#the dissection-influence is strong in this one

[damagdsnow]

Fix my reputation

Pairing: young Coriolanus Snow x fem!reader

Summary: You and Coryo are together for mutual benefits, he needs a well known woman by his side to look reliable and loving during the presidential elections and you need your reputation to be fixed after your unforgivable scandal. 

Tags: slow burn, enemies to lovers, fake dating, arranged marriage, manipulative/soft Snow, strong and independent reader (as she should), fluff, angst, power play. eventual: smut, fingering, thigh riding, switching sub/dom, degradation, denied orgasm, piv, dirty talk, overstimulation, oral (fem/male receiving), praising public sex

Chapter 1, chapter 2;

aesthetic chapter one, aesthetic chapter two;

Tw: Snow being Snow, mention of alcohol, panic/anxiety attack, eventual: mention of blood

Word count: 6.7k

Note: English is not my first language so if you see mistakes please feel free to correct me in the comments! It is also my very first time posting here on tumblr, I’ve always wanted to post my writing and finally I am now brave enough to do so, enjoy!

You hated that man. 

If there was something you were sure about, it was that you didn’t want to be here with him, at the same table having lunch. You could feel his perking blue eyes staring into your soul even though he was not looking at you, he was meticulously cutting an apple with his long fingers and a shiny knife.

How did you get here? The man you so wholeheartedly hated, was now part of your life, and you couldn’t do anything about it. You felt like that apple he was cutting so carefully, peeling your skin, your essence, the way he was holding it seemed he was scared it could run away. You could run away. 

The problem was, you would never run away. Run away to whom? To your mother who disclaimed you? To those friends who didn’t help you out? You had no choice. Now the only thing you had was your reputation ruined for a fatal mistake that could have been avoided. That was not enough, the only way to clean your image was to be with Snow. The charismatic, intelligent and kind Coriolanus Snow. Or this was what people said about him. What The Capitol said about him.

You didn’t think the same. You knew who he really was, you saw what they couldn't see. He was evil, he was the one who got the games so popular with his ideas, the one who didn’t mind sending children to death.

You and Coriolanus had only one thing in common. Maybe two or three. One of them was that you both needed each other’s influence in society for different interests. His strategy to win the elections included a woman by his side to make him look reliable and sensitive, but he mostly planned on taking advantage of your popularity to make his own name. You, on the other hand, just needed someone who could clean your reputation after a little incident.

Who better than the master manipulator Coriolanus Snow? You weren’t thrilled with the idea of spending time with him. But it was going to be just for once. The gala before the official beginning of presidential elections, the most awaited event in the Capitol.

The agreement was playing the part of two lovers who not by chance people already knew, his name was well known. Yours? Still on the news. It was just a ball, you could do a night of pretending. 

 “Tigris said you haven't tried your dress on yet,” his voice interrupted your thoughts, and you looked in his direction to see his expression. 

He still had the apple in his hands and he was cutting it in half-moon shapes, he took one bite in his mouth and he directly stared at you while chewing. You tried to hide your disgust as Snow's eyes met yours, his smile sending chills down your spine. It was as you had imagined, or even worse, you felt his blue eyes dissecting you in pieces, like he was examining you, looking for your deepest secrets. You knew that staying calm and composed in his presence was crucial. 

“I don’t want to, it fits me.” You didn’t even look at that dress, it was even sent to your house but you refused to open the box knowing that he chose it.

“I hope it will,” Coriolanus didn’t take his eyes off of yours. “At least try to read how you should answer the questions, many people will be there,” he then said while standing up from his chair. His tall frame loomed over you, and you couldn't help but shiver under his intense gaze. 

“Are you giving me homework to do now?” you said, looking up at him.

“I’m simply providing you with some advice,” his voice tinged with subtle amusement. “Oh, you think it’s going to be simple after all you did? “The Capitol won’t forgive you easily,” then he walked away, leaving you alone in the dining room. 

This day felt longer than ever. The morning before you had received a letter from Snow’s manor telling you that someone was going to pick you up to prepare you for the event. It was signed by his publicist, Iris. You met her a couple of times before: a well dressed woman who knew too much about anyone's business in the Capitol. It was her idea to have lunch with him, “just to get to know each other more,” she said, but for you it was just a reminder of his real personality. They even gave you a room for the day, two chambers away from his, quoting Iris’s letter “this way you can feel comfortable,” you thought she was too attentive and kind to work for someone like Snow.

Iris was the one convincing you to take part in this gala, she explained to you that someone cherished like Coriolanus would draw the attention away from the scandal. You two just had to pretend to be together, “the Capitol loves unexpected new couples,” the publisher said to you the first time you saw her, “the young aspiring president and the woman everybody talks about.” Iris was convinced that this way Coriolanus was seen as the devoted partner who wasn’t afraid of your bad reputation, and you as the woman ready to rise from the ashes. 

You ran into your room and slammed the door so loud you hoped he could hear you. You found a big envelope on your bedsheets, and you hoped it was some sort of -hey remember the incident? It’s not your fault, everything it’s okay!-thing, but unfortunately, it was not a free pass to the world. It was a sheet listing all possible answers to some questions you might be asked today at the gala. It was like a script to follow to save your face, to look good in front of the cameras, in front of the-very-judging-elitè. In that sheet, you could find any imaginable question they could ask, where your dress was from or who your family were. 

“Did you do that on purpose?” It was one of the questions, and you thought this was something Snow would ask you. He didn’t say a thing about what you did, in the few times you talked he never asked you directly about the scandal. He could have wanted explanations, the real version of the story from you, but he never said a word. You read the answers on the sheet, and they were all perfectly written, so meticulously explained using the Capitol-vocabulary, elegant words and a candid tone. 

“How did you meet Mr. Snow?” Your heart skipped a beat, you didn’t consider being asked about your fake relationship with him, it was all new to you.

 “…it was love at first sight, who couldn’t love an extraordinary man like him, I immediately fell in love.” You had to read the full answer twice to be certain you weren’t hallucinating. 

You would never have said those words, never in a billion years, not even under torture, of course you were ready to lie, but lying to this level? It was too much. You knew it was him who wrote this answer, you imagined the grin on his face while typing those words about him. You were mad. The answers about your dating life with Coriolanus were filled with romantic moments and exaggerated gestures that made you feel uncomfortable reading their unrealistic nature. You tried imagining those things happening in real life, but it felt completely alien and artificial. It was difficult to believe that anyone could genuinely experience those events. With Coriolanus mostly. You read the pages, over and over, a book would have been better because there was too much to read, but instead, you were stuck with a bunch of printed documents detailing your supposed love story. 

He also put dates on when things happened: your first date in the lake house in July, the time you had dinner in a fancy restaurant in August and the day you moved in his place. Lies. Lies. Lies. Apparently you officially started dating three months ago. Three? You scrolled over the pages, hoping not to read what you were thinking. 

“…after the incident, Coryo was very supportive, always there to comfort and reassure me even though all I did. I felt like I betrayed him too, but he always said we could get through it together, and I found myself falling for him all over again.” You knew none of this ever happened, and yet here it was, staring back at you in black and white. It was as if the words were playing tricks, as if the words were there to pretend instead of simply put on paper.

You sighed and closed the file, feeling a mix of frustration, confusion, and irritation. He was never there for you. Nobody was. You were all alone. After that day, you cried every night, and you were the one reassuring yourself, lying in front of the mirror saying ‘it’s going to be okay’ while your sense of guilt was slowly eating your guts. He wanted to appear like the perfect partner, but you knew the truth. It was all a façade. Deep down, you knew the real him, and it took all your strength to acknowledge the reality. You threw the stack of files on the floor, it was all too much. 

You got up from the bed, and you went directly to his room, determined to confront him about the distorted reality that had been painted in those files. You didn’t even knock on his door, and you felt surprised when you noticed it wasn’t locked. You open the door, and you close it from behind, entering the room. He was standing close to his bed, completely oblivious to your presence. It was like he expected you to burst into his room out of nowhere.

“You finally read the file,” he said, looking at his wrist without making eye contact. 

He was focusing on buttoning his cuff links, his fingers fumbling with the buttons, his white shirt still open and his blonde hair wet from the shower. His normally confident demeanor was replaced with vulnerability as he waited for your response, the tension thick in the air. It was the very first time you saw him not perfectly dressed up, without styled hair and shiny shoes. The sight of him standing there, so different from his usual self, caught you off guard.

“Yes, I’ve read your fabricated tale,” you said, trying not to look at him, at the droplets of water sliding down his temple, his fingers still struggling with the shirt. “You should have become a fiction book writer, you got talent.” 

"I just wanted to impress you," he admitted, finally looking up to meet your gaze. “I can see I got a reaction from you,” he definitely succeeded in catching your attention, with those iper-articulated lies, not even close to what really happened.

“The agreement was that I won't say anything bad about you, just be by your side as a trophy-fake-girlfriend in this stupid gala, inventing absurd stories won't win my reputation back," you said firmly, crossing your arms. 

He reached his desk where there was a glass of some alcohol sloshing around, poured himself a drink and took a long, deep swig. “They won't believe you if you only stand by me like a mannequin, you have to be an active member of their social life, so they can get to know you, sympathize you and maybe forgive you,” he said in a calm tone, you could see his profile while he was again drinking from his glass, his shirt still open that showed his toned body.

You immediately looked away taking a deep breath. “I won't be a part of any false narrative you wrote,” was the only thing that came to your mind. 

He scoffed his head, “Just for the period of the presidential campaign, nothing more.” 

“Are you suggesting that this ridiculous act is going to take longer than just a day?” 

“I know you don’t like me, you just need to pretend you do. I’ll do the same,” he took another sip of that liquor while looking at you, “the publicist said just one appearance at the gala isn’t going to be beneficial to either of us.”

“Why are you telling me this now? The plan was slightly different,” you said

“Oh I knew you were going to be reluctant about the idea of pretending to live here, just for show,” he was serious, his fierce eyes looking at you waiting for a reply.

“I almost tolerated your presence at work, and now you want me to live in the same house as yours?” You asked 

“After the gala, they are going to focus on the ‘new couple’, our performance has to be something they really believe in,” he leaned his head at the same height as yours, “we already don’t have that chemistry, at least they are going to think we live together,” Coriolanus said to your ear, his curls brushing your cheek. 

“I simply decline your proposal, find someone else.” You said with a fake smile.

“Didn’t journalists harass you every time you left your little apartment? How exhausting, isn’t it?” He whispered in a sarcastic tone, making you remember all those times you ran away from photographers. “I got peacekeepers here, no one is going to bother you anymore, as long as you don’t bother me,” he turned to the desk, placing the empty glass in a tray, “strangers in real life, lovers on the outside.” 

“The problem is that I despise you, I cannot do this for one more day,” you couldn’t see his expression,  just his white see-through shirt displaying his back muscles.

“No, the problem is that you don’t understand how fucked up your situation is,” he was now facing you, “I know people who were condemned for way less, you are lucky,” his words were sharp as blades.

“Lucky to have you? It’s a punishment,” you said and he laughed. 

“Then don’t come at me crying at why people still hate you,” he took a few steps closer to you

 “So you can comfort me like you did a month ago?” You asked him pointing out the most absurd lie in that file.

“Oh, so you read every single page, you really did your homework.”

You stood your ground, refusing to be manipulated any longer. He was doing that purposely, just to provoke you, saying those things just to see how far you could take. Coriolanus was looking at you with his piercing gaze, attempting to intimidate you, he expected you to buckle down and crumble in front of him, but you would never give him such satisfaction, you were already in hell, so why not play with fire? 

“Why me?” you asked him, and you saw a sense of surprise in his eyes. “Why, of all the girls in Panem, you decide the only one who can give you trouble?” You took a step closer to his figure, “there are so many good girls from rich families and intact reputations, why me? I’ll just ruin you.” You said, trying to catch his eyes looking back at you. But you could only see his frowning eyebrows, his wet messy hair and a droplet of water trailing down his neck, you were so close to him, you could hear him breathing.

“Everybody knows your name, bad press is still press,” his eyes finally met yours. “You are the center of attention,” he took a step back, as if momentarily distancing himself from the tension. “The presidential elections are extremely competitive, it’s not a race for who’s superior to whom,” he licked his lips, “but who is going to perform better for these people looking for distractions. “We are going to be their little show”

“So tell me Coriolanus,” you stepped closer as you were before. The height difference was such that it made you look up at him, you took one side of his shirt in your hand and you buttoned up with the other, feeling his warm torso on your fingers. "How exactly do you propose to fix my reputation while bolstering your own?” you finished, a sly smile dancing on your lips and your eyes looking for him. 

Coriolanus was looking down at your fingers still brushing his skin, he had his lips parted and he softly whispered, “just play the game,” his eyes still fixed on you. He was talking about making everything right again, but it felt like there was something more behind those words. 

You stepped back, trying to compose yourself. “I’m just giving them another reason to hate me with this bunch of lies,” you were looking down at the floor when you heard him stepping closer to you. You didn’t look at him, but you could feel his eyes on your face. 

He lifted your chin with two fingers and made you look up at him, “I’ll make them fall for our lie,” he said, his voice was so deep and calm.

 “You are a master manipulator,” you whispered back, looking down again as if the floor was more interesting than the man standing in front of you. 

You heard him chuckle, and he leaned closer to your ear, “and I’m going to teach you how to be one too.”

Your first public appearance after the scandal was going to be at this gala. Everything was calculated in detail, the dress you wore had to be long and white, as pure as snow. Your hair had to be loose so it could cover your exposed back, and apparently you had to memorize pages and pages of answers you could give. After your intense conversation in his room you decided to play the game seeing how far you could take, how far you would do to take everything back. He wanted you under his spell, he was trying to shape you how he desired, for his own interests. 

“Dear, why aren’t you dressed yet?” The publicist said to you while you were sitting on the smooth sheets of your bed. You had your bathrobe still on, it’s been thirty minutes since you had a shower but you had your head in the clouds. 

You couldn’t stop thinking about your conversation with Coriolanus, his wet hair, the words he said to you, his naked torso, his manipulating eyes. You repeat to yourself that he was Coriolanus Snow, and not any man, he probably told you half the strategy he really had in mind. Being with him was like playing chess blindfolded, you had to trust him but he could mess up your moves, change your plans.

“Come here I’ll help you,” Iris said, she seemed like a good person, she had a comforting smile and an elegant manner with everything she did. She was wearing a short coppery-brown color dress, it was shiny as her nails, decorated with tiny gold stones. You took her hand and you stood up, making the bathrobe fall on the carpet. The silk of the dress soothed your skin like a petal, you looked at the mirror and the weak light coming from your window gently reflected on your bright dress, almost making it shine. 

“It is really pretty,” you said astonished while turning to see your exposed back. Then your smile disappeared because you remembered it was him who picked the dress. 

 “You are making it pretty, my darling,” Iris stated as she fastened the zip on your side. It was a simple dress yet delicate and impressive, it embraced the shape of your body effortlessly. 

“It is just a little loose here on your waist,” the woman said, touching the excess fabric on your side. You remembered the conversation early this morning when you proudly said the dress fitted you.

“I’m going to tell Tigris to fix it,” Iris said and you immediately looked at her reflection in the mirror.

“No please,” she changed her expression, “it is bad luck to mend a dress the same day it is worn,” your mother always said that to you, maybe it was not a popular saying considering the publicist's face.

 She tilted her head with a confused smile as she touched the yellow-butterflies-clip in her voluminous red wig. Now that you were thinking about it, you sewed your skirt the day it happened, ‘it’s just a coincidence, I don’t believe in these things’ you said to yourself, you were not superstitious but at the same time you avoided superstitions, just in case.

 “Whatever you want,” Iris said with a soft smile. 

  You touched your neck and you thought how a shiny pendant would look good. “Iris, do we have some necklace to match this dress?” She stepped closer to you looking at your chest. 

“I think you shouldn’t wear any jewelry tonight,” you tilted your head in confusion, “see, today is your first appearance after the,” she paused, “incident.”

“And what is it supposed to do with jewe—“ she didn’t let you finish your sentence.

“You could wear pearls or diamonds but what would the elite think? That you want to appear, that you want to show off,” she walked behind you so you could see her reflection in the mirror. “How you present yourself is the way they perceive you,” Iris brushed your long hair on the side, exposing your neck, “you are wearing a white dress, ‘how pure!’ No diamonds, ‘how modest!’ “try to think like the socialites, once you enter their minds, your act will get a standing ovation”. Her words put everything in a different perspective, she really knew what she was doing. 

You heard a knock on the door, “the party starts in an hour!” A muffled voice said from the corridor.

“Thank you Ariandes, we’re almost done!” Iris said in a loud tone. 

In less than sixty minutes you had to put on your best mask and try to change the mind of a thousand people about yourself, with Coriolanus by your side, pretending he is your supportive lover. You felt a rush of anxiety on your chest, like a weight pressing against your heart.

“I don’t think I can go,” you whispered with a trembling voice. Iris made a worried look.

“Oh sweety, I can only imagine what you have been through,” she took a lilac glass flask from the desk beside the mirror, “you are a strong woman,” she sprayed a lavender fragrance on your neck and she smiled. 

You looked at yourself in the mirror, and with all your strength you tried to keep the tears that threatened to spill over. “Iris, how do I fake being so interested in someone?” You asked, thinking about what was written in that file. 

“Have you ever been in love?” She asked with a soft gaze.

You didn’t know the answer to that question, you had a couple of boyfriends in your university years, but were you in love? 

“It’s when every atom of your body's only desire is to burn at the mere thought of being with that someone,” Iris looked up, like she was thinking of somebody, you felt even more disoriented with her answer. 

You couldn’t identify that feeling with anyone, you’ve never met someone that made ‘your cells burn’. What would that even mean, you thought.

 The door opened and you turned your head to see Ariandes, the political advisor, “We gotta go,” he said looking at Iris. The man had his hair pulled back in a long braid, dark as his skin. You walked in his direction and you followed him.

The moment you stepped into the car you felt a sudden tension, it was dark outside, only one side of Coriolanus’ face was lit up by cars passing by. He was wearing a red coat that covered the rest of the outfit, his blonde locks were lightly falling on his temples and you noticed he was wearing a ring on his left index finger.

 “Act as natural as possible,” Coriolanus said and he looked at you, it felt like he was inspecting your body and you wished to be in his mind at that very moment.

 Was everything going according to plan? 

No, you didn’t want to know what it was like to be in his head, it was torturing enough being on the outside. 

“I’m not very good at lying,”

‘not as good as you’, you wanted to say. 

He looked at you like he read your mind, luckily you couldn’t see his expression. “Don’t be impulsive, smile and never leave my side,” you felt he was giving you orders, “what 's going to happen at the political campaign depends partially on today’s gala.”

 “You know, Mr. Snow,” you started “I tried reading your fiction-book but it was so,” you tried examining his face, “unrealistic,” he scoffed and looked the other way, “you want me to paint you as the man you aren’t and never will —caring, affectionate and respectful “I can’t do miracles, people won’t believe my lies forever.”

Coriolanus clenched his jaw, “at least the whole Panem doesn’t hate me,” he said close to your face.

“Yet,” you added, hoping to maintain eye contact one more second. 

“And just a reminder,” he said, “without me you would have been at home, crying and begging for forgiveness,” he whispered in a bitter tone in your ear.

 “And without me you wouldn’t have the attention you crave so much,” you replied, feeling the tension in the air. 

Coriolanus was too close to you, like an animal before hunting his prey, you could see his facial features reflecting the weak light outside. The engine stopped, and the driver opened the car door.

“Mr. Snow” he said and Coriolanus stepped out of the car, he didn’t even look at you. 

‘He would slam the door in my face if he could’, you thought.

 You took the driver’s hand, helping you get out with your long dress. Coriolanus took his maroon coat off and he gave it to an avox at the entrance. You could see him from his back, he was wearing an ivory jacket and trousers, his suit matched your gown. He calculated every single detail. Unexpectedly, Coriolanus waited for you as you stood by him in the hall, he extended his arm and you looked at him. 

“Do I have to?” You asked and you noticed a white rose on his breast pocket. 

“It’s just an act,” he replied and you took him by the arm. 

Let the play begin. 

The ballroom was lit by magnificent chandeliers and the air was filled with whispers and laughter. The atmosphere was comforting and energetic: people with colorful wigs, glitter dresses and sugary drinks. There was not a face you could recognise, it was not what you were used to, even though you have been living in the Capitol for all your life, you’ve never experienced a party like this. You walked through the crowd with Coriolanus by your side, arm by arm, while everybody was looking curiously at your direction. You’ve heard someone saying his name, and something about the girl he was walking with. 

Why her? Since when does Snow have a girlfriend? I’ve heard really bad things about that woman.

And there it was, the gossip, the uncertain glances and how they looked down on you. On the other hand, people were praising him. 

He’s so charming! White suits him well! Future president of Panem. 

You looked at Coriolanus, the warm light was making his eyes brighter, or was it the crowd? He looked at them so proudly, with a confident smile, he was living for that moment, being the center of attention. He met your gaze, then his blue eyes looked at your dress, but not the same way people did. 

It felt different. 

Was he judging? 

Admiring maybe? It was a mystery, nothing was black or white with him. 

Coriolanus greeted a couple of his acquaintances, introducing you as his partner, then calling you his date and it once slipped from his lips calling you his girlfriend. And you actually were, in that moment, you had to act as his beloved girlfriend who had a well known bad reputation. He never let your arm go away, he was acting so well, playing the caring boyfriend who couldn’t leave you alone. 

“Here they are, the couple of the night!” A loud voice came from behind, it was Flavius Windbuzz, one of the most famous tv hosts in the Capitol. His voice was recognisable from miles away, it didn’t matter if you watched television or not, he was everywhere and it was impossible in Capitol City not knowing his name. 

He stepped closer to you with a glowing smile and a glitter microphone, he had his hair gray, more like silver. “Everybody is talking about you, the new Capitol lovebirds,” a camera was pointing at you and your heartbeat was getting faster, everyone stopped talking and stared at you both. “So tell me Mr. Snow, who is this young lady you are showing off?” 

“You said it right Flavius, she is my girlfriend,” he did it again, Coriolanus said girlfriend, this time broadcast on tv. 

“What a pleasure to meet you,” the host said to you, he took your hand and kissed it. These exaggerated gestures were the usual in this type of parties, especially where a silver-haired-man was interviewing the guests. He asked about your family, if you liked the food —you didn’t touch any but you lied, and who was the designer of your dress, everything as the script said.

  “Honey, you are a really interesting woman but I have to ask you something,” Mr. Windbuzz said, “people are talking and it is my job to satisfy their desires. “So tell me, are the rumors true?” 

You expected a much worse question, you stopped breathing for a moment and Coriolanus noticed that because you tightened the grip on his arm. “You tell me Flavius, what do the rumors say?” You answered with a soft smile hiding your discomfort.

  “I know that during the last edition of The Hunger Games, something really unfortunate happened,” you noticed he had purple contacts on, and that was something that made you even more nervous. “Is it true that you took part in the incident we all saw live on TV?” He asked and you felt like your heart was beating outside your chest.

“It is true,” the crowd gasped, and your pulse increased. 

“So tell me, how did it feel when you killed those poor and innocent tributes?” The question was worded differently than what you read on that file. 

Killed. 

Poor and innocent. 

You couldn’t get out of your head their lifeless faces, the foam coming out of their mouths and the sound of the cannon echoing in that room. The hall started spinning, you saw the interviewer’s face, a mix of compassion and concern, as the crowd started whispering more and more you felt your head cold and heavy. The microphone was pointing in your direction but you could not even stutter a syllable, blank pages wandered in your mind and you felt a sense of emptiness. You felt a hand on your shoulder and you turned your dizzy head to see Coriolanus who started talking for you.

“She was more than devastated, I remember—, ” you saw his lips moving like the time had slowed down and you were not listening to his words, his voice echoed in your ears as you never took your eyes off of him. 

His grip on your shoulder tightened and his eyes looked at you as he tilted his head suggesting you both could go away. You followed him even though your ears were still ringing and your sight blurring, Coriolanus was walking too fast so you took his hand in yours or you could really faint on the ground. At that action, he looked at you with a confused stare, his hand grip was firm and steady as he dragged you in the bathroom. After checking no one was in there, he leaned against the door so no one could step in. You stood in front of him, his curls falling on his forehead that was a little sweaty, then he began talking, but the sound of his words were just an intense ring in your ears. He placed both his hands on your cheeks trying to have your attention, and you woke up from your hypnotic state.

“They are just hypocrites, they are the ones who watch The Hunger Games on tv, they send money to help their favorite to kill.” Coriolanus said looking in your eyes, and you started sobbing. “They are not better than you, “stop crying and play their game.” 

You felt the warmth of his hands on your skin, he never touched you this way, it was intimate, nothing you could expect from him. For a moment, you brushed your hand with his but he instantly removed it, walking away from your sight. 

“He was too indiscreet,” you heard him whisper, “I should’ve expected that from him.” 

“No Coriolanus, I should’ve expected this question,” your voice was still trembling, “you said it wasn’t going to be easy, I deserve this, “do you still think this act is a good idea?” You asked him. 

His tall figure leaned against the green tiles of the bathroom, he had his hands on his pockets and he was looking down, thinking about who knows what. Now that you were seeing from a distance, he resembled an angel. His white suit, his blonde curls and the perking blue eyes. No, there was nothing pure and heavenly in him. You thought he was probably thinking about how you ruined his plan, how he had to intervene to save your umpteenth failure and he was now calculating another strategy. 

‘Not an angel, a fallen angel, the next Lucifer of Panem.’

 “The night is still young,” he said while stepping to the door. He didn’t answer your question, was he regretting meeting you? 

Everything was as you left it. The party was still going and no one seemed to have noticed your panic attack. That was a relief. You tried distracting yourself, you couldn’t stop thinking about what happened before. The interview, the crying, his hands on your face. Everything was worse than you had expected. You and Coriolanus were in the hallway next to the massive columns that supported the ceilings, on the other side people were dancing to a classical melody. You wanted to stay there, outside their sight, because to you the dance floor was more like an arena where people were going to attack you. 

“Shall we?” Coriolanus extended his hand suggesting to go dancing with him. 

“I’m not good at dancing, I could step on your feet,” you hoped it would’ve been enough for him to give up. 

“I’ll take the risk.” That was his plan, acting like nothing happened and putting his best smile on to be the charming man everyone adored. 

You took his hand, the same hand that wiped your tears off your face was now intertwined in yours. Every time you looked for an excuse to not like him. As if you had to remind yourself that you hated him. Did you? He was dancing with you so naturally, holding you like you had known each other for a very long time, his hand on your waist as if he was used to it. There was nothing evil in him on the outside, and that was the problem. 

“I’ve just saved your face, thank me later.” 

You rolled your eyes at Coriolanus’ words. “I’m used to humiliations so next time don’t bother yourself.” you replied.

“Oh but I’m not used to it and don’t worry, there will be no next time.” Without a notice, he made you twirl around.

“When will this thing end?” You asked annoyed.

 “I hate it as much as you,” he pushed your waist closer to him, this way you were face to face, noses touching. 

“What the fuck Coriol—,” 

He interrupted you, “for the cameras.” 

You turned your head and you saw a bunch of flashes, blinding your sight. Coriolanus leaned over you and your lips were brushing, you couldn’t push him away because of the photographers. You had no time to tell him something, that he kissed you. It was for a second, just one second where your lips touched. It was cold, dry and unexpected. Just like him. Snow by name, snow by nature. If only eyes could talk. You’d probably say to him how you wished you weren’t there, with him, and you wondered what his blue eyes would say to you, probably the same. After that moment, Coriolanus didn’t say a word to you. You were there, smiling at photographers hoping to drop your mask as soon as they’d left. 

The rest of the night went according to plan. Flavius interviewed all the future candidates and Coriolanus had the opportunity to make his well prepared speech, he also got invitations from influential members close to the president Ravinstill, not to mention the many sponsor offers he had. At least something was going well, for him though. The ride back home was painful. You and Coriolanus were looking outside the window, his crimson coat was the only barrier separating your bodies. 

“Did they ever tell you how bad you are at kissing,” you hated silence so much you could say the stupidest things that came to mind just not to hear your thoughts. You turned your head to see him and his eyes were already on you. 

“Mhm, girls usually compliment me for other qualities,” he chuckled, “and then that wasn’t me kissing, remember it’s just for show,” he whispered looking at the driver hoping he wasn’t paying attention.

“Well, no one believed your poor attempt to look in love,” you said and he untied the knot of his white tie. 

“I was caught off guard,” he said looking at you, cars speeding in the window behind him, “and I can’t just kiss how I would normally do.” 

You tried not to laugh at his words, ‘what would that even mean?’ you thought. “Just try to convince them, because you didn’t even convince me.” 

“How should I kiss you then?”

He put his hand on the back of your head, with his thumb brushed your temple and he pulled you closer, his lips touching yours softly. You knew what was going to happen, but you let him do it. 

The way he kissed you, like he was starving for your lips, hungry for your taste. Was he the same man that kissed you before? You melted in his touch, his hand slided down your neck, his fingers pressing on your throat, making you shiver even more. He tasted like mint and posca, his hair smelled of roses and his skin was warm under your touch.

 Coriolanus pulled away from your lips but you came closer to cut the gap separating you. It felt like an instinct, like you were not satisfied enough and you could feel a sense of heat down your core. He pulled away the coat that was between you and his other hand was now on your exposed back, keeping you closer, his tongue still dancing dangerously with yours as you intertwined your fingers in his locks.

“Coryo” you said between kisses.

He wasn’t intending to stop and neither did you, but you remembered who was the man who was holding you that way, whose hands were making you shiver, whose lips were making you want for more and what nickname you just whined. 

“I think we should,” you managed to say, trying to stop yourself from doing something you were going to regret. You broke the kiss, his lips were swollen still too close to yours. 

He whispered, "I told you, I can be convincing when needed.”    

🦋 A/N: I hope you enjoyed this first chapter, let me know what you think in the comments! I’ll probably explain the details of the scandal and how they met next time, it’s way more than you can imagine from here. Also I KNOW there is no smut here, but bear with me, it's a slow burn and trust me in the next chapter I’ll add some ✨ spice ✨. In this first chapter I wanted to set up the atmosphere.

A special thanks to Freddie Mercury and the song “Play the game” that helped me when I was stuck, to the poet Taylor Swift who reminded me of the many ways you can say the color red. PLEASE let me know if you want to be tagged next time 💌 

ask me questions here !

@gracieghost36955 @annavatar @ghostlyloversworld @badbussylol @gracieroxzy @coolcatyarb @coriosgf @xxrougefangxx @devils-blackrose @wearemadeofstardust0

[belovedivies]

Hello👋 I was wondering how would the skinless chicken-I MEAN Nathanael interact with Raphael's older sibling?😅

cw: minor spoiler dividers-credit: @kodaswrld m.list

nathaniel and you…

⋆ ˚｡⋆are the epitome of a match made in hell! We have a body dissection loving maniac who breaks guns with bare hands and a sociopath whose father you buried for the throne that your brother now occupies. Of course, you guys get along like a house on fire.

⋆ ˚｡⋆surprisingly have the time to hang out. You always find a way to forcefully squeeze yourself into his schedule, like dropping by unannounced during his night shifts so you can whip him away for a few minutes! The nurses and patients mistake you two for a couple all the time, something Nathaniel doesn’t bother to clarify anymore.

⋆ ˚｡⋆share what can almost be considered as a bond despite the chaos going on. Aside from Raphael, he’s the one guy whose company you somewhat enjoy and find amusement in. You’re also the only girl who gets to spray deodorant in this scary man’s face and don’t end up being slammed against the wall. It’s a win-win! ☪︎ ･ﾟ ･Nathaniel... begrudgingly acknowledges the influence you have on Glory Club. How a fragile-looking woman can command fear and respect without trying. He, though, still has a hard time wrapping his head around the mind-boggling jokes you blurt out sometimes versus the cruelty you’re capable of inflicting. One night, after a quick patient checkup, the Apostle found you in the hallway along with two of his men out cold on the floor, their hands and legs bent at all different angles. Then you just ran up to him with a smile, never elaborating on what happened. ☪︎ ･ﾟ ･You... think Nathaniel’s pride now might as well be his downfall. He’s strong, he’s smart, and he has potential. But this is THE Peter we’re talking about. If that boogeyman is lurking around the corner and somehow still as unbeatable as he was 50 years ago, Nathaniel—even in all his evolutionary glory—statistically stands no chance of surviving. And if he is lucky enough to just barely make it out alive, the man’s ego is gonna be damaged for good. ☪︎ ･ﾟ ･ﾟ·:｡･ﾟﾟ･⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆･ﾟ ･ﾟ·:｡･ﾟﾟ･❂

“It’s so cold out here…” You tugged your legs underneath your chin and let out a loud yawn, wiggling your feet. “I thought the rainy season ended last week?”

Five centimeters away from you on the bench, Nathaniel leisurely sipped on his Americano. “High humidity levels,” he set the cup aside, “so your clothes might get saturated by the moisture in the air.”

“Huh, guess that’s why I’m still shivering in these 70D stockings—“ mid-sentence, your eyes widened when the guy suddenly took off his blouse and draped it over your lap. “Thanks.”

Nathaniel just shrugged and picked up his drink again. Two nurses walked by and cooed at the scene, though you weren’t sure if the attention was on you or him, or the playing-house act he had been tolerating for a while.

You scanned your surroundings: the hospital’s courtyard was mostly empty at this point. A few elderly patients hung out in the right corner of a dimly lit cafeteria, doing their nighttime stretches. When you look up, a billboard on the side of the building greeted your eyes—a picture of an old-looking Peter with his back hunched. The bounty flashed beneath it in place of the contact number for donation: 7,6 Billion Won.

“Kim Soongu…” The words left your lips as an afterthought, but then you caught Nathaniel’s jaws clenching in your peripheral vision with the coffee cup suddenly crushed to a pulp in his palm, a river of brown dripping to the ground.

The awkward silence didn’t even last for three seconds before a hysterical fit of laughter left your throat as you clung to your stomach.

“Holy fuck—“ snickering, you leaned against Nathaniel’s side like you two were having a sleepover. “Look at the way you got your panties in a twist with just the mention of his name. Is he that good?”

Your slightly-closer-than-an-acquaintance furrowed his eyebrows and answered through gritted teeth. “Brat…”

“Annoying too?” you mirrored his cocked brow with amusement, cheek leaning on his shoulder as you watched the guy slip off his beverage-soaked glove, “didn’t the stats say Soongu is just another D-rank killer though?”

“Not it from my observation.” Nathaniel huffed. “He had some untapped potential. Having him on my team would be… beneficial.”

You tilted your head. “For…?”

“Taking down Peter,” he looked a little irritated at your constant questioning, but ultimately decided not to show that frustration. Instead, Nathaniel’s raspy voice took on what seemed to be a teasing note; his lips curled up into an easy-going smile as the man flicked your forehead.

“So much for your plastic surgery idea, princess.”

“Ow—!” You squealed, touching the violated skin; he wasn’t even using force and you could already feel a bump rising. “What do you mean? So it wasn’t him?”

“It’s real skin from what I felt.” Nathaniel ran a hand over his hair. “Tch, whatever. When he shows up tomorrow, I’ll definitely find out.”

Tomorrow. You tucked your legs further under your chin, eyes still trained on him.

“Hyun Il.”

“?”

The Apostle turned his head towards you.

“You’re 100% likely to die.”

“Doubtful, aren’t we?”

You let out a giggle. “You wanna hear me say it?”

Nathaniel’s gaze hardened. “I will win.”

Cute.

A sigh left your lips as you stared up at the dark sky above. It was a relatively starless night, but there were still some lonely orbs twinkling if you squinted hard enough.

Some saw themselves as the sun—the center of this universe with planets orbiting around them. Constantly striving for a new high. Yet there were bound to be limits. A wall in between. Something, someone who might just show up one day and render all of their efforts useless.

How incompetent we were in the grand scheme of things.

☪︎ ･ﾟ ･ﾟ·:｡･ﾟﾟ･⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆･ﾟ ･ﾟ·:｡･ﾟﾟ･❂

"Planning to dig up his body?"

Raphael's comment earns a small smile from you. Taking your little brother's hand, you stand up from where you have been crouching on the ground for the last few minutes.

"Nathaniel doesn't need to be physically here to haunt me," you hum playfully while his fingers brush off the imaginary dust on your hair. "Jokes aside, he's cremated. I'm surprised to find out that could still work without the furnace blowing up; he's like a walking T vessel."

"Mhm…"

"Found anything at the scene?"

At your inquiry, Raphael's brows drawn together in a way that reminds you of Nathaniel. Then again, frustration doesn't have a second face.

"Tch, nothing at all." His grip around your shoulders tighten. "That bastard vanished without a trace."

All the killers dying… so that really was Peter's doings. You've seen the outcome from miles away, yet who is to say the result doesn't baffle you in the slightly? What Glory Club is dealing with here is no longer a human being.

"Hey, Raphael…" for a second, the face of an unfamiliar teenager pops up in your mind—black hair, red eyes that hold an immaculate sense of authority, "do you think that…"

"Yes?" Your brother tilted his head. There's a lump in your throat that is suddenly too hard to swallow.

"Nevermind," as quick as that eerie hypothesis comes to be, you forcefully swat it away; a sharp edge to your smile, "let's get back, shall we? It's gonna start raining soon."

[soaringwide]

PAC: How to overcome your fears regarding relationships?

Hey :p

Here is a new love pick a card about a topic I've personally been struggling with recently, so I really wanted to dive into it.

The goal of today's reading is to look at what fears you're dealing with in matters of relationships; fears that might manifest as blockages or obstacles in your love life; and how to overcome them.

As always, this reading is meant for multiple people and there are only three piles, so take what resonates and leave out the rest. It can help focusing on your issue or a specific relationship while selecting the pile.

I offer paid readings as well, don't hesitate to reach out to me in DMs.

Ko-fi ★ book a reading ★ pinned post ★ instagram

PILE 1

Cards: 3 of Swords, 9 of Pentacles, King of Wands, Queen of Wands, Slow Down, King of Pentacles, Manic, Queen of Swords, King of Cups, Queen of Cups, 2 of Pentacles, 5 of Pentacles, the World, 7 of Wands, the Magician, the Emperor

Your fears surrounding relationship have to do with heartbreak and loss. It seems you've had your heart wounded deeply in the past. The pain was intense and it took you so long to sooth it, and you had to use all your resources to revive yourself from this state. You had to learn to be independent and flourish for your own sake, to tend to your own inner garden and make a life beautiful and enjoyable for yourself. So you not only are scared to get your heart broken again, but also to lose your individuality and the peace you built for yourself. I think you are attracted to people like you, strong individuals with ambition and passion, but you're scared it's going to get in the way of your own path and vision and lead you apart, breaking your heart once more. I believe you overthink quite a lot and expect things to go wrong before they even do.

These fears are rooted in your relentless mind, forever going full speed from one extreme to the other, in a frenetic quest for meaning and movement. It seems you have trouble feeling satisfied by anything for long because you're always looking at the next adventure, the next prize, the next achievement. It's not that you're ungrateful or anything, but rather, that you are scared you're going to be left with nothing if you stop trying to fix what's wrong in your life. You keep looking for problem to solve, perhaps due to your triggered survival instinct, and it's hard for you to stop and appreciate what you have. So the root of your fears is in your own mind, in the pathways you built years after years and that you solidified. It seems you have a hard time finding your balance, go with the flow and stay in the appreciation of the present.

These fears manifest in relationships by a hard grip on your feelings by your mind. See, your feelings are strong and run deep, and they can get overwhelming very easily. As a result, you react by dissecting them like some freaky science experiment and try to break everything down to understand them, but also to keep them under the control of your logic. It's kind of a toxic pattern, an abusive move from yourself towards yourself. Your words can be harsh and hot tempered because you feel hurt easily and can blow things out of proportions fast. You're so scared of losing your agency and getting hurt that it makes you hyper aware of every little blow at your heart and you go to war a bit too easily. I'd also say that paradoxically, you have a hard time being honest about your feelings and communicating them in a gentle and open way. You may even wait till things become unbearably painful before saying anything, instead of acting earlier when the need arose the first time. You struggle with the idea of vulnerability a lot and perhaps your way around that is to wait till it feels like it's the other person's fault for hurting you instead of your own inability to express yourself authentically.

For what external influences play a part here, I'd say first that you have a strong personal sense of what you need from life and relationships, but that you doubt yourself a lot. You keep comparing yourself to what others have, or what society expects and this is making you feel depleted and resource-less. It's like, people say one thing, and you know it's wrong, but for some reason you keep entertaining the idea even though you know it's rotten and useless for you. In addition, you also feel pressed by time, as if you felt you were following some type of transcending schedule you had to abide by, and if you are late or out of sync, then that means you are failing and it's causing your fears to intensify. This is making your fears worse because these expectations weight on your mind and make you feel broken and worsen you destructive patterns.

For how to overcome your fears, your first need to let go of the struggle mindset. No, life is not out there to get you and you aren't going to lose everything if you dare opening up to love. You are too defensive of your heart and too combative in your approach. You need to replace that mindset by bringing all elements of yourself in harmony. Your mind shouldn't fight your emotions, your passion shouldn't clash with the respect of your boundaries. What I'm trying to say is to take a look at what you're over-doing and what you're neglecting, and bring some balance within yourself. You must also bring clarity in your mind about what it is you want and hold the vision, knowing that you will find what you need when the right opportunity arises. Also, don't hesitate to advocate your your needs and wants. Not like a tyrant, but like someone who knows themselves and know what's best for them, and go after whom they desire without fear. Yes, the battles of the heart are scary and it can be hard to go for what you want due to the fear of loss and pain, but you need to make a conscious decision to not only open up, but also let the other person know where you stand. Trust in your magic, your skills and power, you have everything that you need to succeed.

PILE 2

Cards: 4 of Swords, the Magician, the Star, Inner Awareness, Let Go rx, Queen of Pentacles, the Fool, 5 of Swords, 10 of Cups, Jealousy rx, Optimism, Queen of Cups, Page of Wands, 3 of Pentacles, Death

Your fears regarding relationship come up as fearing your hopes and dreams won't manifest. You are a romantic, a dreamer who has a beautiful and idealistic idea of what love can and should be, but you're struggling to find it. You may currently be in a state of isolation and afraid of it will never end, and that you'll be missing out on the joys of love. You are highly in tune with your higher desires, have a strong faith in the vision you have for the relationship you dream of, however, you're also highly scared that this will not become a reality, because you worry you do not have what it takes to reach your dream. I'd also say you're painfully aware of you own flaws and issues, and you worry you won't be accepted as you are.

The root cause of these fears shows up as a struggle to let go of your need to control and predict when the situation would require to simply take a step forward and embark on an adventure without worrying about the future. You may have been neglecting your love life for a while before this moment, not leaving enough space for relationships to bloom, because you perceived it as a treat for your well being at the time, which might simply mean that you hadn't met the right person or at the right time, and I think it shows up here because these disappointments made you very wary and careful about love and it's holding you back presently.

These fears manifest in your relationships by placing too high of an expectation from the get go on them. This gap between reality and dream is putting pressure on the relationship and on yourself. You may see the relationship as failing and struggling to communicate because you feel so vindicated. You might know that your approach is not working, but failing to understand why, and thinking things were not meant to be as a result, circling back on this idea of fated and perfect love. You may also compare the relationship to the ideal in your mind excessively, which is creating even more tension, anger and frustration, because it doesn't match your ideal.

For the external influences, it seems your current mindset was shaped by an environment that didn't encourage honest and authentic communication of your emotions, needs and desires. Paradoxically, you were told to always remain optimistic and hopeful, that things would always work out without effort, but without giving you the keys to how to work towards that in reality. It's as if it fed into your dreamy nature without allowing you to understand how to build the bridge between dream and reality. You didn't learn the power of your actions and how to take accountability for them, which is again feeding this imbalance between your inner world and the reality of a lived relationship. Also, circling back on the fear of not being accepted I highlighted in the first paragraph, this is also linked to your lack of skills in communication, because you expect people to understand you without having to express yourself, which is unfair to them.

For how to overcome these fears, the cards point at a few things. First, we're being led back to this idea of embarking on an adventure, with passion and confidence, and stepping out of your comfort zone. You must learn that the way you are approaching things is not working and need a deep transformation. You must learn from the mistakes of your past and start anew. Look at the future with hope but take actions toward what you desire. Also, keep in mind this idea that building a relationship requires team work and constant effort, and that things will not always be perfect and dreamy. Some days will be hard, but it doesn't mean they will never be sweet. Be open minded and enthusiastic and learn not to draw hasty conclusions on the relationship or on your person.

PILE 3

Cards: 3 of Pentacles, Page of Pentacles, 10 of Wands, Joy rx, 10 of Pentacles, 10 of Swords, 7 of Pentacles, King of Wands rx, King of Pentacles, Ace of Pentacles, 2 of Cups, 8 of Wands, Forgive rx, Intuition rx, 4 of Pentacles, the Hermit, Knight of Cups

Okay so heads up, this file feels a bit like the results of your own doing.

Your fears regarding relationships have to do with the idea of being burdened with responsibilities and losing access to the usual ways you find joy in life. I'm getting strong fear of commitment. That a committed relationship could get in the way of your present social life, friends and party habits. I see you quite mesmerized by what looks like glitter, as in, what seems attractive and exciting in the moment, which makes you ignore everything else that is around it because you're so fixated on what's in front of you. Basically, it seems like a lot of work and sacrifices for a reward that seems unsure and unsatisfying, and you fear that.

This is all rooted in what seems to be a fear of endings, as in, you fear closing a chapter of your life, both because of the pain of closing such chapter will cause (grief for a time of your life that is gone), as well as for the loss of the pleasures that come with it. You also fear things slowing down and being out of your hands, that your happiness won't depend from your own will only anymore and that you would have to work for it with someone. However, you of course don't see that behind every ending is a new beginning, and that things might not be as clear cut and as desperate and you imagine them to be. It's a bit over dramatic I feel.

This manifest in relationship by a bit of a toxicity if I'm completely honest. The cards point at rigidity and stubbornness as well as pent up anger and passive aggressiveness towards your partner. You might get fed up of them easily, because you feel restricted in your freedom. There is an inability to look past your own trauma and you're pushing its patterns onto your partner instead of addressing them directly. You end up hurting the both of you on the process.

For the external influences, I feel like there may be a connection that is triggering all these wounds for you here. Perhaps someone you were not expecting, someone who wish to come into union with you, to communicate freely and to make you a solid romantic offer. You sense that and it's making you spiral. This connection is putting pressure on you by asking you to make amends with the way you act and to own up to your bullshit (sorry). It may also trigger your intuition that is trying to tell you something, which you are refusing to listen to.

How to overcome these challenges then? The cards point at a need for a deep, thoughtful introspective journey, which will lead you to let go of your resistance to change. You're currently holding everything in, and I'm getting the image of a dam that is about to break down, little cracks growing and growing, and you're trying to cover them with your hands, but it's a losing battle. You need to learn to come forward, be vulnerable and authentic with your feelings and move towards what calls your heart without negating your deeper feelings and intuition. Make amends to you heart and pay attention to its whispers.

[rey-jake-therapist]

"I have never been more anxious in my life than in the weeks leading up to the series' launch. Up until that point, The Rings of Power was entirely mine. Once it was posted online, it became the property of the fans. I love their imagination. I don't go online. But my sister scours the forums and picks out theories that I might like. Some of them are extraordinary and defy belief. Others are spot on. But I can't tell you more than that.

I didn't expect the relationships between Galadriel, Elrond and Halbrand to be dissected to this extent, even if I imagine that the slightest hint of the forbidden - and I'm still afraid of saying something I shouldn't with this word - can only stir up passions.

Halbrand's influence on Galadriel was less implied in the scripts. It was Charlie Vickers who plays Halbrand who had the idea of ​​making it ambiguous. Assuming that these quasi-divine beings can feel human emotions. Was it a relationship of seduction or power? It's up to the viewer to decide. Extremely kind, Charlie was the best partner."

It is from a roughly translated French interview she did in 2023.

And @principessapeach gave me the link to the interview (thank you again !) :

Lmao Morfydd spilled some tea here. I wonder how it would have played out, if they had gone by the script. Charlie had no idea what monster he just created then lol

Anyway, that's why I can't take Charlie seriously when he claims with the look of the most innocent man on the planet, "uh no, we didn't play it that way, I don't get it...", and keeps insisting that this relationship is not romantic while describing it in the most romantic way.

I mean...

"(...) Vickers continues, adding that Sauron feels "taunted" and "pissed off" that Galadriel rejected him. That makes her ring back personal, but Vickers insists that "he's past ruling with her" (yeah we all saw that, he totally moved on). That won't stop him from showing her "what could have been, what you could have had", Vickers teases. "What they share is "greater than romance", Vickers explains. "Their connection runs far deeper than anything surface level." "His getting rejected definitely leaves him with this sour taste in his mouth, and he goes away thinking, "I can make this right." Whatever that means to him. That's one of his throughlines in terms of his motivation or goals for this second is how much he's driven and how much this relationship gives him a sense of purpose." "It can't be underestimated the impact she has on him. He's drawn to her in the same way that someone who has been through a lot is drawn to someone who's been through someone similar. I would always think of them as having this cosmic connection, in that their connection by some people, and on the surface, could have been interpreted as romantic because of the way it came off. That wasn't something we were intentionally doing (liar liar), but through their shared history, through different ways, they were able to connect more so than they would have connected with other people. It meant that it obviously culminated in this proposal, for want of a better word — not a proposal of marriage, although kind of." "They are not together in this journey. But because of the way things ended, they still have a strong influence on each other. They represent the forces of good and evil in the story, and I think they will always be linked because of what was told in the first season. You see them thinking of each other, and they are motivated by each other. The rejection of that proposal weighs on Sauron, as does the humiliation on Galadriel."

[who-is-page]

Wag Those Tail Feathers: The Wonders of Alterhuman Courtship

Author: Page Type: Essay Words: 1,065 Summary: Page's perspective on alterhuman courtship, as an individual who has been both on the receiving and giving ends of it.

[Part of the Sol System’s Alterhuman Writing Project for 2024. If you don’t want to see these posts, block the tag #inkedclaws]

As a polyamorous alterhuman, I’ve had the wonderful experience of being in relationships with people who have a variety of different courtship instincts— sometimes even all at the same time! Including my own instincts, it’s led up to some interesting realizations about the variety and diversity of expressions of love, and how wonderful it can be to be loved by an alterhuman (and to be an alterhuman in love, too).

My personal experiences, notably, revolve specifically around being nonhuman and this applies to a majority of my partners as well, which influences the flavor of this discussion. It’s been a wonder to be the target of a feathery mating dance, to be wooed with draconic jewelry and treasures, or to have my partner jump out with a meal, as proud as could be at displaying their hunting skills for a mate. It’s not necessarily just a nonhuman thing, either, of course; my orthohuman partner exhibits some similar sort of feelings and actions, too! Something which comes across especially strong in his hunt-and-gather supply-hoarding behavior in video games. But there’s something so especially intimate about having your alterhuman partner court you in a way unique to their species identity. It’s a beyond flattering form of trust, love, and affection.

And as an alterhuman who has targeted my partners, alterhuman and orthohuman alike, with my own affections, it’s also uniquely affirming to have your partners engage with your varieties of courtship for your species. There’s something incredibly special to have them try to learn your rituals and woo you in turn, even if they don’t have the same instincts driving them. It’s love with intention, a conscious effort to learn a language that’s typically foreign to them or which they might otherwise never come across on such a personal level. It may not always be perfectly executed, but the intentions behind them make them perfect regardless.

I’m someone who’s fully public about my alterhumanity. I don’t hide that I’m a dog and (luckily) no one especially seems to care in the day-to-day when I’m meeting up with strangers and acquantinces. But it’s become an important part of my dating life that potential partners need to not only be aware of my alterhumanity and accept it, but they also need to interact with it. You could argue that my spouse set the bar high for any potential future partners with how he took to my canine-ness and plurality like a fish to water, but I’m of the opinion that it’s something that should be the norm, not something so utterly unexpected by many.

Being able to engage in alterhuman courtship with your partner, as serious or as silly as it may fundamentally end up being, shouldn’t be something that you feel is utterly unreachable, that you yearn for but never feel like you’ll be able to reach. Alterhuman courtship is a wonderous experience; something that I think it’s not only important for alterhuman folks to be able to freely do with those they love most, but also to be on the receiving end of, too. It can be easy to default to the status quo in relationships, because of the societal pressure around us. Normativity around romance, sex, and even platonic affections is something that is constantly at play in the backgrounds of our culture and which embeds itself into our conciousnesses in unexpected and often invisible ways; and it’s difficult to dissect these without exposing ourselves to what some might list as “weird” or “unusual” urges and behaviors. But we can’t unpack the shame or embarrassment that might be holding us back from engaging with these urges unless we actually let ourselves acknowledge the collective, confusing feelings abound within them. We shouldn’t allow ourselves to shrug our shoulders and simply say, “I suppose I’ll never find someone who can accept me as my [species] and all that entails,” or to just resign ourselves to having to hide a part of ourselves away forever to maintain relationships.

We should toss these types of negative feelings aside and embrace our alterhuman courtship urges in earnest: that sometimes we’re not fully human, or we’re human a little to the right, and that inevitably makes romance, sex, and platonic interactions a little different for us than it might look for standard folks as displayed on a big screen. It’s not a failure on our part, and it’s not something that needs to be squirreled away due to internalized respectability politics. We can love ourselves and find love in others, for and by being ourselves. We can experience unique forms of love and adore those factors in others. This is, to me, a part of the territory that comes with being alterhuman or knowing alterhumans. It’s a part of what makes life wonderous.

In my partnerships, I love getting to bring my partners gifts. I love to bring them tiny treasures, small things from my system’s hoard, to pebble at them almost like a penguin would (sometimes including a silly little dance, of love!) It goes beyond standard gift-giving in the way that most of the people I’ve met would think of it, where presents that large are often reserved for special occasions like holidays and birthday. But it’s something I do year-round, to show my partners that they’re always on my mind, and that what is mine is their’s, too. I do the same thing with food; while normally incredibly food protective, both due to species identity and past food insecurities, I make the effort to share my favorite foods with my partners for the same fundamental reasons. To share my food, my bed, my life— and to have my partners recognize that as not just general displays of love, but as specifically displays of love intertwined with what I am, is something which displays a deep level of understanding and acceptance for my species. It’s something I’m grateful for beyond words, but it’s also something that I don’t want us as a community to accept as unheard of, or as just a one-off, lucky occurrence. Love like this is achievable and rewarding, both as a recipient of such alterhuman affections and as the giver. And we all deserve to experience it, in whatever form of love that we feel most comfortable with. Don’t tell yourself otherwise; don’t settle for less just because you feel like you have no other choice.

[alexandraisyes]

What would happen if you were a writer for TSAMS?

I mean we'll never know unless we try, however-

God the temptation to make jokes about shipping ajfsdkg;ljfasd;l

In all seriousness I'm good at finding and fixing plot holes and writing consistent storylines. I've been writing solo for years, and recently I've been co-writing fics for this fandom. And stars I'll say it now, obviously I wouldn't drag fan ships into the canon lore, that would be stupid considering most of them just wouldn't work with canon.

If I had the chance to write for TSAMS I would definitely try to influence the way certain things (specifically things like mental disorders) are portrayed, because I understand being part of the audience and the frustration of only seeing part of the story and missing an entire important perspective. I personally find so much enjoyment in that because I get to tear everything apart, dissect it, and put it back together so the fandom can understand what the story is portraying, but the fact that someone is required to tear it apart to get what should have been an obvious message most of the time is an issue, in my opinion.

A consistent problem I've noticed with TSAMS is that it's overly omnipotent on some things while being too closed about others. This is a narrative problem that stems from not having enough time to figure out the best approach for new situations they want to incorporate. This is because the writers/VAs are so bogged down by personal projects, stream schedules, their servers, life, etc that they just don't have time to figure these things out. Especially when the company is pushing for more content/lore episodes and they're just a team of four. Four very very busy individuals that have to write AND voice act the entire cast of characters. I feel like having someone who is just a writer would help with a lot of the inconsistency and unresolved plot holes.

There's a lot of strong potential for things that would stem back as far as two years that would be so interesting to see incorporated, but they just don't have the time to work through those and it's easier to keep jumping on new boats and abandoning the ones they have to sink because of unresolved tears in the plot letting more inconsistencies trickle in like so much water. So I would absolutely work to correct those and clean up the holes and resolve unanswered questions.

I'd also push for more consistent characterization, or rather better worded, deeper characterization. Not that they don't have good characterization now, overall I think they do a decent job, but there are just some things that I wish they'd touch on more. Likes, dislikes, disorders, complications, relationships, etc. What really makes up these characters; I'd probably end up with a complicated character web for the main cast at the very least to help with consistent storytelling. I do this with my own AUs to keep characters consistent, including quirks (For example Solar Flare always refers to people by their full name in my writing). It would also be interesting to dig deeper into what makes the characters them. Their personalities, beliefs, interests, morality/standards (for those without morals), and what they did and didn't find traumatic (as well as what level of trauma).

God even just the thought of how I could potentially fix the dumpster fire (/affectionate /positive) of TSAMS and co is a little exciting because there's just so much potential lying around untampered with that I would happily dig my grubby little claws into.

[butterabrod]

Old Michelle's Q&A, pt.5

I guess I've been loitering about this for too long

I've always thought of Nevy as of one of the smartest and cuning demons in the cast. Instead of terrorising her vessel or beign their doormat, she formed a strong bond with Gil. And I was thinking it is genuine somewhat mother (or like older sister) love from Nevy to our lil salty blue boy.

But... from this panel, I've started to doubt her.

Most of the fandom at that time was worring that the pink lady is becoming weaker and/or growing sick. But even then I was thinking that being the ghost of one of the strongest creatures in the universe, how is it possible for her to be that weak for such a short period of time as like ~13ish years?

Gil is the only person she has met who can interact with her. I can't really blame her for beign pushy: he and his promise to help are the only thing she's got, and she as practically immortal being has seen how weak he is, and his life is short. Nevy really is on a timer with him.

But what seemed to me as her caring about Gil, now feels like Nevy thinking only about herself.

Gil, as a victim of terrible catastrophe decided to become a doctor to help others like him. It was natural for him to go and help those who were in need.

Now this moment doesn't feel like her genuine sadness and guilt. I think, she just needed a reassurrence, that she is still the most important thing for him in the whole universe.

Still, I've thought that Nevy has developed a new more honest and loving personality while being amnisiac. And she changed that much because she remembered a lot of her past.

But did she?

Did she, thought?

I think Gil will never get out of toxic cult. Yes, he does have someone who is more important than TITAN as Michelle said.

It's Nevy, who's not only a politician.

She IS priestess

And she's not ashamed at all to use religious imagery to influence Gil even more.

She's not ashamed to show a very lonely orphan boy that she, his only friend with mother figure vibes could 'die painfully' because of his disobedience

When one of the most assholic couples in the universe says that someone is not trustworthy - it is says volumes

Talking about couples. I think that Gil has no chances to not to fall for Odin

Also I find it sus that Nevy remembered the feeling of beign in love not near Ava, Wrathia's vessel, but near Pedri's vessel, Odin.

I'm sure she sees herself as the God of love, Venus, Aphrodite or even Eros. People of Antiquity era believed that love and passion were forms of madness. In a bad way, even gods feared Eros.

And I think she's forcing Gil to fall in love with Odin just to make him even more despirate and lonely, to save her status as the only reliable thing for him in the whole Universe.

At that point Gil was trying to become the best follower, just to have a chance to learn somethig about Nevy's past. Maggie was the first person in 8 years to remind him, that he might have his own questions.

And I think Nevy has already failed her vibe check to Odin

Here is a list of much-much-much better theories and their authors

@biofluxitecovetess https://www.tumblr.com/biofluxitecovetess/182904787000/hello-everyone-i-have-another-theory-so-before?source=share

@crazyangrycupcake https://www.tumblr.com/crazyangrycupcake/183163318965/nevy-makes-this-face-when-she-tells-ava-shes?source=share

@doublethetheories https://www.tumblr.com/doublethetheories/184836709578/gils-dream-dissection?source=share

And another thing to think about

[octoberland]

Invisible

Only TWD would get me to come back here writing my fandom thoughts. It's a landmine because you never know how people will react. I am going to share some deeply personal thoughts. I ask that you treat this vulnerability with the respect that it deserves. Spoilers for tonight's episode. And a trigger warning for my personal experiences with abuse.

I met Carol 14 years ago. It was a time in my life when she was a mirror for me. Meek, scared, abused Carol. The little mouse. Jumping when Ed said jump.

By the time the show aired that year I had extricated myself from my situation. But I was still terrified every day. I mostly didn't sleep at night. When I did sleep, I would prop things against the doors so I could hear if someone came in. I would rarely be out of the house at night. On the occasions I was outside after dark I would be walking with my heart in my throat, beating the loudest of drums in my ears. Every stranger was a potential threat. Every shadow could be him coming back to kill me.

I latched onto Carol in my fear and despair. I understood her. Related to her. Felt inspired by her. I was hers from the moment she bashed Ed's skull in. It was so cathartic watching her do that. I wished I could have that moment in my life.

Like her, people judged me. People blamed me for being with a man like that. Said I must like bad boys. Said I liked the attention. Asked why I didn't just leave. It's all so easy to dissect when you're on the outside.

Unlike Carol I didn't have a walker to take out my abuser. I extricated myself. It was one of the most difficult things I've ever done. And it came with great risk. And I mostly did it alone.

I watched as she grew strong. And I grew strong too. Like her, I learned to fight. To be fair, she was not my only influence there. I have Captain America/Chris Evans to thank for that too. I hope someday I get to tell him that story. But watching her grow was an inspiration.

Like many people, I was moved by her ability to connect with Daryl. You don't understand how hard that can be after abuse. It's been 14 years and I've still not been in another relationship. I may never be again. That kind of abuse leaves an indelible mark on you.

But with him she blossomed. Sexually, emotionally, and just as a human. I admired her ability to do that.

The trauma was still there though. We saw that. Her edges became too sharp. Her distance too cold. But I get it. I really, truly get it.

But through it all her relationship with Daryl remained. They were each other's North Star. Not perfect, but constant.

But the sad truth is, at the end of the day these characters don't belong to us. They are written by flawed humans with personal agendas and like with any long running series, the longer it runs the higher chance for writers to fuck things up.

Before I dive more specifically into tonight's episode and the Book of Carol let me just say that I still love Carol and I still love Daryl and I still love Caryl. If you want to stop reading here just know that Carol remains an icon to me for very personal reasons. But that is part of why I'm writing this.

Potential spoilers beyond the cut.

The writing this season is sloppy, imho. And this is where I put my writer hat on and try to look at things more objectively. It seems like Gimple is mining the past because it's "cool" and not because he actually wants to address any long standing trauma that Carol has.

Everyone's trauma journey is different and I get that. But after 14 years I doubt that Carol is going to start panicking when going into a barn. In fact, we've already seen her entering barns in early seasons without any issues. I wish the show had consulted some trauma experts. They could have provided some examples of things that might actually set her off. Like seeing a little girl walker. Or meeting a child named Sophia. And speaking of that, I know Carol is supposed to be tough and sneaky and all that but the episode where she lied about her daughter to get the plane really bothered me. If the memory of her daughter is so traumatic I feel like she would not use her daughter like that.

This reunion episode was a missed opportunity to explore trauma in a more meaningful way. It was a missed opportunity for Carol and Daryl to have some truly meaningful conversations. I know I've said this before but she FLEW ACROSS THE OCEAN. DURING AN APOCALYPSE. And all he basically did was grunt one liners at her and lie about how he never stopped trying to get back to her. These two deserve to have a real conversation where they talk about how incredible what she did was. They need to talk about what that means for each of them. And I'm not even talking about romance. Daryl has never had anyone do anything like that for him. Does he understand how profound an act that was? If he ever had any doubt as to how much Carol cared for him this should have erased it. And for Carol, this could also be a wake up call for her too. While being hard and cunning is good for survival, this is an opportunity for her to be vulnerable. To express what he means to her. Or to maybe even face any codependence she has with Daryl.

I feel bad what happened to Isabelle. It kind of feels like an FU to her character. As much as I love Caryl I'm not in support of fridging women for a ship or for man pain. I'm glad we got to see her and Carol together but I wish we could have seen them together a little longer. Again, there is a missed opportunity for some really interesting conversations.

I can't help but feel that this show is suffering under the leadership of male writers and showrunners. There's such nuance to be had here and it's being funneled down to base tropes. Genet is evil because her husband died. Carol is just now having flashbacks to something that happened a decade ago because we need her to grow emotionally and we can't think of another way to do that without mining her motherhood. Isabelle has to die because God forbid two adults actually have a conversation about emotions.

I honestly can't guess where this series is going right now. Every time I think I know what is going to happen something else happens instead. Normally this would be a good thing but here it just feels sloppy. Are they dicking around Caryl? Will they kill her? Or him? Or do they plan for this to go into more seasons? I haven't a clue. But it feels like whiplash, like they are trying to make the characters grow too quickly to fit an agenda without doing the real work people need to do. A hug from an old lady won't cure trauma.

I think mostly I just wish Carol and Daryl would have a real conversation before all this is over.

Anyway, that's my rant. I did like the old married couple joke in the car. And I'm glad Carol's not dead. But I hope we get to see some real connection.

[justacatiguess]

Wandering the Broken Halls of Thedas - A Love Letter (And a Plea) to Bioware

In Trespasser, we visit the Library of the Elvhen, and through the fragmented narrative of the Archivist, we learn of the last moments of the elves trapped within its walls when Solas created the Veil.

The library, a culmination of all Elvhen knowledge in Thedas, stands shattered—both in its narrative and its architectural form. It serves as a fitting metaphor for what we, as players, now face: a world of Dragon Age where the vast and intricate stories we've carefully crafted over a decade are reduced to small "cameos and one liners," discarded for the sake of larger, overarching narratives.

For over ten years, we, the players, have been carefully building our worlds of Thedas. We met characters we loved, hated, and everything in between. We explored every possible story, every avenue, adding these to our own personal collections, our own "libraries."

Each game rewarded our effort by showing us how our choices shaped the world. Thedas felt alive, vibrant, an entity we could nurture, change, and influence in our own ways.

But now, we are told that Veilguard will focus on Rook’s experience, Rook’s choices. Narrative choices from past games will not move forward. We, the curators of this library, are now reduced to passive observers. Where is our agency in deciding which books to place on the shelves?

Instead of allowing us to remain as caretakers of Thedas, where its complex web of stories once felt like our own, Veilguard binds us to a single viewpoint—that of Rook. Whether we walk the narrow alleys of Minrathous or traverse the shifting forest of Arlathan, our story has been set, reducing what was once a vibrant, multi-dimensional world to something far more limited. The rich colors of experience, the vast tapestry of choices and connections —all has been spun into a single, faded thread.

The Dragon Age series grew over time to nurture large scale choices and consequences, where even the smallest actions reverberated throughout the world and left their mark - sometimes in small poignant ways, sometimes in large broad strokes.

With the new approach in Veilguard, that subtlety has been stripped away. The past friendships we’ve forged, the enemies we've faced, the relationships we’ve nurtured—now all seem distant and irrelevant, with little hope of reconnecting to them in any meaningful way.

It feels like we are living in a world of Tranquils—past characters and events disconnected from the meaning, purpose, and depth that once defined their journeys.

It took Solas a thousand years to wake up to the consequences of his actions. I hope the team at Bioware wakes up a little sooner.

Dragon Age has always been strong because of its stories—stories that grow by building on the past, reusing, alluding, and expanding. Great myths and epic tales thrive on subtle connections, on the echoes of previous choices that ripple through time. By dissecting these stories down to only the most obvious threads, so much is lost.

We now wander the broken halls of a once-great library, its volumes scattered, its knowledge fractured. What was whole is now lost to us—because of the vision of one. And yet we wait and hope that one day the library can be rebuilt.

[pygmi-says-hi]

how to write good unrequited love

UGH THE BEST TROPE rahhhh I get so in love with those fics

*sigh*

but it is hard to write.

What is unrequited love?

It's when A likes B but B has their head up their ass and doesn't like A back (smh). There are lots of avenues for this to take place - best friends, missed the chance, right person wrong time, etc etc.

What makes unrequited love compelling?

There has to be drive, tension, change and growth.

Drive: Why is A so in love with B? Even though they know the circumstances aren't in their favor, why do they continue to pursue them?

Building off of that; what emotion do they feel strongest regarding the situation? Are they mad? Devastated? Determined? Frustrated? Optimistic? The strongest emotions will motivate their actions when interacting with the love interest.

tip: apathy is not a strong choice. If you have ever been in love/had a serious crush (if ur aro idk what to tell you) it's not just 'eh whatever' when they reject you. Though that is a weak emotional choice, it could be the way A presents their emotions.

emotional choices and emotional motivation are two different things. we'll get to that later.

Tension: Does the rift between them have potential? If there is no way in hell that the two are ever getting together and every chance feels cynical, it loses intrigue fast. However, you can still have a doomed relationship if you hammer home the pivotal moments. When do they realize it's impossible? How do they feel? How does that influence their further decision making?

If it isn't doomed and has potential, show the potential. Build up the hints and clues throughout. Flashbacks might be interesting, especially if the two have a history. pining is beautiful. that desperate yearning, where they mentally obsess over their person for days and days? gorgeous, love to see it.

Change: Loving somebody who doesn't love you back causes lots of tension and emotional upheaval, as mentioned above. How does the nature of the preexisting relationship change during this period of stress? Do they drift apart? Why do they drift apart? Does it flip a switch and sparks fly? Is it more plot oriented; does a secret come out that changes everything?

Growth: Both people should grow from the experience. Being in a trying situation such as lost love does a lot to somebody. Character arcs should shine through. Maybe they'll be introspective and realize 'oh, they don't like me because I have xyz habit, let me change that.' Don't let it all be in vain.

Emotional choices versus emotional motivators:

Just because someone feels one way doesn't mean they act accordingly. Some people put on a smile despite being mad as hell. Others cry with joy.

if your character has a default emotional response to everything, that character is Boring As Fuck.

we write stories, not nutritional labels. give it some juice. nobody acts like that except Mark Zuckerberg. Epitome of a saltine cracker.

I digress.

When considering the emotional motivation your character adopts for pursuing the love interest, it's important to dissect why. Already, you should have the obstacle of the relationship outlined. A new partner, bad breakup, wrong timeline, yeah yeah yeah.

How does that obstacle relate to the plot? How does the plot relate to the character(s)? And why would the combination of those two variables create the emotional reaction?

From there, look at the character's personality. How do they handle conflict? Would that be different if the conflict involved someone they care about?

(btw - i write out the questions for you guys to answer. Thinking about it yourself with your own writing background will help you integrate the skill into your system rather than having to follow a method that might not work. I'm not trying to be rhetorical - these are for your benefit.)

That's where the emotional display should come from. That dissonance between how they feel and how they act.

last point:

make it believable. make the audience root for the main character/budding relationship. inner monologue is a bloody brilliant thing in these stories. Those moments of despair and yearning connect with everybody on some degree. milk it dry. common goals, shared interests, relatable quirks. golden.

that's all! byee xox

[strawbeerossi]

Could you write a Spencer Reid x fem reader who's a witch and she gets Spencer to join in on her rituals/gives him readings etc and at first he's sceptical (joins in anyway for her) but then ends up secretly enjoying it, something along those lines!

Stars Align

Pairing: Fem!Reader x Spencer Reid

Description: Spencer likes to give his girlfriend a hard time when it comes to her spirituality and her Wiccan beliefs. Whenever she is sick and in the hospital for The Winter Solstice, Spencer takes things into his own hands to ensure that he invites only the warmest, most positive vibes of the season.

Content Warning: Mention of being hospitalized, mentions of Spencer being a brat and giving reader a hard time sometimes, ultimately just a big, sweet, fluffy mess.

Word Count: 1.5K

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I did it just a little differently from the ask but I hope you enjoy, anon!

A witch is an ambiguous symbol of power and the unknown, identified in pop culture references for their hate of kids and love of evil as much as for their capability to create and mend.

Witches have consistently reflected the zeitgeist, whether that be humanity’s views on women or the collective tie to ritual and magic. 

A witch in the modern day promotes a strong sense of feminism and power. It is deeply rooted in personal empowerment and is heavily influenced by the culture each witch has been subjected to. Currently, women who loved the wonders of spirituality, witchcraft and the connection to the universe had a relatively new title; Wiccan.

The enchantment of magic is that when it's truly personal, it's most powerful and possesses the greatest strength. That was simply why Y/N participated in the art of Wicca. Growing up with the negative connotations that her family projected onto the lifestyle, she had always been curious. 

It started out small, she went out one evening and bought crystals, feeling bewitched by the healing prospect surrounding them.Amethysts were her favorite for the power to have all her stress and anxiety melt away. As she continued to exercise her spirituality, she’d turned to reading numerous books on the subject.

She felt a surge of power go through her veins, feeling connected to a higher power that was much stronger than she could’ve imagined. While religion was somewhat of the same thing, this seemed so much better than what she was raised with. It was a personal journey, one that didn’t involve people at local churches or other sacred worship places.

In addition to her adventures into reading the numerous pieces of literature and delving more into the healing aspect, she also thoroughly enjoyed the rituals that came with Wiccan culture. She was particularly fond of the Summer Solstice and the Winter Solstice. The celebrations were things she took very seriously. 

For example, in preparation for Yule, she would spend days cleansing and decluttering the apartment, wanting to rid anything that didn’t let positivity and vibrance shine in the little space that she called home.

However, moving in with Spencer, her longtime boyfriend, definitely changed some things up for her. Instead of freely organizing things to be donated, regifted, or sold, she would have to stop and ask him if he was comfortable letting the item or items go. He wasn’t against her beliefs and practices by any means but she just knew that he was skeptical. 

Spencer was a man of logic, she knew that. He was the type of person who thoroughly researched, dissected, and tried to understand the intricacies of the world around him. Which Y/N would lovingly tell him that he needed to take a step back and connect with the world around him, to let his mind stop working overtime and let himself breathe. He never listened but.. She tried and that was all that mattered. 

She was usually met with many questions that were laced with skepticism. It wasn’t out of malice, she knew that. Most people just didn’t understand. The questions were pretty typical. “Well, how do you know there are really any higher powers out there?”

“Where is the proof that you aren’t doing all this for nothing?”

“Do you truly believe that those crystals have any healing power whatsoever?”

Despite his love for logic and research, Spencer did have a soft spot for the things that his girlfriend did. He never personally indulged before and yeah, he would sometimes act like a little brat and give her a hard time, but he admired how she never changed her belief system. Instead, she just did a little extra around their shared apartment to try and invite her scholar boyfriend into the spirit of the season.

However, this year was different.

Y/N ended up getting a bad case of the stomach flu on the days leading up to Yule. It was to the point that she needed to be hospitalized.

There was no mood for a celebration whenever she was gravely ill, barely being able to hold down any liquids or solids. It managed to crush her heart though. Instead of welcoming the new season, she was stuck in a brightly lit, cold hospital.

She would watch the snow cascade from the clouds and stick to the ground from her room’s window, looking similar to a sad puppy looking out from a shelter’s window and yearning for the opportunity to run and enjoy life. 

Spencer had been busy with work, there being a case that put him out in Colorado for two weeks and she still didn’t know when he was getting home. Talking on the phone with him helped her a small bit but she was at least hoping that he’d be there in person for her.

However, she knew what she signed up for when dating Spencer in the first place. She couldn’t be angry or upset with him, she just missed her boyfriend. Thankfully, after a few more tests, she’d be free to go back home that evening since she wasn’t needing to be kept nourished by a tube any longer.

Unbeknownst to his girlfriend, Spencer had gotten back from Colorado several days ago, enlisting the team for help as they were working on her typical traditions. Penelope was probably the most excited out of the bunch, getting right to work on creating a Yule altar for the coffee table, going a little overboard as she opted for a plethora of garland, candles, oranges, some pinecones that she couldn’t help but throw a little glitter on, crystals, and golden discs to call forth the sunlight that she’d already heard Y/N tell her so much about. 

While she worked on the altar, Emily and JJ were sitting with Spencer in the living room, awaiting his instruction of what he figured would be considered clutter and what needed to be boxed up. Most of it was old books that he’d had scattered throughout the apartment, which he had taped up the box full and was taking them to the trunk of his car. He wasn’t going to throw them out, no way. He just knew that this would be something to brighten Y/N’s spirits, to come home to a house that was already prepped and ready to embrace the new season.

Whenever the house was thoroughly cleaned and decorated, Spencer had a few candles ready for when she had gotten home, their notepads and pens laid out on the little part of the table that wasn’t covered by the altar that was made with love. “Alright. I think that should do it.” Spencer announced as he was letting his hands rest against his hips, his eyes looking around the living room that looked beautifully cleaned, organized, and decorated. 

“You’ve outdone yourself on this one, Spence.” JJ commented, a proud smile on her face while Penelope was nodding with excitement. “She is truly gonna love that you did this for her. When I went to visit her yesterday, she looked so heartbroken because she couldn’t come home and prepare.” There was a sense of pride that washed over Spencer. 

Even if he didn’t necessarily subscribe to the Wiccan belief system, he did know that this would be a memorable Yule for Y/N, it also proved just how much he loved her. 

Whenever the women who came by to help were making their own ways home, Spencer was just patiently waiting to surprise his girlfriend, knowing she’d be getting home at any given minute since they’d already had a previous phone call as she was getting packed up to leave the hospital after four very long days.

It was a little silly, Spencer feeling so giddy. It felt like his heart was gonna beat out of his chest each time he saw a car’s windshield reflecting through the open window.

As soon as he could hear the sound of the locks in the door clicking through, he was quickly perking up. 

The look on Y/N’s face when she walked through the front door was enough to make his heart melt in his chest. “I haven’t been entirely truthful with you.. I got home a few days ago so I could clean the apartment. Even if I don’t particularly understand your beliefs, I wanted to make sure things were prepared for you.”

He offered a smile. “After all, we want to invite in the new season with positive vibes, right?” His words were enough to warm Y/N completely, the bitter cold of the Virginia winter not being able to chill her anymore. 

After closing the door, she was hurrying over to hug her boyfriend, a tight embrace that was borderline suffocating. This meant the world to her. Instead of him being a brat and asking her a million questions or outright teasing her, he was embracing everything she had to offer.

That was a sign of true, pure, and raw love.

[cuppatealove0]

Simon Ghost Riley and John Soap McTavish.

Do not read if it's not your cup of tea.

(...)

Never in his life had he been dissected in such a loving, raw, and overwhelming way.

John loved people with all his heart. With all his violence. His affection was explosive and consuming, just like the bombs he detonated in the field without further hesitation. It was awkward, intimate and vulnerable on a level he had never exposed himself to before. John knew his weaknesses and strengths, he knew his displeasure deep down, because he had taken it upon himself to provoke it. He did everything with the goal of analyzing and understanding what constituted him as a person. He didn't care about the cruel words he gave him in return, or the intentional, anger-filled blows over a layer of shame and fear that he threw at him with precision. He never felt more violated in his entire life, and for the first time in a long time he felt something resembling fear. He felt lost, weak and scared. Scared of what would happen if he let it intrude into his mind, in which a soft, insistent wariness was brewing. Something that whispered to him to stay away. That it wasn't worth getting involved with such a devastating and intense person. But the barks of hate and threats that he repeated daily to his sergeant never managed to completely cement themselves in the man's skull. They both knew that he was never going to dismiss him from the field for insubordination, because despite everything, John was a good soldier. An excellent one, in fact, almost as good as himself, and he would never allow it to lose such a valuable asset because of his own emotional incompetence in handling the other man.

But the thing is, you can never get that far without succumbing, to some extent, to the influence of a person like John. Someone so stubborn and determined to devour him completely. The kind of person who would go a mile if you gave him an inch . And little by little, slowly and silently, Johnny managed to force himself on his heart, creating a putrid and dirty nest in the depths of his mind. Johnny observed and observed and observed, analyzing his entire being and finding things that he himself wasn't aware of. He made him vulnerable and exposed to a void of fear and uncertainty. He controlled him like no other person could before, and understanding the power he had given his sergeant without his consent terrified him to the bone.

Now, Johnny was never cruel. Not deliberately, at least. But he could be. He could reduce him to a shell of himself if that's what his will wanted. He could force him to recite endless prayers full of pure, unadulterated devotion to his person if that pleased him; manipulate his consciousness as if it were putty, touching him with strong and gentle fingers, and pulling his hair as if he were an animal to be tamed. The malleability of his soul belonged to Johnny, and he could no longer deny it, because otherwise he would be a stupid, obtuse man, apart from lost.

The threat of what Johny represented was always there, constantly suffocating his mind. But the man with blue eyes, as clear as the sky, never imposed more than he could bear. In the same cruel way in which he had been exposed to the other man's desires, bleeding his vulnerability from every pore of his body, Johny gave him his heart in his hand and let him see beyond all his vicious violence, enjoying something infinitely softer and more fragile, bestowing the honor of knowing that piece of his soul. Johny overstimulated his senses, brought them to both of their knees with the unbearable weight of his love, and merged with the very darkness of his corrupt and decadent mind. Johny let him delve into all the layers of himself to recognize the sickness and the beauty of his soul, and he understood, finally, that he had nothing to fear, nor that there ever was anything to fear in the first place.

He could place his trust, his genuine love and his happiness in the scarred hands of his sergeant, he could allow himself to be consumed by the other man's possessive, smothering desire without any hesitation, for he had finally found his equal for once and for all. He had encounter his home in someone who didn't care if corruption had polluted his skin, telling stories of endless tragedies from which he would never escape. They could share his mutual obsession in the archaic world of war, break up and rebuild again, granting fragile and insisting caresses in equal parts, and torturing each other with the uncertainty of when they were going to die and fade from each other's lives, as if they had never existed before.

That day was going to arrive, inevitably. Who would be the first to be buried and stripped of consciousness six meters underground was a mystery. A bitter and poisonous one that invaded the minds of both in vivid and never ending nightmares, but they knew that, despite the risks and their imminent end, the ghost of the other would live eternally with them, in life and in death, as there was no way to escape. Their devotion was too raw, too overwhelming, forging an iron grip on both of their hearts, until their last breath and for all eternity.

....

A silly little thing I wrote. Please don't be too harsh, it's my first time writing. Suggestions are appreciated.

[yellowocaballero]

⭐️ for either of the fe3h fics <3

ROSETTA HEADSTONE!!!! A fic that was very messy and all over the place but one that I am actually very fond of and that was slightly slept on.

“You’re the other half of me.” Byleth spoke slowly, but for the very first time there was a hint of emotion in her voice. It was wonder. What an amazing first emotion to feel. How lucky! How magnificent! “I’m the other half of you.” Claude smiled. She was so wondrous. So beautiful and special. She’d need a lot of help. Dimitri would provide what he could, but Claude would have to pick up the rest. “You’re the other half of me. And I’m the other half of you. I’m you, and you’re me. Wonderful, isn’t it?” [...] “Is that a friend?” Byleth asked seriously.  “If you want. It’s anything you want.” Her hand was still on his chest, and Claude reached up to softly grasp her hand, pressing it softly against his chest. “Tell you what, Byleth. I’ll trust you completely if you trust me completely. Give me anything you want, and I’ll give you all of my own. Is that fair?”

There's a few different relationships that were very influential for this scene. SSS Class Suicide Hunter's Gongja/Raviel was a big one, but Full Metal Alchemist's Ed/Winry were too: when Ed tells Winry that he'll give her half of his life if she give her half of hers, and she tells him that she'll give him all of her life. Khalid and Byleth are platonic, but there's still something so Relationship about it that makes me go crazy.

I got fond of the character I had created over the course of this story. He started out a lonely, isolated, self-centered person. He was a chronic liar who was fundamentally impossible to understand. He used his separation from others as a microscope, a way of studying and trying to dissect them down into pieces that he can understand. He's the kind of person to brag about this, and a significant percentage of it is self-inflicted, but I felt bad for him. He and Byleth's disconnect, their inability to work together, inadvertently resulted in her death. His first time investing whole-heartedly in somebody was in a dying woman, who had been dead to begin with.

It was what made this moment special to me. He's not psychoanalyzing or dissecting her in this scene - he's just caught in the beauty of this imperfect and banal moment. He sees how amazing it is to have somebody to truly understand. Giving away all of himself is an act of intense vulnerability, the kind he once never would have tolerated, but he does it willingly here - because you can't get if you don't give, and if you give somebody all of you then you can have all of them, and what is shared is doubled.

I wrote Byleth very 'Dead Anime Mom' - everything she said had to be incredibly significant and meaningful. She was perfect and untouchable. It's only in the epilogue that we see her humanity and vulnerability, that she feels remotely on the same level as Khalid. She doesn't understand him and he doesn't truly know her - how fantastic, that there's so much to discover about each other! How miraculous, that this person is about to take her first steps into becoming a human being, and that you're lucky enough to guide her on that path! That you get to become a human being with her!

It's a unique set of emotions that I hope the reader was able to feel alongside Khalid. Both Weekenders and RH were stories about the protagonist joining humanity, and both of them had to do it through confronting the twin calamities of death and love, but I'm a bit more fond of how it happened in RH. I think it may have been the strong The World Ends With You influence, which is a game that splits open the mind of the depressed misanthropic fifteen year old. I remember the first time I felt lucky to exist in the world. It felt like an important part of growing up - and maybe a pre-requisite of survival. It's hard to survive never feeling that sense of wonder. It was great to write somebody experiencing it for the first time.

[wingsoverlagos]

Lewisohn vs. Cynthia Pt. 3 of 3

Part 1 // Part 2 // Other Sources

Quite by accident, this final section of citations from Tune In referencing Cynthia Lennon's memoirs have something of a theme. There are three citations of A Twist of Lennon (1978, aka Twist) and two to John (2005) to dissect here, and all but one have a commonality: the cited source is either altered or directly contradicted in Tune In.

The odd citation out is the one I'll deal with first, and then we'll dive into the citing-a-source-that-contradicts-what-you-wrote section under the cut. This first citation includes a classic Lewisohn Donut, in which he omits a section of the source quote without using an ellipsis to indicate it. When comparing Tune In to the source, this wasn't my biggest takeaway; what was far more glaring was the context Lewisohn had chosen to cut when adapting the anecdote for his book. Let's get into it.

John p.38 vs. Tune In 11-53

The topic here is John hitting Cyn, so there's a lot to unpack. We'll start with the usual citation comparison, and then we'll zoom out to see what Lewisohn does and doesn't include as context. Here's the source:

And here's Tune In:

Immediately, we see that Lewisohn has omitted a large part of the source without indication, and smushed two different sentences together into one. He should not do this, but, honestly, I was just glad Lewisohn covered John's history of domestic violence instead of glossing over it, so I wasn't too fussed...until I looked at the broader context in Tune In.

Lewisohn is skirting a hairsbreadth away from two pertinent stories. Here's the leadup to the quote used above, where Lewisohn describes the events that led John to slap Cyn:

There’s the quote we just looked at in green at the bottom, with some pertinent context highlighted in pink at the top—we’ll get to the world’s ugliest orange circle in a second.

John was insecure, so he hit Cyn when she danced with a man at a party. “The exact circumstances have varied with retelling,” Lewisohn tells us. Maybe that’s true. If you folks are aware of other versions of this story, please let me know—they may well be floating around! Here’s how Cyn describes it in John (p.37):

Two notable details here that didn't make it into Tune In: Cyn's head being knocked into pipes when John hit her, and the identity of the man she was dancing with: Stuart Sutcliffe.

Even if the details are different in other accounts, it is absolutely WILD to me that Lewisohn wouldn't mention that the cause for John's jealousy, according to Cyn's account, was Stuart. Even if he can't be 100% certain, would it not be worth mentioning that Cyn herself says Stuart was the man she was dancing with when John became incensed?

John’s relationship with Stuart was hugely important and influential in this period of John’s life. Lewisohn doesn't have to state it as fact, but I'm gobsmacked he wouldn't mention the strong possibility that John was enraged by Cyn dancing with his best friend. For someone as jealous and insecure as nineteen-year-old John Lennon, would that not have some lasting effects on his feelings towards Stu? Given how central the John-Stuart relationship is in Tune In, I don't know why Lewisohn wouldn't at least take a sentence or two to explore this possibility and the repercussions it might have had on their dynamic. Maybe this influenced John bullying Stu, or the purported attack on Stu described by Pauline Sutcliffe? Is none of this worth mentioning?

Now, the ugly orange circle. That citation refers to a passage in Hunter Davies' The Beatles (1968) where John and Cyn discuss his violent behavior. Here's some of that section from Davies (1968) p.52-3.

The quote Lewisohn uses is underlined with orange. If you read down to the pink-underlined passage, you'll see an account of John's violence towards Cynthia.

This is a very different account than the one we see in John or Tune In. This incident is distinct enough that I doubt it’s a retelling of the jealousy-induced slap described in Tune In, so there’s a inconsistency here: either the abuse in Hunter Davies’ work didn’t happen, or Cyn’s assertion that the art school slap was the single time John hit her isn’t entirely true.

I’m not trying to attack Cyn’s credibility or honesty in recounting her abuse, but I lean towards her downplaying events in her 2005 memoir. This might be a conscious choice—her ex-husband had since been martyred, and perhaps she didn’t want to tarnish his memory, or dredge up unwanted controversy that might affect her son—or a reflection of the amount of time that had passed, nearly 40 years since she and John got divorced. I don’t see a reason to disbelieve the story in Hunter Davies—John read the manuscript and had to sign off on it, so he could have had the story removed.

Lewisohn is certainly aware of this passage. In addition to the “I was just hysterical bit,” he cites the paragraph directly after Cyn’s account of John hitting her elsewhere in Tune In (see citation 10-10). I’m sure Lewisohn has his reasons for favoring the account from John, but I worry those reasons stem from trying to make John look as good as possible, not from trying to portray the most historically accurate version of events.

Twist p.80-82 vs. Tune In 31-12

(p.81 and p.82 pictured below)

Onto the wedding of John and Cyn. There are two issues here.

First, the witnesses. Cyn gives her brother and sister-in-law as witnesses; Lewisohn gives Paul and Cyn’s sister-in-law as witnesses. I would not be at all surprised if Lewisohn has the facts straight here—Cyn actually gives the wrong year for her wedding on p.80 of Twist—but Lewisohn only gives Cyn’s memoir as a source for “[d]etails of the wedding.” Don’t cite something with a source that contradicts it.

The second bit I’d like to discuss is the description of John et al. in the waiting room before the wedding, highlighted/underlined in purple. This isn’t straight CTRL+C/CTRL-V plagiarism, but Lewisohn leaned heavily on Cyn’s phrasing and word choice here, switching around a few clauses and molding two sections into one. He’s changed this passage less than many of the passages he actually quotes, so I’m not sure why he didn’t put this one in quotes as well.

Twist p.84-87 vs. Tune In 33-35

This passage mostly lines up with the account in Twist, but the highlighted section stuck out to me: Cyn never mentions Dot living in the same building as her at this point. By Cyn’s account, after Paul broke up with Dot, Dot moved out of the bedsit where she and Cyn were neighbors, and the two barely saw each other. Here’s Cyn on p.77 of Twist:

Cyn also doesn’t mention Dot’s residency in the basement flat in John (2005)—but it seems she got the story wrong. On the It’s Only Love webpage (see Lewisohn vs. Cynthia Part 2 for some discussion about this source), there’s a quote from Dot about living in the flat beneath Cyn and John’s. In Bob Spitz’s The Beatles: The Biography (2005), he also says that Dot lived in the basement flat based on an interview he conducted with her. He even says that John helped Dot with rent! (Spitz 2005 p.357)

Don’t take this as an endorsement of Spitz’s version of events—I’m not going to write several pedantic tumblr posts criticizing Mark Lewisohn only to uphold Bob Spitz as a paragon of truth! But Cyn is fallible, and there are at least two sources out there that contradict her version of events. The problem here is that Lewisohn only cites Twist for his passage about the Falkner Street flat. You can’t credit information to a source that directly contradicts that information.

Hmmm, there’s a word for using information from a source without proper attribution, but I can’t quite put my finger on it. I think it starts with ‘P’…

Twist p.87 vs. Tune In 33-37

Lewisohn uses Twist as his source for the section of Tune In where John and Cyn move to Mendips. The difference lies in how that move came about. Cyn says that she encouraged John to visit Mimi since she hated to see family members fall out, then credits Mimi as proposing they move in when she hears about their current living situation. In Lewisohn’s version, John makes the request.

We’ve established that Cyn got some facts wrong in Twist (though not more than one might expect in a Beatles autobiography), so she might have things mixed up here. I know I’m a broken record at this point, but Lewisohn needs to cite his source if he has contradictory information here.

In this case, I think Cyn probably has things right. If you read her memoirs, it is clear that Cyn does not like Mimi, and she doesn’t hide this. I don’t think she would give Mimi credit for a generous act like this if it didn’t happen that way—but that’s just my sense of things, and rather beside the point.

John p.29-30 vs. Tune In 11-21

A minor change, but Cyn’s account has Mimi instigating the fight with Lil only joining when provoked, while Lewisohn draws no distinction between the roles the women played in the argument.

Thank you for reading! Next up...maybe All You Need Is Ears?

Sources:

Davies H. 1968. 2009 Edition. The Beatles. New York (NY): W.W. Norton & Company. 408p.

It's Only Love [Internet]. c2005? Dot Rhone. [cited 2024 Feb 2]. Available from: https://sentstarr.tripod.com/beatgirls/rhone.html

Lennon C. 1978. A Twist of Lennon. New York (NY): Avon Books. 190p.

Lennon C. 2005. 1st American Edition. John. New York (NY): Crown Publishers. 294p.

Spitz B. 2005. The Beatles: The Biography. New York (NY): Little, Brown and Company. 984p. [ebook]