent treatment and running away from me?"

"Believe me, you don't want to hear what I have to say to you." you huff, taking the bracelet and the letter. You hide them in the bodice of your dress and go to the mirror to fix your smudged makeup.

"You do not have to do that. Your boy isn't at the party anymore anyway." he says, standing so that you can see his reflection in the mirror.

"What?" you ask in surprise, turning to face him. You both stare at each other. In fact, you're only now getting a chance to take a good look at him. And you notice with dissatisfaction that the bastard found out from Tigris what your dress would look like, and he chose a suite so that both of you would match. "Where is Thomas?"

"Your little boy toy? Do you think he's enough of a distraction? That he can replace me? That he'll make you feel what I feel? Maby, that he can even protect you from me? Only I know you. I'm the only one worthy of your fucking attention and affection." you push past him, but he grabs your elbow.

"Touch me again and I'll cut off your hand and shove it down your throat." you growl, breaking away from his grip.

"Such aggression… I don't remember you from this side." he mocks you and tucks a strand of hair behind your ear. You step away from him and cross your arms, staring at him defiantly.

"I will ask you one last time. Where is Thomas?"

"Let's just say that your mother and I caught him stealing your jewelry. We were merciful enough to solve the matter quietly. You will never see that garbage on the ball or any gala again. Certainly not on yours."

"Were you the one who framed him for this?" his silence and the calculating, self-proud look of the cat that caught the canary (or, in this case, the snake that choked the mouse) tell you everything. "What the fuck is wrong with you?!" you ask furiously.

You want to move past him, but he pushes you back, making you bump into the wall. He closes the gap between you in one step, pressing his chest against yours.

"You're mine. You've always been. You shouldn't lead this loser on or give him false hopes. We both know we will end up together."

"I broke up with you." you remind him, not caring about his intimidating attitude.

"A mistake I intend to fix." he says, leaning towards you.

His nose brushes against yours, and you shiver. You lift your leg, trying to kick him in the groyne, but out of the corner of his eye, he sees your sudden movement and grabs your thigh in a tight grip. If it weren't for the thick layers of material, he would probably leave bruises.

"You... you have nothing to fix. There is no longer us. I don't even know you anymore, Coriolanus."

"Don't." he growls at you angrily. You can see the desperation and madness in his eyes at the fact that you're using his name and that you wrote off your relationship. "It was always you. You were always mine, Y/N, and I was always your Coryo."

"Things are changing quickly. We are not the same, and now we have nothing in common, nothing to talk about."

"We have EVRYTHING to talk about. I still love.."

"DON'T!" you interrupt him. He freezes. You rarely shout, especially at him. That's why he takes a step back before putting on his impassive mask again. "Don't even say that. You have no idea what love is. Sure, you may feel attached and even desire me at some point, but you have no idea of unconditional, true love. So for old time's sake, leave me alone."

"What about you? Do you think you are so holy and blameless? That I'm the only bad guy? You lied to me. You promised you would stay with me, no matter what."

"I promised it to my Coryo. Not to you, Coriolanus. My Coryo died in District 12 with Sejanus—maybe even in the Hunger Games—when you let Dr. Gaul brainwash you in the name of fame, money, and position. You think that old hag didn't tell me why Sejanus is dead? That I don't know that your songbird has disappeared? That I would believe that Highbottom just got high or drank himself to death?" he clenches his jaw and fists at your words. You can see how furious he is, but he holds back, still controlling himself.

"Everything I did, I did for us. For you. For Tigris and Grandma." you laugh, wondering who he's trying to fool—himself, you, or both of you at the same time.

"No. You're doing it for yourself. Only for yourself, Coriolanus." he gets even more angry and pins you to the wall again. His cool blue eyes are raging with rage, and you try hard to push away the feeling of fear he has stirred in you.

"Do you want a reason to hate me? So you and Tigris can still gossip about my madness? Then maybe I should let this old man pursue her and sell her as a wife to one of them for good money."

"KEEP HER OUT OF IT! It's Tigris, Coriolanus! Tigris! The woman whose sacrifice you owe your entire fucking life to! A woman who went out of her way to give your ungrateful, selfish ass something to wear. Who sacrificed the love of her life in the name of maintaining the façade of Snow's wealth?! You can give a damn about me, Sejan, and even that little songbird of yours, but if you fucking ruin the life of your cousin—the only goddamn person who still cares about you—I promise you, in memory of OUR dead friend, that there won't be a fucking hole where you could hide from me."

You stare daggers at each other, both openly expressing your resentment towards the other. You have no idea why he still cares about you—is it because of your money, position, or some sick fantasy he has in his head, or maybe he actually still cares about you?

You don't think about it when a more important issue arises.

Suddenly, he grabs your face in both hands and pulls you towards him, greedily kissing you as he connects your lips after a very long time of separation. He caresses your lips with his and kisses you with such fervour as if he craves you like a hermit starving for water.

And for a moment, you feel like you were with Coryo, when all that mattered to you was the other one, when you could get lost in each other, forgetting about the rest of the world and the worries that were waiting for you.

And that's exactly what he's doing now. He makes you forget about anything but him.

You can't help but moan into his mouth as he presses his body against yours. When he releases his strong grip on your cheeks to grab you around your waist and press you against his body, his leg is between yours.

He kisses you more hungrily, groaning too at the familiar warmth of your body against him and the feeling of your soft, silky skin pressing against him. The scent of your perfume mixes, creating a perfect combination of roses and your favourite flowers. Your hands automatically go to his hair as you hold on to him and press him to you. You don't like the gel on your hands from his hair, but you ignore this new, irritating feeling by biting his lip.

You don't think at all. As well as Coriolanus. You both just kiss each other, your tongues joining, as you both let your desire for one another take control of the situation.

You only come to your senses when your lips break apart. You gasp, trying to breathe again, as he fucks your exposed collarbones with kisses. Your brain comes back to you as he leaves a hickey on your neck. He bites you, making you moan so needily that a wave of shame washes over you with his tongue, soothing the bite. You push him away from you and place your hand on your chest, trying to regain control over yourself.

"See? We belong together. There is no other way, Y/N. We are all we need."

"Bullshit." you gasp, trying to ignore the possessive, smug feeling blooming in your chest when you see his messy hair and your lipstick smeared on his lips. "Since you are that good in losing your memory, then forget about me too."

"I can't. I just can't. You think I haven't tried? That you don't haunt me every damn step I take? Everything I have and everything I know is saturated with you. With the memory of both of us. I forgot about what I had with that songbird and my friendship with Sejanus, but I simply CAN'T forget about you. I haven't spent a single damn day without thinking about you. NOT EVEN ONE. And I know you felt the same way. Do you know why I didn't kill that stupid boy who was clinging to you? Because I knew it would make you hate me even more. I was alone without you at 12, and you know how it ended. You are my conscience. Without you... there's nothing holding me back. Without you, there is nothing to distinguish me from the Hunger Games tributes. I have no borders, mercy, compassion, or anything that makes people human beings. And Gaul knows it. That's why she told you all of my crimes; that's why you're paranoid now that I'm someone completely different. But it's still me. I. Am. Still. Your. Coryo." he says it firmly, taking a step closer to you with each word.

"Don't turn me into a fucking cricket for your Pinocchio. I am not, and I do not want to be your conscience. I will not take part in your lies, games, and manipulations." you say as you both stare at each other, neither of you wanting to concede to the other in any way.

"I will have you. One way or another, but I will. Even if it is the last thing I do, I will have you by my side. Just where you always belonged. I promised you to be my First Lady. And I intend to keep that promise."

"You must become president first. And believe me, I will do everything in my power to prevent that from happening. Maybe you can't forget about me. But I can. I do not need you. I never needed you. How ironic to be able to lose the memories of everyone except the girl who will be the end of you, isn't it, CORIOLANUS?" you mock him, a smirk on your lips, making him a promise.

You walk past him, and this time he lets you go, knowing full well that he won't do anything more with you today. At least he got his kiss and a little taste of you, a reminder of the reward that awaits him when everything finally falls into place. When he finally has you in his arms and is at the top of Panem—his rightful place.

"The game has just begun!" he shouts after you, staring at you as you head towards the bathroom to touch up your ruined makeup. It gives you satisfaction to think that this bastard will probably have to clean himself up after your little make-out session, too.

You think that maybe Gaul was right about the Hunger Games being the whole world. But the reality was that there could only be ONE winner.

And among the people of the Capitol, only you and Coriolanus had a real chance of winning. It has always been like that. And even lost memories that do not want to go away so easily are proof of this.

Part 2

[rinkkuma]

୨୧ JJK BOYS V.S. PLUSHIES

ft. satoru gojo, yuta okkotsu, suguru geto, yuuji itadori, & megumi fushiguro

tags. gn!reader, all fluff ! what will they do when you have plushies on your bed… / author's note. these are all lowk the same just variants im sorry i #hadnomoreideas

SATORU fights every urge in his body to not punch, throw, or kick your plushies off your bed. seeing them makes him mad. the word plushies makes him want to scream, he can't even control himself. like, they get to sleep with you every night?! he hates strongly dislikes whenever you get a new plushie and show it off to him. once you leave your room, oh boy, he is punching all of your plushies one by one. and not even a light punch; he is punching as hard as he can. (in the face, mind you) he gets a little carried away, unknowingly being loud as hell, and is laughing a little. you are confused and a little worried, so you decide to go check on satoru.. and what a scene you walked into! all of your plushies are now on the ground, with the sole survivor being your favorite, still on the bed. satoru has your favorite plushie in a chokehold while he blabs about how it'll regret even being made and gives it another punch with his other hand. he hasn't noticed your presence yet due to the heat of the moment, but when he does, he awkwardly drops your plush and looks at you like nothing had happened. you burst out laughing while he mumbles how he was just “fluffing them up”.

YUTA doesn't mind them at all. after all, he also has plushies to help him sleep at night, and he adored you ten times more once he found out that you did too. one day, the two of you have a sleepover, and he brings all of his plushies over.. oh boy! the moment he showed up at your front door with bags and bags of plushies, your jaw dropped. (there was one even balanced on top of his head) yuta was honestly more of a plushie addict than you. when he laid out his plushies on your bed, it was filled. wherever you laid, you would squish a few plushies. despite all the plushies, the two of you end up cuddling each other anyway. (half of them had fallen off the bed by the end of the night)

SUGURU is genuinely not bothered by your plushies. they're inanimate objects; why would he be bothered? they're cute, and he can count on them to help you sleep at night when he's not present. he also likes to buy you more plushies because of the way your face lights up when you see them, he can't get enough. every morning, after (the majority) of your plushies have fallen off the bed, he tenderly helps you arrange them back in their place. suguru even begins to give each one of your plushies a name (if you didn't already name them) and a little backstory. his personal favorite is a pair of plushies that reminds him of you and him.

YUUJI has mixed feelings about your plushies. yes, they're cute, but sometimes, when he sees you cuddling one, he wants to snatch it and replace it with himself. over time, he notices how you're always holding or cuddling the same plushie. sure, everyone has their favorites, but you have other ones, so why not switch them up every once in awhile? he decides to ask you why one day, and when you respond that it simply reminded you of him, he nearly passes out. he was hyperventilating, screaming, and everything in between. from that day on, yuuji has loved your plushies and even bought you variants of whatever plushie you said that looked like him.

MEGUMI tries to convince himself that he does not care about your plushies. they're cute and all, but he can't help but feel jealous of them. sometimes. whenever he has to be out and about, you send pictures to him throughout the day, and sometimes your plushie is sneaked into the photo at your side, and he can't help but feel annoyed. that plushie could've been him, but gojo had unfortunately dragged him out that day. he mentally groans as he types out a response, trying to sound as nice as he can. at first typing, “get that stupid plush away from you rn” before hastily deleting it and just sending, “pretty”. after megumi gets dragged around by gojo (yuuji and nobara magically appeared too) for six hours, he can finally go home. when he walks in, you're on the couch watching whatever random movie you had turned on out of boredom, and that stupid plushie is still by your side. he walks a little closer, and you're literally hugging it. megumi sighs before walking up next to your seat and gently snatching the plushie out of your hold before sitting down next to you and pulling you into his arms.

[bruhstories]

Muse I

p.2 && p.3

summary: after futile attempts of producing paintings for the councillors of piltover, you finally find your muse. pairing: viktor x painter!reader warnings: suggestive content, strangers to friends-ish, angst, some swearing, afab!reader with she/her pronouns who wears skirts and dresses, somewhat canon divergent, particularly in part 2 w/c: 4k

a/n: this might be my magnum opus lol. it will come with a part 2. likes and reblogs are much appreciated and encouraged!

Paint dripped on the marble floor of your atelier — an unfortunate safety hazard that you were used to by now. You couldn't fill in the blank canvas with anything other than still life, despite being commissioned to paint portraits of every councillor, as well as a landscape of Piltover. But you lacked inspiration. Motivation. You had no muse, and councillor Salo definitely wasn't one, not with his snobbish attitude. 

"I'm afraid we'll have to postpone your portrait, Councillor." You excused yourself and left the room, armed with nothing but a sketchbook and a dull pencil.

Piltover was a beautiful city, and you knew you could paint it if you just found a nice spot to view it from. Somewhere high above, where you could see it in its entirety. But until you found that perfect place, you roamed the streets, closely observing the architecture, the flora, the fauna. You walked on grass — you weren't sure it was allowed — and found a fountain, clear water trickling down the granite curves and slopes. Whoever sculpted it did a brilliant job, despite the water eroding the stone. In fact, the erosion added a certain charm to it.

You took your sandals off and sat down on a patch of grass to sketch the fountain, steady, so as to not mess up your drawing, even if it was just a guideline for your future painting. It was then when you saw him — the most beautiful creature you ever laid eyes on. His unkempt chestnut brown hair framed his face in a way that made your heart flutter, but his striking amber eyes had you hooked. Even from such a distance you could see the yellow and orange hues mixing in his irises. 

Quickly flipping the page of your sketchbook, you began to draw him. Graphite slid up and down the parchment as your hand moved naturally, like it had a mind of its own. You sketched and shaded, not stopping until he did. Until another man joined him, effectively blocking your vision. No matter, your visual memory aided you in finishing the drawing, but you didn't stop there. You found your muse, and you needed to paint him.

Your nights grew restless as you juggled between painting Piltover, the councillors, and him. But he inspired you somehow, leaving only Councillor Medarda, half of the landscape, and his portrait unfinished. No matter how hard you tried, you couldn't get the colour of his eyes right, and it drove you mad. You couldn't remember exactly how much yellow you needed, or how much red. Was there a hint of green? Did you need to add a drop of blue? 

A soft knock on the door of your atelier startled you, and you opened it, greeting Councillor Medarda. You forgot she was due for her portrait, and invited her into your messy chamber.

"My apologies, Councillor, I didn't have the time to tidy up." 

"It's quite alright. I prefer this — the raw, unfiltered creativity. Besides, I've never met an artist that's organised." She smiled. "May I?"

"Of course." You nodded, bringing her more canvases and sketches to look at.

"You truly are gifted. The colours, the highlights, you must be a prodigy." The councillor nodded. "Is that-"

You snatched the paper from her hand, clutching it at your chest.

"Sorry, that one's... personal." 

"Funny. I thought I recognised that man." She pondered, and the gears in your head rotated. 

"If you do know him, could you introduce us?" You chewed on your lower lip, then left to show her another one of your paintings. "I just can't get his eyes right."

"Viktor." Councillor Medarda gasped at the sheer hard work you put into the portrait. "You weren't commissioned to do this."

"Like I said, it's personal. Practice." You swiftly corrected yourself. "Yes, good practice."

"I suppose I could take you to his lab. A fair warning — you might have to bring your supplies there, because he will never leave his work to pose for a painting." She scoffed. 

"I can figure something out."

Mel Medarda kept her promise after what seemed to be an eternity. Although you hadn't finished her portrait, you managed to paint a good chunk of it, laying down all the base colours and shapes. She would have to come back another day, however. You walked with her, closely trailing behind with a box full of paints, brushes and thick paper. You didn't bring his portrait with you yet, because you needed to assess him first, and you couldn’t paint anywhere else but your atelier. Sketching was different — that you could do anywhere, at any time. But painting was intimate. However, you were considering making an exception for him.

"Goor afternoon, Jayce." Councillor Medarda greeted a very cheerful, very lovestruck scientist. 

You could clearly see that he was doting on her, and she tried to hide her own excitement while maintaining a professional persona. It was cute to see a respectable scientist and a reputable councillor behave like teenagers — her hitched breath, his voice cracking, the quiver of her lip, the twinkle in his eyes — they were adorable. But you were here for someone else, not to witness their blooming love in a cold lab.

"Ahem." You cleared your throat inconspicuously, feigning a cough, and she remembered her promise.

"Jayce, this is Y/N. She's been commissioned to paint portraits of the councillors. Y/N, this is Jayce Talis, scholar, scientist, politician." Mel said, and you reached out your hand to shake Jayce's while propping the box in your hand with your knee.

"Nice to meet you, miss." His grip was firm around your fingers and palm. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"

The councillor stifled a chuckle, her thin, delicate fingers covering her mouth. As always, Jayce thought himself to be the centre of attention. He was the centre of her attention, that much was certain.

"She's here for Viktor. Have you seen him?"

"Viktor, yes." Jayce awkwardly rubbed the back of his head, then looked at the crate in your arms. "Do you need a hand?"

"Thank you, Mr. Talis, but these materials are quite precious to me. I'd rather hold them myself, if you don't mind." You gripped the box tighter. 

Jayce found it amusing how fond you were of your paintings supplies, something you had in common with Viktor. He, too, was possessive of his work, in an incredibly stubborn, annoying way.

"Very well. Follow me." The scientist said, and you and councillor Medarda walked down a corridor of marble and limestone.

In classic Piltover architecture, golden columns decorated the tall walls, with blue spheres embedded in them, contrasting the polished white floor. Whoever designed it had a keen eye for details, you thought. Jayce and Mel partook in small talk, but you didn't intrude. You much preferred memorising the way to the laboratory, the number of stairs, and the motifs on the walls.

Two wooden doors stood in front of you, intimidatingly tall. Jayce opened one of them, inviting you and councillor Medarda in first, like the gentleman he was. You were taken aback by the materials on the worktops, the tools, the lights, the runes. It was a lot to take in, and you wouldn't understand what you were taking in exactly. But behind the tables full of hammers, screwdrivers and wrenches was your muse. He was focused on something, brows furrowed and lips pursed. A tiny bead of sweat trickled down his temple, slowly reaching his jawline, and you instinctively licked your chapped lips. 

"Vik!" Jayce called out, but the man offered no response, still concentrating on whatever he was doing. "You'll have to excuse him. When he's working, he seems unable to hear."

You smiled — it was a trait you both shared. Whenever you immersed yourself in painting, you couldn't pay attention to your surroundings. 

"Viktor!" Jayce moved closer to the table, snapping his fingers in Viktor's face, until the man scoffed.

"Yes?" Voice laced with irritation, he finally looked up at Jayce, then behind him. "Oh."

"Viktor, this is Y/N. She's an artist." Mel's hand reached out, and with a nod, you stepped forward, placing the heavy crate on an empty chair.

"I'm terribly sorry to bother you, but I... well, how shall I put it?" You rummaged through the box and pulled out your first sketch of Viktor. "I would like to paint you."

He took the paper from your hand, amber eyes wide at the beauty of it. Viktor scanned the sketch and every detail that went into it, pale cheeks tinted pink.

"I understand if you find this awkward, or if you don't agree." You carried on, but there wasn't an ounce of emotion on his face.

"When did you do this?" Viktor asked, still staring at himself. It was like looking into a mirror, yet he couldn't recognise himself.

"A few days ago, by the fountain." You tried to guess his feelings, but he didn't let you see them. "Again, I understand you probably consider me strange for doing this, but I must paint you, sir."

"I'm flattered, miss. But perhaps Jayce would be a better candidate? You'll find he is much more appealing to the eye." He handed you back the sketch.

You glanced at Jayce, a look of disgust on your face that you tried to hide. Sure, he was objectively attractive, that you could agree on, but you didn't want that. You wanted him. You wanted your muse.

"I think it would be a great idea, Vik!" Jayce beamed at his partner. "You need a break."

"That is precisely what I don't need." Viktor rolled his eyes. "Besides, I don't want to leave my lab."

"I could do it here." You offered. "I won't talk, I won't disturb you, you won't even know I'm here."

"It's already crammed."

"Please." You leaned forward, palms slammed on his table, trying to get a better look at his eyes. You probably looked insane like that, but you didn't care — you were desperate. "If you don't like it, you can hide it, break it, burn it. It will be yours to do as you please."

Viktor was past the point of being irked. He was downright furious, but he had to shut you up somehow. And Jayce, who really needed to wipe the shit-eating grin off his face.

"Fine." He mentally scolded himself for agreeing to do something so stupid. Posing for a painting? Ridiculous. 

"Thank you so much. This means the world to me!" You picked up the crate to find an unused spot in the lab. 

Viktor didn't mind your presence. You were true to your word — quiet. You didn't ask questions, didn't walk around the lab, didn't make him sit in some egregious position. In fact, he was surprised to see just how focused you were on your paintings. The fact that he didn't pose made it difficult for you to do a portrait — the whole point of it was for your model to sit still. And he did, just with his back at you, slouched and avoidant.

And you weren't always there. Bouncing between your atelier and the lab, between sleepless nights and painting, your schedule had become hectic. The bags under your eyes and poorly buttoned shirts, the strands of hair that stuck out from your updo, or the lines of green and blue on your cheeks were a dead giveaway. 

But Viktor was the exact same, missing only the paint on his face and the skirt. You were like two peas in a pod, so much so that it drove Jayce up the walls to practically have two Viktors in the lab. Stubborn, hard-working, irritable, he found it ridiculous that you didn't become friends yet, or at least something more than strangers, considering how similar you were.

But you weren't strangers.

The act of transcribing one's mind, body and soul onto canvas, without losing any tiny detail in translation, was intimate in itself. You had to study Viktor, to memorise his gestures, his quirks — the way his forehead creased when he focused, how he found comfort in gripping the handle of his cane, the twinkle in his eyes when he had a brilliant idea. You didn't need words to understand him.

At first, he found it odd. Having an intruder in his lab, in the only place that brought him comfort, joy and privacy, felt violating. It definitely didn't help that you kept a close eye on him. He understood why — you needed to look at him to be able to paint him. But it was, naturally, strange. Then, he became used to you, to your shadow, your scent — of roses, cinnamon, a hint of vanilla. Viktor never grew tired of the smell of copper and smoke, but whenever you walked past him in the afternoon to set up your easel and paints and brushes, he took a very deep breath in, just to oxygenate his brain with your scent.

The utter silence in the laboratory frustrated Jayce. Since you trespassed with their consent, his partner became quieter, and you barely uttered a good morning or goodbye. He really hoped you being there would help Viktor socialise, but it did the opposite. The sound of graphite scraping on paper, or bristles on canvas was the only thing he heard in days. It was too much.

"I need a break." Jayce slammed a screwdriver on the table, startling you, but Viktor was unmoved by the sudden rattle. "Viktor?"

"I'm fine." His partner waved his hand dismissively. 

"Y/N?" 

You set the brush aside, then cracked your knuckles. It had been hours since you had a drink or food.

"I'll take a break. I can't be efficient if I burn out, and I still need to finish the landscape." You got up from the wooden stool to stretch.

Behind the cogs and tools, Viktor glanced at you, amber eyes fixated on your neck, trailing down your collarbone, and your half-exposed chest. He didn't know when you unbuttoned your collar, or when you bunched up your skirt, but the clothes looked like an uncomfortable confinement on you. Like they stopped your body from flowing naturally. He wondered — an intrusive, improper, shameful thought — if you sometimes painted naked. If you were more creative when not clothed. But he shook the thought away when you walked around his table to the small stove behind him.

"Would you like some tea, Mr. Scientist?"

Viktor had forgotten how sweet your voice was, like a siren lulling sailors to their demise. He nodded, back facing you. He didn't dare to look at you after picturing you nude.

"Where did you study?" Jayce asked, and you really wanted Viktor to make that sort of small talk with you.

"Ionia, the Academy of Arts." You stirred the honey in Viktor's cup of tea.

"Mel tells me you're quite talented." Jayce complimented you, and you should've thanked him. 

"Talent is nothing without hard work, Mr. Talis, as I'm sure you already knew, given your career."

Viktor smiled, even if you couldn't see him. He wholeheartedly agreed with you — even if both him and Jayce were geniuses in their fields, they wouldn't have accomplished anything without sheer hard work and dedication. 

"You need to stop calling us Mr. Talis and Mr. Scientist." Jayce chuckled. "You've been in our lab for weeks now. You're part of the team."

"I wouldn't say part of the team, but I do appreciate the company. I can be quite lonely in my atelier." You placed the Viktor's tea on his table.

He couldn't help but feel a slight jab from your words. He, too, was lonely when Jayce left. But he didn't make an effort not to be. Work was more important, and he hadn't yet found anything to prioritise more than that. Jayce pulled out his pocket watch, and froze.

"Shit, I must go. I'm late to my date- my meeting. Sorry, Vik. Be right back! "

"Eeh, we both know these meetings take some time." Viktor grinned.

It wasn't the first time the two of you were alone in the laboratory, but it always happened when you were both working. You, however, were taking a break, and you needed it before returning to your portrait. Sitting in complete silence, you sipped on your tea, brainstorming ideas for the title of your painting. Viktor's Portrait didn't have a nice ring to it.

"You never asked to see it." You spoke, fingers wrapped around the warm mug, interrupting him for the first time.

He didn't, because he only agreed to it to shut you and Jayce up. He was never curious to see it finished, let alone in progress. But after spending weeks in your presence, and after you said that, he couldn't deny the curiosity that bubbled in his chest. Still, by this point, he could wait a few more weeks.

"I don't have any inclinations towards the arts, Miss Painter." Viktor playfully mocked the way you called him Mr. Scientist for so long. "I doubt any feedback I give will be useful."

He sighed, rubbing his eyes. Why were there two wrenches on his table? And two cogs? Two cups of tea? No, he was seeing double, his head was pounding, ears ringing. Viktor reached out for his cane, but when he took one step, his legs wobbled, refusing to support him. You caught him, a firm grasp around his forearm, and pulled the nearest chair for him to sit down after setting aside your mug.

"I suppose I am in need of a break, too." The scientist sighed.

Lately he had been looking paler, thinner. His clothes didn't fit him like they used too, trousers loose around his waist, held only by a leather belt. You brought his cane before he even asked you for it, and dug into your bag for food. Unwrapping the muslin cloth, you offered him your lunch — bread, cheese and a few dried fruits. It wasn't much, but it was better than nothing. 

"Eat, please." You encouraged him, breaking the bread in small bites. 

"No, it's your food."

"And I'm giving it to you." The stern tone of your voice had him oblige. 

"I've wondered, Miss Painter-"

"Y/N." You corrected him.

"Right, Y/N. I've wondered why did you want to paint me?" He asked after swallowing the food. "I'm a broken scientist, surely you could do better with your models."

"I am doing better." You pulled a chair for yourself. "I haven't had any inspiration in a very long time, despite being commissioned to paint fairly simple things. But then I saw you, and everything changed. Like it or not, Viktor, you became my muse that day."

"Well, I'm flattered. Truly." He winced at the weight of his brace around his calf. "I need to take this off. Too tight." Viktor bent over but his vision blurred, forcing him to lean back in the chair.

"I'll do it."

"Please, I don't need pity. Just to rest." He scoffed.

"It's not pity, it's help."

"Help because you pity me." 

"Help because I want to help. Have you never experienced honesty from people?" You kneeled down between his legs to get a better look at his brace.

His jaw clenched at the sight of you like that. It has been too long since he touched someone, and although your intentions were pure, he could not block his sinful thoughts from tainting his mind. You were beautiful, clever, and you shouldn't waste your time with someone like him. Yet there you were, nimble fingers working the leather straps of his brace. You pulled it off, resting it against the table behind you.

"Is there anything else I can do for you?" You looked up at him, and he drowned in your doe eyes.

Oh, there were plenty of things you could do for him, he just couldn't utter them, only imagine them.

"No, I'll just rest here if that's alright with you." Viktor nodded.

"Very well. I shall get back to my painting, but please, if you need any help, tell me."

When Jayce returned, nothing seemed out of the ordinary. You were meticulously combining colours, eyeballing the necessary amount you needed to create the shades you desired. Viktor was back at his table, brace around his leg and a chair closer to him. And it was quiet, normal.

Days of hard work proved fulfilling — you had finished the landscape of Piltover, handed the portraits to each councillor, and got paid. There were other requests that you received, but they could be postponed. You were so close to finishing Viktor's portrait, and you didn't need to do it in his lab anymore, only adding minor details.

But you couldn't just gift it unframed, and so you bought a simple wooden frame that you painted yourself to match the portrait. Purple and golden. You signed it and added something only the Academy of Arts in Ionia taught — a magical rune. Focusing your intentions in it, visualising the magic in the painting, you wrapped the canvas and took it to the laboratory. 

Jayce wasn't there, and you were so grateful for that, because you wanted Viktor to see it privately. You wanted to cherish that moment, just the two of you. Opening the tall wooden doors that you were so familiar with, you walked into the lab, portrait in your hands. Viktor was shocked to see you look so well put together — a dark green dress and heels that clicked with each step on the cold stone floor. He had seen you at your worst, face covered in paint and fingertips darkened by coal and graphite. But now he had the privilege to see you at your best, he thought. 

"It is done." The smile on your lips was contagious. 

His long fingers touched the twine knot around the canvas, almost afraid to untie it and look at the portrait, but your encouraging, eager eyes stopped him from hesitating. Viktor pulled on the string and unwrapped the paper, looking at himself. But he was different. His hair was longer, silver mixed in his brown locks. A purple cloak was wrapped around him, with golden adornments, and his cane was a staff, the handle circular and matching the golden in his outfit. The dark background was lightened by pale yellow shapes and lines, and his eyes were identical, the same amber hues he saw when he looked in a mirror.

"Have you thought of a name?" Viktor asked, still shook by how beautiful he was in that portrait.

"The Herald." You nodded.

The painting belonged in a museum, not in his bedroom to collect dust. He examined every detail, even the frame that was in harmony with him. Was that how you saw him? Like a god?

"I honestly don't know what to say. It's beautiful." Viktor's eyes narrowed down on the small rune in the corner of the canvas. "What is that?"

"Magic." You grinned. "At the Academy they taught us to weave magic into our art."

"Magic? What for?"

"Hopefully to help you get better."

"I'm afraid that is impossible, Miss Painter. But I do appreciate the thought." Viktor offered you a bittersweet smile. "How may I repay you?"

"By doing me the honour of modelling for me." You folded your arms across your chest.

"Didn't I just do that?" He snorted.

"No, you worked. I would like to study you more. Your features are unique, Viktor."

"That one I have never been called. Weak, broken, handicapped, but unique is a new one." Viktor sighed. "I think you've had enough fun, Miss Painter. I won't be an object of mockery."

You were stunned. Did he honestly think you were making fun of him? That you spent countless days and nights painting him just to ridicule him? That you lost sleep and hurt your fingers just to insult him? No. He was insulting you.

"Very well." You straightened your posture. He was not about to wound your pride. "Good luck with your work, Mr. Scientist."

[rifari2037]

The idea of her being mother figure is challenged right from episode one when Aang reminds her that she's still just a kid.

Okay, that's right! That's spot on! I don't deny that Aang makes Katara act like a child again for a while.

Aang reminds her that she's still just a kid.

Katara : Fire Nation. Sokka : We should tell him. Katara : [Yelling.] Aang! There's something you need to see. Aang : [Aang runs to them from the airball court, still playing with the hollow ball. Cheerfully.] Okay! Aang : [Happily runs up.] What is it? Katara : [Innocently holds her hands behind her back.] Uh... Just a new waterbending move I learned. Aang : Nice one! But enough practicing, [Excited as he turns around and start walking away.] we have a whole temple to see! Sokka : [Brushes the last of the snow from his head and shoulders.] You know, you can't protect him forever.

It's only the third episode, but Aang's childish attitude already makes Katara act like a mother protecting her child from reality. Katara also has to calm Aang down when he goes into avatar mode, it happens several times like it's her responsibility to do so.

Aang reminds her that she's still just a kid.

Katara : [Resumed filling the pot with more vegetables.] Watching you show off for a bunch of girls does not sound like fun. Aang : [Disappointed.] Well, neither does carrying your basket. Katara : [Annoyed.] It's not my basket. These supplies are for our trip. I told you, we have to leave Kyoshi soon.

This scene actually piss me off, like, if I were Katara I would mad too! And again, Aang's irresponsible and childish behaviour forced Katara to be responsible for doing the chores. If not her to be mature, who else? Sokka who is busy with his misogyny towards the Kyoshi warriors? Or Aang who is busy having fun with his fans?

Aang reminds her that she's still just a kid.

Aang ran away after someone blamed him for something he actually did a hundred years ago. Katara must find him in the storm, then help him dwelling with his past.

And it happens again in The Awakening. Aang runs away and triggers Katara's another trauma that forces her to grow up, which is being abandoned by the person she cares about (her father). Katara (Sokka and Toph) must find him and save him.

Aang reminds her that she's still just a kid.

Katara : [Disappointed.] Wow... there's hardly any in here. Aang : [Lashes out.] I'm sorry, okay! It's a desert cloud; I did all I could! What's anyone else doing?! [Pointing his staff at Katara.] What are you doing‌?! She returns his attack with a shocked look on her face. Katara : Trying to keep everyone together. Let's just get moving. We need to head this direction.

Katara is the only one who can keep the Gaang out of the desert. If she doesn't act mature and responsible with the Gaang, they might not survive. And what does Aang do? Get mad at her for losing Appa, while Katara is not to blame for it.

Aang reminds her that she's still just a kid.

Katara : Aang, we do understand. It's just ... Aang : Just what, Katara? What? Katara : We're trying to help! Aang : Then, when you figure out a way for me to beat the Fire Lord without taking his life, I'd love to hear it! [Walks away.] Katara : Aang, don't walk away from this. [Walks toward Aang.]

I love Katara, you know, that's why I really don't like Aang pointing angrily at Katara and blaming her every time he got emotional, when Katara didn't do something wrong and just wants to help him. Is this a healthy relationship?

Aang reminds Katara that she's just a child in the first episode, but unfortunately, the Gaang (especially Aang) once again forces Katara to be motherly in the next episodes.

Does she like being motherly? No, she doesn't. She wants to have fun too, but if she did, the Gaang would be screwed. Being motherly is not just her nature, but the Gaang (except Suki) forces her to be more mature than the others narratively.

Actually, that's why I like the idea of Momtara and Dadko. In my opinion, this nickname is not to make her forget she is just a kid. Instead, because the narrative itself always shows Katara forced to act motherly toward Gaang, 'Momtara and Dadko' shows that is not only Katara's responsibility to do all chores.

Calling Zuko Dadko is also reasonable, because he is narratively more mature among the Gaang (except Suki). He focuses on Aang's training and worries that Aang will fail, just like what father usually do to his son.

More than that, Katara doesn't need to act motherly with Zuko - he is the one bringing her things and preparing what they need in their journey contras with what Aang did in Kyoshi Island. And they act more like equal partners toward each other, rather than mother and son.

Oh, it's true that Aang makes Katara child again in first episode. But it's weird to defend Kat/ang and hate the narrative of Katara being motherly at the same time, when the Gaang (especially Aang) often forced Katara to act motherly.

[hydrobunny]

everyone thinks that they know us

tags: confessions, getting together, friends to lovers

a/n: written from the idea made by the amazing @yangx2isawhore :3

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

it's exactly 11:34pm when the ringing of your phone wakes you up.

jolting up from your bed, you blearily glare at your phone screen. the contact name of SHIDOU‼️ burns into your eyes.

you hang up.

a second later, it rings again.

"what."

"y/n!" as always, shidou's voice is just a little too loud for it to be acceptable. "how mad would you be if i killed rin right now?"

you pause. you look at the time. you consider the probability of him telling the truth.

"pretty mad."

"great!" and you can hear the grin in shidou's voice as he recites out an address. "you can come save him then."

although you were the one that had tried so hard to befriend rin itoshi, you were pretty certain that you hadn't signed up for whatever the hell this was.

you pull up at the address at a sharp 12:02 am, annoyance already settling in underneath your eyes.

the address is a mansion (why would you ever expect anything else), and the recognizable bass of party music blasts through the windows. at least a dozen different colored sports cars (you consider how much one would sell for) are parked outside of it.

you debate turning around. unfortunately, you think shidou might actually be serious about killing your best friend.

best friend. how did you get to this point? friend. didn't matter that you might have been in love with him- rin could never see you as anything more.

you knock on the door.

a man you might be able to recognize if you cared enough answers. his dual-colored eyes flit over you with interest.

"hey there, pretty," he says, and his voice is slurring with the unmistakeable touch of alcohol. "don't think you're on the invite list, but i can make an exception."

you scowl. "no thank you. shidou called me to come?"

he cocks his head. "what could someone like you possibly have anything to do with that psycho?"

"he-"

the psycho in question slams into two-eye's side, whooping. "took you long enough!"

you sigh.

shidou ryusei grins at you, positively buzzing with energy. the smell of cheap (why cheap? genuinely, why did he buy cheap alcohol?) beer lingers around his face.

"did you kill rin yet?"

the grin immediately wipes itself from his face. "getting there."

he whirls around, a warm hand latching around your own- and then he's pulling you through the hallways of this too-big house.

the music hasn't stopped for a second since you've got here. in many of the rooms, you can spot groups of vaguely recognizable people, all of them in various states of buzzed-to-plastered.

you wonder how professional athletes weren't any better than the frat boys that threw weekend parties. (well, the age range was pretty much the same)

"where are we?" you manage to shout into shidou's ear, as he pulls you further away from the heart of the party.

"sae's house!" he yells back.

"what?"

the two of you slam into another room- shidou shuts the door with too much force - and the music fades away into background noise.

rin's head snaps up at your entrance.

"rinrin!" shidou crows. "brought you another babysitter!"

rin stares at you with genuine confusion. his eyes are hazed over, his cheeks a light red. "what? y/n?" a red solo cup, ominously empty, sits by his hand.

"yes, yes," shidou replies, pushing you forward. "the only person who can somehow tolerate your presence is here!"

you slip out of shidou's grip. "what the hell is happening?"

he rolls his obnoxiously bright eyes at your question. "little itoshi's weirdly drunk and incoherent. which means big itoshi has to pretend like he cares. which means i can't force big itoshi to drink an enormous amount of alcohol! so now you have to watch this idiot!"

"i am not drunk," rin snarls towards shidou. "and i don't need a babysitter."

he attempts to get up from the counter he's perched on, and immediately wobbles. you debate whether it would be worth laughing.

before you can make a decision, another side door opens.

and sae itoshi meets your gaze with bored indifference.

"what- you!"

he raises an eyebrow. you're not sure how you got into this situation.

you wonder how you're supposed to react to meeting the one and only brother you've heard rin talk so much about.

some inner part of you immediately doesn't like him. the other part immediately notices how similar they look, and curse their sheer attractiveness.

either way, sae loses the little interest he had in you immediately, turning towards shidou. "is this-" he waves a hand towards you. "her?

shidou nods furiously. "junior is perfectly cared for now. now let's get out of here!"

rin glares at all three of you.

sae sighs. for someone who's supposed to be the host, he doesn't look thrilled at the prospect of socializing.

the elder itoshi turns his attention onto the younger. "you're fine with her?"

rin's eyes narrow further. he doesn't respond.

shidou takes that as his cue. his hands place themselves on sae's shoulders. "good talk, everyone!"

and with another slammed door, you are left alone with rin. it's more than a little awkward.

you open your mouth- he shoots you a glare. you can take a hint. (even if it breaks your heart.)

out of a bored curiosity, and maybe a little spite, you start opening cabinets. they're mostly empty (you wonder what kind of life sae lives).

rin's gaze follows you the entire way. it's intense enough to give you goosebumps.

eventually, you come across a pot of gold- a wine bottle, its cork untapped. there's a ribbon attached to its neck; you spy the JFU logo placed on top.

"he won't mind, right?" you ask.

silence follows.

you open the bottle. if you're going to be stuck here anyways, why let it go to waste?

surprisingly, it's rin that talks first. "why'd you come?" he mumbles out, stumbling over a syllable.

you shrug, taking another mouthful of the wine. (it's good. too good. damn rich people.) "shidou said he was gonna kill you."

“shidou has your number? you responded? why'd you care?" he blurts out in a tsunami of words. immediately after, he looks away with reddening ears.

you eye him with slowly growing amusement. there's a buzzing in your stomach that's slowly stripping your self control away. "yes. and yes. and because we're friends."

rin tch's, still refusing to meet your eyes. you think he'll keep talking, but he doesn't.

so you take another swig of the wine bottle. maybe rin can be the one to reach out for once.

but- like always- you're the first to crack. after a possible fifteen minutes of brooding silence, you sigh.

"what's going on with sae?"

rin's gaze snaps to your face. "what about him?"

you raise your brows. (you think you meant to raise only one. you can't really tell.) "i thought he didn't fuck with you."

rin's face scrunches at your words. "what?"

you groan, sliding down from your perch onto the floor. "you know? i thought- well, he looks like he cares."

he stands up. "he doesn't."

"sure."

he stares at you with a complicated expression, and then makes his way over to you. you blink up at him.

"i don't like you talking to him," rin says, seemingly more lucid than before.

"wasn't really my choice." you shoot him a smile, raising a hand. he lifts you up to standing with it.

from how close you now are, the two of you are almost touching. if you weren't as delirious on wine as you are now, this would be much more distressing.

even now, it takes all of your will to maintain eye contact with him.

"you don't like me talking to him?" you mumble out.

rin tilts his head. "no."

"can i ask why you came here then? or why you got plastered off cheap booze?"

he opens his mouth, then stops. and then- "you're not doing much better."

you clear your throat. more than the wine, it's rin who's clouding your thoughts. his faint cologne- so much more evident at this distance- intoxicates you.

"that didn't answer my question."

his eyes narrow. "i felt like it."

you frown. "what situation are you in that made you want to get drunk with shidou?"

and his eyes flicker down. to your lips.

"what do you think?"

you stumble; rin's hand places itself in the small of your back. signature itoshi teal burns.

you're both drunk. you're in his brother's house. and yet-

and yet, you're both here, and rin itoshi is leaning down into you.

his lips meet yours desperately, his breath catching over and over again. your hands tangle into his hair- he groans wordlessly.

you separate with a gasp.

"are you- what?" you manage, face ablaze.

rin looks just as disheveled. "y/n."

"rin."

he steps back, eyes roving from wall to wall. "fuck. fuck, im sorry. i thought-"

that's not the right words you wanted to hear. you step forward, the wine bottle long forgotten behind.

"you thought right," you blurt.

rin stares at you. a flush sits over his face.

"i thought you wanted to just be friends. that- that you didn't want me." you say.

surprise, and horror, flicks in his eyes. "what?"

you cough out a laugh. "not very smart off the field, are you?"

rin's mouth opens and closes, much like a fish. you think he's going to speak-

he closes the gap between you two, and his lips meet yours again.

between gasps, he mumbles a "i could never not want you." into your form.

and you sigh out your own declaration of love

somewhere in the house, a door slams. someone whoops in exhilaration.

but in this room, it's just you and rin. alcohol tinges both of your breaths. you're both drunk on something bigger.