#shes willing to do what is necessary to get the message across

[lyss-butterscotch]

AHHHS HIT FUCK BITCH IN THE MIDST OF MY INSANITY I REMEMBERED UI PEBBLES SHINE A LIGHT REPRISE.G OD DAMMIT I JUST KEEP SINKING FURTHER AND FURTHER

[TW: Mentions of suicide]

You made a mistake reminding me.

[mrsshabana]

LOVE your work! If you could do a sequel for Kinktober 20 - Voyeurism, that'd be great! And take however long you'd need, I will wait however long is necessary. But I had an idea, and if you want to do however you want instead, that's fine. But if the reader found the cameras, Gyutaro obviously has access to do this, and Reader decided to have a little fun, because she's into voyeurism, too... All hot and bothered from wondering how long he's been watching her, she hatches a plan. She disables all but one camera, and leaves it angled so Gyutaro can't see anything but a message, on a piece of paper: I know who you are. Come by my room this Friday at 8 PM, or I'll report you. Gyutaro gets there, reader is in lingerie and has her own camera pointed towards the bed! (I feel like I said a lot and not enough...)

𝐕𝐨𝐲𝐞𝐮𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐦 𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐓𝐰𝐨

꒦꒷‧₊ Summary Gyutaro is still obsessed with you and still watches you on the cameras regularly. He got lucky not getting caught for so long, but his luck has finally run out. You've found the cameras and he has no choice but to confront you. What he thinks will be the most embarrassing moment of his life will become a blessing in disguise. ꒦꒷‧₊ Content Gyutaro x female!reader, 18+ MDNI, college au, voyeurism, Gyutaro is an incel and a pervert, vaginal sex, creampie ꒦꒷‧₊ Note 2.5k words. I have been so excited to write this, you have no idea. That kinktober entry was one of my favorites so I'm so happy you requested a sequel! ✧:･ﾟ→ Part one

The semester is finally coming to a close. It's bittersweet because Gyutaro will be relieved when finals are finally over and he can have a break, but he won't be able to see you in class anymore once they've ended. The only thing keeping him going is the secret glimpses into your private life that he has access to. The cameras.

Of course he never got rid of them, why would he? They've been up all semester and he's gotten away with it. Watching you through the cameras has become the highlight of his day and he doesn't plan to stop anytime soon.

All week he's been studying hard for finals, so much so that he hasn't had the time to watch you lately. Usually, he doesn't care too much about grades but he's slacked off so much this year that he has no choice but to do well on his exams.

So, reluctantly, he's temporarily given up his favorite pastime.

Today has been particularly rough though. Having studied all damn day and night, Gyutaro is in dire need of some stress relief. And of course, the first thing that comes to mind is the cameras.

"I guess I could spare some time," he mumbles to himself as he shoves his books to the side and pulls his laptop onto his desk.

A devilish smirk across his face as he closes out his tabs and opens the live recording application. So excited that his fingers are shaking as he double-clicks the icon.

But what welcomes him isn't the sight of you studying at your desk like he had expected. It's something quite different that makes his stomach turn.

𝐼 𝓀𝓃𝑜𝓌 𝓌𝒽𝑜 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝒶𝓇𝑒. 𝒞𝑜𝓂𝑒 𝒷𝓎 𝓂𝓎 𝓇𝑜𝑜𝓂 𝓉𝒽𝒾𝓈 𝐹𝓇𝒾𝒹𝒶𝓎 𝒶𝓉 𝟪 𝒫𝑀 𝑜𝓇 𝑒𝓁𝓈𝑒.

"Fuck..." he curses under his breath, his heart beating wildly as he realizes the situation he got himself into.

Of course this happened, he was too careless. He should have known that he couldn't get away with spying on you for so long. But how did you find the cameras? And how did you figure out that he was the one who put them there?

"Goddammit, I'm screwed," he whimpers, eyes watering from a combination of guilt and frustration.

He knows he has no other choice but to confront you on Friday. Getting expelled or worse, possible criminal charges is not something that he is willing to risk.

The anxiety, stress, and guilt weigh down on him all night and he finds himself not able to fall asleep. It gets so bad that he even vomits a few times.

Tomorrow is Friday so he doesn't have to wait long to find out his fate. However, he's not sure if he should be happy to get it over with or dreading the fact that it's so soon. Either way, it will be unavoidable.

｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈•ﾟ｡

Gyutaro stands in front of your door, palms sweating as the sound of his heart pounds in his ears. Thankfully for him, his sister wasn't home so he just let himself in.

Taking a deep breath, preparing himself mentally, he hesitantly knocks on your bedroom door. It's funny how he suddenly respects your privacy yet he's been violating it for months.

"Come in," you shout from inside, far too casually for the situation. You do know it's him, don't you?

For a moment Gyutaro contemplates turning around and running out of there to avoid the inevitable embarrassment of facing you. The girl he's had a crush on for the past two years who must surely hate his guts by now. He can't live with himself knowing that you must hate him. But a small glimmer of hope and delusion within him causes his body to move on its own and open the door.

Sitting on the edge of your bed with one leg crossed over the other, you look up at him strangely with no trace of anger or hatred.

"You actually came," you say with a soft smile, standing up to face him properly.

His Adam's apple bobs as he gulps audibly, he already feels himself panicking. He knows he's the one in the wrong so he has no one to blame but himself. But seeing you in person, up close in the same room where he had watched you touch yourself numerous times, he feels overcome by emotion. All he wants is your forgiveness, and he becomes helpless before you.

You watch as this once intimidating man crumbles. The expression on his face reeks of guilt and remorse, "I-I'm so sorry Y/N..." he rasps, voice sounding more hoarse than usual. "I fucked up so bad... I kn-know there ain't nothin' I can say to fix it... but I just don't want you to hate me," he croaks, "please..."

The display can only be described as pathetic, and to say you're shocked by his actions would be an understatement. Gyutaro has always been the type of guy to do what he wants without much regard for others, especially when it came to their opinions. And to be completely honest, you half expected him to walk in here and give you a half-assed apology. But seeing him turn soft like this lights a fire within you.

Without a word, you step closer to him and begin unbuttoning your top — revealing lacy black lingerie underneath.

Gyutaro's eyes widen and he shakes his head as if trying to wake up from a dream. When that doesn't work, he squeezes his eyes shut and then opens them again to ensure he sees what he thinks he's seeing. Could this possibly be real life?

By now you've finished fully unbuttoning your top, revealing your breasts to his gaze. This is the first time he hasn't seen them through a computer screen.

"What... what're you doing?" He gasps, the sight quite literally taking his breath away.

"I'm not mad at you if that was what you were thinking," you whisper seductively, looking up at him through your lashes.

Face completely red, he struggles to keep eye contact with you as his gaze keeps drifting down towards your chest.

"B-but... why?" He pants.

"Because," you press your body against him, pushing him against the door, "maybe it turned me on." Moving your hand down his body until you reach the bulge straining the front of his jeans. Gyutaro gasps, his cock twitching in response to your touch.

He's far too flustered to speak so you continue, "At first I was mad, but then I thought about everything you must have watched me do without my knowledge. And everything you must have done too," you lean closer, softly kissing his neck, "You jerk off to me, don't you?"

Gyutaro hesitantly nods, so flustered by your bold actions that he can barely manage to speak, "A-All the time..."

Pleased by his answer, you smirk in satisfaction — slowly undoing his pants and pulling out his cock, "How naughty of you. I wonder why you'd do such a thing," you playfully tease him as you begin stroking his length.

He moans softly and bites his lip, the feeling of your warm, soft hands wrapped around him makes him feel like he's in heaven. "I a-always liked you," he pants, "Ngh- I love watching you undress... ah, a-and when you touch yourself," he admits shamefully.

"Would you like to do it yourself?"

"Wh-what...?"

You giggle and slip his phone out of his pocket, walking over to your desk as you continue, "Would you like to touch me? Don't be silly, I know you want to."

Panting heavily, Gyutaro follows you like a lost puppy. Sickeningly addicted to your affection. "I would... please."

He impatiently watches as you open his phone camera and set it up on your desk, pointing directly to your bed and hitting the record button.

"There we go, so you'll have something special to watch later," you giggle to yourself then turn around to face him again.

Gyutaro stands tall before you, looming above you and looking down at you through half-lidded eyes. This intimidating man seemingly helpless to you. His aching cock a clear indicator as it stands tall, leaking clear sticky liquid as it begs for your attention. He thinks this surely must be the hardest he's ever been in his entire life because only a few seconds without your touch has caused him physical pain.

Poor thing, you kind of feel bad for him honestly. It's obvious just how much he wants this, wants you. It'd be cruel to make him wait any longer so you push him onto your bed and hastily slip out of your pants and fully remove your top. He follows suit and removes the rest of his clothing. The shame and embarrassment of his unusual body suddenly washed away by lust.

Left in nothing but your lingerie, you climb on top of Gyutaro to sit on his lap. This is everything he's dreamed about, and you're offering it to him on a silver platter. And he can't help but take what he wants.

He forcefully grabs your hips and pulls you closer, eagerly crashing his lips against yours in the process. Your lips are pillowy soft against his and taste faintly like your fruit-flavored lip balm. The taste of your lips alone threatens to make him spill between your thighs.

Your entire body heats up as you feel him slide his tongue past your lips. Obviously kissing you blindly with no experience, but you don't care. The passion behind his actions is enough to make your slick soak through your lace panties.

Gyutaro's hands move down to your butt, gripping you tightly and pushing you down against his throbbing member. He can't help but buck his hips up into your heat, seeking the warmth and wetness between your legs.

"Please, Y/N," he pants as he breaks away from the kiss, "I want you so bad... I-I've wanted you for so long."

You whimper as he breaks the kiss, "Then you can have me..."

Positioning him at your entrance, you move your panties to the side and lower down onto him. Sliding his thick cock into your tight hole, an exasperated moan leaves his lips.

Squeezing your eyes tightly, you whimper as you try to adjust to his size. The pleasure quickly overcoming him, he claws red marks into your skin as he tries to stop himself from fucking you silly like he does to his fleshlight.

Leaning his head back, he groans, his Adam's apple bobbing as he tries to steady his breathing and calm down. He's just so damn excited, still unable to believe that this moment is actually real.

Once you feel more accustomed to his large size you begin slowly bouncing on top of him, leaning forward and placing your hands on his shoulders for support.

With each movement of your hips, his moans intensify and it's obvious how hard he's trying not to completely fall apart right now. He always imagined how pretty you'd look beneath him, but honestly the view of having you on top of him is better than anything he's ever imagined. Your gorgeous face contorting as you use his body to pleasure yourself, not so differently from how he watched you for his own pleasure. Your angelic breasts bouncing with each movement of your hips. And not to mention the view he gets when he looks down at where you two are connected — your perfect pussy taking his cock over and over again, your shared liquids sticking to your thighs and his scrawny hips.

"F-feels so good," he gasps between moans, "So tight, so warm..." This is infinitely better than his fleshlight, so much so that he doesn't think he'll ever be able to go back. Now that he's had a taste of you he's going to be craving this pussy for eternity.

"Ah, you like it?" you moan, "Could've had it sooner if you told me how much you liked me, you pervert."

You can feel his cock twitch inside of you as you call him a pervert. he bites his lip and whimpers, "I-I'm sorry..."

"Such a creep, Gyu," you lean forward, pressing your body against his and picking up the pace, "Hiding cameras in my room so you can watch me while you jerk off. Such a bad boy~" You smirk, narrowing your eyes at him, enjoying how flustered he becomes as you call him out. It's obvious that he enjoys it by the way his blush deepens and he throbs inside of you, so ready and eager to fill you up.

"I'll m-make it up to you," he groans, tightening his grasp on your hips and thrusting up into you fervently — shoving his cock as deep inside of you as humanly possible, "gonna make you cum."

His phone gets the perfect view of him plunging into you, the wet slapping of skin and your combined moans captured perfectly on audio.

"Fuck, Gyutaro," you hold onto him tightly as he fucks you senseless, ramming into that sensitive spot deep within you, the spot that you could never properly reach with your fingers.

And that all too familiar tightness forms in your stomach, your walls begin to clench around him, and tears spill from your eyes. "G-Gyutaro! I'm-I'm-!!" You gasp and howl at the top of your lungs, trying to speak but your orgasm cuts you off halfway through your sentence. Hitting you harder than it ever has before, your entire body is left shaking as your slick pools in the dips of his hips. Gummy walls spasming around him, begging him to spill inside of you.

He tries his best to control himself but at this point, it's beyond his control and your pussy milks him before he can do anything about it. And he's left spilling inside of you. Feeling each spurt of his hot seed splashing against your cervix, it only intensifies the tremors of your orgasm. Gyutaro's chest heaves and he quite literally wails as he fills you up, holding your hips down so tightly that surely you'll wake up with hand-shaped bruises in the morning.

Post-orgasmic bliss washes over the two of you simultaneously, rendering you unresponsive for a few minutes as you lay your head on his chest. Even the feeling of his semen seeping out of you, rolling down your thighs, and pooling on the bed sheets isn't enough to snap you out of it.

Gyutaro holds you close to him, panting as his sweat sticks his unruly hair to his forehead. But he doesn't care about the disheveled mess he's become; on cloud nine because he got to cum inside of his crush. Adrenaline still coursing through him, keeping him still erect inside of you.

After a few minutes, you open your eyes and begin to lazily trace your fingers along the edge of the birthmark on his bicep. "You'll send me that video, won't you?" You whisper.

"Y-yeah," he sighs in content, "sure thing." He gently slides out of you and moves you to the side, laying you down on the bed. You watch as he gets up to retrieve his phone. He stops the recording and immediately sends it over to you.

"Come here," you pat the spot beside you, "let's make another one from a different angle."

[ddarker-dreams]

The Good Ol' Days.

Yan Alhaitham x F Reader x Yan Kaveh.

Warnings: Yandere themes, unhealthy relationships and implied kidnapping. Word count: 2.1k.

The sweeter the past, the more bitter the present.

“Seriously, this isn’t fair! Let her roll again!”

“I’m not sure what you expected from a game that revolves around chance.”

You've heard this before, you think. Not the exact verbiage, no, but the sentiment strikes a chord. Plucks at your heartstrings in a familiar melody. 

“Well, fine, let me lend her some of my money then.” 

“First, we both know that’s against the rules; and second, even if you sold your single Mondstadt property, you wouldn’t have enough to cover the charge. Your strategy of holding out in case you land on a Waypoint is as brilliant as ever.” 

The hot passion met by cool indifference that leaves you forces you into the mediator role. This position was specially formed for you, shaped in such a way that no one else could ever fit. Consequently, it adheres to your person too well, you can’t go forward or backward. You’re stuck. The more you struggle, the tighter your restraints become. 

“You…! I won once, when I got all four Waypoints. It’s a viable tactic. Right, [First]? Don’t you remember how huffy he was the night he came in last? … [First]?”

When opposing temperatures meet, condensation forms. 

“... You’re crying,” Kaveh sounds as if he’s seen a ghost, but it’s only you. “Is something wrong?” 

The better question would be what isn’t wrong. He won’t ask that, though, so you’ll never get to properly answer. You sit as still as a statue on the couch. From your display stand, you sense you’re being stared at by two sets of eyes, one distraught, the other scrutinizing. The former comes from your left and the latter from across the table. 

Kaveh’s hands cup both sides of your face. He wipes away the few wayward tears with the pad of this thumb, his eyebrows pinching together. Wordlessly, Alhaitham gets up from his cushion on the floor and takes his place by your right side. Their towering forms seal you in place. 

“You made her cry,” Kaveh accuses, his eyes narrowing. “You should’ve just let me go bankrupt for her.” 

“For someone who claims I have the emotional intelligence of a rock, you can be rather dense yourself. I sincerely doubt that has anything to do with this.” 

“Then why is she—” 

“I remember,” you somehow manage to squeeze the words out of your tight throat. Their attention returns to you. Your next words come out quietly. “That game, I mean. When you won. You had another glass of wine to celebrate, and… kept drunkenly throwing your victory in Alhaitham’s face. You slept through your alarm the next morning and missed a meeting with a high-profile client.” 

“Oh, yeah, that’s right,” Kaveh nods along slowly. He’s using that gentle, soothing tone from when this nightmare began and he didn’t want to upset you further. You can tell he’s trying desperately to follow along despite not having the directions necessary.

“After that, you started a campaign to not speak to Alhaitham until he apologized, but he didn’t even realize you were ignoring him,” the sound you let out is in between a choked sob and laugh. Kaveh’s arms fall limp as if they’ve lost all strength. “He told me… ‘Lately, Kaveh is more tolerable to be around’, or something like that.” 

You hug your knees to your chest. “Since you weren’t willing to talk to Alhaitham, you’d have me relay messages. It was silly. Eventually, I got you guys to make amends. It was like pulling teeth though. Heh. Thinking about it now, I can’t help wondering how many times I dug my own grave.” 

Kaveh softly speaks your name, but Alhaitham finds words before he can.

“So that’s what this is about,” Alhaitham notes. When you first met the brilliant Scribe, you mistakenly interpreted his rationality for apathy. You know better now. If he were truly disinterested, he wouldn’t bother stringing words together, curt as they may be. “Dwelling on the past only leads to unnecessary grief.” 

Kaveh sends a halfhearted glare in Alhaitham’s direction. “What he means to say is that you shouldn’t blame yourself.” 

“Because it wouldn’t have changed anything?” You question, staring deep into Kaveh’s eyes, their color reminiscent of the burning sun setting over the desert. 

He averts his gaze and swallows thickly. “Well…” 

“What he wants to say is that yes, it wouldn’t have mattered,” Alhaitham chimes in where Kaveh is hesitant to. Such is the nature of their dynamic when you’re involved — barbed truths or coddling lies. “The future we were envisioning had already been decided.” 

“The condemned can’t condemn themselves, huh?” You chuckle mirthlessly. 

They both frown. 

“You aren’t condemned, you’re— you’re free from having to worry about those things you used to stress over. Rent, bills, deadlines, you know. The worst parts of life. You can focus on your passions without any restraints now,” Kaveh reasons. Or so he tries. 

You gnaw on your lower lip. It’s been a while since you’ve bothered arguing with either of them on the subjects that truly matter, those topics have been deemed taboo. You can complain about Kaveh’s clinginess when he’s drunk or how tight Alhaitham holds you at night, but should you try to steer the conversation toward your captivity, it’s shut down. Kaveh makes you wish you never brought it up whereas Alhaitham instills regret that you dared to try. 

They’re both bracing themselves, you can feel it in the air. Sitting and awaiting a tempest of emotions that one will try to soothe and the other wave away. 

You think about fighting then remember why you stopped, falling into this limbo of existing without living. 

You could challenge Kaveh’s weak point. Demand to know why he doesn’t do the same then, never leaving the four walls of Alhaitham’s house, committing himself wholly to drawing up blueprints. Alhaitham might make some dry comment that he wouldn’t allow Kaveh to leech off him, or maybe Kaveh would apologize, and say that he didn’t intend to upset you. He would mean it too. You’d cry, beg, scream until your throat was raw and your voice scratchy, but in Alhaitham’s own words, it wouldn’t have mattered. 

Their minds are made up. Their resolve is an unshakable foundation upon which your gaol is built. In the same way they soundproofed the house, so too are their hearts insulated from any argument that’d champion your cause. You tried and failed and tried and failed again. 

At least if you don’t try, you won’t experience failure. 

“... Alright.” 

They exchange brief looks. 

“Alright?” Kaveh parrots the word, but without matching your listless tone. “That’s— oh. Huh. Okay.” 

He mumbles the last few words to himself, as if trying to process them aloud. You can’t fault him for his confusion. 

It’s silent then, the kind that holds weight. You uncurl yourself from your protective shell. You feel like a specimen being subjected to naturalistic observation, neither researcher willing to interfere, lest it negatively influence their data’s results. There’s a lot you can get used to — you had no other choice, really — yet that never fails to make you uncomfortable in your own skin. Unwilling to endure it any longer, you quickly form an escape plan. 

“Well,” you start, earning their rapt attention, “I think I’m going to, uh, call it a night.” 

You stand up as you say this. There’s a light pressure on your wrist, chaining you in place. 

“Stay,” Alhaitham’s voice urges. Your muscles go taut, then you hear a subdued sigh. “If you don't mind.” 

Kaveh must’ve given him quite the nasty look for Alhaitham to get that close to saying please. You sit back down, almost in a trance, as if the Scribe had cast a spell. Glancing down, you realize it’s Alhaitham who grabbed your wrist. He doesn't let go when you situate yourself back into place. 

Kaveh takes his chance to tether you as well. Lithe arms encircle you, gently pulling you into him. The side of your face presses against his chest, his bare skin exuding copious amounts of heat. He smells familiar, for this scene is familiar. Desperation with a hint of citrus and spice. He cradled you a lot in the beginning, shushing your sobs and drying your tears. At first, you’d resist, flailing your limbs wildly like you were a feral cat. Inevitably, his strength and stamina outlasted yours. 

His nose brushes against the crown of your head. “I care about you more than I could ever properly convey. Whatever you’re thinking, I can take it. Er, we can take it. I’d prefer that over you blaming yourself for anything.” 

Dazedly, you nod. He goes quiet, then, preparing himself for an onslaught you can bring yourself to unleash. Seconds bleed into one after another. You hear the furious pounding of Kaveh’s heartbeat. How if you twist your body, his breath hitches in his throat. It’s nice to know that at least his body will always be honest with you where his well-meaning words fall short. 

“You’re trying to regain a semblance of control by thinking ‘had I done this, or had I not done that, it wouldn’t have ended up this way.’” 

Kaveh exhales sharply through his nose. “Alhaitham, that’s enough.” 

“Let me finish,” he continues. His fingers creep onto your chin and take your face captive. He peels you away from your position against Kaveh, who stubbornly refuses to relinquish his grasp on your torso. Alhaitham’s countenance is close to yours so as not to leave any room for you to cower away. Those analytical eyes that can pick apart the world have you in their sights. “Do you know why you’re here, [First]?” 

In the past, when you struggled with an assignment or class, the infamously disinterested Alhaitham would take it upon himself to tutor you. He was a fair yet strict teacher. On those long nights spent hunched over a messy desk, he’d have a different air about him. He stretched you. In the moment, it felt like he was demanding more than what you could provide, but upon further reflection, he just knew what limits you could be pushed to better. 

“I’d like an answer.” 

You take a deep, shaky breath. “Because you both claim to hold some sort of affection for me.” 

Kaveh would look like a kicked puppy if you said this to him. It’s Alhaitham, though, and his composure is infallible. 

“Word it however spitefully you want, you get the gist of things,” he drawls. The intensity behind his gaze is enough to make you shiver. “If nothing you’ve been able to say or do has changed our mind now, why would it have back then? It might feel good to sulk, but your logic is erroneous. You’re making yourself miserable only to see if this wallowing is more palatable than the kind you’re used to.” 

You hate when Alhaitham’s right. It’s a shame he so frequently is. 

“Can you blame me?” 

“... No,” he admits. “But this proto-nihilism is worse for your mental well-being than anything else you’ve tried so far. I’d like to nip it in the bud.” 

Your smile is thin and far from kind. “Because it makes you uncomfortable?” 

“I’ll leave that to your overactive imagination to decide.” 

He relinquishes his grip on you, leans back into the couch, and crosses his legs. That posture positively irks you. Sparks from kindling flitter throughout your being like confetti. 

“Seriously, you have no tact,” Kaveh rests his chin atop your head. “They should study you in a lab somewhere.” 

“Says the one who’s taking advantage of [First]'s emotional vulnerability to cling to her like a parasite.” 

“Hey! Don’t listen to him, [First]. He’s just being a grump. You don’t think that’s what I’m doing, right?”

“I’d like to roll again,” you adopt a sickeningly sweet tone while addressing Alhaitham. “Please.” 

“... Right? [First]?” Kaveh tries again.

Alhaitham speaks up before you can even consider entertaining the whining male behind you. “And why should I bend the rules for you?” 

You lean forward with enough momentum that you’re able to break free from Kaveh’s grasp. Newfound vigor burns inside you. Perhaps a day will come when it extinguishes, but as for now, the flame ignites anew. Hot and ready to burn. 

Your lips brush against Alhaitham’s ear. “Are you afraid of losing?” 

He looks at you from the corner of his eyes, bemusement evident. The start of a smirk dances on his lips. 

“Not at all. Roll as many times as you please.” 

And so you cast the die again. 

Come what may — an unlikely win, tense truce, or total loss — you refuse to capitulate without trying.

[mcflymemes]

NO COUNTRY FOR OLD MEN PROMPTS *  assorted dialogue from the 2007 film, adjust as necessary

what's the most you ever lost on a coin toss?

i won't tell you you can save yourself, because you can't.

it's a mess, isn't it?

you already asked me that.

how'd you sleep?

that's the best deal you're gonna get.

people always say the same thing.

i didn't mean nothing by it.

these people will kill you, [name].

you know how this is going to turn out, don't you?

just how dangerous is he?

this is the best i can do.

i was just passing the time.

i always figured when i got older, god would sorta come into my life somehow. and he didn't.

call me when you've had enough.

i always knew you had to be willing to die to even do this job.

what time do you close?

you need to come see me.

could you validate my parking ticket?

you know what's going to happen now.

i don't know. i couldn't say.

it wouldn't be fair.

you can't make a deal with him.

is that what you're asking me?

be careful.

oh. that's who you keep looking out the window for?

would you hold still, please?

how would you describe him?

do you want to leave a message?

did you not hear me?

what's in the satchel?

do you see me?

how many of those things do you got now?

he's not like you. he's not even like me.

did i say you could sit?

you should admit your situation.

you don't know who it is.

what business is it of yours where i'm from?

you know what date is on this coin?

i knew you were crazy when i saw you sitting there.

now it's here.

it's either heads or tails.

i need to know what i stand to win.

now that's aggravating.

you need to talk to me.

don't put it in your pocket.

we just missed him!

you go to hell.

let me ask you something.

don't get hurt.

guns out and up.

do you know where i'm going?

if i don't come back, tell mother i love her.

[name], thank you for coming.

where do you want me to put it?

is something wrong?

you don't have to do this.

if the rule you followed brought you to this, of what use was the rule?

this country's hard on people.

if you don't wanna accept that, i don't know what else to do for you.

will there be something else?

you can't stop what's coming.

you're in the hospital across the river.

do you have any idea how crazy you are?

don't hurt no one.

it doesn't make any difference where she is.

i don't know what to make of that.

it's not that i'm afraid of it.

i'm hiding behind you.

you already have a tent?

lot of people come in here without any clothes on?

where'd you get that pistol?

did you buy that gun?

i got a bad feeling.

there's something i forgot to do, but i'll be back.

the man that shot you died in prison.

i'm kinda surprised to hear you say that.

[darksigns-exe]

Sweet Like Honey - If I’m There

Pairing: Noah Sebastian x Bee (OFC) Warnings: Swearing Word Count: 901

Masterlist

The ping of the notification pulls Noah out of his focus.

Bee. 

He hadn’t realised just how late it was until her message popped up on the screen. Half past three. Usually she’s fast asleep at this hour. 

He checks the message - a link to an article about amoeba in the southern pacific. It doesn’t take a lot for him to put two and two together. 

Noah knows her well enough to know that she won’t say what’s upsetting her, even if he asks multiple times. So instead of trying to lure an answer out of her via text, he shuts down his computer for the night. He gathers a few more things, before creeping out of the house. He’ll have enough questions to answer in the morning as it is. 

Noah can see the glow of her bedside lamp from the street. The window to her bedroom is still illuminated in its dim orange light, and he knows that she’s still tossing and turning up there. He pulls his phone out of the pocket of his jacket. 

Still up?

He’s halfway up the stairs to her apartment when she calls. He briefly debates, but then decides that he doesn’t want to unnerve her even more than necessary. 

“Can’t sleep?” he asks, trying not to let on that he’s almost at her front door. 

She lets out a whine, “No.” 

“Poor thing.” Noah replies as he fishes for the key in his pocket, “Can I do something?”

“I wish you could come over.” She sounds so awfully miserable. 

He has to bite back the smile that tries to force its way onto his face. She’s too predictable when it comes to this. 

“You just have to ask.” 

“It’s so late. I don’t want to keep you up.” 

“We might have a problem in that case.” he slides the key into the lock of her door, “Because I drove all this way already –”

He doesn’t get to finish his sentence before he hears her phone thud onto the mattress, followed by rushed steps from behind the door. He opens the door just as she reaches it. 

Bee doesn’t wait for him to close the door behind him before she wraps herself around him. Noah shuffles them inside, closing the door behind them. 

“How did you know?”

“You’re never up this late. Either you’re in a different time zone or you can’t sleep. Figured it was the latter.”

He hears a muffled love you whispered against his chest, and that alone makes the drive over worth it. 

He watches as she slips the extra shirt from his closet over her head. It’s the same one she’d silently returned a few years earlier. 

She slides into bed next to him, instantly curling herself against him. 

“Do you want to watch something?” He asks softly, fully knowing that they won’t see the end of what he’ll put on anyway. 

It’s the thought that counts, though. 

Noah doesn’t pay too much attention to the show that flickers across the screen of her laptop. His focus is entirely on her. The light from the monitor tinges the skin of her cheek in fluorescent colours. Sometimes he wonders how he got so lucky. 

He pulls Bee a little closer against his chest. She turns to look at him. The little smile that plays on her lips makes him feel a little bit warmer inside. Noah leans over to kiss her. The angle is a little weird, but it’s good enough for him. 

Bee barely makes it through the first half of the movie before she’s fast asleep. He reaches across to close her laptop. He presses a final kiss to her cheek and wills himself to sleep. There’s always time in the morning.

It’s almost eleven when he feels Bee stir again. She shifts against him until she finally turns onto her back. Noah isn’t sure if he’ll ever get used to seeing her like this. Maybe they should get a place for themselves. Just a nice little place somewhere where he can see her like this every morning. Her soft, sleepy eyes blink up at him, and he can’t stop himself from smiling. He feels at ease here, and he’s sure that it’s her presence more than anything else. For every edge and sharp corner he finds on himself, there’s something soft in her. When he bites at his own flaws, she’ll soften the blow. She’ll straighten out his mind again until it doesn’t seem so bad any more. And in turn, he takes work off her shoulders when she needs to bury herself beneath her books and papers. For once, it feels as if he’s found his footing with someone. 

The brush of her hand against his cheek draws him out of his thoughts again. 

“Thank you for coming over.” She sounds so meek and small then 

“Anytime.” He sits up against the headboard of her bed, “All you have to do is call. Doesn’t matter what time it is. If you need me, I’ll be there.” 

Bee sits up in front of him. The sight is so awfully familiar. But this time, she already knows how he feels. He tells her again nevertheless. Maybe it's a little selfish, too. Because if he keeps telling her, she’ll return the words – she always does. And every time she says it, it feels a little bit more real. 

[sleepingdeath-light]

rosie + segmented smut alphabet ; 18+

requested by ; anonymous (part of an event)

letters used ; a / i / k

masterlist(s) ; here

minors and ageless blogs do not interact

A — Aftercare

what they’re like after sex

Rosie tends to be extremely vocal and upbeat after you two have had sex — not to the same extent as she is beforehand as she’s usually at least a little out of breath, but no matter how intense your romp has been she always seems to come out of it frustratingly well put-together compared to you — which usually means that she’s the one who takes the lead for both physical aftercare and pillow talk.

Physical aftercare with Rosie tends to follow a very lineare formula with only occasional deviations when necessary: her taking a short while to check you over for any injuries that were more severe than intended, leaving to run you both a nice hot bath (complete with bubbles and a scented candle you can both agree on) once she’s certain that you’re unharmed beyond what you’d consented to beforehand, her fetching you some water and very sternly telling you to drink it, frequently popping her head back into the bedroom to see if you’ve actually done what she’s asked, going and getting some snacks for you both to share from her kitchen, sharing a bath with you (usually with plenty of teasing), and then going to bed for some well-earned casual intimacy.

Pillowtalk, meanwhile, mostly consists of lighthearted banter interspersed with praise, reassurances, and the typical sort of questions you’d expect from someone like Rosie. One moment she’s brushing your wet hair out of you face and reassuring you that you did so well for her and you’ve nothing to worry about with her, and the next her smile goes from genuine to flirty as she (lovingly) teases you for being so reactive and responsive to what she was doing to you — her teasing is very rarely outright explicit but her tone and expression get the message across clear enough on their own for you to want to bury your face in a pillow… or, alternatively, throw that same pillow in her face to get her to quiet down. She also makes a point to ask you whether you enjoyed yourself and were okay with everything she did, and welcomes any suggestions for things you want to try — she always encourages honesty above anything else and wouldn’t dream of shaming or punishing you for being open with her (of course she’s still going to tease you here and there, but you know its never done maliciously and that’s just the sort of person Rosie is).

I — Intimacy

how romantic are they?

Though Rosie is someone who is very traditional and romantic in how she approaches your relationship in general, this doesn’t always translate directly to her behaviour in the bedroom. Of course she’s still the same woman you fell in love with and she never misses the chance to praise you until you can barely stand to look her in the eyes, but there are times where she can be a bit less romantic and a bit more direct about having sex with you — usually when she’s had a particularly frustrating day or if you’ve made a point of being a brat or a tease beforehand.

K — Kink

some of their kinks

There are a vast array of different kinks that Rosie would love to incorporate into your sex life, but I’ll just list a few:

Lingerie — she’s more than willing and excited to dress up for you and has done so many many times, but the idea of you dolling yourself up just for her really just gets her hot under the collar.

Bondage — bonus points if it’s a more intricate style using materials that are both beautiful and firm, but generally speaking Rosie’s happy to have you all tied up and at her mercy no matter what’s being used to restrain you.

Knife Play — her profession has given her a fantastic and intimate understanding of the human body which means that she knows where she should and shouldn’t cut you and how deep she can go to leave a mark without causing serious harm (all skills she’s more than willing to make use of in the bedroom if ever you ask).

Dom/Sub — though she’s not opposed to play-fighting you for her dominance or you being a bit of a brat every now and then and going through the whole ‘make me listen’ routine, it goes without saying that Rosie is always going to be the dominant one in the bedroom.

Praise Kink — mainly this is about her showering you in praise and affirmations while she absolutely ravishes your body with her mouth/hands/pussy/toys, but she’s certainly never going to complain about you praising everything she is or does (it doesn’t even have to be sexual, she’ll get that same giddy grin whether you’re calling her ‘gorgeous’ and telling her how amazing she makes you feel, or salivating over her baking and offering her a string of compliments that would make any chef preen)

Marking Kink — again this is almost exclusive to her being the one to mark you as a way to claim her territory and ward off any potential suitors (she’s also equally content with more long-lasting marks, like bruises and cuts, as she is with more short-term marks, like lipstick prints on your face and neck, and will only go as far with indulging this side of herself as you allow her to)

[cyanocoraxx]

How often do you handle your pedes and spiders (if at all)? I’m curious because some people say handle them, other people say don’t handle them, others say handle them once in a lifetime and pray lol

there are currently only 3 i handle regularly, iblis my homoeomma chilensis tarantula, exodus the phidippus ardens, and major the scolopendra morsitans!

PEDES:

if you seriously want to consider handling pedes your first port of call is to read hard bite reports. it'll give you a healthy dose of respect for their power and is necessary reading because anyone handling scolopendra should know that eventually they WILL get bitten. don't expect painkillers to save you. there's also the fact that if you have other pets in the house like cats, losing your pede during handling puts them at extreme risk of harm. if you have small children there's an obviously huge risk too. handling a pede should be done in a safe and secure area, ideally over a safety bin with high sides for if it drops off of you to reduce the risk of escape. should also add that centipedes do "test bites" on peoples' hands a lot where no venom is used. they will act calm and suddenly pinch with their forcipules. you have to be willing to accept that you could get either a test bite or a wet bite and it's a bit of a gamble. if you don't reckon you could stay calm knowing this risk, it's not worth it. flinging a pede across the room won't be good for either of you............... rip

at the moment i'm not experienced enough to handle any of my bigger pedes. major is the exception for me because he's 1) very small 2) very calm and 3) slow-moving most of the time. he's the most predictable of my guys and i know his temperament really well. i have others who are more unpredictable and food-driven that wouldn't be good candidates for it in any way. i'd like to try with my akaza sometime though because he's super tolerant of being touched so far.

SPIDERS:

spiders can be very fragile and very fast. a drop from a small height can kill a tarantula and if it isn't injured, there's the risk of escape and then you have a psalmopoeus pulcher climbing up the window (not that i speak from experience or anything LOL. when i was newer to T keeping i handled pretty much all of my spiders like an idiot.) some sport medically significant venom as well and it's essential to know what you're risking for yourself and your animal.

the only spiders of mine that i hold now are iblis or exodus the jumping spider. there's not a single bite report out there for iblis' species. she also facilitates the handling sessions herself. she just climbs up the side of her enclosure and right on to my hand, no prodding and no stress involved. we keep it short and i hold her over her enclosure. she's very slow and predictable which helps <3 as for exodus, jumpers can be pretty involved in their handling sessions and some will seek out the interaction which is neat! i once trained one of my prev jumpers to jump onto my hand with a cue :D

TLDR:

overall i'll conclude with this message - don't impulsively risk your health for something that won't benefit you or your animal. read up on the risks. if you do it, it's at your own risk.

[ohyoru]

Hey im not good with words or english, but its ok to feel burnt out or tired. Youre not obligated to provide anything to us. You are an author who writes for free. Maybe to have fun maybe to express yourself. You have your own life and thats a good thing. I havent been playing genshin in a while because theres so much work i need to do there like building characters. I havent watched link click s2 because i cant bring myself to sit down for that long. Im sure everyone has something like this happening to them and i just remind myself that it doesnt matter that much. Post unfinished things, make your character builds crap, dont finish a book youve started it doesntmatter. Its about having fun. Its about forgetting your problems(at least for me) or its about spending time with your online friends. Taking a break is necessary. Spending time for yourself is necessary. Taking care of yourself is necessary. I hope i could get my message across. I cant even take my own advice seriously as im too scared to post this without anon but i hope i was able to make you feel better somehow. I also want to say i really love your works even if i dont know who the person you’re writing about is. Ive been following your works for a while and i dont regret it one bit. I would be pretty sad if you were to stop writing for certain people but if it makes you feel happy then i dont mind and im sure others wouldn’t mind it as well. Youre free to do whatever you want ( as long as youre not intruding on other peoples freedom obviously) thank you for reading my wordvomit written in an attempt to comfort you.

dearie anon,

to have you in my inbox is already a blessing enough for me. thank you so much for taking the time of your day to cheer me up, you have no idea how much this means to me (brb crying i dont deserve you sob)

first of all, your message got across. i'm not sure about your english being not good part, but really, your message resonates with me on a level deeper than language can ever explain, truly.

i appreciate your kind reminder that i shouldn't feel obliged to write for anyone. i honestly feel like it's eating me out because i put myself in the equation as well. i had been a writer before, back when tokyo revengers (anime) was still in its first season since i'm more of a manga reader. if you were in that era, you might came across my work. alas, things happened. what used to be good memories (including writing) turned into very hurtful ones and i stopped doing what i love because they're causing me so much pain. nonetheless, i still slowly died inside. it took me a while to be at peace with my past and understand that writing is what makes me the person i am. so i'm determined to start again and keep it up. but when life gets in the way and hold me back from writing (again), it depresses me. (including not playing genshin). honestly, i'm feeling lonely. what and who i used to know and love seemed to only exist in the past. people moved on, topics became irrelevant, relationship broke. which i don't blame, but it still makes me cry once in a while.

sorry for the traumadump uh- i feel like i should explain myself a little. i hope that didn't scare you too much. but anyway, you're right! i should do whatever i want. maybe i need to reframe my perspective. i love that you mention about reading book thingy because i have the same issue and yes, i'm a reader through and through. but it's been so long since i read.. the irony. maybe all i need to do is start. and love myself a bit more to stop torturing myself with unnecessary thoughts..

you know what anon? i love the past me. i dont remember exactly what i love about her, but she used to be so at peace. i'm trying to find my way back to her, and i think you're helping me set my way there, so thank you. i dont know about your problems, but if you're willing to share, i'm more than happy to listen. don't forget to take care of yourself too okay? i hope your days ahead are the loveliest yet!

also, thank you for appreciating my works! when i started writing again, i told myself and whoever that's willing to take the time of their day to consume my content that i don't need anyone's attention or approval (shadowban be damned. if it happens, it happens). i did it solely for myself. but god knows how much your kind words and others' fill up the spaces in my heart.

i'm not going to ask anything from my works. your support is something i could never repay, but i'll always appreciate it from the bottom of my heart.

(btw yes, you did send this on anon hehe i got a hunch on who you might be but if you prefer to keep it a secret, then rest assured, your secret is safe with me!)

[what-a-weird-rose]

Dorlene: The Things I Get Caught Doing (Always with You)

Pairing: Dorcas Meadowes / Marlene McKinnon

Rating: E

Prompt: Caught

Word Count: 1382

Marlene pulls her school-mandated skirt up over her knees. Mornings are difficult for various reasons, least of all her hatred of the dress code. She scans the dorm again before snatching her bag off the floor and turning to book it for class.

Tick. Tick.

Marlene halts in her tracks- turning quickly to look at the small window in the dorm. A small owl sits on the sil, looking sadly in as if to guilt her into letting the pitiful thing in; she considers going on her way. Marlene considers until she spots the dark purple seal on the letter and realizes that the damned bird is as shady as its owner.

Dorcas’ family seal is of some fancy, rich-person flower that only blooms once every million years -or something like that- and she always uses thick indigo wax, like the pretentious know-it-all she is. Marlene loves how the seel rips from the paper and falls into her drawer with all the other purple flower wax seals. She revels in how the small owl plucks sad little rat ears -she loved watching Peter watch her as she bought them- to gobble at as she absorbed the letter. A letter that really failed to provide much of anything.

'Shades of red look nice on you; Every night, I feel only blue. I recall my cowardice, If only I was willing- If only I were brave, To look you in the face And tell you what you’ve made. A mess of me, A fool for you You don’t even know As you pass me in the hall. Someone'

Marlene reads each word individually, together, and not at all as she watches the letters drift apart and reemerge.

'A package will arrive for you soon; it shouldn’t interrupt any meals, but if it does, you might want to take it somewhere private before opening it. Dorcas P.S. Did you like my poem? Regulus has gotten into poetry but says I lack finesse- I just like my message to get across quickly.'

Marlene giggles, then sighs and turns to the owl that seems to be getting antsy.

“Does she want a reply?” Marlene asks, already knowing the answer.

The owl takes off through the open window, hooting smugly- she notices her treat pouch has been ransacked.

“Who’s owl are you anyway?” She yells back, kicking the pouch under her bed as she runs for Charms- ten minutes is enough to learn, yeah?

Charms comes and go, and Marlene receives a detention with Flitwick and Sirius -who did Merlin knows what to get on Flitwick’s nerves.

Marlene gets through potions with little incident, although it likely helps that she actively ignores the instruction portion of the lesson in favor of learning through trial and error. She explodes two and a half cauldrons before she is made to sit in the back.

Then, at 12 o’clock on the dot, as she gets settled in her seat on the long Gryffindor bench, a large eagle owl swoops down from the heavens with a package barely larger than her hand.

Both Sirius and James shoot up from their spots on the bench. Marlene made to shove the box into her bra before realizing they had two fat bags of -likely- sweet they were off to deliver to Remus in the hospital wing like reverse Halloween. She relaxes just barely until she turns her head to stare into the all-knowing eyes of Lily Evans -the same Lily Evans that haunts her nightmares.

Lily stares at her openly and with severe disappointment as if she knows what is in the mystery box.

“Whatcha got there Mar?” Mary asks airily, stabbing her fork in the general direction of food.

“Ah, just a little thing, y’know,” she says anxiously, scooting over slightly to make a quick escape if necessary. “Something my, uh, my mum sent over, yeah?”

Mary looks up and nods, though her eyes squint questioningly, “sure,” she says soundly, thoroughly unconvinced.

“Okay. . . bye.” Marlene makes a mad dash out of the Great Hall and toward the nearest bathroom, slipping in as subtlely as Marlene McKinnon has ever been capable of.

The little device slips out of its case and into her hand easily- falling onto the palm of Marlene’s open hand with very little fanfare. It’s small, barely bigger than her middle finger, though a bit thicker; it’s solid and curved just slightly as if mimicking a crooked finger. Also within the box is a small slip of parchment.

'Tap twice with your wand. Meet me in the room.'

Marlene does so, almost expecting the thing to transport her itself. Instead, the little device gives a short buzz and then vibrates viciously, shaking with vigor in her open hand. She grasps the box again and reads closely as the words fun, bedroom, and excitement show up, and -she really shouldn’t be surprised at this point- Dorcas has sent her a vibrator.

Holy fuck.

Marlene shakes her head, turns around, locks the door with two locking charms, and laughs maniacly- in that order.

Well, what’s the worst that could happen? Marlene thinks to herself, already coaxing the little thing to her hole.

Apparently, it is very hard to focus on classes when you have a vibrator in your cunt- who would’ve thought?

It buzzes and hits the right spot at every opportunity, leaving no chance to reprieve. Marlene got to the point of stuffing her hand into her mouth to stifle a small amount of the noise- it’s not enough to keep those in her immediate radius oblivious.

She flips off three different people before classes are out.

Eventually, though, the day finishes and Marlene wanders many stairs to the old abandoned classroom she and Dorcas used.

The place is as stuffy as usual, but something is comforting about the familiar way the air stands stagnant- as if it is stuck in time, unaffected by the changes around it.

She takes a step and feels the vibrator run directly across her clit.

Her voice feels insanely hoarse as she cums, legs trembling beneath her.

Marlene rolls her eyes, looks at the door, and decides that Dorcas should be early if she wants in on the good stuff.

The vibrator works overtime stimulating her clit while being pumped in and out of her cunt at unnatural speeds. Marlene spits down in between her legs, using the momentum to press the device just slightly more into her clit before pulling off entirely.

Her high settles angrily, leaving her literally on the edge of orgasm.

Marlene hears something faintly in the background, but as she relaxes the device back on her clit, the sound becomes irrelevant.

“Ahem.” She hears as she pulls the vibrator off her clit for the fourth time. Marlene looks over quickly to the door and watches as Dorcas walks gracefully from where she is standing to where Marlene lies spread on the old professor’s desk. “Having fun?”

“Yes.” Marlene answers truthfully, resisting the urge to continue on her little game.

“Continue, then.” Dorcas says shortly, brushing her fingernails down Marlene’s forearm. “I told you last time I get you a good orgasm, and here we are.” She lowers herself to whisper in Marlene’s ear, “You oughta cum good for me.”

Marlene shoves the vibrator against her clit, using the longer side to pump into her cunt.

Over and over and over and over, she pumps into herself as Dorcas stands beside her, whispering words of encouragement while -not so- subtly rubbing herself.

“Fuck.” Marlene says as her high almost topples over; Dorcas brushes her hair back and leans in to kiss her lips.

“Next time, cum.”

Marlene nods, feeling quite satisfied as Dorcas makes work of sucking on her neck.

The device sits nicely in her cunt and stays well enough, angled to viciously rub her clit while her hands caress Dorcas’ face.

Dorcas reaches a hand down as Marlene lifts off the desk to attack her next and lays a flat hand on the vibrator, pushing it right up and into Marlene’s overstimulated clit and-

Fuck.

Fuck.

Fuck.

Her legs shake aggressively as she rides the orgasm that pulls her in and out of consciousness.

“Did you?”

“Not about me, idiot.”

“You did, didn’t you?”

“Obviously I did.”

[lemonhemlock]

https://at.tumblr.com/lemonhemlock/why-aemond-alicent-rhaenyra-daemon-and-others/5f1o0o4b4rrn

I think this is because to the HotD writers/showrunners, Aegon is not the actual protagonist of the Greens the way Rhaenyra is for the Blacks; Alicent is. Alicent is the real center of the Green plotline, the most sympathetic, the one given the most character development and screentime, the one with the strongest ties to the opposing side. There's a reason why Rhaenicent is so strongly developed and so central to their arcs and the story at large while Aegon and Rhaenyra don't share a single word. The story isn't about the relationship (or lack thereof) between Aegon and Rhaenyra, it's about the former bond between Alicent and Rhaenyra. I think they even described Ep9 as being Alicent's episode? That's why Alicent is so heavily prioritized compared to Aegon despite not being the actual claimant, because she's essentially the main character of the Green faction of a whole.

You may feel one way or another, but tbh for the most part I like this change personally. I appreciate the show prioritizing the women and really putting them into the spotlight, and I really love Alicent as a character, so I'm still happy with what they did. The problem unfortunately comes that because of Alicent being focused on more AND because of the pacing of S1, Aegon sort of feels like a bit of an afterthought/not nearly as developed as he could have been. Ideally, Aegon should sorta occupy the same narrative space like Daemon for the Greens - the most prominent male co-lead to the leading ladies. Maybe that's why they gave Aegon the adaptational villain treatment, since they know Daemon isn't a good person and in some ways they made him even worse (having him kill Rhea when he wasn't even speculated to have done so in the book).

The issue is 1) the pacing. Time skips were necessary for this story because it takes place over many years; however the specific pacing of this season only gives Aegon sufficient screentime for character development in 4 episodes. Compare that with Daemon getting 9 episodes.

And 2) Aegon still comes across as worse than Daemon. Daemon grooms his niece, but it still comes across as less worse than Aegon raping Dyana because Rhaenyra was also ""into it.""

That might be way writers like Hess were surprised at the Greens being less popular. They thought that Alicent and other sympathetic Greens like Aemond would have been enough to balance out the worse of them like Aegon, to get people to still root for them. But I think they didn't realize that making Aegon do things as horrible as rape, and then having him be the guy they're trying to get on the throne ends up dragging everyone on his side down. If they're serious about making both sides equal in terms of sympathy, then I hope they can actually pull it off in s2.

Sorry for dumping a whole essay in your inbox. I just saw that ask of yours and had a lot of thoughts on it.

Thank you for your message, you make some very good points. I do actually like that they focused the Dance on the women's stories via Alicent and Rhaenyra. In truth, I wouldn't change that approach; it doesn't bother me per se that Aegon is a secondary character.

The issue here is the "morality" of each cause - Rhaenyra, at least, is fighting for herself and is framed (rightfully or not) in a feminist light; whereas Alicent's character suffers a lot because she is portrayed as trying to place her drunk rapist son on the throne at the expense of an exemplary woman (see how Rhaenys praises Rhaenyra to Corlys as "holding the realm together").

Alicent's character also suffers a lot because, by making Aegon such a rotten apple, her mothering skills are questioned, all the while Rhaenyra is shown to be a loving, perfect mother with likeable children. See how people are much more willing to excuse the crimes of Rhaenyra's husband, because she doesn't have as much influence on him, whereas they are so quick to blame Aegon's faults on Alicent for being a bad mother, since she was in charge of raising him and shaping him to rule. So Daemon's faults are not a reflection on Rhaenyra in the eyes of the viewer, whereas Aegon's faults reflect directly on Alicent.

This is why I feel that it would have made more sense to make Aemond the problematic child, since he is already a foil for Daemon, who occupies the main villain role for the blacks. I do not think that the audience's reaction to the greens would have been so unbalanced if they made Aegon the funny drunk a la Tyrion. People love and root for characters like that.

[hellsitesonlybookclub]

The Trial by Franz Kafka

Chapter Three (part 2/2)

The two of them had disappeared, but K. remained standing in the doorway. He had to accept that the woman had not only cheated him but that she had also lied to him when she said she was being taken to the examining judge. The examining judge certainly wouldn't be sitting and waiting in the attic. The wooden stairs would explain nothing to him however long he stared at them. Then K. noticed a small piece of paper next to them, went across to it and read, in a childish and unpractised hand, "Entrance to the Court Offices". Were the court offices here, in the attic of this tenement, then? If that was how they were accommodated it did not attract much respect, and it was some comfort for the accused to realise how little money this court had at its disposal if it had to locate its offices in a place where the tenants of the building, who were themselves among the poorest of people, would throw their unneeded junk. On the other hand, it was possible that the officials had enough money but that they squandered it on themselves rather than use it for the court's purposes. Going by K.'s experience of them so far, that even seemed probable, except that if the court were allowed to decay in that way it would not just humiliate the accused but also give him more encouragement than if the court were simply in a state of poverty. K. also now understood that the court was ashamed to summon those it accused to the attic of this building for the initial hearing, and why it preferred to impose upon them in their own homes. What a position it was that K. found himself in, compared with the judge sitting up in the attic! K., at the bank, had a big office with an ante-room, and had an enormous window through which he could look down at the activity in the square. It was true, though, that he had no secondary income from bribes and fraud, and he couldn't tell a servant to bring him a woman up to the office on his arm. K., however, was quite willing to do without such things, in this life at least. K. was still looking at the notice when a man came up the stairs, looked through the open door into the living room where it was also possible to see the courtroom, and finally asked K. whether he had just seen a woman there. "You're the court usher, aren't you?" asked K.

"That's right," said the man, "oh, yes, you're defendant K., I recognise you now as well. Nice to see you here." And he offered K. his hand, which was far from what K. had expected. And when K. said nothing, he added, "There's no court session planned for today, though." "I know that," said K. as he looked at the usher's civilian coat which, beside its ordinary buttons, displayed two gilded ones as the only sign of his office and seemed to have been taken from an old army officer's coat. "I was speaking with your wife a little while ago. She is no longer here. The student has carried her off to the examining judge." "Listen to this," said the usher, "they're always carrying her away from me. It's Sunday today, and it's not part of my job to do any work today, but they send me off with some message which isn't even necessary just to get me away from here. What they do is they send me off not too far away so that I can still hope to get back on time if I really hurry. So off I go running as fast as I can, shout the message through the crack in the door of the office I've been sent to, so out of breath they'll hardly be able to understand it, run back here again, but the student's been even faster than I have—well he's got less far to go, he's only got to run down the steps. If I wasn't so dependent on them I'd have squashed the student against the wall here a long time ago. Right here, next to the sign. I'm always dreaming of doing that. Just here, just above the floor, that's where he's crushed onto the wall, his arms stretched out, his fingers spread apart, his crooked legs twisted round into a circle and blood squirted out all around him. It's only ever been a dream so far, though." "Is there nothing else you do?" asked K. with a smile. "Nothing that I know of," said the usher. "And it's going to get even worse now, up till now he's only been carrying her off for himself, now he's started carrying her off for the judge and all, just like I'd always said he would."

"Does your wife, then, not share some of the responsibility?" asked K. He had to force himself as he asked this question, as he, too, felt so jealous now. "Course she does," said the usher, "it's more her fault than theirs. It was her who attached herself to him. All he did, he just chases after any woman. There's five flats in this block alone where he's been thrown out after working his way in there. And my wife is the best looking woman in the whole building, but it's me who's not even allowed to defend himself." "If that's how things are, then there's nothing that can be done," said K. "Well why not?" asked the usher. "He's a coward that student, if he wants to lay a finger on my wife all you'd have to do is give him such a good hiding he'd never dare do it again. But I'm not allowed to do that, and nobody else is going to do me the favour as they're all afraid of his power. The only one who could do it is a man like you." "What, how could I do it?" asked K. in astonishment. "Well you're facing a charge, aren't you," said the usher. "Yes, but that's all the more reason for me to be afraid. Even if he has no influence on the outcome of the trial he probably has some on the initial examination." "Yes, exactly," said the usher, as if K.'s view had been just as correct as his own. "Only we don't usually get any trials heard here with no hope at all." "I am not of the same opinion," said K., "although that ought not to prevent me from dealing with the student if the opportunity arises." "I would be very grateful to you," said the usher of the court, somewhat formally, not really seeming to believe that his highest wish could be fulfilled. "Perhaps," continued K., "perhaps there are some other officials of yours here, perhaps all of them, who would deserve the same." "Oh yes, yes," said the usher, as if this was a matter of course. Then he looked at K. trustingly which, despite all his friendliness, he had not done until then, and added, "they're always rebelling." But the conversation seemed to have become a little uncomfortable for him, as he broke it off by saying, "now I have to report to the office. Would you like to come with me?" "There's nothing for me to do there," said K. "You'd be able to have a look at it. No-one will take any notice of you." "Is it worth seeing then?" asked K. hesitatingly, although he felt very keen to go with him. "Well," said the usher, "I thought you'd be interested in it." "Alright then," said K. finally, "I'll come with you." And, quicker than the usher himself, he ran up the steps.

At the entrance he nearly fell over, as behind the door there was another step. "They don't show much concern for the public," he said. "They don't show any concern at all," said the usher, "just look at the waiting room here." It consisted of a long corridor from which roughly made doors led out to the separate departments of the attic. There was no direct source of light but it was not entirely dark as many of the departments, instead of solid walls, had just wooden bars reaching up to the ceiling to separate them from the corridor. The light made its way in through them, and it was also possible to see individual officials through them as they sat writing at their desks or stood up at the wooden frameworks and watched the people on the corridor through the gaps. There were only a few people in the corridor, probably because it was Sunday. They were not very impressive. They sat, equally spaced, on two rows of long wooden benches which had been placed along both sides of the corridor. All of them were carelessly dressed although the expressions on their faces, their bearing, the style of their beards and many details which were hard to identify showed that they belonged to the upper classes. There were no coat hooks for them to use, and so they had placed their hats under the bench, each probably having followed the example of the others. When those who were sitting nearest the door saw K. and the usher of the court they stood up to greet them, and when the others saw that, they also thought they had to greet them, so that as the two of them went by all the people there stood up. None of them stood properly upright, their backs were bowed, their knees bent, they stood like beggars on the street. K. waited for the usher, who was following just behind him. "They must all be very dispirited," he said. "Yes," said the usher, "they are the accused, everyone you see here has been accused." "Really!" said K. "They're colleagues of mine then." And he turned to the nearest one, a tall, thin man with hair that was nearly grey.

"What is it you are waiting for here?" asked K., politely, but the man was startled at being spoken to unexpectedly, which was all the more pitiful to see because the man clearly had some experience of the world and elsewhere would certainly have been able to show his superiority and would not have easily given up the advantage he had acquired. Here, though, he did not know what answer to give to such a simple question and looked round at the others as if they were under some obligation to help him, and as if no-one could expect any answer from him without this help. Then the usher of the court stepped forward to him and, in order to calm him down and raise his spirits, said, "The gentleman here's only asking what it is you're waiting for. You can give him an answer." The voice of the usher was probably familiar to him, and had a better effect than K.'s. "I'm ... I'm waiting...." he began, and then came to a halt. He had clearly chosen this beginning so that he could give a precise answer to the question, but now he didn't know how to continue. Some of the others waiting had come closer and stood round the group, the usher of the court said to them, "Get out the way, keep the gangway free." They moved back slightly, but not as far as where they had been sitting before. In the meantime, the man whom K. had first approached had pulled himself together and even answered him with a smile. "A month ago I made some applications for evidence to be heard in my case, and I'm waiting for it to be settled." "You certainly seem to be going to a lot of effort," said K. "Yes," said the man, "it is my affair after all." "Not everyone thinks the same way as you do," said K. "I've been indicted as well but I swear on my soul that I've neither submitted evidence nor done anything else of the sort. Do you really think that's necessary?"

"I don't really know, exactly," said the man, once more totally unsure of himself; he clearly thought K. was joking with him and therefore probably thought it best to repeat his earlier answer in order to avoid making any new mistakes. With K. looking at him impatiently, he just said, "as far as I'm concerned, I've applied to have this evidence heard." "Perhaps you don't believe I've been indicted?" asked K. "Oh, please, I certainly do," said the man, stepping slightly to one side, but there was more anxiety in his answer than belief. "You don't believe me then?" asked K., and took hold of his arm, unconsciously prompted by the man's humble demeanour, and as if he wanted to force him to believe him. But he did not want to hurt the man and had only taken hold of him very lightly. Nonetheless, the man cried out as if K. had grasped him not with two fingers but with red hot tongs. Shouting in this ridiculous way finally made K. tired of him, if he didn't believe he was indicted then so much the better; maybe he even thought K. was a judge. And before leaving, he held him a lot harder, shoved him back onto the bench and walked on. "These defendants are so sensitive, most of them," said the usher of the court. Almost all of those who had been waiting had now assembled around the man who, by now, had stopped shouting and they seemed to be asking him lots of precise questions about the incident. K. was approached by a security guard, identifiable mainly by his sword, of which the scabbard seemed to be made of aluminium. This greatly surprised K., and he reached out for it with his hand. The guard had come because of the shouting and asked what had been happening. The usher of the court said a few words to try and calm him down but the guard explained that he had to look into it himself, saluted, and hurried on, walking with very short steps, probably because of gout.

K. didn't concern himself long with the guard or these people, especially as he saw a turning off the corridor, about half way along it on the right hand side, where there was no door to stop him going that way. He asked the usher whether that was the right way to go, the usher nodded, and that is the way that K. went. The usher remained always one or two steps behind K., which he found irritating as in a place like this it could give the impression that he was being driven along by someone who had arrested him, so he frequently waited for the usher to catch up, but the usher always remained behind him. In order to put an end to his discomfort, K. finally said, "Now that I've seen what it looks like here, I'd like to go." "You haven't seen everything yet," said the usher ingenuously. "I don't want to see everything," said K., who was also feeling very tired, "I want to go, what is the way to the exit?" "You haven't got lost, have you?" asked the usher in amazement, "you go down this way to the corner, then right down the corridor straight ahead as far as the door." "Come with me," said K., "show me the way, I'll miss it, there are so many different ways here." "It's the only way there is," said the usher, who had now started to sound quite reproachful, "I can't go back with you again, I've got to hand in my report, and I've already lost a lot of time because of you as it is." "Come with me!" K. repeated, now somewhat sharper as if he had finally caught the usher out in a lie. "Don't shout like that," whispered the usher, "there's offices all round us here. If you don't want to go back by yourself come on a bit further with me or else wait here till I've sorted out my report, then I'll be glad to go back with you again." "No, no," said K., "I will not wait and you must come with me now." K. had still not looked round at anything at all in the room where he found himself, and it was only when one of the many wooden doors all around him opened that he noticed it. A young woman, probably summoned by the loudness of K.'s voice, entered and asked, "What is it the gentleman wants?" In the darkness behind her there was also a man approaching. K. looked at the usher. He had, after all, said that no-one would take any notice of K., and now there were two people coming, it only needed a few and everyone in the office would become aware of him and asking for explanations as to why he was there. The only understandable and acceptable thing to say was that he was accused of something and wanted to know the date of his next hearing, but this was an explanation he did not want to give, especially as it was not true—he had only come out of curiosity. Or else, an explanation even less usable, he could say that he wanted to ascertain that the court was as revolting on the inside as it was on the outside. And it did seem that he had been quite right in this supposition, he had no wish to intrude any deeper, he was disturbed enough by what he had seen already, he was not in the right frame of mind just then to face a high official such as might appear from behind any door, and he wanted to go, either with the usher of the court or, if needs be, alone.

But he must have seemed very odd standing there in silence, and the young woman and the usher were indeed looking at him as if they thought he would go through some major metamorphosis any second which they didn't want to miss seeing. And in the doorway stood the man whom K. had noticed in the background earlier, he held firmly on to the beam above the low door swinging a little on the tips of his feet as if becoming impatient as he watched. But the young woman was the first to recognise that K.'s behaviour was caused by his feeling slightly unwell, she brought a chair and asked, "Would you not like to sit down?" K. sat down immediately and, in order to keep his place better, put his elbows on the armrests. "You're a little bit dizzy, aren't you?" she asked him. Her face was now close in front of him, it bore the severe expression that many young women have just when they're in the bloom of their youth. "It's nothing for you to worry about," she said, "that's nothing unusual here, almost everyone gets an attack like that the first time they come here. This is your first time is it. Yes, it's nothing unusual then. The sun burns down on the roof and the hot wood makes the air so thick and heavy. It makes this place rather unsuitable for offices, whatever other advantages it might offer. But the air is almost impossible to breathe on days when there's a lot of business, and that's almost every day. And when you think that there's a lot of washing put out to dry here as well—and we can't stop the tenants doing that—it's not surprising you started to feel unwell. But you get used to the air alright in the end. When you're here for the second or third time you'll hardly notice how oppressive the air is. Are you feeling any better now?" K. made no answer, he felt too embarrassed at being put at the mercy of these people by his sudden weakness, and learning the reason for feeling ill made him feel not better but a little worse. The girl noticed it straight away, and to make the air fresher for K., she took a window pole that was leaning against the wall and pushed open a small hatch directly above K.'s head that led to the outside. But so much soot fell in that the girl had to immediately close the hatch again and clean the soot off K.'s hands with her handkerchief, as K. was too tired to do that for himself. He would have liked just to sit quietly where he was until he had enough strength to leave, and the less fuss people made about him the sooner that would be.

But then the girl said, "You can't stay here, we're in people's way here...." K. looked at her as if to ask whose way they were impeding. "If you like, I can take you to the sick room," and turning to the man in the doorway said, "please help me." The man immediately came over to them, but K. did not want to go to the sick room, that was just what he wanted to avoid, being led further from place to place, the further he went the more difficult it must become. So he said, "I am able to walk now," and stood up, shaking after becoming used to sitting so comfortably. But then he was unable to stay upright. "I can't manage it," he said shaking his head, and sat down again with a sigh. He remembered the usher who, despite everything, would have been able to lead him out of there but who seemed to have gone long before. K. looked out between the man and the young woman who were standing in front of him but was unable to find the usher. "I think," said the man, who was elegantly dressed and whose appearance was made especially impressive with a grey waistcoat that had two long, sharply tailored points, "the gentleman is feeling unwell because of the atmosphere here, so the best thing, and what he would most prefer, would be not to take him to the sick room but get him out of the offices altogether." "That's right," exclaimed K., with such joy that he nearly interrupted what the man was saying, "I'm sure that'll make me feel better straight away, I'm really not that weak, all I need is a little support under my arms, I won't cause you much trouble, it's not such a long way anyway, lead me to the door and then I'll sit on the stairs for a while and soon recover, as I don't suffer from attacks like this at all, I'm surprised at it myself. I also work in an office and I'm quite used to office air, but here it seems to be too strong, you've said so yourselves. So please, be so kind as to help me on my way a little, I'm feeling dizzy, you see, and it'll make me ill if I stand up by myself." And with that he raised his shoulders to make it easier for the two of them to take him by the arms.

The man, however, didn't follow this suggestion but just stood there with his hands in his trouser pockets and laughed out loud. "There, you see," he said to the girl, "I was quite right. The gentleman is only unwell here, and not in general." The young woman smiled too, but lightly tapped the man's arm with the tips of her fingers as if he had allowed himself too much fun with K. "So what do you think, then?" said the man, still laughing, "I really do want to lead the gentleman out of here." "That's alright, then," said the girl, briefly inclining her charming head. "Don't worry too much about him laughing," said the girl to K., who had become unhappy once more and stared quietly in front of himself as if needing no further explanation. "This gentleman—may I introduce you?"—(the man gave his permission with a wave of the hand)—"so, this gentleman's job is to give out information. He gives all the information they need to people who are waiting, as our court and its offices are not very well known among the public he gets asked for quite a lot. He has an answer for every question, you can try him out if you feel like it. But that's not his only distinction, his other distinction is his elegance of dress. We, that's to say all of us who work in the offices here, we decided that the information-giver would have to be elegantly dressed as he continually has to deal with the litigants and he's the first one they meet, so he needs to give a dignified first impression. The rest of us I'm afraid, as you can see just by looking at me, dress very badly and old-fashioned; and there's not much point in spending much on clothes anyway, as we hardly ever leave the offices, we even sleep here. But, as I said, we decided that the information-giver would have to have nice clothes. As the management here is rather peculiar in this respect, and they would get them for us, we had a collection—some of the litigants contributed too—and bought him these lovely clothes and some others besides.

So everything would be ready for him to give a good impression, except that he spoils it again by laughing and frightening people." "That's how it is," said the man, mocking her, "but I don't understand why it is that you're explaining all our intimate facts to the gentleman, or rather why it is that you're pressing them on him, as I'm sure he's not all interested. Just look at him sitting there, it's clear he's occupied with his own affairs." K. just did not feel like contradicting him. The girl's intention may have been good, perhaps she was under instructions to distract him or to give him the chance to collect himself, but the attempt had not worked. "I had to explain to him why you were laughing," said the girl. "I suppose it was insulting." "I think he would forgive even worse insults if I finally took him outside." K. said nothing, did not even look up, he tolerated the two of them negotiating over him like an object, that was even what suited him best. But suddenly he felt the information-giver's hand on one arm and the young woman's hand on the other. "Up you get then, weakling," said the information-giver. "Thank you both very much," said K., pleasantly surprised, as he slowly rose and personally guided these unfamiliar hands to the places where he most needed support. As they approached the corridor, the girl said quietly into K.'s ear, "I must seem to think it's very important to show the information-giver in a good light, but you shouldn't doubt what I say, I just want to say the truth. He isn't hard-hearted. It's not really his job to help litigants outside if they're unwell but he's doing it anyway, as you can see. I don't suppose any of us is hard-hearted, perhaps we'd all like to be helpful, but working for the court offices it's easy for us to give the impression we are hard-hearted and don't want to help anyone. It makes me quite sad." "Would you not like to sit down here a while?" asked the information-giver, there were already in the corridor and just in front of the defendant whom K. had spoken to earlier. K. felt almost ashamed to be seen by him, earlier he had stood so upright in front of him and now he had to be supported by two others, his hat was held up by the information-giver balanced on outstretched fingers, his hair was dishevelled and hung down onto the sweat on his forehead. But the defendant seemed to notice nothing of what was going on and just stood there humbly, as if wanting to apologise to the information-giver for being there. The information-giver looked past him. "I know," he said, "that my case can't be settled today, not yet, but I've come in anyway, I thought, I thought I could wait here anyway, it's Sunday today, I've got plenty of time, and I'm not disturbing anyone here." "There's no need to be so apologetic," said the information-giver, "it's very commendable for you to be so attentive. You are taking up space here when you don't need to but as long as you don't get in my way I will do nothing to stop you following the progress of your case as closely as you like. When one has seen so many people who shamefully neglect their cases one learns to show patience with people like you. Do sit down."

"He's very good with the litigants," whispered the girl. K. nodded, but started to move off again when the information-giver repeated, "Would you not like to sit down here a while?" "No," said K., "I don't want to rest." He had said that as decisively as he could, but in fact it would have done him a lot of good to sit down. It was as if he were suffering sea-sickness. He felt as if he were on a ship in a rough sea, as if the water were hitting against the wooden walls, a thundering from the depths of the corridor as if the torrent were crashing over it, as if the corridor were swaying and the waiting litigants on each side of it rising and sinking. It made the calmness of the girl and the man leading him all the more incomprehensible. He was at their mercy, if they let go of him he would fall like a board. Their little eyes glanced here and there, K. could feel the evenness of their steps but could not do the same, as from step to step he was virtually being carried. He finally noticed they were speaking to him but he did not understand them, all he heard was a noise that filled all the space and through which there seemed to be an unchanging higher note sounding, like a siren. "Louder," he whispered with his head sunk low, ashamed at having to ask them to speak louder when he knew they had spoken loudly enough, even if it had been, for him, incomprehensible. At last, a draught of cool air blew in his face as if a gap had been torn out in the wall in front of him, and next to him he heard someone say, "First he says he wants to go, and then you can tell him a hundred times that this is the way out and he doesn't move." K. became aware that he was standing in front of the way out, and that the young woman had opened the door. It seemed to him that all his strength returned to him at once, and to get a foretaste of freedom he stepped straight on to one of the stairs and took his leave there of his companions, who bowed to him. "Thank you very much," he repeated, shook their hands once more and did not let go until he thought he saw that they found it hard to bear the comparatively fresh air from the stairway after being so long used to the air in the offices. They were hardly able to reply, and the young woman might even have fallen over if K. had not shut the door extremely fast. K. then stood still for a while, combed his hair with the help of a pocket mirror, picked up his hat from the next stair—the information-giver must have thrown it down there—and then he ran down the steps so fresh and in such long leaps that the contrast with his previous state nearly frightened him. His normally sturdy state of health had never prepared him for surprises such as this. Did his body want to revolt and cause him a new trial as he was bearing the old one with such little effort? He did not quite reject the idea that he should see a doctor the next time he had the chance, but whatever he did—and this was something on which he could advise himself—he wanted to spend all Sunday mornings in future better than he had spent this one.

[willinglyghoulified]

Chapters from Book 0: The Diaries of Anarchy

Just two of my favorite chapters that I wanted to share. You can find the full series here.

January 1, 2282

The morning of the election came. I felt a mixture of shock, nausea, and rage. Guy's sickening campaign involved promising the people a new act to be put into place if he won the election — a no-ghouls policy.

I decided then and there not to vote at all. There was no way I'd vote against my brother. Not for all the money in the world. But I couldn't rightly stand behind him, either. I don't know what came over him. I never thought he was that kind of person. And all I could do was hope that the people weren't stupid enough to vote him in, for the ghouls' sake.

I was dead wrong. The ballots were cast by two o'clock that afternoon, and he won the votes of all the upper stands snobs and a few racists in the field and lower stands.

During the inauguration speech, Nick, Piper, Nat, and I all stood in the back of the crowd. Part of me believed that he wasn't gonna really do it. It was just a ploy. He pulled one over on 'em and was gonna yell, "gotcha!" But I found myself sorely disappointed twice.

"Dear citizens of Diamond City," he said in a grey three-piece suit and hat on stage. "I've thought long and hard about my inaugural address. It is very important to me that I get the message across to everyone. The year 2282 will bring many changes. It pains me to say that these changes will not be good for everyone. However, change is necessary for growth, and I believe that this fine city will grow even more with the steps that I want to take. To begin, our city guard will first and foremost put the safety of our people ahead of all else. They are to patrol the Wall and the city within and arrest those willing to violate our way of peace, and that is their only goal. The safety of the city as a whole is all that matters. Secondly, I would like to raise the chem tax to a whopping twenty-five percent."

"That bastard," I muttered. It's like he was specifically targeting me or something.

I glanced at Piper who was taking notes as usual, but her face told me everything. She knew what was coming next, and so did I.

"Get ready," Nick whispered and nudged me with his elbow. He looked uneasy.

"Lastly, I would like to act on my running slogan, 'Mankind for McDonough,' at the behest of my voters. There will be a new act implicated in Diamond City — the anti-ghoul decree of 2282. From this day forth, ghouls are banned from city limits."

The crowd murmured with a mix of bad and good responses, but I could already see the ghoul residents getting uncomfortable and backing away from the prying eyes of the crowd surrounding them.

"Any material possessions the ghouls have left behind will be given to those less fortunate in the field. The homes will be put up for sale after inspection and cleaning."

His eyes met mine from his stance on the stage. I stared daggers into him, hopin' he felt at least the tiniest twinge of guilt.

"The anti-ghoul decree takes place immediately. And thank you again, fair citizens. I won't let you down."

He scurried off of the platform as the crowd slowly broke into chaos and made his way to the lift under the mayoral office.

"John, I hate to say it, but things are about to get ugly," said Nick. "We need to get the girls back home."

"I can take care of myself and Nat," said Piper. "You two do what you need to do."

"What's happening?" asked Nat.

"Don't worry, sweetie, big sis will take care of you. Just come with me."

"Find a place to lay low if you can't make it home," I instructed. "Just stay out of the way."

The crowd was getting thick and starting to push closer toward us. The city guard added themselves to the mix. That's when people started puttin' hands on their ghoul neighbors. They begged for mercy, begged to be left alone.

One ghoul drew a gun and pointed it at a man that grabbed him. He shot and missed, but it garnered the attention of everyone in the crowd. It soon became a mob.

"Get his gun!" yelled a guard. They disarmed the man and wrapped his arms behind his back, and he started sobbin'.

"I don't wanna go out there! Don't make me go!"

"Please, leave us be!" screamed a ghoul woman.

"Disarm them!" said another guard.

Before we knew it, citizens and guards alike were searching the pockets of the ghouls and taking their guns and ammo away from them.

"Stop!" I yelled. "You can't send 'em out there unarmed!" I grabbed for a guard's elbow and tried to move him away from a crying woman, but he shoved me.

"Get off me, you sympathizer!"

"John, it's no use," said Nick, pullin' me away. "They're not going to listen."

I pushed him away and ran like mad for the mayoral office. Once the lift stopped at the top of the stands, I barged into the office and found Guy standing there, hands behind his back, watchin' the chaos from his window.

"Guy, stop! Please, call it off! Those ghouls — they're gonna die out there! You've signed their death warrants! Do you have any idea how fucked up this is?!"

"I can't, John," he said calmly. "The voters wanted this. I can't betray the voters."

"Is that all you care about all of a sudden? And don't give me any sob stories; nothing you could say would excuse what you've done!"

He didn't answer me. He just stood there like a statue, staring at the mob of citizens dragging the ghouls toward the gates.

"Are you listening to me?!" I grabbed a handful of his sleeve and turned him around.

The smile he gave me was a sick, deranged smile. "I did it, John. Diamond City's mine."

I was so startled, I retreated from him, took a few steps back. "The hell... is wrong with you?"

He returned his attention to the windows.

Everything in me was screamin' to do somethin'. If he was anybody else, I'd have shot him between the eyes, no hesitation, the consequences be damned. But he was my brother. I wasn't sure if he had lost his mind, but just lookin' at him now, I barely recognized him.

"So long, brother..." I left him standin' in the window.

____________________

No matter what I did, I couldn't get the people off of the ghouls. They should have at least been given time to gather their things, but they weren't even allowed to take the time to pack. Guards were already removing the ghouls' belongings from their homes and handing it out to greedy scavengers that stood outside the buildings with their hands out.

I wound up gettin' nearly trampled and crowd-crushed a few times tryin' to pull some of the ghouls to safety, but I had to give up before I wound up dead.

I found Nick standin' by the gate, observing everything as it happened. His hands were in his pockets. He had a cigarette between his lips, the cold January breeze blowing it away before it could form a thick trail between us.

I walked up to him, frustrated and fed up. "Nick, why are you just standin' there? Do something!"

"What would you have me do, John? Fight an angry mob with my pistol? Start killing human civilians in the name of poetic justice? Rally ghoul sympathizers to the cause and start a civil war within city walls? Or maybe you'd like me to march up the stands and kill Guy myself?"

I stopped short, not knowin' what to say next. When he put it like that, I suddenly felt more helpless than ever.

"Face it, kid. As awful as this is, this is Diamond City now. Nothing we do will make anything better."

"I'm leaving," I stated.

He shook his head. "Figured you might."

"I'm gonna try to lead these people to Goodneighbor. It's the closest and largest settlement that they can go to. Plenty of room for them there."

"I hope you know what you're doing, John. What you're giving up."

"I'm not givin' up much. This place ain't worth my damn time anymore. It's a cesspool of bigots. You'd do well to leave, too, Nick."

"I can't." He shrugged. "Bigots or not, there's still folk here that need help. Besides, if I leave, no one will know where to find me. This is the best place I can operate from."

"Well, good luck, then. Maybe I'll see you again one day."

We had a brief handshake.

"Good luck out there, John."

I raced home and saw the Garvey family had packed up, too. They were leaving with the ghouls. I saw a sad seventeen-year-old Preston with a bag slung over his shoulder and two bags in his fists.

At home, I packed up any loose caps, chems, and food that I had in the house and put it all into a bag. I slung my guitar over my back by the strap and hung the bag over my shoulder.

"What do you think you're doing?" asked Piper from the doorway.

I stopped dead in my tracks. I hadn't thought about how this would affect her and Nat.

Shit.

"You're leaving?" she pressed. "Why? You can't leave."

"I gotta."

"Why? Because the jackass mayor is your brother? Is this somehow going to atone for what he's done?"

"No... but I can't stay here any longer. Besides, the ghouls are gonna need someone who knows the ropes out there. The guards took their guns and ammo. They'll be sittin' ducks."

"John... that's not your responsibility."

"Someone has to do it, Piper. Where's your sense of right and wrong?"

Her lower lip quivered and her hands balled into fists at her sides. "You have a job here, too."

I sighed and poked the tip of her nose. "What, to be your babysitter?"

She didn't find me amusing. She slapped my hand away and sobbed.

"Listen, Piper. I care about you and Nat, but I'm not your dad. You understand?"

"You're close enough."

Fuck, that one hurt.

"No one else treats me like you do. They all treat me like a snoop. Like I bother them. If you leave —"

"You'll make new friends. And you've still got Nick. Don't worry so much."

"I'll come visit you in Goodneighbor —"

"No. It's too dangerous out there. Just do me a favor and stay out of trouble, all right?"

She chuckled without humor. "I'm a successful investigative journalist. You know I can't do that."

I pulled her in for a hug. I had no way of knowin' if I'd cross paths with her again, but I knew one thing. I wasn't settin' foot in this city...

Ever again.

February 8, 2282

"Job's done," I said to the farmhand, cigarette perched between my lips and a glowing feral ghoul's severed head in my hand.

"Ugh!" The farmhand turned his head away from the abomination I'd just brought him. "I believe you! Did you have to bring it's head?!"

"I brought it for reassurance. You acted like you didn't think I was gonna get rid of your problem."

"I'm sorry, you just looked like you don't usually do this sort of thing." He took the promised amount of caps out of his pocket. "There you go. A hundred, not a cap less."

"Pleasure." I tossed the head to the side and shoved the caps in my pocket.

I had been back at mercenary work the day after I left Diamond City. I tried to huddle all the people together who left Diamond City, but a lot of them went their separate ways. It had been a little over a month since they'd scattered to the winds.

I managed to get a lot of them to Goodneighbor, but it wasn't easy. We lost casualties in groups, so one-by-one was usually the way to go.

It was a sad sight seein' families torn apart — a husband watching his wife get mauled by a mutant with a barbed wire bat, or a sister watching her brother burst after accidentally steppin' on a Gunner's mine.

I planned on the money I earned from killin' the glowin' feral to go to two ghouls I had left in the ruins not far from the area. It took me an hour or two to walk back to them.

I found 'em sittin' on a pile of rubble, warmin' themselves by a fire. They were startled when I got close.

"It's just me," I reassured them.

"Oh. John. You gave us a fright," said the woman.

"Here's the caps I promised you. You sure you wanna go to Bunker Hill?"

"Honestly, we're not sure anymore." The man took the caps and set the small bag down beside him.

"Really? What's the plan now?"

The couple stared at each other for a while without speaking.

"You can stop taking care of us," she said, her black eyes resting on mine. "We thank you for all your help so far, but it's not needed anymore."

"Well, if you say so, but it's still a long way to Bunker Hill. Do either of you need anything else before I high-tail it outta here?"

"Maybe just... some ammo."

"Sure thing. I prob'ly have some ammo for your pistol. "I went through my bag, found a few bullets I had salvaged, and gave 'em to him.

"Thank you. Now, please... leave us be."

I glanced between the two, unsure of their change of heart, but I didn't wanna press them. I got up, said my farewells, and walked down the path through the rubble.

I had gotten about fifty feet away before I heard two gunshots, one after the other. My heart sank into my stomach, and all of a sudden, I felt so tired.

So tired.

[ml-typhonverse]

I've been thinking for a while about The Host. I loved the book when I first read it, still prefer it to the Twilight Saga even now. But the ending does leave a bad taste in my mouth for many of the reasons mentioned above. However, I have come up with a way to justify the ending to myself that I'll share here. It doesn't make it perfect, but it at least makes things feel more in-character to me.

People (as it applies to both the humans and souls) are very good at justifying things to themselves. If someone does something we know is bad, it is easy for us to condemn it. But if we do the same thing, we can usually find a way to justify it to ourselves. It's because it's for the best, because it will help people, because I want it enough, because I know what I'm doing, etc. Colonialism has at least a root in that idea. We want what this country has, so it is ours now. Even if other people were living there/had it first. The Host does a great job of breaking it down and showing why colonialism is a bad thing, that what the Souls are doing to the humans and other species across the universes is wrong.

So how do we have that ending? Simple. That same justification that the Souls are doing, the humans are doing to Wanda. And Sunny, but Wanda is the bigger issue to me. Another thing about humans is that we're tribal, and we're good at othering. Everyone would probably be more willing to risk their life for someone they cared about over a stranger. It's very normal. By the end of the book, Wanda has become a part of the tribe, and the people who love her like Kyle, Jamie, and Mel are more willing to do possibly horrible things to get her back.

The body that used to host Petals Open to the Moon/Petra is human. But that body is also a stranger. It's someone that the humans have never met and in this case, will never have a chance to meet. I'm sure if Petra's human identity did surface, they would have probably kept trying until they found a body for Wanda. Because that's how they justify it to themselves. They're not killing someone. They're not removing someone's autonomy for life and having them play meat-puppet for Wanda. They're just finding a body. A body, not a person.

It's easy to do that if it's for someone you care about, especially for love. Love is a force, it brings out both the best and the worst in people. How many stories are out there of people doing truly terrible things and justifying it as doing it for love? Too many to count. But Wanda is loved. And Sunny is liked far more than a stranger on the street, one that might never be able to speak again.

People are capable of being horrible to each other. We've been doing it since we've had documented history and probably for even longer. It's easy to do if you consider someone 'not one of you' because of any number of factors. We need that justification in order to do them, whether for necessary reasons or not. What happens at the end of The Host is awful and tragic, for Wanda, whose wishes were explicitly denied and for the former host of Petra.

But at the very least, it feels human. At least to me.

It also makes me believe there is a message there, though maybe unintentional. It is very easy for the oppressed to become the oppressors. Just because horrible things can and have happened to you doesn't mean you become incapable of doing those exact same things to someone else. Mel knows exactly what a host goes through, and she's willing to do it to a stranger because she loves Wanda that much.

So I try to look at this ending as a reminder that heroes don't always stay heroes. That protagonist doesn't always equal good. That histories worst monsters never thought of themselves as such, because justification is something we all do, and something we should be wary of. Or else we wind up doing horrible things, just because we want it enough.

hi! sorry if you've answered this already, i tried to search your blog and didn't find much, but we all know the tumblr search function is...uh...but i'd be deeply curious to hear your thoughts about Stephenie Meyer's "The Host," specifically re: treatment of the issue of souls' colonization and possession of other species...and obviously, since i'm asking you, an animorphs blog, this, my curiosity is definitely coming from a place of comparison to animorphs, but that doesn't have to be your focus!

from the posts tumblr's search algorithm did grant me, i gather you see it as wanda unlearning the colonizer's propaganda stance she takes at the start of the story, which i agree with!

but i guess every time i read it, i really can't help but feel...unsatisfied? with the way it actually engages with the horrors and colonization of it all?

sort of like, okay, The Host is this one very individual YA romance story in a sci-fi setting, which is obviously different from a heavily-Star-Trek-inspired middle-grade series about guerrilla warfare and is going to grapple with these issues differently...but still! i don't leave feeling satisfied with how it engages with consent of "host" bodies the souls are in, and i don't feel satisfied with how it engages with the souls' systemic behavior!!! but i can't really put my finger on why, and i just...was curious, i guess, whether this was something you had thoughts about.

(full disclosure: i'm asking you specifically because one of my HUGE points of existential dread on my first adulthood reread of The Host was how Jodi never wakes up, and her boyfriend just starts implied-dating the soul who's in her body? or how kids who are infested from birth are just...gone, and they were like "well sweet we can just put Wanda in there, this is a perfect solution!" and that I think hit me so hard in comparison with having read Eleutherophobia--which is, by the way, a masterwork of fanfiction that wrecked me, overwrote canon a little bit in my brain, and I think fundamentally changed how I see the possibilities of writing and narration, so, you know. thank you for that!)

(also like, i know there's different worldbuilding where it's implied most hosts just...go away...but do they actually? because Mel and the Seeker's host are still there, which kind of implies to me that it's more of a problem than the souls want to admit?! and even outside humans, all the memories, and compulsions toward certain behaviors are still there! what makes a person in this universe of Meyer's?! it's kind of fundamentally horrifying?!)

apologies for this extremely long ask, haha, and i hope you're doing well, love your blog, your writing, and all your thoughts!

Oh my god, ALL OF THIS. I thoroughly enjoy the first 98% of The Host. It's a romance novel about consent! Where the characters have to struggle to resolve the plot in a way that gets the permission of everyone in the love quadrangle to boink everyone else, and spends over 500 pages doing exactly that! It's anti-imperialist as fuck! It's got an amazing supporting cast, like every Stephenie Meyer novel! The imagery is unparalleled in its richness and coolness, because Stephenie Meyer! I've written fan fiction about it! I have an extremely normal relationship with Kyle O'Shea!

And then Sunny. And then Wanda's unnamed second human host.

I think that Meyer, either because of romance genre conventions or pressure from publishers, felt she had to write a happy ending. But the book does such a good job of setting up an unresolvable moral dilemma — either Wanda gets to be with Ian, or she does the right thing by giving Melanie's body back — that there is no path to a happy ending. If Ian did as Wanda asked and sent her in a jar to some other planet, romance fans would feel cheated. If Doc did as Melanie asked and let Wanda stay in her body, then the book's anticolonial message would be for nothing.

But resolving it through PARASITING A KID IN A VEGETATIVE STATE? What if Doc makes Wanda a nice robot body? What if Wanda stays in a jar, but Ian finds a way to join her in the jar? What if she and Melanie set up a time share? Uuuuuugggggghhhhh. The Host was THIS CLOSE to being the best anticolonial novel ever written, and then falls on its face inches from the finish line.

Which, aside, is the reason I don't think Animorphs would ever work with a happy ending. "Happy" for the protagonists would never be morally okay in the bigger story.

[its-just-luci]

Chapter 22: Into the Void.

(David Bowie, Heroes)

Our thoughts and prayers are with the astronauts and their families. Alongside every family across this great nation, Nancy and I are pained to our core regarding the situation unfolding aboard Apollo 31. We here at the whitehouse, alongside those at NASA accept that failure is not an option. We will persist in the face of tragedy, and triumph in the face of hardship. We must do what we can to bring these brave men back home, and god willing we will succeed. We send our best regards to those two men on the moon, and we will soon be sending our best pilots. We will triumph, and steal victory from the jaws of defeat.

- Ronald Reagan, Apollo 31 Speech, 1977.

Lenoir returned home alone, and heartbroken. Despite being reassured by Scott and Lawrence that the two were safe, he remained hesitant to leave them. In the end, however, he followed orders; Mere hours before the liftoff of Apollo 31R, he splashed down in his capsule, alone. 2 weeks following the Apollo 31 accident, Gus Grissom and Richard Gordon sat atop the booster once designated for America’s next station, their mission proving far more urgent. The rocket pressurized its tanks, and chasing Apollo 31 before it, the launcher jumped off the pad.

(Apollo 31R Liftoff)

Public Affairs Officer: Liftoff, we have a liftoff. A minute til midnight and we have liftoff of Apollo 31R!

Like a star in the night, the Saturn rose into the heavens, fading into nothing more than a spec of light on the horizon.

Grissom: We got stage sep-

Cooper: Ignition!

Capcom: Roger you staging Apollo R-

Grissom: Tell Dave and Rob their guardian angel’s on his way!

Capcom: One thing at a time babe.

The rocket continued onwards, eventually reaching orbit one last time. The S-IVB lit her engine once more, thrusting the astronauts alongside their Command Module and Lander to the moon. While the astronauts still had some time to wait before the cavalry arrived, they knew they were coming. For the first time in weeks, Scott and Lawrence had a message of hope, and shortly thereafter, they could see the hint of dawn on the horizon.

Scott: Oh, look Rob! Look!

Lawrence: I’m lookin-

…

Lawrence: Goddamn… ain't that something.

Scott: We’re gonna be okay man!

Scott: I think it’s important we go see that. Suit up-

Lawrence: But mission control-

Click.

Scott: I know what they said, but we have plenty of supplies. We’ve rationed well and we’re gonna be off this damn rock in a week's time, if not sooner. We should go enjoy it.)

Lawrence: If you say so-

Scott: I’m your commander, and that’s an order. Go get dressed.

Lawrence: aye-aye.

Click.

Scott: Me and Robby are gonna go on a short stroll outside the lander-

Capcom: Dave, you know the rules, as do I, it says only necessary EVA’s are permitt-

Scott: This is necessary dammit. We’ve been locked up in here for weeks, and we need some fresh air. I’ll be safe, and I won’t let the man break his arm. What all do you need to hear from me to give us the okay?!

Capcom: Uhhhhh… Just a sec, Dave.

Controller 1: Let em do it.

Controller 2: We’re doing good on rations, and if this is what we have to do to get the poor boys through this, so be it.

Kranz: Alright, all those in favor-

Capcom: Aye-

Controller 1: Aye-

Controller 2: Rodger.

…

…

Kranz: All those opposed?

…

…

Kranz: Nobody? That settles it. 

Capcom: Thankfully you got some nice mission controllers, 31. Go ahead.

Scott: Much appreciated, wasn’t asking permission though.

Capcom: I take it you two have already suited up?

Scott: We’re already outside.

Capcom: Oh for fu-... erm. Try and give us more warning than that in the future, 31.

Scott: Rodge.

Lawrence: Thanks commander, I agree this was absolutely necessary…

Scott: Look, would ya rather be in that tin can?

Lawrence: No thank you, I just wanna be off this rock.

Scott: Makes two of us buddy. Soon.

As Apollo 31R approached her perilune, she ignited her engines slowing into orbit around the moon. Grissom boarded the LM, leaving Cooper to pilot the command module. Try as they may, NASA never figured out how to fit four in the Lunar Module, so any rescue attempt would have to be flown solo, an impressive feat demanding a pilot with previous experience in the lander. In the years prior, Grissom had insisted he was ‘good to go’ for another shot at the moon, though following his command of Apollo 10, the chances were unlikely. By sheer coincidence, Grissom got his chance, and if it weren’t for the circumstances, he would be celebrating.

Now, however, was not the time for celebration. Now was the time for focus. The LM undocked, and Grissom went plunging into the darkness, Dipping over the horizon of the waning moon, Grissom lost sight of the earth. The LM Lit its engines and began its descent into the dark void below. Soon the descent rate picked up, and the sun loomed over the horizon. The lander continued its descent onwards and downwards towards the regolith below. 

Before long, Grissom spotted familiar terrain, he knew it was only a matter of time before Tsiolkovskiy could be seen through his window. He spotted it. Maybe it was out of knowledge that this would be his final flight, or maybe as an act of pride or redemption; Regardless of the reason, Gus Grissom took manual control of the lander, proving his capabilities as a pilot and bringing the lander down mere yards away from the Molab.

Scott: Holy hell is that the LM?

Capcom: Gus should be down any second now,

Scott: Yeah we can hear him! He’s sandblasting the damn rover!

Grissom: Contact light-

Grissom Engine disarmed, engine shutdown- okay Houston, I’m down!

Capcom 2: Roger, what's your distance? 

Grissom: 90.

Capcom 2: Come again?

Grissom: 90 yards.

Capcom 2: Gus!

Grissom: (Laughing) they’re fine, I can see their shocked faces through the window-

Capcom 2: You coulda killed someone-

Grissom: Well, I didn’t let’s get home you two!

Capcom: Handing this problem child off to you, Jack-

Capcom 2: Roger.

Grissom: The new Corvette’s here boys, hop in!

Scott: We’re coming, you better fly better than that when we go up-

Grissom: I think that was damn good flying as it is, I was pretty much on target.

Lawrence: As in you landed where you were supposed to, or you landed on top of your target?

The three astronauts laughed, and reunited in the LM within hours. Small quantities of soil samples and photographs were loaded onto the Lunar Module, and before long, they began their trip to lunar orbit. Though his stay on the moon was short, his legacy was long reaching, Gus Grissom had retrieved his two comrades from the lunar surface. They returned to the CSM, and then to the Earth. And while Gus was grounded from flights following the mission, the four men were given the presidential medal of freedom upon their arrival to Earth nonetheless.

With the end of one program, brought the start of many more. STS was scheduled to launch just 4 months after the return of Apollo 31’s crew, and with it, carry the United States into a new era of human spaceflight. Reagan called upon congress to expand the United States’ space powers by investing heavily into NASA’s NERVA program. He called for the creation of a new nuclear powered spacecraft in the coming decade, and the deployment of several such craft in earth orbit. While congress disapproved of the spacecraft’s development, money was allotted for the continued and expanded development of NERVA, including that of a pebble bed powered design, capable of greater thrust to weight capabilities, or so NASA hoped.

Apollo was finally complete, but its legacy lived on. The STS and Commercial Saturn IB, alongside rockets such as Delta II and the Centaur stage all traced certain degrees of their heritage to the Apollo program. It was truly the end of an era, an era with long lasting legacy.

“Apollo conveyed a confidence, energy, and breadth of vision that did capture the imagination of the world. It inspired an optimism about technology, an enthusiasm for the future. If we could fly to the moon, as so many have asked, what else were we capable of? We may have found that perspective just in time- Just as our technology threatens the habitability of our world. Whatever the reason we first mustered the Apollo Program, however mired it was in cold war nationalism and the instruments of death, the inescapable recognition of the unity and fragility of the Earth is its clear and luminous dividend- The unexpected, final gift of Apollo.”

- Carl Sagan ​ Writers Commentary | Part II Epilogue I want to go ahead and say thank you to the people who read COA, and express that when I started writing this in my Freshman year of college (dear god that was three years ago I need to like... go get an internship holy fuck) I never expected it to be this long, or grow in scope and reception like it has. As I publish this, I'm working on Part IV and I'm incredibly excited. I'm sorry it's taken me so long to update, but mental health kinda be like that sometimes. I'm incredibly excited for you all to meet the Space Shuttles, and their successors. I won't give too much away, but I will be touching up the final edits on part III this month and probably next, and hopefully publishing it in more evenly-spaced chunks thereafter. Thank you so much for the interest, and allowing me to gain a new hobby and sense of respect for the genre. Here's to part III, the flight of the Space Shuttles, and the chaos and glory thereafter!

[snowalwayslandsontop]

Coriolanus Snow was a man that was rarely surprised anymore. He had lived a long life where everything was well thought out, planned and executed with careful precision. It was necessary when one was in the middle of a war and as far as Coriolanus was concerned, he was always at war. His speeches might claim that Panem had known peace for decades but that wasn't true. It was all smoke and mirrors. There were always rebels. Always unsatisfied savages, thinking they could move against his rule of order. There was always District 13 just salivating over a chance to move against the Capitol, just as they had when he was a boy. He had always sworn he would never see a war like that break out again and he was determined to keep that promise to himself. He had been able to achieve that, until she came along. She was a danger, a spark that had start a fire. Not just within District 12, which would have been bad enough. But her flames had spilled over into almost every other District, even the ones they had the firmest control over. He had flattened District 12, but it wasn't nearly enough. The tactical move had created more complications then it had fear across the nation as so many got wind of what he had ordered. He wasn't apologetic for it. District 12 had always been there for a sheer potential it possessed. It was the easiest District to flatten in the event a firm message needed to be sent. It had the fewest citizens. It was the smallest so it was easier to drop bombs on a small scale and while many Districts relied upon coal, the Capitol could get by without fresh supplies, they'd been stockpiling for decades. He had wanted her after the 75th Games but he'd had to settle for Peeta instead. He could certainly be useful to him. He had been popular enough during the Games, playing the role of the love sick fool so perfectly as if it could somehow save them from the Capitols power. His torture had been long and arduous but it had gotten results. Peeta wouldn't cooperate willingly and refusal wasn't an option. The boy knew that now. He annoyingly reminded him so much of Sejanus that even he had to walk away when the boy had started those sickening screams. He had wondered what Katniss would do, once she learned what he had done to Peeta. He had no expected her to return to the Victors Village and call out that she was willing to take Peetas place. Perhaps he should have. He had been left without a doubt that she loved that foolish boy. The last Games had shown him that because no one could feign that type of hysteria when she had thought she had lost him. He looked at the screen, seeing that she was standing by the desk where he had left the rose for her to find. Clever girl. She had known they were monitoring the house. He had been certain she would return there at some point and there she was, offering herself up as bait. It was all too delightful and all too easy. Was she playing a game with him? "That's quite the offer Miss Everdeen." He knew his voice would be filling the room that she in. What to do, what to do? To take her now could start a riot across the Districts. They all looked to her to lead them and he knew they would know he had kidnapped her. Peeta was a casualty that could easily be lost and barely mourned but no one would view Miss Everdeen that way. "You'll forgive me if I don't believe that you'll simply come quietly or willingly."

@snowalwayslandsontop ♥d the starter call and promised to be gentle which means kat be like (ง'̀-'́)ง once again.

‘He doesn't know they’ve done to twelve. If he could’ve seen what was on the ground—’

Sitting in the hovercraft she repeated her speech like a mantra, not believing her own luck. Or the other’s stupidity. So far her plan had worked. They believed her when she said they had to find a way to show Peeta how they turned his district to ashes. They were excited, even, about filming another propo, about getting her on board with the rebel propaganda.

They believed her lie.

“I’m going to my home to get some stuff for my mother”, she said after her filming was done, the sentence coming out a little stiff for her liking because after all, she had never been a good actress. Cressida was luckily focused on Gale’s next shot, so she just smiled at her and Katniss made her way to the Victor Village, where the most important part of her plan had to take place. Soon she found her house and rushed inside, anxious steps taking her upstairs to her room. The white flower was still there. Unnatural and beautiful.

Katniss did what she had planned from the moment her mind wrapped around her situation and she repeated her speech word by word, exactly as she had practiced countless times inside her head.

“I know you’re monitoring this place. I know you can see and hear me, President Snow. I need to speak to you.”

She repeated this sentence five times, like she had planned. It was a random number, but logically it should be enough time for someone to reach him and also to keep her rebel crew from suspecting she was doing anything else but grabbing stuff for the medical wing.

The next part of her speech wasn’t planned. She had the basic idea, but the words flowed like a river before she could control them.

“You don’t want Peeta. You never thought he had anything to do with this. You want me. I’m the one that pulled the berries. I’m the one that shot an arrow at your force field. I’m the one that the districts follow. I’m the spark you want to quench with your first, I’m the songbird you want to drown in your poison. It’s me they are waiting to see crumble, not him. I’m the one that you need. The one that you want. The mockingjay you can’t silence.”

With a deep breath, she spoke her next words almost in a whisper.

“And you can have it all. You can have me”, a pause, “Let Peeta go without harm and you can take me. Release Peeta, president Snow, and I’m yours”

All that was left was waiting. And she hated it.

[thefirstpaleontologist]

stranger things season 4 spoilers

okay so wtf is going on with the weird Nancy/Steve romantic subplot line that’s going on

(I commented this on another post but thought it deserved its own)

Like I love both of their characters and was looking forward to seeing their friendship grow as badass monster hunters. The past seasons showed us they didn’t work as a couple and established a really strong and healthy relationship between Nancy and Jonathan. And now what? They’re just gonna undo the past 2 seasons of character and relationship development between these characters for no reason?

Looking at this objectively from a narrative pov i think theyre trying to “up the stakes” as it were. If Steve or Nancy die this season then having them rekindle their romantic feelings for one another in the lead up makes the whole thing more dramatic and tragic

looking at this from the pov of me however… i think Steve and Nancy getting back together is stupid. It completely undoes the past 3 seasons of Nancy and Steve breaking up and Nancy and Jonathan getting together. It undoes the past 2 seasons of relationship and character development with little pay off. the whole romance bit comes across as very forced and unnatural and honestly contributes nothing to the plot by which I mean it does nothing to drive the plot forward

the baseline here seems to be that the show is trying to say that there’s no way Nancy would care about Steve if she wasn’t still in love with him or vice versa. Which is bullshit seeing as romance isn’t inherently more important than friendship and isn’t integral to justifying why someone would possibly risk their life for another

Earlier in the season Antanov said that Joyce wouldn’t be rescuing Hopper if they were ‘just friends’- EXPLAIN WHY MURRAY IS THERE THEN?

When Eddie told Steve how Nancy didn’t hesitate to dive in after him and that’s a sign of true love- EXPLAIN WHY ROBIN JUMPED IN TOO?

like.. HELLO?! this entire show is BASED off the lengths friends are willing to go for each other!

the root of this show is 3 boys doing everything in their power to find their friend. Nancy started investigating the upside down because her best FRIEND Barb was missing. Steve got pulled into the upside down cause a random kid asked for his help! and then got pulled into the Russian conspiracy stuff cause his FRIEND Dustin came to him for help again. hell, Erica only got involved for free icecream! no convoluted romance necessary

maybe there’s a plot twist coming up that’ll reveal why they’re pushing for Nancy and Steve to get back together but honestly the message they’re trying to force here is antithesis to the core relationships of the show and just doesn’t make sense in the context of their character development from the past 2 seasons.