#i really wish i could say with full conviction that you forced me to do this

[zorndog]

gabriel ultrakill voice SEX

hello ultrakill fandom. i don't go here.

[scoobydoodean]

(4.10)

Was looking at this little bit for my #heaven is a cult tag, but noticed while I was here, that Dean immediately mentions pain and guilt and immediately thought of Dean's speech to Cas in 4.22, but with Dean now on Anna's side, saying these negative feelings are worth it.

From 4.22:

CASTIEL What is so worth saving? I see nothing but pain here. I see inside you. I see your guilt, your anger, confusion. In paradise, all is forgiven. You'll be at peace. Even with Sam. DEAN You can take your peace... and shove it up your lily-white ass. 'Cause I'll take the pain and the guilt. I'll even take Sam as is. It's a lot better than being some Stepford bitch in paradise

Back in 4.10, Dean is in a particularly troubled spot. His trauma from hell is really catching up to him. It's at the end of this episode that Dean says:

DEAN How I feel... This... inside me... I wish I couldn't feel anything, Sammy. I wish I couldn't feel a damn thing.

He's wishing he was like an angel—wishing he didn't have to deal with all the pain and guilt he feels. Wishing he could be the cold marble statue Anna described. But sometime between 4.10 and 4.22, Dean realizes that he doesn't want to be that at all. He realizes Anna is right. Removing ones pain and guilt isn't worth everything else you give up with it.

Crucially, what Anna is describing here—as I've said before—is brainwashing. Angels have their emotions controlled and buried under threat of punishment if they dare feel too much or disobey. Angels are perfectly capable of experiencing the full emotional range. Anna didn't fall because being an angel is physically incompatable with the full rage of emotion humans experience—she fell because heaven's iron grip around the throats of all angels is incompatible with the full range of human and angel emotion.

One of the reasons what Dean says to Cas in 4.22 is so effective in convincing Cas to follow his convictions is that Dean's experience is central to Cas's doubts. The first time Cas considered disobedience—his demotion in 4.16—was a a result of him not wanting to make Dean torture again, knowing how it would harm Dean emotionally to do that. So hearing Dean vehemently reject Cas's desire to shield him negative emotions through false paradise is important in of itself.

Crucially though, Dean's words invoke the angelic experience. Dean's words invoke Anna's fall—Anna who seems to have been an important force in Cas's life. She's who he turns to in 4.16 when he first starts to really consider disobedience. In 4.10, she mocks his stilted, reserved, empty apology, telling him he's never really let himself feel, while pulling Dean into a kiss. She told Cas in 4.16 that "it gets worse"—feeling does. But Anna still thinks it's worth it.

So Dean and Cas are talking about false paradise in 4.22 and how it's wrong for Sam and Dean... but they're also talking about what it means to be an angel at the same time, within the strict cult environment heaven has created. Dean, someone Cas knows has been through tremendous guilt and pain—reiterates Anna's words—that allowing yourself to experience the full breadth of the emotional range with all the good and the bad is better than a life without pain and guilt and confusion where you trade in your feelings and your conscience at the door and turn your life over to someone else—swept along by the will of higher powers.

CASTIEL I'm considering disobedience. ANNA Good. CASTIEL No, it isn't. For the first time, I feel... ANNA It gets worse. Choosing your own course of action is confusing, terrifying. [...] CASTIEL Anna. I don't know what to do. Please tell me what to do. ANNA Like the old days? No. I'm sorry. It's time to think for yourself.

(4.16)

[hekateinhell]

Lestat/Armand Mermaid AU

"Lestat looks into those unblinking dark pools and decides that nervousness doesn't suit him, so he thrusts the gold necklace in his siren's face."

for the five sentences writing meme!

in the same universe as my fic Beneath Your Shallows 💙🐠

NSFW BELOW THE CUT.

“I brought you something.”

A yellow chain with intricate little links reflecting off the rays of the late afternoon sun, casting scattered fragments of light onto the creature’s smooth white skin.

“Do you like it?” Please like it. 

Lestat hadn’t devised a plan for this particular occasion. 

Hadn’t given it much thought when he’d spotted pretty Eleni wearing this exact necklace in the tavern the previous night and asked her if there was any form of payment besides the monetary that she would accept in exchange. All Lestat had known then was that he wanted it. 

He wanted something precious to present to the creature in return for the pearl necklace it had gifted him right before ushering him over the carnal threshold separating boyhood from manhood. A whirlwind of delirious pleasure wringing him out from his very core. 

He’d laid on his lumpy straw mattress in the dingy room at the inn late that night afterwards, alone. Lifted the string of pearls over his head and caught it on a rogue curl, squinting as he examined them in the moonlight drifting in through the open window. 

Pressed each individual pearl between his thumb and forefinger as though he were counting the rosary as a devout Roman Catholic should, Lestat's cheeks flushing even as he’d smirked at the thought. A surge of pride in his chest that turned into a more lingering, melancholy ache when he thought of the creature’s large dark eyes.

Mine, I want you to be mine. 

The same hypnotic eyes staring at Lestat now, shifting from side to side in its skull to follow the slight motions of the gold necklace swaying in the sea breeze. The creature’s rounded chin tilting up to see Lestat’s face from its position between his bare legs, accentuating the column of its throat and causing the bluish-purple veins to stand out. 

Clawed fingers digging into the flesh of Lestat’s inner thighs as the creature anchored itself to him, reaching over the edge of the rock it had led him to not too far from the shore. 

He wished the creature would never let go. Take me with you, Lestat wanted to beg. Stay with me always! Wear this and let me know that you’ll always return to me!

And yet still, Lestat couldn’t force the words out, a quiet click in his throat sealing them in. Was it pride? Desperation? Both? He couldn’t say. 

Lestat had seen the creature angered, displeased before. He knew what that looked like. Comforting then that the creature’s face didn’t convey that sentiment now. 

Instead, it seemed inquisitive, open. Almost expectant really. 

Good enough. 

Lestat’s fingers trembled once at the clasp before steadying to secure the golden necklace over the creature’s throat beneath the mane of glossy damp hair that shone auburn under the sun. 

“There,” he whispered with absolute conviction, “Mine, now you’re mine too. All mine.” 

There was no ceremony to it, of course, but it felt sacred all the same. Just as it had that first time in the sand. 

Impossible to tell how much this creature, who had never communicated with him using language or even sound, understood his intent. But he swore the expression on its face softened as its tail fluttered below the surface, and it came to rest a cold cheek against the warmth of his inner thigh. Its nose pressing into the delicate crease where his leg met his groin as it gave a small shuddering breath against the coarse blond hairs. 

Lestat’s hand shook again as he gently smoothed back the creature’s hair so he could see those large, unblinking black eyes. 

The slightest upturn at the corner of its full mouth hinting at a smile as a clawed hand came to wrap around his cock, stroking it to full hardness almost immediately. 

In fairness, Lestat had been halfway there as soon as he’d spotted his siren in the water and shed his clothes as fast as humanely possible. 

“You’re lovely,” he murmured, brushing a thumb over the curve of the creature’s delicate brow. Its black lashes fluttering like feathers as it pressed its face into his skin — seeking what, Lestat couldn’t tell. 

For the first time, the creature didn’t seem particularly invested in ensuring Lestat’s spend entered its body through one manner or another. 

Puzzling, disappointing even.

 “So lovely,” he panted as the creature lightly tugged at his foreskin to expose the head, running its thumb over the slit to smear the precum. 

Its other hand resting over Lestat’s hip dipped into the water over its front side as its breathing picked up, shallow and rapid, the entire upper half of its being quivering against him as it chased its own pleasure. The golden chain around its neck hanging over its collarbone in this position, catching between its slippery fingers as its movements over Lestat’s cock built in intensity.

Cold metal such an electrifying startle to his skin, such an exquisite contrast of sensation. His hand tightening into the creature’s hair, every muscle in his body going rigid as the aching coil in his abdomen made him whimper in desperation.

Please, please, please…. 

Lestat’s eyes close in anticipation when a searing pain shatters through his consciousness like a rock through a stained glass church window to underscore the ecstasy of the climax; a deep, rabid bite to the flesh of his inner thigh where the creature had been nuzzling so tenderly not a moment ago. 

Such a sweet death, he wanted to die a thousand times more, just like this. 

The creature still has its teeth embedded in his skin, and there’s no distraction from the pain now, each tremor throughout its body causing its little fangs to enlargen the wound, a delightful jolt of discomfort. 

Even so, Lestat is hesitant to separate them. All he does is wait until the creature finally goes limp before unclenching its jaw and pulling away. 

Lestat’s made a mess of the poor thing, his cum painted over its smooth shoulder and hair, clinging to the russet strands and even part of the necklace. He watches, hypnotized, as the creature reaches into its hair to gather the cum there, slowly licking each finger clean before settling against his knee once more. 

Its hand comes to curl between its chest and the hard surface where Lestat still sits, the creature seemingly content as it clutches at its new present. 

Lestat can’t help it; he smiles.

Bends his head to kiss the creature's temple as the lavender blush on its face beginning to fade. Lestat’s own wild blond curls falling like a curtain over them, concealing them from the world, the pearl necklace around his neck draping down over the creature's skin. 

“I’m glad you approve, my lovely.”

[palms-upturned]

Same anon from before. No, I still truly don’t feel like any of this is enough. I don’t trust myself or my own judgement to make the right decisions on these things and rely on whoever I believe falls into the category of “more right than not” (you would fall into that!) because I just want to not get yelled at. I want other people to be liberated too so I recognize that it’s not about my feelings but to that end I also believe I shouldn’t matter here and as a privileged person just be told (1/2

(2/2) What to do by people who know better than me. I know I’ll never be perfect or do enough so why shouldn’t the better among us just force us into a revolution right now? I’m too trapped by my job to be able to do local organizing. All the protests happen either while I’m at work or are already happening when I didn’t know it. People say to either take time for you or spend all your time on educating yourself and organizing but where does that leave my life? Worthless, I think. I wish someone Would just tell me so. Tell me yes or no; am I living correctly or not? Am I properly dedicating myself to what truly matters or not? I don’t want a revolution that happens after you and I are gone. I want one yesterday. I want one where we actually, ACTUALLY LEGIT force people to change their ways. Like, “sacrificing all your excess clothes and frivolus toys to the efforts” kind of force. I fucking hate living in this grey area where we could be trying our best but be unknowingly commiting evil At any time. I’m sorry, that was a lot. Just…I don’t know what I’m supposed to do. I don’t know what that says about me if I wish we just had hard and fast, unflinching RULES about how we should be acting right now and people to enforce it instead of being left to wade through our own flaws and imperfections and internal biases. I wish I could have them surgically removed and make myself a perfect fighter for justice

Well… I don’t really know what to say other than I’m sorry. I know it’s not enough and will never feel like enough. I know that uncertainty is painful and so is living under structures that we didn’t ask to be built. I don’t think that wanting to escape those things says anything particularly bad about you. I think all of us do. But the revolution didn’t come yesterday, and things just are what they are… At some point, you have to be able to make peace with that. Not to the extent of accepting the way things are, but to the extent that you can still see value in your life and in putting in the work to change things. Whatever work you can do.

Knowing whether or not you’re doing the “right thing” can only come from your own convictions. Those will solidify the more you learn and act on them and see the results. That, I think, is how you cope with the uncertainty. You do what is within your power, and you believe in what is within the reasonable scope of your observations. Even if there really was someone who you could rely on to tell you how to live correctly and what truly matters, you would still have to have a reason to personally believe that they were “more right than not.” I know it sucks, I really do. But you have to let go of the fantasy of being able to just give the reins to someone else. You have to see yourself as someone capable of conviction.

And believe me, I know how frustrating it is to deal with the limits. I am also annoyed at protests always happening on weekends when blue collar workers don’t get to have the day off to attend, including me. I’m annoyed at how many events I don’t get to go to because nobody requires masks indoors. I’m endlessly angry about how much time and strength I waste on my full time retail job just to be allowed to live in some degree of dignity when I could be putting that energy toward organizing. I hate how many layers there are to this beast that makes organizing inaccessible to the people who need it most. And I hate the limits of my body sometimes, too. But it is what it is and it won’t get better if we don’t accept it for what it is and work out what to do about it.

Regardless of any “value” that someone could assign your life, you have a right to be here like anyone else. And you are not as powerless as people would like you to think, nor as powerless as you would probably be relieved to think. We have an obligation to do what we can to improve things, and for most of us, there’s a lot more that we can do than we know. But there’s still a lot that we can’t do. And it’s so despair inducing at times like this, but we can’t let that stop us from doing something.

I know you’re probably just venting and I don’t really know what I can say to make any of this easier. I also don’t necessarily think it’s true to say that I’m “more right than not.” But I’ve hit suicidal rock bottom before and I don’t wish that for you. I know it hurts to work toward an ideal world knowing that we likely won’t live to see it if it even comes to exist at all. I know it hurts to know that our lives are dependent on the exploitation of others in ways that we can’t currently entirely avoid. But in the same way, our lives support other lives. And we can strengthen that support so long as we live and try. That’s what gets me through.

[yuu-the-pokemon-trainer-of-nrc]

I wonder, how’s Colress as a father to Yuu .

Adoptive Dad, Colress

Watch out, ‘cuz this is gonna be a long one!

First, let me say Yuu and Colress' relationship as father-and-daughter is far from typical. When he first met Yuu on the streets of Castelia City, he was very impressed by how she and Zorua were so in sync.

1. Because she was like 6 or 7 and has already a Pokémon that can be considered her partner.

2. Zorua are known for their aloofness and tend stay away from humans. (Especially in Unova, considering the the only way to get a Zorua in Black and White is through a special event scenario)

And when he heard her story about how she and Zorua would be forced apart if she returned to her foster home. Now on one hand, it would be a waste to break up such a duo. On the other, Colress (despite what many may think) can’t in good conscience leave such a young child to fend for herself on the streets. Then an idea springs to mind. He wishes to further his research in what brings out a Pokémon’s true strength. He had deduced that it is the bond between Trainer and Pokémon that unlocks their full potential. And here is a human child and a Pokémon that have forged a bond before their journey even started!

“I have a proposition for you Miss. How would you and Zorua like to come live with me?”

Don’t ask how an ex-convict (yes, he did do jail time for the Kyurem incident, but was let out on good behavior) was able to adopt this child! Colress has his ways…

So yes, Colress adopted Yuu so she and Zorua could be subjects for his research, with their knowing consent of course. It was either that or they remain in the shadows of the streets, stealing food and avoiding the cops. Both sides had nothing but to gain from this agreement.

Up to the point she met him - Yuu had some bad experience with the adults in her life, so as far as they go, Colress is fairly decent. He made sure that Yuu and Zorua were fed, slept well, and have a healthy environment. Even read some parenting books for reference. He strikes me as someone who doesn’t have a lot of empathy, so he’s often blunt with Yuu, hardly ever mincing words. Thankfully she did have teachers and friends that helped her emotional development. Oddly enough, Yuu actually appreciates this side of him as he was the first adult that was ever straight with her and didn’t talk to her as if she was some dumb annoying kid.

You could say that Yuu got her bluntness from him.

As a Pokémon Trainer, Colress didn’t really do anything to steer Yuu’s path as one. Nor did he deter or assist her. After all, to interfere with her growth as a Trainer would defeat the purpose of his research. Yuu had wanted to become a Trainer since way before she met Colress, so there really was no need to convince her in that category.

Again, before you ask, yes, Yuu does know about the whole “Kyurem Incident”. And they did have a conversation about it. She recognize that he’s now using his skills for a better purpose now. After everything he’s done for her, the least he deserves is a second chance. And if he reverts back to hurting others again…

“My Pokémon and I won’t hesitate to break you…”

*Short Timeskip*

Kukui: “Hey Colress, your smile’s a bit different than usual. Did something happen?”

Colress: “Hmm… I have this odd warm feeling in my chest… Could this be… Parental pride?”

Though Colress adopted Yuu for the purpose of his research into the bonds of humans and Pokémon, he unknowingly developed a fondness for the girl as she and her Pokémon grew stronger. Seeing the look on her face when she triumphs in battle, just seeing her with her friends as well as her Pokémon partners with that big smile on her face..! Makes him remember how he first found that small skinny, glaring distrustful girl with the feral Zorua in that alleyway. Now look how far she has come. Makes him smile ever wider.

And now, if anyone were to ever threaten his baby girl…

[mortifiedatbeingknown]

"The Gentle Giant" (Pt. 9)

Masterpost:

Forty-five minutes later, the giant still sat, as still and silent as unmoving as a stone. All her pleading and cajoling fell on deaf ears. The giant simply refused to leave the garage. 

She didn’t know what to do. 

There was only so many ways to phrase it. You can come in. It’s alright. Nothing’s going to hurt you. I’m not going to hurt you. It’s not against the rules here. She didn’t want to raise her voice, but if that was what it would take…

No. No, never. Even if she had the chilling suspicion that that was what he was waiting for. An order, a scolding, a  harsh tightening of the leash as he was dragged forwards, gasping for air. A show of force to establish her authority. 

It was the absolute last thing she wanted. 

But was it really O.K to just…leave him there? Yes, it was marginally better than his accommodations in the pet shop, but still, it was a garage. It was bare concrete floors, harsh lighting, endless stacks of empty boxes she still hadn’t recycled rotting amidst rusty garden tools and the dozen half-deflated balls from all the miscellaneous sports she’d given up over the years. There was neither air-conditioning, nor central heating. The roof leaked in the winter. How could she let him stay in a place like this? How could he want to stay in a place like this? 

Letting go of his hand felt like a sign of defeat, but she eventually had to concede that the giant was not going to budge, no matter how hard she pulled at his arm. With a sigh, she stepped back to give him his space. 

“You sure you want to stay?” 

No answer. Alright then. 

“I’ll leave the door open, then. You can come in at any time, understand?” 

No answer. 

Still, it felt wrong to leave without doing something, so as a final act she reached up and slipped the leash off of his neck. There were rash marks there too; she’d have to take a look at them afterwards. 

“I’ll be right back.” She called as she walked away, holding her gaze back until the last possible second. 

The giant did not so much as twitch. 

**********************************************

He was not going in. 

No, no, no matter what, he was not going in. 

It was a feeling so powerful that he could feel his very bones stiffen with its conviction. His new mistress tried, oh how she tried, but he was not going in. 

I’m sorry, he wanted to say, but I cannot. Another wish to communicate; he bit the inside of his cheek this time. 

Please. Was his silent beg. Please. Don’t make me do this. 

He was not exactly sure why this was so important, so necessary, only that it was, and that every hair of his body would fight for it. The house—any house— was dangerous, it was forbidden, it was for humans only, full of fragile, breakable, valuable things that he would not be graceful enough to maneuver around without smashing them to pieces. It was a sacred place, a sanctuary for humans who deserved a place to rest in peace and not be scared of beasts with scarred faces and bulging muscles. It was a space he could guard, a space he could protect, but ultimately it was a space that he was unworthy to enter. 

Why did she not know that? 

Now that her back was turned, he felt free to pinch himself on the arm, hard enough to leave a bruise. Stop that. It was not his place to question his mistress, just as it was not his place to enter the house. 

But then, what was more important? The sanctity of her home, or her pleasure at having her orders promptly followed? 

The closest thing his mind gave as an answer was the deep, lingering guilt of having chosen something wrong. 

[zoeykallus]

Fives – Soldier Boy 18 – The Depth Of Fear

Warning: Angst

________________

You are not enthusiastic about participating in the resistance, mainly out of concern for Fives. But you know Fives is a soldier with heart and soul and is on fire for the idea of the resistance. However, his zeal could cost you both dearly.

________________

What Happened Before:

Soldier Boy

Part 2 - Caught In The Act

Part 3 - Tender Affection

Part 4 - Worries And Secrets

Part 5 - Welcome Back, Soldier Boy

Part 6 - I Should Have Known

Part 7 - Doing Something Stupid

Part 8 - Hot Tub

Part 9 - Seize The Night

Part 10 - We Need A Medic

Part 11 - Live To Fight Another Day

Part 12 - What Lies Ahead

Part 13 - An Unexpected Friend

Part 14 - Important News

Part 15 - The Beginning Of An Empire

Part 16 - Yoda

Part 17 - Unforgiven

Part 18 - The Depth Of Fear

You had retreated to a seedy, out-of-the-way bar. A place where no questions were asked. Fives and Rex still had to keep their faces covered by their hoods. The clones' faces were just too familiar and too conspicuous.

Under the table Fives held your hand, his fingers kept moving, he was a little nervous, restless, in good and bad ways. He feared you might be discovered, but he was also incredibly excited to see Rex again and to hear news about the resistance. The idea that he could be part of it pleased him very much, you rather less. It just meant new dangers for both of you, and really you just wanted Fives for yourself. That might be selfish, but in your opinion, Fives had experienced enough trauma for one lifetime, especially considering how short his life had actually been so far.

Rex looked at you, you knew he recognized the skepticism in your eyes, your reticence, and that he interpreted your silence correctly.

"You don't seem very enthusiastic about our proposals," he says quietly.

You looked at him seriously and replied, "About seeing Fives go back into battle? Of wondering again if he will ever return to me? Yes, indeed, I'm not necessarily looking forward to that."

All eyes were more or less on you in surprise.

With a sigh you said, "But I know how important this resistance is and how much Fives is a soldier, how much his fingers itch, I feel it even now. If it is his wish, I will not stop him. It's not my place to do that."

Fives looked at you urgently, let go of your hand to put his arm around your shoulders, gently pulled you close and kissed your temple.

"It means a lot to me that you are willing to support me, Cyare. But I don't want to make you unhappy, either."

You turned your head to face him and said with a small smile," You'll just have to come back to me after each mission."

Fives smiled, his words sounding full of conviction as he said, "I will".

3 Months later on Lothal

It was just as you feared. The anxiety about whether Fives would come back was again the order of the day. He had not reported back at the agreed time, nor had Rex. By now, even Ahsoka was nervous.

"I knew this would happen," you said tensely.

Ahsoka could feel your tension very clearly in the Force, you radiated a helpless anger that was outright blazing.

"We'll have to wait and see. Rex and Fives are very capable soldiers."

You gave her a sharp look and said more harshly than you had planned, "They are very good soldiers, that may be. But everyone has their limits, including them. Neither Rex nor Fives can depend on the magical Force to get them out of trouble"

You took a deep breath and said much more calmly, "Sorry. I didn't mean to snap at you like that"

Ahsoka nodded and said, "It's okay, I know. You're worried about Fives, I understand that"

"I'm not so sure about that"

Ahsoka looked at you in surprise.

"What do you mean by that?"

"Have you ever loved someone so much that you felt pain when you were away from that person? That worrying about that person choked you, kept you up at night, and tied your organs in knots? That you would willingly give your life anytime to see that person again?"

Ahsoka sighed softly and shook her head.

"No. Not to that intensity," she admitted, "But I would give my life for Rex as well as Fives if the situation called for it."

You said, "It's not the same. What you feel is not love, but a kind of sense of duty. But I can't blame you for that, you were raised not to form those kinds of bonds."

Ahsoka sighed, propped her hands on the console in front of her, and seemed to think for a moment.

You looked at her and said much more gently, "Don't get me wrong, I admire you, your discipline, your sense of duty. And I know you have a good heart, I would never want to deny that. I'm just frustrated out of concern for Fives. I hope you understand that."

Ahsoka looked up and smiled.

"I know. Fives is a lucky man. He has something that hardly any clones get to experience. True love."

Your smile grew a little wider. You couldn't wait to hold him in your arms again.

The beeping of the comm jolted you out of your thoughts. Sure enough, it was Rex who appeared on the holo.

"Send the medics to the landing platform, we have an emergency!"

That was all he said before his image disappeared from the holo again. Shortly after, you heard the sound of a shuttle landing. Ahsoka reacted immediately and sent medics to the landing platform. You followed her there and felt your limbs grow heavy as lead, your chest tightened, and your heart seemed to want to roll over. Rex and Fives had been traveling alone. Which meant the emergency involved Fives.

The medics entered the shuttle and came out a short time later. You had already expected it, and yet your legs began to shake when you saw Fives on the stretcher. Rex was walking next to the stretcher, behind the medics.

You grabbed his arm and held it tightly.

"What happened?" you asked sharply.

"An ambush," Rex said seriously, "They knew we were coming, they were already waiting for us. A squad intercepted us and opened fire immediately. Fives took a beating, but I think he can make it."

"He has to make it!" you murmured urgently, and unconsciously your hand tightened around Rex's arm.

You were shaking all over, you had the feeling that your legs would give way under you at any moment. Rex looked at you sympathetically, his armor had several new dents and burn marks, you noticed.

"He's going to make it," he said quietly, releasing your hand from his arm, grabbing your hand and leading you to the infirmary.

You were not allowed to enter the treatment room, only to watch through the viewing window. It felt so surreal to see him lying there. You couldn't see much of him, but the hectic pace of medics and droids treating him didn't bode well.

You were shaking so badly you couldn't hide it, your knees were so weak you couldn't stand upright. The thought that you might lose Fives dragged you down to an unimagined depth. You were breathing heavily. You automatically wanted to hold on to something, but your hands went nowhere. Rex reacted, however, and held you tightly when your knees finally gave way. He gently lowered you to the ground, where you sat shaking. Ahsoka tried to join you, but Rex shook his head and said, "I got this."

He felt responsible, after all this mission had been his idea and Fives had come along willingly, trusting his old captain.

"Breath, dear. Look at me, you've got to breathe, in and out. Slowly, deeply. Take a real breath, or you'll pass out on me," he spoke to you.

You looked at him, following his instructions without thinking. At the moment you felt lost and even though you were angry with him in a way, you were grateful for his guidance, his support at that moment.

You suddenly felt that your face was all wet, and you realized that you were crying.

You said in a strained voice, "This is why I didn't want to come here with Fives. I knew something like this would happen."

Rex sighed softly, wiping away your tears, but you slapped his hand away.

"Don't do that!" you snarled in frustration.

He raised his hands placatingly and said softly, "Okay, I won't touch you".

You felt incredibly sick, your stomach rebelling, but you breathed against it.

"I will not lose Fives," you said firmly, as if you could stop the death of the man you loved by sheer will.

Ko-Fi (If you feel like giving me some coffee)

@clone-whore-99

@brynhildrmimi

@mybigfatspoonielife

@revan-posting

@misogirl828

@the-sith-in-the-sky-with-diamond

@skywantano

@chxpsi

@andyoufollowyourheart

@kaliel2310

@thebahdbitch

@ladykatakuri

@ttzamara

@arctrooper69

@agenteliix

@puppetswithteeth

@graciexmarvel

@greaser-wolf

[jentledaisies]

Can you explain more about the Yandere Blackpink game I’m still new to this stuff

sure!

so on my blog i technically have two "yandere game's"

the art club and the yandere game, but I treat the art club more as a separate au than a game. But I'll explain both in case I'm incorrect about which one you're curious.

Introducing: The Yandere Game

found here on my blog:

and when you click on it opens to this!

(yes i need to update this graphic)

and so the rules just say to create a scenario, send some dialogue, ask the yandere a question, ask a question pertaining to that yandere universe, ask a most to least, etc.

now what i'll just explain a bit more about that! and ill also give some examples from existing "game" asks!

— create a scenario; send a scenario you wish to see about in a certain au, can be both long or short a longer one: (originally from 🍪 anon)

Ask - {I fiddle with my fingers anxiously before taking a deep breath and giving rose who is on the otherside of the room my full attention. I raise my voice to get her attention "we need to talk I am not sure how to say this but I think maybe we need a break." "I love you and I know you love me too but I am pretty sure love isn't supposed to hurt like this." "Maybe I am just the wrong person for you cause I think sometimes maybe I drive you to do the things you do and that's not fair to either of us." I can't look at her as I whisper the last part. "Loving you is like drinking an aphrodisiac laced with poison it feels good as it slowly kills you."}

Answer - [“We need to talk.” Your voice causes Rosie to snap her head up. The words don’t register in her head, it’s only your angelic voice singing. You spoke to her! You, the love of her life, her whole world, her sweet light, that could put the sun to shame. Even now, as she notices how anxious you are, the distress on your face as you twiddle your thumbs, you are absolutely radiant.

Wait, what did you just say? And why are you distressed? Rosie’s face morphs into a concerned one as her vision tunnels on you, sitting across the room. “Sure. What’s up, Sweets? You know I love talking with you.” 

“I’m not sure how to say this but,” You turn your face away and as hard as Rosie tries, she can’t meet your eyes. She hates it. “I think…maybe we need a break.”

Rosie can hear her heart shatter. She can feel the shards falling on the floor, jagged and sharp. Her world starts crumbling, what the fuck is a break? You can’t put love on a break. You can’t tear a lover from their lovers’ arms. No true love will ever ask for a break, not unless someone forces them, and you were Rosie’s true love.

“Don’t be ridiculous, Honey. We are perfectly fine. Who’s putting such silly ideas in your mind?” Rosie forces a (hopefully)nonchalant laugh as she starts towards you. Normally you like sitting in a far place during alone time, and Rosie is happy to do that, but now you were too far.

“I love you, and I know you love me too, but I am pretty sure love isn’t supposed to hurt like this.” Your eyes focused on everything but Rosie and her hurt eyes. You were hurting? How could you possibly be hurting. She did everything for you.

“What are you talking about? We are doing great. We are perfect. What do you mean you’re hurting? What could I have possibly done wrong? We are completely perfect.” Rosie moves forward to hold you, but you again, move without thinking. You start pacing a bit, hands no longer twiddling. 

“Maybe I am just the wrong person for you, cause I think sometimes maybe I drive you to do the things you do and that’s not fair to either of us.” You spoke with conviction, and a slight burning in your voice. This was a tone Rosie had only heard once before when you had complained about how horribly mismanaged her and her sisters were under their company. (fuck why gee)

“Sweetheart really, did some reporter start threatening you? Who’s putting these thoughts in your he-” You still won’t look at Rosie as you whisper the last part, making Rosie freeze at how defeated you sound.

“Loving you is like drinking an aphrodisiac laced with poison. It feels good as it slowly kills you.”

Rosie is frozen as she hears how defeated you are. Who the fuck told you these horrible things to say? She was going to tear them to shreds and bath in their blood. 

“Stop that. Stop that right now. We are fine and you know it, we’re perfect. Who told you to say these things? Who’s hurting you and making you say these things?! I do everything for you, and you are happy. We are happy. Stop this nonsense.”]

a shorter one: (also from 🍪 anon) (I say shorter but the answer is pretty long)

Ask - {Rose lets out a hiss and pouts at me as I clean her knife wound as she lays on the couch in the living room. I roll my eyes at her.

"I did tell you to be careful and what do you go and do... you let some loser stab you." I clean up the blood and disinfect the wound before starting to sew up the wound. "Besides you can't tell me this hurts worse than being shot." I lean down after I finish stitching up the wound and cleaning it and press a soft kiss to it. "There my big bad mafia member all done."

"At this point should I consider myself your doctor." I send her a smirk as I settle on my knees infront of the couch and start to clean up my supplies.}

Answer - [Pain shocks its way through Rosie again, and her side begins to feel like it’s burning. A hiss leaves her lips, more so from the shock than the pain, as she truly could not feel the pain at all. Not when you, her goddess, were right there, healing her with the utmost care and tenderness. She could almost ignore how every nerve in her torso was on fire or how the white rug you had ordered was now very much red. She’d have to burn it at this point because there was no way the cleaning lady could get the stain out. Oh, you’re gonna be so sad, Rosie thinks somberly, a pout falling onto her face.

“I did tell you to be careful. And what did you go and do? Let some loser stab you.” You sound angry, and Rosie feels her heart stop in fear that she made you upset. “Besides, you can’t tell me this hurts worse than getting shot.” 

What doesn’t hurt worse? Rosie looks down and, oh, you were stitching it up now. That makes sense. She looks up again and see’s you shoot her a playful glare, but there was a smile on your lips, her heart unclenches and she relaxes, you aren’t mad at her. But her body tenses up again as the pain courses back through her, her hands starting to shake and her head spinning as her face grimaces. 

With you, she allows her body to show the signs of her pain. With you, she doesn’t hide the loud groan. With you, she doesn’t feel shy in blinking away the black spots of pain in her eyes. Because you won’t look at this as an opportunity. You won’t laugh and think less of her. You won’t take advantage of her now. With you, you lean down and place a sweet kiss on the skin above her bandage. With you, you hold her hand tight to make sure she won’t fall.

“There, my big, bad, mafia member. All done,” With you, there’s a smirk on your lips as you tease your lover in good fun. “At this point, I should consider myself your doctor.”

“If you were my doctor, I would not stop trying to get hurt Sweets.” Rose rolls her eyes affectionately. “How about, instead of being my doctor and stitching my bullet holes, you help me up and we go cuddle?” 

With you, Rosie is safe.]

- send some dialogue; send a line or more of dialogue to the yandere of choice, either as the reader or as someone else.

Long Ver.: (anon ask) Ask - {"Jennie! I know how you hate me going out, but please, could you just buy a ticket to this kpop group? i've been a fan of them since debut and i would love to them see them perform in person! please?" "... A bodyguard?... no offense, but he's kind of scary and honestly just ruins the mood... i wont do anything i promise! i'll be home once the concert ends."}

Answer - [“You want to leave me…to see other people? And for people you’ve never met at that! You love them? My love, I love you. I adore you. Shouldn’t that be enough for you to stay with me?” Jennie blinks innocently at you, the tears starting to coat her eyes hiding her manipulative glare from you. “It means that much to you? To go there? Fine, but for my sake and peace of mind, take a bodyguard. I at least let me make sure you’re safe.”

At your refusal still standing, Jennie binks away her tears, looking away from you as her heart starts feeling heavy. “My love, you know I trust you, I won’t stop you from going places, but this is so far and for so long, I’m just worried. If you don’t want a bodyguard, then let me go with you. We can make it a date even!”]

Short Ver.: (from 💜 anon) Ask - {Jisoo can I have a kiss.....please ?} Answer - [��Oh? And what would you give to have my kiss darling? Of your answer pleases me enough, maybe i’ll give you one.”]

- ask a question: ask a question to/about any of the yanderes.

To the yandere: anon ask Ask - {Jennie-sssi, I just wanted to ask what are your thoughts on having an open relationship and do you think we would ever have one?} Answer - [“An…..open relationship? Why would you ever want that, my love? You are the only one for me, my one and only. My true love. My sun, moon, and stars. My sweet love, you and I, we complete each other. There’s no reason for us to see other people, we belong to one another.”]

About the yandere: anon ask Ask - {How would Rosé reaction coming back home and saw y/n had fallen asleep on the sofa waiting up for her?}

Answer - [ok so Rosé would actually feel really bad. 

In my general yandere profiles i categorized her as a ‘Sadistic Romantic’ as in she is extremely cold and down right, well, sadistic, but when she loves and cares for you, she does it in every single depth. She’ll do anything to protect you from harm, any harm at all. 

So when she sees you placing her over your health, she feels guilty and saddened. She didn’t want you to wait up for her, she wants you to sleep fully and get the rest you deserve. She would also feel like a terrible girlfriend. Were you waiting for her to spend time with her? Does she not give you the time and attention you deserve? Has she been treating you that horribly? She’d panic about this as she ticks you in before changing and cleaning up and ticking herself in next to you. She’d hold you tightly as you slept, and she wouldn’t get any sleep at all. The next morning she’d make sure to talk to you and let you know that, unless you need to talk to her about something important (that can’t wait till morning cuz anything you say is important) then don’t wait for her. She’ll always be there for you to wake up next to anyway.]

- most to least: ask for a ranking of the yandere girls in a most to least format

Ex.: this is a sexual ask y'all im sawry

Ask - {ngl im really horny rn so im just gonna ask this straight up

how would the yanderes feel/respond to their gf calling them 'mommy' in bed?}

Answer - [M

Jennie: girlie has a whole mommy kink. it’s her favorite kink. vv much a switch but she prefers being dom so she likes you to call her mommy

Jisoo: she likes to see you squirm and beg when it comes to sex. and just everyday life. she’s a domme and loves seeing you beg and yes, call her mommy. it’s a huge turn on for her to see you retreat into subspace so much that you beg her by calling her mommy

Lisa: listen!!!! girlie is a whole sub. the subbiest. but she would call you mommy. 💯 if you liked it or got turned on. she’d call you anything to have you dominate her. 

Rosé: she’s not the biggest fan of it. she’s a sadistic dom, and never a switch, but she actually prefers not being called mommy. mistress she’ll allow but mommy she’s never liked. (past trauma me thinks) she prefers to degrade you during sex only for you to praise her with the sweetest names. while she uses your body for her pleasure

L]

So that’s the “actual” yandere game, but i technically have a second one too. it’s actually another au of my yandere!pinks, but it’s done in an interactive way, like a yandere game.

Introducing: The Art Club

found here on my blog:

which then opens to this!

(also vv much need to update this graphic)

and it's rules are the exact same as the yandere game!! create a scenario, send some dialogue, ask the yandere a question, ask a question pertaining to that yandere universe, ask a most to least, text scenarios, etc. most, if not all of these are done as ot4 scenarios, as the y/n in these are all one person, instead of four different y/n's here are some examples! there isn't much content for the art club so it won't be as in-depth as the yandere game

- create a scenario: send a scenario you wish to see about, can be both long or short

example: from 🥟 anon

["Okay, hear me out. I know we're working on the school's billboard poster, but can someone pleaseee, I beg, help lull me to sleep?" "--Jisoo, before you say no, I promise I'll treat you out some chicken or something! It can be a nice date! I'm just really tired because I studied for our chem exam last night... Yes rosie, I can also treat you out if you want." " Guys please stop fighting... I just want to reat 😭" (yawns) ]

Answer:

“Please the school can wait for it’s silly poster.” Jennie scoffs before she becomes concerned. “My love, why are you so sleepy? Of course i’ll help you but why are you so sleepy?” Jisoo considers it for a moment before caving at the thought of spending time with you, alone. “I guess we can spare some time, but i’ll pay for the meal.” “That’s not fair! I can help way more! I’m a health studies major!” Lisa pouted as she comes to stand in front of Jisoo. But she’s pushed out of the way by one Park Chaeyoung, who wraps her arms around you.  “I want to go out with you too! But you know, I can make you much more tired than them…” She flinches at the hit that Jennie lands on her arm but holds you tighter as said girl tries to pry you off. “What?! I meant by singing!” “Oh please!” Jisoo scoffs as well at that statement. “I could’ve been an idol you know!” Rosie shoots back defensively.  “We know!” Lisa argues with a roll of her eyes. “You never shut up about it.” Jennie starts to mock. “Oh, I was scouted by YGE. Of course I met Big Bang~” “Ok!” Rosie detaches from you amidst your weak pleas to chase the other three around the room, a chair lifted above her head.

send some dialogue: send a line or more of dialogue to the yandere of choice, either as the reader or as someone else.

example: [Are you sure you all want me in the club? I am not a talented as all of you. I think the club will be much better off without me.]

Answer: Jisoo looked up and blinked at you. Once. Twice. Thrice. Jennie gasped quietly from where she was behind her. Lisa and Rosé walked in from behind where you stood in the door, carrying paint for and Lisa gave a small ‘hm?’ And Rosé, ever the dramatic, dropped a paint can, black paint splattering all over the floor and part of the wall.  “Sweets, what?” Rosé stepped towards you, her seemingly new white shoes dipping into the black puddle.  “Darling, don’t be ridiculous. We chose who joins the club and we only choose based on talent. You’re in the club.” Jisoo scoffs before rifling through more of Jennie’s sketches for the new mural.  “Lisa! Quick! Put her in the group chat!” Jennie shouted from where she was next to Jisoo, who had a coy smirk on her face. Lisa ran forward and, somewhat gently, placed her paint cans on the ground before snatching your phone from your hand.  She typed lightly before speaking, “Baby, you really need to place a better password on here, you’re birthday is too obvious. Alright! You’re officially in the chat. You’re ours now! O-Our new club member, I mean.” Lisa chuckled at her small slip up, but her three other group mates only smirked. She handed your phone back to you.  “Now that that’s all cleared up, come help me pick something for our mural, darling.”

ask a question: ask a question, either as the reader or as someone else

example:

[ Heyy! I'm a big fan of the Art Club and I just wanna ask, would the girls ever allow being in a poly relationship with one another for Y/n? Like it all comes down to that moment and Y/n says she can't pick because she likes all of them. Then what? I've been thinking of scenarios in my brain and I honestly have no idea how they'd go for that 😭] Answer:

ohhhh ok so, i wanted to keep this ~mysterious~ but then i realized that it doesn’t really affect the aks anyway, since its an ask based game. please bear with me as i explain this. so, this blog is obviously a video game/website concept, so all the different au’s are seen as games, the reactions the different parts of the game and the extra stuff (art club, mini-reactions, asks) are like, mini-games? does that make sense??? and with that reasoning, i have this really annoying habit of seeing all of these as such. in short, yandere!art club is a game in my head and there is a winning route. no, i don’t want to be a game developer and no i don’t think these are actually how games are developed, but i do enjoy art and writing and creating things like this that center around a concept so well. so while none of these “endings” actually effect anything, it is the “end” or the “correct answer” to these sorts of scenarios. now you’re asking, “daisy what the fuck does this have to do with what dumpling asked?” lemme tell you to successfully survive the art club and their obsession, you must enter a poly relationship with them. that’s it, that’s the winner (in a sense) again, none of this actually effects anything, as it’s an ask based game so even if one of you guys starts an ask about that someone else could ask about the SO stabbing them all to death and it would be active at the same time as the poly asks. so that’s the answer. in my head, you do enter a poly relationship with the four, and i was waiting for someone to bring this up and consider that. now to speak on the poly relationship!!! honestly, the girls won’t be super happy at first, but they also know that it’s the only way to keep you the closest and be able to love you fully. because they all know that they would kill anyone who ever truly stole you away, and they are all capable of destroying each other. now they won’t be romantic with each other at first, so it would just be you that’s dating them, not them also being romantically involved with each other. and that’ll work great for a while, possessiveness will still run rampant between them, and everything will stay the same in terms of wanting you to themselves and only themselves, but with many many more kisses and sex (with consent ALWAYS) but also, the girls have been friends for a looong time, even before you. and as we know, they’ve had romantic relationships with each other  (coughjennieandrosiecough) so it’s not unlikely at all for them to truly fall in love with each other. and so when they do (because they will) it becomes a full poly relationship but the girls won’t hold that equal possessiveness for each other. they’ll be possessive (duh) but not as much as they are with you. and from there, honestly that plays out in another continuation of asks to become a continuation of the game

most to least: (there are currently none for the art club, please see example for the yandere game)

text scenarios: two types, only texts, and within a scenario

Text Only: [Umm, I will miss out the next couple club meetings. I have an upcoming exam and it's difficult. Need to focus on it.  I will see you all after that.]

Answer:

Scenario + Text: can't put anymore images but its just an above scenario of some sort and then a small "behind the scenes" text, either between the girls without y/n or with y/n

[nerdasaurus1200]

Could u do a scene analysis on that one part in the Great Tree ep. Where Hector and Adira are fighting and when he beats her in their fight and how sad he looks? Pls and thank you ☺️

Okay second try, here we go!

So right off the bat, Hector is the very first one to draw his sword, therefore being the first one to escalate the confrontation into a full fledged fight. I think this says a lot about his fighting style, and establishes in a very clear way that he's very much an instigator, an offensive fighter.

Despite this though, Hector seems to act very casual in the buildup of the fight. Adira, on the other hand, seems very frustrated. It's likely that she's frustrated that she has to fight Hector and that he's going to such great lengths to make sure she has no choice but to fight him. He wants this fight to happen and she can't avoid it.

Also, side note, I love how Eugene is dead to the world until the giant ass tree falls right next to his head. This just proves the man is a VERY heavy sleeper.

But anyway XD

So right as the fight officially begins we see Hector continuing to be on the offense, while Adira maintains a steady defense. Honestly the more I watch this fight the more I feel like this part specifically was meant to be a parallel to her introduction in Corona Walls.

And this in my opinion is the most pivotal moment of the entire fight. Cause yeah we’ve seen Adira bring out her sword before, but this is the first time the camera actually really focuses on it. This is the first time it’s seen as a big deal, and rightfully so because she has no choice but to fight her own brother.

“It’s sad to see the once mighty Adira waste her life on a fool’s dream!”

And god this must sting like hell for her. And Hector knows it full well. A part of me wonders if Hector is just mocking her trying to rile her up into fighting or if he genuinely thinks this of her now. Also a cool thing that I just noticed, even with her sword out Adira is still fighting on the defensive. She is just doing everything she can to not hurt Hector.

"Talk about wasting lives. You and the Brothers spent yours hiding something NO ONE WAS EVEN LOOKING FOR!"

Adira's clapback seems to imply that before the evacuation there may have been a bit of ...I guess propaganda happening to the Brotherhood. The way Adira words this implies that there's been this idea in the Brotherhood for at least the current team's lifetime if not longer that the entire world is out to get the moonstone. And then Adira went out into the world and realized that that's...just not at all the case.

"The moonstone has the power to destroy the world! Keeping its existence secret was the king's wish, and to do anything otherwise is TREASON!"

This right here is where the argument gets really interesting for me because they're both right. Yeah absolutely no one is looking for moonstone and Rapunzel could save the Dark Kingdom. But also, yeah absolutely the moonstone is a very dangerous power that shouldn't be recklessly messed with. And despite what we've seen about how chaotic and dangerous Hector is, I think this is very telling about what Hector's priorities are when the chips are down. He is unwaveringly loyal to the Dark Kingdom not just out of natural loyalty but out of fear as well. As far as he's concerned it's not worth it to mess with the moonstone because the risk of failing is too great. If the fail they'll be convicted by Edmund and tons of people will get hurt.

And then Hector charges at Adira again and once again she blocks. (side note, smudge frame on that pic on the right XD)

And finally she makes an offensive move. This was actually pointed out by @strivia a while back, if you look closely Adira actually supports Hector through her throw. Instead of just flinging him Adira actually places her foot underneath his torso so she's guiding him and lessening the force of the blow. Also Adira's face here just breaks my heart because she so obviously doesn't wanna throw him but she has no choice. That face just screams "Don't make me do this".

"I've seen the Sundrop's power firsthand, Hector. And so will you when we return to the Dark Kingdom."

This line also just shatters my heart because Adira was so hopeful that even despite their disagreement Hector would still join her and come home. She still had faith that he would help her. He has hope that things can get better for them.

But unfortunately, Hector doesn't have that hope. I couldn't find a good screenshot of it but Hector actually looks quite melancholy at Adira's words. And he especially doesn't throw Adira with the same "mercy" she gave him

Instead he takes her open hand and uses it to fling her VERY hard into the tree, so hard that it knocks her out. It's hard to tell but I think Hector also uses the weight and force of the throw to flip himself back over.

And yet...at the very end we get the hint that despite his forcing Adira to fight him, he didn't want to fight either. He hangs his head, he has to look away from her before he can even finish speaking. This is a big hint that Hector absolutely is just as upset as Adira is at their situation. But he's just jaded, scared, and loyal enough to accept the reality as something that can't possibly be changed for the better.

[webbywatcheshorror]

Webby Reviews Horror: The Night They Knocked (2019)

The Night They Knocked is about a group of friends who are spending one last weekend together at a remote summer home in the woods before they graduate college and part ways, but their plans are disrupted by a knock on the door.

 This movie is an hour and a halfish and I gotta say I only enjoyed a few minutes of it. I can’t recall exactly why this one had been on my watchlist, but I’m willing to bet Whatculture Horror had something to do with it. 

Review under the cut, and as always, SPOILERS AHEAD!

Let me preface this with some honesty: I am only reviewing this so that I don’t only limit myself to covering movies I enjoyed. It didn’t leave much of a lasting impression when I watched it the first time, and the second viewing only really highlighted things about it that annoyed me. So let’s dive in.

The opening of this movie is pretty promising, if longer than it needed to be. The establishing shot of the house in the wood takes several seconds that I suppose are intended to raise tension and discomfort, but it. Just doesn’t. And listen. I grew up in a house in the woods. I can promise you that hearing a knock at the door without first having heard the sound of a vehicle is intensely alarming- but the nameless First Kill doesn’t seem at all perturbed.

There are several shots in this opening sequence that seem to serve no purpose beyond padding the runtime and showing that First Kill is alone and can expect no rescue from neighbors, as there aren’t any. These shots persist throughout the movie with very few actually seeming to add anything to it- more on that later.

I did like the fact that the off screen brutality took place during full daylight- the sounds of First Kill’s scream and assumed murder playing over the image of a cheery, sunshine-filled home is a delightful and underutilized dichotomy in the horror genre imo. Daylight is supposed to be one of the safe havens, right up there with covering yourself completely with a blanket. I really do wish the rest of the movie had followed suit and kept the timing, but it doesn’t. In fact most of the ending sequence is near pitch black and I couldn’t see shit.

As the opening credits play, a car radio gives us some plot updates as we are introduced to some of our main characters driving out to join the rest of the cast. We are supposed to believe that these people are best friends, and have been for years, but never once do I get that vibe at all. Maybe it’s just the bad dialogue, maybe it’s the less than stellar acting, but you could have told me these were four people who were forced to spend time together as a punishment of some sort and I would have bought that explanation.

There is a lot of interpersonal drama we suffer through for the entire first half of the movie. There are six friends who are all paired off, plus the brother of one of the guys; I could not find myself caring about any of them except possibly one of the couples and the ex-convict brother. It’s never explicitly stated, but I get the distinct feeling that these are all rich kids who are used to a cushy, privileged life. Maybe it’s because at their final hurrah party, these college kids get wasted on wine and weed only. Maybe it’s just the unrealistic way these characters behave/are written.

Things really don’t start popping off until somewhere around minute 43, and until then we are treated to unending and perplexing drama, more lingering shots on the environment, and a few short scenes from the POV of the intruders complete with unsettling heavy breathing and sinister whispering.

I keep complaining about the drama because in the end, almost none of it becomes at all relevant or is even ever brought up again. For example, one girl cheated on her boyfriend and might be pregnant- she never tells him. I had expected her to let it slip and then it causes him to let her die in a moment of weakness, but no. It goes nowhere and really only served to make me like her less.

These ‘friends’ are all so incredibly quick to get hostile with one another. They’re instantly suspicious of offhand comments and seem to jump at the chance to misinterpret each other. I feel like if they’d framed the group as a bunch of people who were friends in name only, but actually ready to sell each other to Satan for one corn chip, it would have worked so much better and been far more believable than what we got.

Anyway, shit goes turnways with a pretty decent scene of one of the girls upstairs crying in the bathroom before getting grabbed by an unseen intruder behind the shower curtain- a nice way to introduce the concept that they’re not alone in the house, and we get our first taste of the violence to come since First Kill’s demise. Sadly, we get little more than nibbles for the rest of the movie.

In short order, two of the friends (and the ones with the least amount of Assholery in their personalities) are taken out by a man in clown facepaint and wielding a metal bat. Their quick deaths aren’t all that disappointing, as they weren’t really very focused on to begin with. Clownboy taunts the friends who are left alive, locked inside the house with no way to call for help, while his friend Pretty Dress leaves his bloody handprints on the backdoor.

Clownboy is immediately more interesting to me than the entire rest of the cast, even including the ex-con brother, and honestly I’m disappointed it took so long for him to show up. He’s unhinged and clearly enjoying himself while he inflicts physical and emotional damage on the group. I really liked the energy he brought to the movie and feel like he could have redeemed it, had he been given more screentime.

The remaining deaths are quick and largely unseen, and we find that there’s more than just Clownboy and Pretty Dress- there’s an entire circus of these clowns just itching for some ultraviolence. We never find out what their motivations are, but as one of the characters muses, ‘They don’t need a reason’. I do wish we’d gotten this from the painted mouth of Clownboy, but the closest we get is him chanting ‘I love it’ while slowly strangling one of the group before being bonked to death by his own bat.

The ending is left open, but it’s very likely that neither of the two surviving protagonists make it out alive given just how many clowns they’re surrounded by. As endings go, it’s pretty dull, but honestly I’m not sure how else they could have ended the film. 

This movie makes me want to do a complete rewrite of the story, with more emphasis placed on the psychological aspects of being trapped in a house by menacing strangers. I’d also at least use some of the interpersonal issues and hostility of the friend group to heighten the tension and pit them against one another; I’d also use those long, lingering environment shots to hint at the terror to come. I am not, however, a scriptwriter, so maybe someone will remake this movie in about six years and have some similar ideas.

The Night They Knocked ultimately left me disappointed and a little bored, to be quite honest. I didn’t really feel sympathy for the characters, the deaths were lackluster, and it felt like a lot of it was only there to keep it from being a short film. It did have some enjoyable parts and an intriguing villain, so it wasn’t a total waste of time.

Giving this one 4 out of 10 ghosts, as I did at least like the opening and overall concept, but I can’t really recommend it, except for maybe the scene where Clownboy shoves an eight ball down a girl’s throat so she asphyxiates to death. I’d have given it a higher score if there had been at least one knock knock joke, but alas. Clownboy just isn’t a funny guy.

[peebls]

Rating: E

Pairing: Lan Wangji/Wei Wuxian

Tags: Canon Divergence, Post-Sunshot Campaign, Golden Core Reveal, Hurt/Comfort, Second Kiss, Making Out, First Time, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, POV Multiple, POV Alternating

Summary:

"Wei Ying," he says, like it's a refrain. His warm hands come up to gently take hold of Wei Wuxian by the arms.

"Please, tell me. What happened to you?"

Excerpt:

"Ah, Lan Zhan," Wei Wuxian said. He sounded resigned when he said it, but also terribly fond. "What's this really about? You can't actually want to spar with me."

"I do." Lan Wangji insisted with conviction. "I... do not have to tell you how it feels to never lose a match. With you, I have to think. I love sparring with you, and I'm tired of pretending I don't."

And he did. He loved it, terribly missed those days in the Cloud Recesses when he'd pretended to hate Wei Wuxian and they had been forced to train together anyway. He sorely wished to spar with Wei Ying. If he could convince Wei Ying to draw his sword, then it was still possible to save him from the crooked path.

Jiang Wanyin was thinking the same, somewhere underneath the marvel of hearing Lan Wangji speak in full sentences. More than one full sentence! He may have said more words just then than Jiang Wanyin had ever heard him say combined. Already he was feeling satisfied with his decision to remain hidden.

"Lan Zhan!" Wei Wuxian exclaimed, delighted, "Are you finally admitting to me that I could beat you in a fight?"

He already has, they knew this. Wei Wuxian was trying for banter. He was expecting to hear, "Ridiculous," like he always did when he teased this way, but instead, Lan Wangji said,

"Yes. You are my only contender. It is a joy to lose to you."

What was Wei Wuxian supposed to do with that? Cry? Mourn the friendship they might once have been able to have?

Wei Ying looked at him so softly, so warmly. His eyes shone. But he was also sad. He was so very sad.

Then, Lan Wangji noticed something else, and the floor dropped out from underneath his feet.

Wei Ying was cold.

[quindolyn]

Hey I was wondering if you could write a sub!regulus X Dom!fem reader fic?

One where it’s angsty as Regulus had been acting different around the reader, and eventually after being questioned about it alone, Regulus breaks down and admitting his parents forced him to get the dark mark (there was nothing he could do about it), and the reader comforts him while they fuck. Regulus had been through a lot and the reader wants him to know that they love him.

Including: praise kink, subspace regulus, scar/mark kissing, aftercare for regulus, riding, and anything else you think would suit this situation <3

Resilience || Regulus Black

Word Count: 6154

A/N: Do I hate this? Yes, most definitely, without a doubt. Did I only proof read 5/15 pages. Yes, again, certainly. But I'm tired and I'm with my friend so it's not gonna get better than this. I love you all and hope you enjoy it

warnings: pretty much included in the ask, can't really think of anything else

Being light on your feet it doesn’t appear as though Regulus notices you tip toeing your way across the Slytherin common room. As you come up behind him you peer over his shoulder; he has his legs tucked beneath him with what appears to be his Defense Against the Dark Arts textbook resting in his lap. Standing over his shoulder you let your eyes scan across the pages laid open and what you first believed to be a chapter on counter curses you realized was actually detailing how to cast the curse.

Realizing what you’d just read you let out a small, involuntary gasp that catches the attention of the boy sitting in front of you.

“(Y/N)!” Regulus quickly exclaims, glancing over his shoulder before slamming the book closed and sliding it into his book bag which sits next to him on the plush, green velvet sofa.

“What was that Reg?” You ask, brow furrowed as your eyes lock onto Regulus’ grey ones.

“Just a book love, that’s all.”

“Your Defense textbook?” You ask, hoping he would slide it back out of his satchel to show you the familiar scarlet cover you’d scratched your initials into on the bottom right hand corner.

“Something of the sort,” He answers vaguely, pushing himself off the couch to face you. Instead of making his way around the couch to meet you he stayed on the other side of the piece of furniture. Feet planted, hands fiddling with each other while instead of making eye contact with you his gaze seemed to be directed just past your right ear.

“Don’t lie to me Regulus,” Your voice is clipped, when you’d come to check in on Regulus after he’d come home from winter break at his dreaded family’s house this wasn’t what you had expected.

Regardless, it was what you’re met with, “What the hell is that book?”

Your voice jumps and you can hear the panic rising in it. Regulus had spent the weeks up to his departure date dreading the time he would have to spend at the Black Mansion. You’d stayed up countless nights, wishing you could somehow keep him from having to go to that hellish house but when it came down to it there was nothing either of you could do.

Finding him pouring over some dark arts book the first time you saw him after nearly two weeks apart wasn’t exactly the reunion you’d been picturing in your head. Nor was it comforting.

You can barely make it out but you believe you hear him whimper something about “it’s nothing” as his gaze drops from just over your shoulder to his toes.

You two stand there for a minute, then two, each waiting for the other to say something, anything to break the tension currently hanging heavy over the room. Regulus silently begging you to let it go, to leave the room and give him some time to stash the book before coming to find you to act as though nothing had happened and it was all fine.

Unwilling to yield, you hold your ground, maintaining your silence while your eyes bore into the top of his head, awaiting his explanation as to what you’d walked into.

You’re the one to finally break the silence.

“If it's nothing, then I’d like to see it Regulus.” It's the second time in the span of five minutes you opt for his full name instead of one of the nicknames coined by his brother, who he’d recently mended things with, and made popular by yourself. You knew it would strike a cord for him but you were scared, you were on the offensive.

With a deep sigh Regulus retrieves his bag from the spot it’d fallen to on the floor, pulling the book from the bag, bound in emerald green, Regulus hold it both far from his body and with a surprisingly tight hold, somehow both wanting it as far from him as possible and not wanting it to leave his grasp.

Though visibly ancient the book appears to be in remarkable condition, engraved on the front cover in gold leaf reads “Mendel's Most Malicious Curses”.

Studying the cover you don’t recognize the book’s title but based on what you’d glimpsed inside of its pages you hadn’t expected to. Even as a fifth year you doubt this would ever be included in O.W.L. curriculum.

Despite knowing better you can’t help but feel a strange, strong attraction to the book, an overwhelming urge consuming you to take that book. Your fingers itch at your sides as you imagine getting your hands on the book, wondering how hard Regulus would fight before relinquishing it from his grasp.

Somewhere in your subconscious you register that these thoughts are not organically your own, that somehow that book is influencing you and that in reality you want nothing to do with it. Frightened thoughts simmer at the back of your mind but they are lost in the shadows of your curiosity regarding the secrets that lie beneath the ornate designs swirling over the cover.

Expectantly you extend your arm, a nonverbal signal for Regulus to hand you the book but your movement throws him into action and has him clutching it close to his chest, both arms cradling the text.

“No no no no no,” He chants frantically, shaking his head as though to shake off the thought of relinquishing the book to you. “I can’t give you this (Y/N),” He swallowed deeply, shining silver eyes seaking out yours, ablaze with conviction.

“And why’s that?” You challenge with a raise of your brow.

Inhaling deeply he seems to be bracing himself to respond, “Because you’re a muggle born, it’s not meant for you to touch.”

You can feel rage bubbling up in your stomach, threatening to spill out your mouth in a flurry of angry words admonishing Reg for his remarks, “What? Is my simple muggle born mind not worthy enough to read words in that precious little pureblood book of yours? Do I need my pedigree intact to understand what it says? Not meant for mutts, is that it?”

You thought you were past this, you thought you’d left the aloof little third year you’d first met who’d called you a mudblood and asked you to move to a different table in the library because he didn’t want you looking at his charms homework behind.

Had the past year and a half of apologies and growth on Regulus’ part all been a lie? Was that hate not as small a part of your boyfriend as you’d thought? Did it really only take just shy of two weeks back with his biggoted relatives for him to start spewing this pureblood nonsense again?

Bouncing around in your head those questions overwhelm you as you try to ignore the most pressing one, pushing at the forefront of your mind.

Does he even love you?

“B-because you’re not a pureblood, this book (Y/N), it can’t be held by anyone not of pureblood,” Reg’s shaking voice broke through the flurry of questions wreaking chaos in your mind.

“God damn it Regulus! I thought we were past this! I thought-”

“It’ll kill you (Y/N)!” His voice is frantic and you pick up on the tears welling in the corners of his eyes, threatening to leak over.

Those words that seemed to carry a fatality in themselves cleared away the din clouding your mind, everything went silent. Too silent even as the implication of those words wash over you.

That book may as well be a gun, cocked and being held steady at your temple as you feel tears of your own begin to well in your eyes, distorting your vision.

The mess of questions doesn’t return to your mind, instead they begin thumping one by one at the base of your brain though they all carry through the same theme.

How could he have brought that near you?

“Kill me?” You curse yourself for how obvious your voice is shaking but the book that just moments earlier you were dying to get your hand on seems to have cast an oppressive air over the room and has you recoiling away from your boyfriend.

Regulus nods, holding eye contact with you as he slips the book back into his bag, sliding it under the sofa before cautiously striding towards you.

“That's why I can’t give it to you to look at, it's cursed and if you so much as bump it you’ll…” His voice trails off, the words too terrible to speak aloud.

Your arms wrap around yourself, clutching as hard as they can as you fight to wrangle your thoughts under control. His response revealed to you that he doesn’t intend to hurt you, not with the book anyways which has dozens of other worries popping up in your head. You’re desperate for answers as to what happened to Regulus at his house. He seems ready to give them to you as he offers to take you back to his dorm away from any prying eyes or ears that may lurk about in the Slytherin common room.

You’d both agreed to arrive back at school two days early hoping to get some alone time in but that didn’t mean that the castle was empty and that anyone couldn’t walk into his common room at any moment.

You stall as he lets you into his dorm, you’ve been there a thousand times, often under the mask of night but your usual spot, atop his always made perfectly bed, seems wrong now. Without answers to your countless questions the entire room feels foregin to you and leaves you standing by his desk, not quite leaning against it but also not quite supporting your own weight.

Regulus seems equally awkward but eventually settles on his bed, perched precariously on the edge of the mattress, he barely looks comfortable.

You stay there so long in silence that after a while your breathing syncs, the singular sound becoming the only noise in the drafty room.

Long after it becomes clear Regulus isn’t going to speak first and you finally tire of the silence you find your voice, somewhere deep inside of you summoning the words to your most pressing worry; “What happened at your house Regulus? What did they do to you?”

Your words have him crumbling, your usually stoic boy folding in on himself until he is but a ball hanging off the bed.

You hesitate for a single second before you’re racing towards him, dropping before him at his knees to cup his face in your palms. Directing his visage upwards to meet yours you feel your heart wrench in your chest as you take in his puffy, red eyes, red nose and flushed cheeks already marred with twin trails of salty tears cascading down his face.

“Regulus,” You choke out feeling tears from earlier resurface as you push yourself off the ground to take your place next to the scared boy beside you.

Pulling him into your lap as much as his size permits you too you take great care in cradling his head, clutching him to your chest as your rock gently back and forth humming into his hairline in hopes to calm his sobs. Raw and ragged they each tear at the fragile, brave exterior you’ve erected in hopes of comforting the boy, giving him something solid to hold onto.

Whispering sweet nothings into his ear you feel him melt into your touch, slowly the breathing becomes stronger and his sobs quiet to weak sniffles swallowed by the occasional gulp.

Feeling him shift under your touch you can tell he’s working himself up to something, he always gets fidgety when he’s trying to summon the courage to do something hard, his movement triggers a memory.

It floods through your mind as you’re reminded of a similarly terrified Regulus, knees bumping against the table at breakfast one lazy Sunday as he repeatedly bounced them, seemingly unable to sit still. He’d spent weeks working himself up to speaking to his brother for the first time in far too long.

The memory of him being so strong and brave even as the entirety of the Great Hall tracked his movement from the Slytherin table to the Gryffindor had you drawing a deep breath. The strength the memory provides you has you summoning the breath to prompt Regulus into some sort of explanation, anything.

“Reggie, your mother gave you that book didn’t she?”

He goes still at your words and even involuntary actions seem to still, his lungs draw no breath and his pulse seems to fade away under your touch.

“Bellatrix,” His voice is hoarse from crying, “Her idea of a Christmas gift.”

“That bitch,” You spit.

“Walburga’s was worse.”

You pause at the mention of her name, there is no doubt in your mind that he is the one who’s actions have sent Regulus into this downward spiral of despair and fear. You’re not even sure if you wanna hear what he has to stay but what you want stopped being important a long time ago.

“Do you wanna show me Reg?” You ask, breathless.

“No,” Comes his meak voice, “But I need to.”

You nod understandingly as you regrettably allow him to slip from your grasp so he can turn to face you, one leg tucked under his bum and the other hanging over the edge of the bed.

His eyes are downcast before he peaks them up through thick, dark lashes to meet your gaze, “Do you promise not to hate me (Y/N/N)? I don’t know if I can do this if you hate me.”

Your brows are drawn together as your response comes emphatically, “I could never hate you Regulus, I could never and I will never.”

“You can’t make that promise,” He says through a watery chuckle, leaving you wondering where the hilarity in the situation was. “I shouldn’t have asked you to.”

“Regulus,” You latched onto his hand before he could turn away from you, “I am incapable of hating you my love, please. Tell me what happened.”

Silver eyes locked with yours as though they would reveal the solidity of your promise. You’re not sure what answer he found in them but regardless he broke your gaze as he snuck his hand out of yours.

You watch as he slowly rolls up his sleeve and an idea as to what he’s going to show you begins to form and you find yourself regretting ever demanding to know what’s going on. You quickly shove those thoughts back down, there's no use in even entertaining them, ignoring your problems won’t make them go away.

Your worst fears are confirmed as Regulus rolls the sleeve of his black sweater to reveal swirling black ink sunk deep into his skin. Even just by looking at it you could feel the permanence of the ink, the meaning behind it causing a chill to shoot through your bones.

In the back of your head this had always been a possibility but not one you’d ever truly considered. You always thought that you would be able to get yourself and Reg away from everyone, from everything. Blood purity, the ministry, his family.

You were going to get out and you’d thought you’d have plenty of time, half way through his fifth year neither of you ever expected him to be forced to take the Dark Mark before his eighteenth birthday.

You were supposed to have until his eighteenth birthday.

Staring at the ink that seemed to pulse with life against the pale white of Regulus’ skin you suppose that it doesn’t really matter what you were supposed to have, what was supposed to happen. Regulus has taken the dark mark.

Godric, Regulus has taken the dark mark.

“Y-Your mother did this to you?” Your voice wobbles, anger, confusion, and terror evident in your voice, each betraying the strong front you’re trying to keep up for Regulus.

“She came for me in the middle of the night, (Y/N/N). First time I’ve ever been woken by her instead of Sirius or a house elf and she forced me up, made me get dressed before taking me downstairs and they were all there,” His voice cracks as a silent sob racks his body, you can only imagine how difficult it must be to relive the horrific events of that night. Hoping to provide him with any sort of comfort you inch closer to him, throwing your arm around his shoulder allowing him to rest his head on yours before continuing.

“They were all there (Y/N), not just her and Father. Bellatrix, Cissa and her husband, the Lestranges,” He pauses to swallow, “ And him. He was there.”

Regulus needn’t clarify who “he” was. The idea that he had even been near Regulus made you sick to your stomach and you could feel the distinct sensation of bile rising tickle at the back of your throat.

“Shhh, it's okay Reg,” You soothe, tightening your grip on him as sobs shake his body, “It’s going to be okay Red we’re going to figure this out.”

“He did this to me,” He sobs as he shakes in your lap, letting the enormity of his circumstances finally sink in after suppressing it for the past week, the fear of your response keeping him occupied.

To say you aren’t scared would be a lie, you’re fucking terrified but holding Regulus’ trembling form you know that this decision was not his. He would never swear allegiance to a group hell bent on destroying you and people like you, a few years ago maybe but not today. Not the Regulus you’d come to love, even if it began despite yourself.

Without hesitation you reach out, wrapping your hand around the skin now stained by dark magic.

Regulus let’s out a hiss at your touch and you feel him tense under your hand, afraid you’ve hurt him you start to pull away, “Does that hurt Reg?” You ask warily.

“Yes,” He spits out through gritted teeth, “But don’t let go please,” He pleads, raising his gaze to meet yours, “Please don’t let go.”

“Not gonna let go,” You promise, keeping your hold on his forearm tight.

Dipping your fingers under the strong bone of his mandible you turn his visage upwards to meet yours, heart breaking at the sadness and pain swimming in those beautiful grey eyes of his. Slowly you lean in before your eyelashes are brushing against the soft skin of his cheeks and your eyes flutter closed as you watch his do the same.

Your lips brush each other’s gently as your hand cups the side of his face, giving you complete control of the kiss as you keep the swipes of your lips light, you can just barely make out the taste of the pomegranate lip balm you’d given him as a part of your holiday gift to him.

“I didn’t wanna take it (Y/N/N),” He sniffles against your lips, “I don’t wanna be a Death Eater, I don’t wanna hurt you.” The sincerity in his voice has more tears welling in your eyes, you just can’t bear to see your beautiful boy in so much pain.

“Oh I know you don’t bubba I know,” You calm him, throwing a leg over to the other side of his lap so that you can perch yourself atop the hard smooth surface of his thighs. Gently pressing kisses along the canvas of his face you feel his arms wrap around your waist and the tips of fingers graze against your ass as his hands hover above it.

“Can I touch you please?” His words are barely audible but his desperation is loud and clear.

You grant permission as you lean forward to capture his lips in another kiss, this one more passionate than the last. Posing little, if any, challenge before letting your tongue delve into his mouth, quickly claiming dominance over his as you feel his palms clutch the globes of your ass, kneading the soft flesh as he holds onto you as tight as possible.

With care you slowly guide him onto his back as your lips trail from his down the column of his throat, in your journey down you leave sloppy hickeys along the delicate skin of his neck. Pulling away slightly you smile to see the various shades of purple and blue painted along his pretty ivory skin.

You know you’re going to have a real conversation about this later, what it means, what the two of you are ready to do about it but right now all you can think about is how you can make your pretty boy feel better, how you can show him that your love for him hasn’t changed. And there’s one way you know how to do that best.

“Do you want me to make you feel good Reggie?” You whisper against his skin as your lips ghost over his collar bone, drinking in his scent.

“Please,” He whimpers, “Need you.”

That’s all you need to hear before your hands are delving under the hem of Reg’s sweater, hands sliding against the smooth planes of his abs, your hands gliding over the occasional ridge of a long healed scar.

Sliding the hem up all the way to his collarbone you look down to see the beautiful lines of his chest and stomach. The scars you’ve become used to seeing a dark but faded pink now shine an almost brilliant purple as though the dark magic imprinted upon his arm had somehow interfered with scars caused by Walburga, most of them when he was much younger. You know for a fact that there are more ones on his back, deeper and darker from taking longer to heal.

“Come on pretty boy,” You coach, propping him up so that you can slip the soft sweater over his head before discarding it over your shoulder, “There we go, that’s a good boy.”

He lets out a low whine at your praising words as his hips thrust up towards yours which are perched directly atop them.

While removing your own sweater you smile, realizing it’s actually one of Regulus’ old Quidditch jumpers from the year prior. With no bra beneath your top your tits are left bare for Regulus’ viewing. His eyes gloss over as lust creeps into the stormy grey of his irises, they’re locked on your tits as though they’re the most beautiful things he’s ever seen.

“Do these hurt more than normal baby?” You ask as your fingertips graze over the raised scars on his chest, if the dark magic of the dark mark made his scars more sensitive you wanna be careful not to hurt him.

“A little.”

Frowning you lean down to press your lips against the puckered scars, your kisses light and fleeting as you trace the dark lines with your lips.

Dancing from one scar to another you hear him exhale deeply and the tension seems to be slowly leaving his body as he settles into the mattress and he becomes malleable under your touch.

“You’re so beautiful Reg,” You praise against his scarred skin, needing him to understand just how much you love him.

“I love you so much,” You look up through your lashes to see Regulus’ eyes already locked on your body.

“I love you too.”

With that your lips are ceasing his once more as you feel the overwhelming need to comfort your boy. Gently, you grind your hips up against his as you become lost in the kiss, savoring the feeling of his lips against yours before you feel a familiar bulge pressing on you.

Your hand ventures back down the hard muscle of his stomach before you bump against the bulge of his erection, straining against the soft material of his sweatpants. You palm gently over his cock as your face buries itself in the crook of his neck, giving him sweet, light kisses while teasing his throbbing member.

“Please,” Comes his choked pleas at being teased, “Please, need more.”

“Of course pretty boy,” You promise as you lift yourself off of him, giving him one last kiss at the waistband of his sweatpants before helping him ease off his bottoms and boxers.

Once he’s devoid of all clothing you too strip down so that you’re both bare naked, your eyes are fixed on the red, weeping head of his half hard cock, sitting against the inside of his muscled thigh.

He whimpers as your hand wraps around his member, pumping up and down his hardening length, brushing your thumb along the sensitive tip of his cock.

“Wanna be inside of you,” He whimpers, hands grappling for your wrist to stall your movements and pull you on top of him but all he succeeds in doing is making you stubble closer to him.

You release your right hand from his cock, instead taking his hand in yours while your unoccupied hands resumes stimulating his member.

“I know you wanna be inside of me, pretty boy, but I gotta get you hard first.”

“But I am hard,” He argues in a pretty little whine, and now that he mentions it you realize that he is harder than he was when you’d pulled him from the tight confines of his pants.

“Your cock’s so gorgeous,” You murmur watching the way he twitches in your hand, “Think you’re hard enough now, yeah?”

He nods his head, squirming as he fights the urge to buck up into your hand.

Making sure that he’s comfortable, propped up against the pillow at the head of the bed you brush away the hair that’s fallen into his face as you straddle his lap, the shaft of his cock pressing against the warmth of your cunt.

Lifting yourself a few inches off his thighs your help guide his prick to your entrance, slowly sinking onto him you allow yourself to take your time accepting each and every inch of him inside of you.

Reg’s eyes are glued to your pussy as he watches himself disappear inside of you, all the way down to his base. His eye brows furrow from the overwhelming pleasure that swims through his veins, sinking deep into his every nerve at the bliss of being completely surrounded by your warm pussy.

Pleasure shoots up your spine at the sensation of slowly becoming full, once you’ve finally taken every inch of him inside you you throw your head back, mouth dropped open as the breath is stolen from your lungs. It feels so good to be so full with him you have to remind yourself to breathe.

“Good boy,” You say breathlessly, rubbing your arms up and down his flexing arms, fists furled with the sheets between them as he too adapts to the sensation that comes with being inside of you.

“You ready for me to move?” You ask once you finally become used to the full feeling.

Desperate nods answered your question, it takes you a minute to find your rhythm but soon you’re grinding his hips against his, lifting yourself slightly off his cock before grinding back down onto him.

Your movements are slower than usual when you fuck Reg, but after the terror he’d gone through in the past weeks you’re deliberate in your gentle movements.

As your hands grip the muscles of his arms you hear him take a sharp breath, your eyes fly open, landing on his face, your movements stalling before you realize that you’re clutching the newly marked skin on his left forearm.

“Oh baby I’m so sorry,” You apologize, loosening your grip on him as your lips frace the dark lines of the ink against his skin.

Seeing that mark on anyone else would’ve made you recoil, have ice shooting through your veins as fear petrified you. While you would’ve preferred never to see that symbol of hate tattooed into Regulus’ skin it didn’t evoke its usual reaction from you. The only fear you have is fear of the future, fear of what lies in wait for the two of you beyond the walls of Hogwarts, but it doesn't matter right now. All that matters is comforting your boy, all you think about as you press your lips to his mark.

You’re pulled from your thoughts when you hear sobs break through Regulus’ lips, quickly you abandon the stain of ink , moving to cradle his head so that your tits are right in his line of vision.

“I thought you were going to hate me,” He cries into your chest, tears wet the soft skin of your tits.

“No baby, I’ll never hate you, not ever.”

You feel the wet warmth of his mouth brush against your right nipple, gazing down you see his tongue lazily circling the pebbled flesh and you’re reminded just how cold the room actually is but pressed up against Regulus it feels like your entire body is on fire.

“You wanna suck on my titty Reggie?”

He responds with a weak nod and quickly you’re easing your nipple into his mouth, helping him find the correct angle all the while stuttering your hips against his.

“You fill me up so good Reg,” Your praise, fingers tangling in the dark mess of curls.

At your praise he begins lifting his hips in times with your thrusts, helping you as you fuck youself on top of him, wanting so desperately to make you feel as good as you make him.

“There we go, that’s a god boy.”

“M’getting close,” His words are muffled by the soft flesh of your tit stuffed into his mouth.

You too are nearing your orgasm as your clit brushes against the hard bone  of his pelvis pulling a sharp whimper from you. To better grant Regulus access to your breast you’ve settled on rolling your hips in circles, ceasing the up and down movement from earlier so as to not disturb him.

A familiar tightness is brewing in your belly as Regulus’ hands run up and down your back before gripping the globes of your butt, maintaining as much physical contact as possible.

“Go ahead bubba, go ahead and cum. Fill me up pretty boy, want your cum. Need your cum. Godric I love you,” You ramble, seizing his lips again, needing them against yours as you feel him cum inside you.

“Fuck fuck fuck,” He mutters as your cunt grips around him with the tell tale signs of your quickly approaching orgasm.

“Y’gonna cum with me baby?” You ask as you press your lips to his forehead, his mouth having once more found the plush of your breast.

“Yes,” He nods, “Please.”

You throw your head back in ecstasy as your orgasm washes over you, wave after wave of pleasure racing through your veins as you ride out your orgasm, continuing to move your hips as you simultaneously help Reg through his. Stars flash behind your closed eyelids as the pleasure building up finally releases, sending you into euphoria so intense it seems to cloud your every sense.

The second he felt your cunt squeeze around his cock it tipped him over the edge and as he lost himself in pleasure, rope after rope of cum releasing inside of you, he tried his best to match the movement of his hips to yours.

You flutter your eyes open as the warmth of his cum floods your pussy as you come down from the height of your orgasm, letting yourself collapse so that your chest is pressed up against his.

With your chests pressed so close together you notice the exact moment that your breathing syncs, feeling as Regulus’ arms wrap around your bare torso keeping you close to his body.

“How are you feeling?” You murmur against the ivory skin of his chest, keeping your voice hushed.

“Better. A little happy.”

Glancing up you catch the smallest smirk slink across his lips as he stares up at the vaulted ceiling.

“Happy?”

“You make me happy,” His eyes flicker to yours as he pulls you closer to him causing his softening prick to slip out of your tight hole. You both hiss as the cool air hits his cock and the cum he’d emptied into you begins flowing out yout pussy.

Regrettably you push yourself off of him, pulling his sweater over your head before waddling into the connecting bathroom, being ever so conscious about the sticky white mess between your legs as you wet a washcloth using warm water from the sink before applying it to the insides of your thighs. Ginger touches hastily cleaning up the excess cum before rinsing the wash cloth to take it to Reg.

“Hey pretty boy,” You coo upon reentering the room to find him in the same position you’d left him in, “You ready for me to clean you up?”

“You look so beautiful in my clothes (Y/N/N),” He responds instead of answering your question, pushing himself onto his elbows so that he can watch you, his black sweater enveloping you all the way to your lower thighs.

“And you’re just beautiful,” You smile, sitting next to him on the mattress. You aren’t lying, he looks absolutely gorgeous leaning back, mop of dark hair in tangled tresses, grey eyes glossed over, abs sheening with sweat as are his equally toned thighs. Merlin bless the poor bastard who invented Quidditch.

Dragging up his muscled legs your eyes settle on his softening member, just as pretty as the rest of him.

With care you make quick work of cleaning the cum off his cock, resting your hand on his thigh when he tries to squirm away from your over stimulating touch.

“I know baby, I know but I gotta get you all nice and clean for me.”

“Hurts,” He mumbles in a pathetic pout.

“I know it does pretty baby but look,” You say, pulling the cloth from his skin, “All done already.” Pressing a kiss to his temple you go to stand but you’re quickly pulled back down to the mattress by cold hands wrapped around the warm folds of your waist.

“Don’t go,” He mumbles into your hair as he keeps you tucked into his side.

“Just gotta go put the washcloth back Reggie,” You explain trying to slip from his hold but he’s not having it and just tugs you back against the hard planes of his chest.

“No,” He says simply before reaching over to the bed side table where he’d set his wand, mumbling a quick banishing spell the rag flew from your hand before flying into the bathroom.

Resting your head against his strong shoulder you yank a blanket from the end of the bed up to throw it around your bodies, nestled close together.

“You said you were happy Reg.”

“Mhm,” He responds with a noncommittal hum.

“What else are you feeling, love?”

You hear him take a deep inhale, as his own answer seemed to overwhelm him, “I don’t know. I’m scared, I’m really scared but not so much now that I know that you don’t hate me.”

You nod against his chest, you can only imagine how petrifying that thought must’ve been for him and you can’t deny the tug you feel in your chest at the idea of Regulus ever thinking you would hate him.

“I’m still terrified but I think I’m gonna be okay.”

“I know you’re gonna be okay Regulus, you are capable and strong and smart and the bravest boy I have ever met,” You can feel the blush radiating off of him at your words.

“Thank you (Y/N/N),” He mumbles bashfully into your hair once more.

You were telling the truth, if there was one thing that you know for certain its that Regulus is just as resilient as he has proven to be and if Walburga, or anyone else for that matter thought he was going to take this lying down. If they thought you were going to take this lying down, they have another thing coming. There is no doubt in your mind that Regulus will fight for what he knows to be true and if there was ever a point that he would have obeyed his mother’s every command without question that time was long past.

Reg isn’t to be underestimated. He’s just as every bit courageous as he’s proved to be over and over again. To underestimate him is to dig your own grave; and unlike Walburga you aren’t ready to count him out quite yet. On the contrary actually, your boy wasn’t about to take this lying down and even if it meant total self destruction, the two of you are about to raise hell.

taglist: @randomoutsiders @weasleyposts @amourtentiaa @kittykylax @superbturtlemakerathlete @oliviashea05 @pinkandblueblurbs @thatvenusbabe @zzzfour @temporaryissue @gubleryum @msmb @marauderswhore07 @st0nesnglitter @priii @miraclesoflove @shadesofvelma @drachoesimp @artemis1orion @skaratjung @ava-brooke-blog1 @fairyprettygirly @ohwowimlonley @padfootswife @roonilwazlibswhore @swearingsolemnly @teenwolfbitches28 @lilypad-55449 @jamespotterslover @wh0reforthemarauders @myalupinblack @ashesandstars @daisyyy2516 @remugoodgirl @itzstacie @planet-wolfstar @steveharringtonswhore @saintlike78 @i-love-scott-mccall @thatdummymarie @trashyvicks @sprucewoodlover @slut4drvc0 @pagesbetweensheets @locnylupin @mjoubertt-1@blowing-mikey @slvt4fakerealities @kaqua @pottahishotasf

[whetstonefires]

I also love reading your rambles. More Juamg Yanli analysis please?

See I meant to give you the meta you asked for but my attempt to focus on Yanli -> drop the WIPs I'd been making progress on finally, drop the cake, must urgently type up 5k of the Terrible Don't Do That Jiang Cheng Idea from the previous spate of Yanli meta from that ask last night.

I blame your cursed Naruto ask for sticking me in the 'make AU make sense' zone.

So here you go, hope this will do for now!

Cake has been accomplished btw but it came out of the oven at midnight a;lfdj;klfsd.

-

Jiang Yanli finished peeling the lotus roots, took up the knife, and began to cut.

Strong, broad hands made even slices. Unfamiliar to her, at least like this, they were yet familiar with the task. A-Cheng had known this recipe, had made a habit sometimes of cooking for himself and for his tiny family, even in her absence. He’d always worked so hard, and had had so much patience for the things he felt really mattered.

Yanli had adored both her little brothers to death and beyond, and shamefully part of the reason had been their unflagging conviction, condescending as it had grown with age, that she was one of the things that truly mattered, always. They had loved each other so much, all of them. They had loved her.

How could something so good become so bad?

How could it have come to this.

The kitchen staff clearly knew better than to bother their Sect Leader who was cutting lotus root with a thunderous expression. Yanli was grateful for this. Like everything she was grateful to A-Cheng for in this moment, it was full of bitter poison, but less than most, and so she let herself taste it, a little.

You were always stronger than me, A-Jie, his letter had said. As though her dedication to looking after her brothers had been some great feat of heroism, and not just the thing she needed to do, the thing that made her feel worthwhile. As though a truly heroic older sister wouldn’t have been one who stood up to her mother instead of steering around her like a boat through shoals, and patching up the wounds she left in hopes they wouldn’t scar, even though they obviously had.

In spite of everything else, she’d still flashed cold enough to half expect herself to faint, when she found out how quickly Wei Wuxian had followed her into death, how little time she'd bought him. Jiang Yanli had never been any use to anybody, and A-Cheng thought she was the one to steer them through this?

She wished he was here. She wished she had her husband or her son. She would even take her parents.

Yunmeng Jiang and Lanling Jin were on the brink of war. A-Ling’s visits to Yunmeng had been suspended even before—all this, that had in an indirect way been the cause of everything that followed, but now…

Cao Yufeng made me promise not to throw away the lives of our disciples, Jiang Cheng had written, speaking of the Head Disciple who had died getting him out of Jinlintai that final time. And—she lost her daughter, the last time I took us to war. Because I chose to send us against the man who’d torn himself apart into a weapon for me, gone insane.

I can’t say things would be alright, but more of us would still be here if I hadn’t done it. If I’d listened to you. If I hadn’t put my opinions about vengeance and politics over yours about mercy and family.

We can’t beat the Jin on the field. We’re outnumbered and outsupplied. If I tried to get A-Ling out by force we’d. This sentence ended in a great, deliberate blot of brushstrokes, characters obliterated. The rest of the letter had been very neatly written, even where A-Cheng’s hand had clearly begun to shake, with nerves or weeping; Yanli was fairly sure this had been a third or fourth draft. He must have given up on getting it perfect.

In slightly oversized characters, the next line began, I don’t know what else to do.

Jiang Yanli stirred the soup with her brother’s hands, paying close attention to how the fat in the pork was melting. If you cooked the meat too long, it was no good, all the flavor went out into the broth, and you might as well give the ribs to cats.

I can’t think what to do. I can’t make any more decisions. I can’t trust myself with them. I don’t deserve to lead the Sect, after all of this. Even if I could get A-Ling back, I know I’ve never deserved to have him. You deserved so much better, A-Jie. Let me give you what I can.

Let me get it right, this time.

As if he’d given her any choice in the matter.

Carefully, grateful for the rigid habits of Jiang Cheng’s face, Yanli moved the pot off the heat and carefully dished up three bowls, which she set on a small lacquered tray. The kitchen had had to be partially rebuilt after the fire the Wen had set, all those years ago now, but Yanli had been heavily involved in that process and everything was still kept where she had put it then, mostly the same organizational system they’d had since she was a girl but with a few modifications for convenience or efficiency.

She’d taken a small comfort in being able to get some use out of having to rebuild. Life from ashes, she had told herself a thousand times, in those two years after the war but before she married.

Ignoring the staff as she wouldn’t have, once, when she’d been herself and they’d all been people whose names she knew, Jiang Yanli took her three bowls of soup and carried them out of the kitchen and back to the Sect Leader’s private rooms. A-Cheng had barely changed those since they rebuilt them almost ten years ago, either.

She put the soup down on the table and distributed a bowl each to the boys waiting there for her, then took one for herself.

The taste of the first bite made Yanli’s heart clench so hard she wondered if it was A-Cheng’s grief she was feeling, not her own. A-Cheng who had made this recipe who knew how many times, always knowing he would never taste her soup again.

Wen Ning’s spoon stirred anxiously through his soup bowl, which he had leaned over to smell, but he didn’t take a bite. “Ah, thank you very much, Madam Jiang,” he said, using the bittersweet title they had agreed on for private conversation, because she could not bear to hear Jiang-zongzhu constantly when she had to answer to it so often outside these rooms, knowing they meant someone who was not here. “But I can’t eat.”

Jiang Yanli blinked at him. Somehow this felt like something she should not have taken nearly two days to learn. “What did you do with that soup I gave you that time, then?” she asked. Her words, honest and reasonable, seemed to be coming from a slight distance, as they so frequently were now. Yanli wondered a little if this was a consequence of death, or something about how A-Cheng’s body worked, but it had gone away just enough times and was familiar enough that she knew it was shock.

Wen Ning dropped his eyes further like he was hoping they would fall into his soup and free him from the burden of deciding where to look, although A-Xian had preserved his body far too perfectly for that, even if apparently not as well as she’d thought. “I gave it to my baby cousin.” A shy glance up. Wen Ning had died at nineteen; Jiang Yanli wondered if he was capable of growing up in any sense, like this. “He loved it.”

“Of course he did,” said the actual teenager in the room, already more than halfway through his bowl. “In Wei Wuxian’s notes he kept making little asides about how exciting it was to eat anything that wasn’t radishes, that kid would have been over the moon about anything with a bit of meat in it even if it wasn’t the best soup in the world.

“It kind of is though,” he added to Jiang Yanli, in a manner that made it very hard to tell whether he was paying her a calculated compliment or unleashing a burst of wild sincerity.

She could trace his resemblance to her A-Xuan in the outside corners of his eyes, the bow of his upper lip, the way his nose joined his face, but he resembled his other brother in the jaw and inside eyes, as they joined the bridge of the nose, and he’d inherited something from Jin Guangshan neither of them had, around the eyebrows. He even reminded her a little of A-Xian, which must come from his mother.

Yanli wondered who A-Ling resembled. He was seven now, he’d have grown into enough of his face to be able to begin to say.

“Wei-gongzi always said so,” Wen Ning told Mo Xuanyu, and to Jiang Yanli, “It smells wonderful.”

How amazing, she thought, taking another bite, that he could smell things. But after all, she too was long dead, and here she was tasting golden broth and simmered lotus.

Out of habit, she’d put extra meat in the other two bowls.

Wen Ning seemed to have noticed this, too, and lifted one tender rib with his spoon. “Would you like—”

“No, thank you.” Yanli was working her way methodically through her portion, but she hadn’t made this soup because she especially wanted to eat it.

“I’ll take it,” volunteered Mo Xuanyu, tipping back his own bowl to hastily finish off the broth now that he had a prospect of seconds. Wen Ning silently pushed his own serving over.

It was almost heart-warming, to see the way the boy tucked in. You could see he hadn’t always eaten enough, even though he’d been in Koi Tower and the last thing any member of the Jin should have to worry about was running short of food. Had his brother, or his father before that, kept him on short commons to keep him in line? It was the kind of thing Jin Guangshan had done.

Never to A-Xuan, but Yanli had had a year to get the lay of the place. Mostly her father-in-law hadn’t interfered in Madam Jin’s more sane domestic arrangements, but when he had it had been unpleasant, and in the back of her mind Yanli had made some preliminary plans for if Jin Guangshan outlived his wife.

She had intended in that case to begin on what she’d intended to be a strong alliance with her brother-in-law, who was excessively eager to please his father but also had a much better understanding of the realities of household management than any of the other men in the family. Jiang Yanli couldn’t say she’d liked him, but she hadn’t disliked him either.

She’d thought she had better than even odds of enlisting his help, considering that he’d seemed clever enough to understand that having Jin Guangshan’s favor at the expense of a functioning Jin Sect and his brother’s good opinion wouldn’t be a good trade, not if he could have both. She’d thought a lot of things.

A-Xian had always eaten like that, even when he wasn’t half-starved. Yanli had fed him this soup while his bones showed too-sharp like that three times, even though the first time she’d sworn he would never have to go hungry again. The third time, she’d gone away and left him afterward, knowing he was going hungry.

There hadn’t been a real alternative. Wei Wuxian had made his choices and Jiang Yanli had respected them. But she should have tried harder, should have worked to establish herself more in Jinlintai and known about the ambush or—a hundred things she could have done differently, if she had known how the first and only year of her marriage would end. Choosing to live happily and lay careful foundations had seemed like the right choice at the time.

So many things seemed like the right choice, when you did them.

“How could you let him?” she asked abruptly. It came out—menacing. Her own voice hadn’t been capable of conveying anger like that. If she’d tried very hard to rage, it would still have sounded shrill and unimpressive, and if she’d spoken the way she’d tried to just now, it might have chilled the right room but it would still have sounded gentle.

A-Cheng’s voice had no softness in it, and both boys went very still.

Mo Xuanyu put his spoon down into his second bowl of soup. “Well, I could hardly stop him,” he said. “It was Sect Leader Jiang, Sandu Shenshou, and I was technically his prisoner.” He said this even though he’d affirmed the impression given in the letter that when Jiang Cheng had removed him from Jinlintai they’d both regarded it as a rescue, even if the Jin did not agree. “And he had the notes. All I could have done was refuse to help him, and then he’d have done it alone, and what if he messed up and died and didn’t even get you back?” He shook his head.

Jiang Yanli looked at Wen Ning, who flinched for a second, and then raised his head and she thought she saw a flash of this Ghost General people talked about, the person or the weapon that had killed her husband. “He pointed out I helped do something similar once before,” he said. “He asked if I thought you were worth less than him. He asked what I thought Wei-gongzi would have wanted.”

“Not this,” slipped out of Yanli’s mouth, A-Cheng’s mouth.

“No,” Wen Ning admitted. “But I was there in Yiling, after—” After his family murdered hers. When A-Cheng had just…lain there. “Wei-gongzi and Jiang Wanyin did agree between them that your life was worth more than theirs.”

Of course they had. And of course it wasn’t.

“I’m the eldest,” Yanli said. And only a woman. “It was my place. Never theirs.” And she’d always known they’d never agree to that.

Wen Ning looked down at the table. “I would give anything if I could make A-Jie take her choice back,” he said.

Because, of course, the two of them had given themselves over to the Jin—her second family, the one she’d married into—and Wen Qing had died and it had saved nobody. That murder was what A-Xian had come to the Nightless City to avenge, ruining everything even though Yanli couldn’t pretend it had not been already ruined, or that he had been any more in the wrong than anyone else making decisions at the time. Especially with what Jiang Cheng had uncovered about the circumstances of Jin Zixuan’s death.

“That was a tragic and unjust waste,” Jiang Yanli told Wen Ning, as though that did not describe almost everything that had happened between their families all these years, or perhaps because it did.

“Also,” he said to the table, “Jiang Wanyin attacked me with Zidian and covered me with paralyzing talismans when he thought I might interfere, and I couldn’t do anything until Mo-gongzi let me out.”

Something unlocked in her chest even though it shouldn’t. “But you meant to?”

Wen Ning’s stiff face did a strange thing. “Your brother took the choice out of my hands.”

So he wasn’t sure. Well. At least Jiang Yanli could consider forgiving him for A-Cheng, just as she’d partly forgiven him for A-Xuan. Both of her loved ones had, after all, made their own choices, even if her husband’s had been a sort of reckless trust and her brother’s deliberate self-destruction.

Both her brothers. And how angry did she get to be with them for choosing that, when she’d done it too? Not first, because apparently A-Cheng had gone first, throwing himself out as bait, and A-Xian next, carving himself open. She’d taught them that, somehow. She’d never wanted to. They were such good boys. They had always been so good.

If she’d been allowed to raise her A-Ling, would she have brought him up to do the same?

She sighed. “For now,” she said, “I have to take responsibility. Mo-gongzi, I will welcome your guidance in the coming days as I try to undo my brothers’ work, but in the meantime I have a Sect and a son to consider. Can I ask you both for your support?”

“Anything,” said Wen Ning, and she saw that he blamed himself more than she ever could.

Mo Xuanyu nodded, more judiciously. “I’m not a demonic cultivation expert, or anything,” he said. “But—I’m seeing that betraying people is a habit Yao-ge has, so it wasn’t my fault, and I’m. Really mad.”

“Thank you,” Yanli said, regretting that she had to rely on a child. But then he was only a little younger than her brothers had been in the war. Which had been far too young, and wasn’t that perhaps a root of how she found herself in this position? “Do finish your soup. There’s more in the kitchen.”

Mo Xuanyu applied himself to his bowl, and Wen Ning asked, “What can I do? What are you planning, Madam Jiang?”

Jiang Yanli chewed the meat off a pork rib with careful deliberation, making herself pay attention to the flavor, to the sensation of the fat on her brother’s lips and tongue. She set the bone down again.

“I am going,” she said, “to start with something I know A-Cheng could not have done.” If he wanted her to be the one making decisions now, if he felt that his solutions could not serve and wanted hers instead, well.

For the first time, the world demanded that Jiang Yanli act.

It had spent so long demanding she refrain from acting. As her mother’s daughter, she knew what it took for a woman to carve out the right to make her own decisions in the way men were expected to, and she knew what the costs were, and she had never been willing to pay them. But now her little brother had paid everything to ensure that the girl who had bandaged his scrapes and talked him through his childhood despairs would be in charge of a Sect on the brink of war.

“I am going to speak to Lan Wangji.”

-

Under only slightly different circumstances, the best thing would have been to send a letter inviting Hanguang-jun to Yunmeng. It would be polite, save effort, and put the conversation on her own ground and her own terms.

Hanguang-jun, however, apparently hated Jiang Wanyin and would not have come in reply to one letter, and Yanli did not have the time for the kind of letter-writing campaign that would persuade him. And she badly needed to go off alone, anyway, and could hardly assign herself a solo night-hunt. Anything fit for a Sect Leader in such a tense time would almost certainly be beyond her capabilities, but having taken it on she would have to complete it somehow.

Yanli went to the Ancestral Hall and knelt. Honored her parents, in all their flaws that somehow she found more utterly forgivable than ever, and more terrible, because their children should not have come to this and it could not be all Yanli’s fault, surely. Even if it was all her doing that her brothers had made these choices, shouldn’t Yu Ziyuan have been there, setting a better maternal example, then?

“I’m sorry I let this happen,” she said, bowing, and letting the resentment go. It was no use now.

She looked at the tablet bearing her own name and imagined it was for each of her brothers in turn. A-Xian, how could you make something like this, she thought, knowing he must have meant it for his own use, if he’d meant it to be used at all and not as an intellectual exercise. In the end he had not used it. Was that because he knew better, or because by the end there had been too many dead for him to choose only one, or because he hadn’t wanted to burden her or Wen Qing with having to live in the body of the Yiling Patriarch?

Or maybe it really was meant for demons and he had never considered using it to trap the dead.

A-Cheng, how could you do this. Yanli pushed the question toward him, into the world. She refused to believe he was really gone. That he’d torn himself apart, obliterated, lingering nowhere and never to live again.

It was supposed to be a bargain, wasn’t it? And he’d left her with nothing to fulfill, made a gift of it. Surely that was a weak point, something she could use to unravel the whole thing somehow. Surely he was still out there. Surely.

“I will make it right,” she promised, and rose, and went to dress for the road.

-

A-Cheng had taken Suibian from Jinlintai, along with so many of A-Xian’s other things, and Wen Ning and Mo Xuanyu. Deliberately, Jiang Yanli hung it from her belt beside Sandu. Then she opened the chest from under her brother’s bed that she’d gone through the night before and took out her own sword, Yinglian, which she had never been any use with at all and would never have received if she had been some outer disciple with the same abilities.

This, she strapped across her back, where she had worn it the few times she had bothered, before it was tacitly agreed by everyone that her cultivation had stagnated enough she would never fly the sword or be much use in a night hunt, and she was allowed to put it away. It lay much smaller across Jiang Cheng’s shoulders than it had across her own. They had never managed closeness, she and Yinglian. It had always felt like an even worse arranged match than the one between her and Zixuan—even if he had not liked her, she had always known she could be basically competent in the office of wife. As a cultivator, she had always been useless, body and spirit equally unfit.

There was no way to know which if any of the three would best suit her, now.

She walked out carrying all three swords, and there was nobody in the whole compound who dared to comment.

“We can’t stand alone against an outright assault from the Jin,” she said, to the crowd of mostly young disciples who followed her to the quay. Jiang Cheng had, helpfully, explained as much as he felt they needed to know of the situation to the Sect before leaving her here; they knew about a large number of crimes including Jin Guangyao having sent Jin Zixuan to his death in a strategic multi-layered assassination, experiments in demonic cultivation, the murder of his father, and what she and her brother were both treating as the kidnapping of Jin Ling. “And it was Cao Yufeng’s dying wish that we not act recklessly in the name of honor.”

Faces around her showed signs of recognizing the reference to the Jiang disciples that had died fighting Wei Wuxian, who would never have been a threat to anyone who didn’t go after him and his first. Though probably almost no one here recalled that, remembered what he’d been like.

Cao Yufeng had been twelve years older than Yanli, not one of the shijie she’d relied on or gotten on well with particularly, but one of the only people left after the war who’d known the three of them growing up.

“I am going to Gusu to ask for their intervention.”

Yang Sugong, who had been fourteen when Yanli had last seen him and not yet using a courtesy name since he hadn’t been born into the gentry, made a grimace and said, delicately but with a conviction that showed Jiang Cheng had come to rely on him: “Ah, Sect Leader, you realize the Jin will have been there first.”

Of course. Jin Guangyao would have been in correspondence with his sworn brother instantly after Jiang Cheng had fought his way out of Jinlintai with the Ghost General at his back, and he’d probably visited in person by now. Jiang Cheng had given him four days to work, and Yanli another two. It was past time to defend.

“Yes,” she said, in what would be a cool voice for her but came out contemptuous from her brother’s mouth. She was still learning. “But I trust the Lan will not attack or imprison a Sect Leader on a diplomatic visit just because Zewu-jun is intimate with Meng Yao.”

Even if this really had been a diplomatic visit, she’d have been best served by going to the Lan first and getting the Jiang side of the story on record, before any further proceedings between Lanling and Yunmeng. If Chifeng-zun were still alive the Nie could be looked to as an ally, because sworn brother or not he hated double dealing of this kind, but Jiang Yanli didn’t understand enough about how young Huaisang was operating as Sect Leader yet to approach him.

Some of her disciples made faces that suggested they’d read something scandalous into her flat wording and weren’t sure if it was an intentional joke. Interesting, in that she’d heard such rumors spitefully shared in Jinlintai seven years ago but not in Yunmeng.

“Lan Xichen is always careful to be fair, but if he only hears one side of the story of course he’ll be biased. At the very least I don’t want them dragged in to punish us for harboring Wen Qionglin or kidnapping Mo Xuanyu.

"Remember that Mo-gongzi is a guest that sought sanctuary here, and is free to leave. Don’t let him remove any of Wei Wuxian’s effects.” She couldn’t make Mo Xuanyu help her undo this, but she wasn’t having him take her information about how. She and Wen Ning were the only people left with any right to A-Xian’s things, anyway.

“If the Jin attack, send a message to me and focus on securing Lotus Pier. Let the Ghost General fight as much as he likes but keep a perimeter around him. We don’t want a repeat of what happened to Jin Zixuan.”

One of the girl disciples whose name she hadn't caught fretted a handkerchief. “Are you sure none of us can come with you?”

Yanli felt bad for leaving them. They’d just lost their Head Disciple, war loured on the horizon when they weren’t truly done rebuilding from the last one, and now their Sect Leader was going to be gone.

But the truth was, their Sect Leader had already left them. And Jiang Yanli was doing what needed to be done.

She didn’t smile, because A-Cheng wouldn’t. “I can move faster and less noticeably alone. You’re all more use here. Do you not believe in the strength of Yunmeng Jiang?”

“Of course!” said the disciple who’d asked and several others.

She inclined her head. “So do I. Make me proud.”

And she stepped off the dock and set off in her one-person boat, which would carry her a good part of the way almost as fast as a sword and far more easily.

Yanli had rarely gone out alone, in life, both because it was not her way to seek solitude and because her body had been weak enough that no one would have been comfortable with it if she had, nor would it have been a sensible decision. But though they were all easier now the tasks of sailing were old and familiar, and they comforted her until she reached the pier where her path diverged from the water.

She left the boat in the care of an associate of the clan, a man who had been in this role since she was eleven years old and was beginning to look weathered, and walked on out of sight, carrying the three swords which no one had dared to remark on.

-

The Sect Leader of Yunmeng Jiang stood in a forest clearing, well out of sight, and ran through the forms of the Jiang style.

She did them better than she ever had in life—Jiang Cheng’s muscles knew these movements, had spent nearly as many years practicing them as Yanli had lived. Yinglian was no good to her, though. It responded, but sluggishly, unhappy with the amount of energy she was trying to feed it when it had been designed for light, precision work, a sewing needle of a jian.

It recognized her, too, and remembered her rejection, which had been if not quite personal, certainly not an act of affection.

Also, it was physically too light in her brother’s broad hand.

Sandu was little better. It joined her in missing A-Cheng, and in that spirit they could work together—she would, she thought, be able to fly on Sandu if anyone was watching—but their bond had been close. Jiang Cheng had taken his title from this weapon. There was only so far it could bring itself to help her, and Jiang Yanli needed all the help she could get.

It was Suibian that was willing to give that. Suibian that leapt in her hand, reinforced every stroke to be stronger, faster, more precise and less tiring. It recognized her, at least as someone A-Xian had wanted to see succeed, and she could feel in her hand that it did not resent him as Yinglian did her. Suibian understood that it had been left behind not out of a lack of love.

And Suibian recognized the core burning in her belly.

It was Suibian she would fight with, if it came to real battle. If she needed to seriously defend herself and her Sect, if she needed to learn to kill. No other partner would carry her through that well enough. She would wrap the hilt and paper over the name and find another sheath, if necessary, or she would live with the whispers. Sandu Shengshou has reclaimed the Yiling Patriarch’s sword that he cast aside. The Jiang Sect Leader has forgiven the traitor to his sect whom he killed himself. Jiang Cheng is possessed by the ghost of Wei Wuxian.

Jiang Yanli put a hand to her chest, between heart and core, and smiled faintly, sadly, a smile that she knew would sit oddly on this face if anyone could see but which felt familiar. “Not quite.”

Zidian responded to her beautifully. She was, after all, her mother’s daughter. Now more than ever before.

A-Cheng had already done the hard work of teaching his arms and qi to twist and snap the whip into its many forms, but Yanli stayed there practicing her precision and control until the sun was sinking.

And then she walked on, ring on her hand and three swords with her. Jiang Yanli, with Jiang Wanyin’s hands and Wei Wuxian’s golden core.

We three, she had said once upon a time, are the closest on earth.

We'll never be apart.

[guzhuangheaven]

Guzhuang Appreciation Month: badass dialogues

(but in the novel)

legend of ruyi :: ep 5 // ep 78

This drama is so amazing, demonstrated by these two scenes. Here you have Ruyi and Hongli watching the same play at two different stages in their lives. In episode 5, they are still clearly in love and are happy watching the play together, leaning lovingly against each other and moving in unison as one. They are also being watched fondly by Aruo, who has yet to have ideas of betraying Ruyi. Many years later, in episode 78, we have Ruyi and Hongli watching the same play, but they are physically far apart and their emotional distance from each other is also clear on their faces. They are literally being divided by the presence of Ling Yunche standing between them.

I find the parallel between the closeups of Aruo and Ling Yunche the most heartbreaking, because Aruo, despite how happy she looks for them in ep 5, would eventually try to break Ruyi and Hongli apart. And yet for all her efforts, she never succeeds because Hongli never actually believes her. On the other hand, Ling Yunche never tries to get in between Ruyi and Hongli, but just the mere presence of him is enough for Hongli to drive a wedge between himself and Ruyi. The presence of Aruo and Ling Yunche in this scene drives home the stark contrast in how the relationship has deteriorated between Ruyi and Hongli, and how Hongli went from trusting Ruyi despite all evidence against her to believing the worst of her despite no real evidence. 

What is even more heartbreaking is the play they are watching. It’s not made very clear in the drama, but the plot of the play has great significance in the novel. The play they are watching is called 墙头马上 / Over the Wall and Atop a Horse. The play is based on the poem 井底引银瓶 Silver Vase at the Bottom of the Well by Bai Juyi.

The poem by Bai Juyi, writes of a broken relationship/friendship where two people once lived happily in harmony, then one person wronged the other, causing the other person to leave and never come back; the relationship is thus severed. 

When the poem was adapted into the play 墙头马上 / Over the Wall and Atop a Horse, the play tells the story of Pei Shaojun falling in love at first sight with Li Qianjin when she was standing by a wall and he was on a horse riding by her house. The two then eloped, and lived together for seven years, having two children together, before they were discovered by Pei Shaojun’s father. Upon the discovery, Li Qianjin was condemned for getting into a clandestine relationship and Pei Shaojun caved to parental pressure and divorced her. She went back to her hometown. Many years later, after having achieved political success, Pei Shaojun went looking for Li Qianjin again, and just happened to discover that the two of them were actually engaged as children. In the play, they then reunited, got remarried and lived happily ever after.

There is however a plot point in the Ruyi novel, where Qingying does not like the ending of the play, feeling that the happy ending was forced. In the novel, Hongli and Qingying only know each other in passing at first. Then on the day that Hongli chooses his wives, Qingying is made to attend by her aunt. Before the selection ceremony, everyone is invited to watch a play, and Hongli chooses Over the Wall and Atop a Horse. Qingying, because she dislikes the happy ending, asks the theatre troupe to change the ending of the play so that in the end, Li Qianjin does not actually get back together with Pei Shaojun but stays firm in her resolve to end the relationship between them. After the play ends, Qingying leaves before the selection, but Hongli becomes intrigued by her changed ending and chases after her. This conversation below ensues, in which you can see clearly how Qingying’s belief on the matter stayed constant with her through the years. In fact, she practically predicts her own fate later with her changed ending.

~*~

Qingying stepped lightly ahead, her gown fluttering in the breeze like a white butterfly in flight. Aruo’s face was robbed of all colour and she was crying in despair. “Gege, what is wrong with you? Everything was well, why did you change the ending of the play? If Huang Hou Niang Niang hears about it, what will you do?”

Qingying shrugged. “At most, Aunt will just scold me a little. I just don’t like that ending. Today, I finally got to see how it should be played out. I’m so happy!”

“Gege might be happy,” Aruo said miserably, “but today is the consort selection. If Gege you are not chosen, then what would we do?”

Qingying’s aunt had already intended her to be the Third Prince’s bride, and now that was not successful, she should be pushed to the Fourth Prince instead? If they needed this one forced marriage to prolong their family’s glory, would that mean all women of the Ulanara clan were little better than slaves? It would be better this way. Regardless of whether she succeeded at being chosen to be a prince’s consort or not, she got to see things done her way, for once.  

She only managed a few steps more when suddenly a voice called behind her. “Qingying Meimei!”

No one had ever called her that before. Everyone in the palace simply called her “Qingying Gege”. Curious, she turned her head to find that Hongli was chasing after her.

Thinking that he must wish to reprimand her, Qingying made herself as small as possible.

Hongli only laughed. “I chased after you to comfort you. Xiyue Gege was rude in speech, I feared that you would be offended.”

“Offended? About what?” Qingying asked in a low voice. “Fourth Prince, do you mean to mention the fact that I was rejected by the Third Prince?”

Hongli nodded, frowning. “I only fear such talk will destroy your reputation.”

Qingying laughed, all her teeth showing, against all rules of decorum, which seemed to astonish Hongli.

“I don’t care!” she declared. “There are many things that women can’t necessarily decide for themselves, such as marriage, or family. But at least, I can decide whether to mind those mocking talks, whether to care about them and let them hurt me.”

Hongli looked sad for a moment, whispering, “Your family…” But then he trailed off. Then, with a humourless smile, he said, “Over the Wall and Atop a Horse is the play I chose myself, why did you not like the ending and asked them to change it? I pick a plum blossom, lean against the wall. / You ride off among the bending poplars*. Is that not a lovely image?”

“Yes, it is very nice, it’s just…” Qingying thought a moment then said, “Over the wall and atop a horse we gaze at each other. / I know you, too, must be heartbroken*. From this beginning, the play is full of conflicts, ups and downs, all very compelling, yet in the end, there is a forced happy ending, everyone is forced to be happy, I really don’t like it at all.”

[* excerpts from the poem by Bai Juyi]

Hongli looked displeased, asking, “To be able to mend a broken mirror, husband and wife reunited and at peace again, is that not good?”

“When Li Qianjin was being insulted by Pei Shaojun’s parents, he did not protect her. He watched her leave in humiliation and did not stop her, as if all the love and years they shared did not matter. Such a heartless and weak man who dares not protect his woman, why would Li Qianjin want to get back together with him?”

Her voice was soft, but also full of conviction. Even though it went against Hongli’s beliefs, he wanted to keep her talking.

“To be reunited and together in harmony is the wishes of all families on earth. If Pei Shaojun is willing to start over, why would Li Qianjin not forgive him?”

“Why must a woman always forgive a man for his failings? Wouldn’t that teach the man that it doesn’t matter what hurt he causes? I don’t care, if he hurt her, she shouldn’t forgive him.”

“Women must be soft and gentle, and give into her husband. If she sacrifices a little, bears a little hurt feeling, they can be reunited, isn’t that happiness?”

“If she must be hurt, must sacrifice herself for this forced reunion, then it is already not a good marriage,” Qingying said stubbornly. “In my eyes, Li Qianjin is a woman who is willing to walk away, to severe the relationship, because all trust is gone.”

“If she walks away, wouldn’t that mean she spends the rest of her life alone? Everyone has their own difficult moments, if Li Qianjin is so stubborn, Pei Shaojun is put in a difficult position too.”

“Who isn’t in a difficult position?” Qingying asked. “If the woman can understand the man’s difficulties, can a man not understand a woman’s pain of being cast aside and humiliated?”

Hongli thought for a moment then laughed. “Qingying Meimei, you are much too unbending.”

Qingying merely nodded. “It’s better to live the rest of your life alone, rather than live to old age with someone who already betrayed you once. So it might be harmonious today, but if a conflict arises, what is to say Pei Shaojun will not just forsake Li Qianjin again? It is easy to change mountains**, that is the principle here.”

[** there is a Chinese saying that it is easier to change the course of rivers and shapes of mountains than to change the character of a person… aka old habits die hard but with more stakes.]

Hongli still did not agree with her logic. “Women should place obedience before all and be pliable. If she does not restrain herself and be more accepting for the greater good, then she would just suffer.”

“If one must accept being humiliated for a so-called happy ending, then I don’t want that kind of happy ending,” Qingying repeated.

“Then is Over the wall and atop a horse we gaze at each other so easily forgotten?” Hongli asked, astonished.

Qingyin turned and stared at Hongli. “If it is not easily forgotten, then why didn’t Pei Shaojun protect Li Qianjin? Hasn’t he too forgotten how they once loved each other when he cast her aside?”

Hongli could not argue against her, and finally admitted defeat. “Meimei, you really are something, I don’t know what else to say.”

Qingying laughed in delight.

“Meimei,” Hongli said, stepping closer to her, “you argued so animatedly, you must love Over the Wall and Atop a Horse. Why don’t we go back and hear the play again?”

Qingying hesitated, thinking that it would be a great loss of face if she were to return now. But Hongli was looking at her so earnestly, she found it hard to immediately refuse.

“I’ll go back first, and prepare good tea to wait for you.”

He said ‘wait’, as if he would not move the day along if she did not come. Her heart softened, and she suddenly stopped in her path.

…

[And then of course Qingying comes back to attend the selection. Hongli, who had originally intended to choose Langhua, changes his mind and chose Qingying to be his di fujin, but then Yongzheng interfered and put a stop to it… But the play is one massive foreshadowing plot device that doesn’t get explained much in the drama, but packs a punch when you read this scene.] -h

[jekacatrina]

Fate don't know you like I do

Hello, guys, have this super cheesy and self indulgent piece I wrote for Bakudeku day! I'm so happy to be part of this fandom and all the wonderful content creators out there, so here's my little contribution, enjoy! I wrote it super fast so sorry for any mistake or typo!

Also, the title is a song I love, please check it out, it inspired the whole thing!

Izuku wakes up to the sight of his bedroom ceiling, body aching and mind restless. He’s no longer wearing his hero suit, except for the undershirt and his pants, everything else is gone. Slowly, the yells of the crowd infiltrate his thoughts and he wishes to run away, to go to where he can’t hurt anyone he cares about.

He has to leave. He is being selfish. Izuku props himself up on his elbows.

“That’s the face of a rabbit ready to bolt,” the gruff voice startles him, and he turns to see Kacchan sitting on his desk, frowning. It adds up that they wouldn't leave him without someone standing guard.

Kacchan has changed out of his hero suit, and a dark grey long sleeved t-shirt hides the bandages on his shoulder and stomach, but Izuku is keenly aware of the wounds he was sporting as he flew around trying to keep him from leaving. By the end, his childhood friend was bleeding through them. That was Izuku’s fault; both Kacchan reopening his injuries and the fact that he has them in the first place.

“Kacchan, I'm so-“

“Save it, nerd,” he abandons the desk chair and shuffles closer.

Izuku takes him in; after weeks of agonizing over the state in which he left Kacchan, seeing him do a perfect arch in the air and stop a villain with a precise AP Shot, filled him with a relief so strong, it paralyzed him, and he was only able to stare in awe.

During the following fight, if Izuku can call it that when it was against his friends, Kacchan was everywhere; coordinating different maneuvers, and he even had a new move. Izuku told his friends they couldn’t keep up, and he remembers vaguely that he apologized, because in reality they’re miles ahead of him.

Still, nobody is like Kacchan: certain and absolute, pure will held together by his convictions. He never backs down, and he never gives up, only marches forward. Izuku never stood a chance against him, in more than one way.

Kacchan kneels by the bed, putting an elbow on the bed, close to his hips, and lazily resting his head on his hand.

“Kacchan, I can’t stay here,” he mumbles, trying to convey all his inner turmoil. He wants to stay, he is so tired and scared, but he will not risk anyone for his sake.

Kacchan frowns in response.

“You can, and you will, dumbass,” he states, surprising him by clutching his forearm. “I’m not chasing your sorry ass around anymore.”

“Then let me go,” Izuku turns his arm, grabbing him as well.

“You’re not going anywhere, Izuku.”

The name travels through his body, lighting him up on the inside, coursing through him with the violence of the first time he used One For All, equally exhilarating and terrifying.

It all comes back to him; the rain, his words, his bow, Izuku collapsing and Kacchan appearing in time to support him.

Izuku.

“You apologized,” he whispers, tears coming to his eyes. “You said all those things in front of the whole class.”

“I had to, asshole, you left before I could tell you in private,” he doesn’t look embarrassed or regretful. Kacchan doesn’t shy away from his decisions once he makes up his mind. “Only a shitty letter for explanation and that was it.” He shakes his head. “You didn’t even let me go with you, idiot.”

“You’re still dealing with the outcome of the last time I let you come with me.” The tears are running freely down his cheeks. “I had to watch how he almost took you away from me.” He scrubs his eyes furiously with his free hand, not letting go of Kacchan. “I can’t allow more people to suffer because of me.” He’s on his way to a full on breakdown, struggling to get air in his lungs, and blood roaring in his ears, the noises muffled.

Suddenly, Kacchan is hovering over him, shoving his shoulder firmly.

“Hey, Deku, scoot over,” Izuku only glances at him through his crying, baffled. “Give me some room to lay down, like when we were kids.” He’s already in the process of climbing on the bed, and Izuku manages to slide his body closer to the other end, grabbing the bed cover when the weight of his childhood friend laying down almost makes him roll over him. “Jesus Christ, you stink,” Kacchan complains.

“I know,” Izuku turns on his side, creating more space between them. Hygiene wasn’t that high on his list of priorities, not even eating or sleeping was, and he feels awful. He didn’t have the energy to shower before passing out.

“You smell like dirt and sweat.” Kacchan scrunches up his nose. “Worst of all, you reek of that goddamn martyr complex, and it pisses me off.” he turns too, and traps Izuku in his red gaze. “If you’re choosing to ignore all I said before, at least pay attention to the last part.” He’s not sugarcoating his words, he’s as brash as he always is. “We all want to fight, because we’re heroes and we want to protect everyone, including the fucking chosen one, whether you want us to or not. I’m not asking for your damn permission, and neither is any of the rest. So, you can either play nice and make it easy for us, or be a self-sacrificial idiot, making it all the more annoying. Your call.”

“I don’t know how to stop,” Izuku grimaces, reaching for him with a shaky hand, and awkwardly squeezes his arm. “I’m not ignoring all you said, Kacchan” he chooses to focus on that, gaze in his All Might covers. “I, I forgave you a long time ago, mostly because I wanted to focus on the good parts, so in a way I let go of it for me.” He forgets about his smell, and scoots closer, resting his forehead close to his shoulder. “But thank you, Katsuki.” He hasn’t said that name in ages, but that doesn’t come from any animosity on his part. Kacchan has always been and will always be Kacchan. Izuku feels him move as Kacchan places his chin on top of his matted curls, and they stay like that for a while, with their past laid to rest at last.

Kacchan speaks up first.

“Listen, Deku, everything is getting pretty fucking real,” he pauses for a moment. “Shit is really dangerous for any of us, but for you it is like a thousand times worse. Your ass is a fucking death magnet, and it’s driving me crazy.”

“One For All is a big responsibility, Kacchan, but it’s not yours.” He does his best to keep his voice low and soft, the weight of the legacy crushing him.

“The Hell is not!” Kacchan retorts vehemently. “You made it my deal the moment you told me!” Izuku winced. “What’s up with that? Wasn't that the biggest secret ever? Are you that much of a blabber mouth?”

Izuku clutches his arm harder.

“I wasn’t going to let you think I lied all those years.” He explains, and in a moment of bravery, he continues. “I’ve never been anything but honest with you, Kacchan.”

The anger in his voice disappears as fast as it came.

“I know that, idiot.” His bigger hand finds Izuku’s hip. “One for All is your responsibility, but you are mine.” Izuku is pretty sure he stops breathing. “Since we were fucking four years old, and you were this quirkless little shit that wouldn’t quit chasing after me, no matter how much I pushed you away.” Kacchan scoffs and his breath tickles him. “Well, congrats, dumbass, now you have me and I’m not going anywhere.” His heart flies to his throat and doesn’t let any word come out. Kacchan growls, clearly bothered by his silence. “All for One VS One For All is the fucking shit show for the ages, and of course you, Deku of all people, have to be right in the middle of that crap.” He talks through clenched teeth, and Izuku longs to soothe him, but there’s nothing he can say to fix the situation. “All those who fell against that fucking maniac and now you have to-” Kacchan chokes up, and punches Izuku on the arm. “Whatever, there's nothing I can do for those nobodies that came before you, but you have an advantage over them.”

“What’s that?” He whispers in a small voice, not believing he is having this conversation in bed with his childhood friend.

“You have me,” Kacchan utters, and Izuku feels like he hit him with an explosion, sweeping his feet from under him. “Just let me set something straight, Deku, I’m not going to be your fucking sidekick, you hear me? You watch my back and I watch yours. I don’t trust anyone to keep up with you.”

I don’t trust anyone else to protect you.

“Kacchan-”

“You deal with this crap once and for fucking all, Deku, and we come up on top.” Kacchan declares, Izuku can hear the smirk in his words, and he has to smile back. “I don’t settle for anything but the best, and taking down fucking evil incarnated, I’m in, Deku, I’m all in.” He disentangles them, leaning back with a vulnerable expression, and offers his hand for Izuku to clasp. “What do you say?”

Izuku wants to say no, push him away from danger and lock him somewhere where he is going to be safe, but he knows Kacchan. He is determined, stubborn to a fault, and braver than anyone he has met. If he sets his mind on protecting Izuku, nothing is going to stop Kacchan, not even him.

That’s why Izuku loves him like he does.

In this space, with just the two of them, Izuku can be honest with himself: He is scared, and he has been for a while.

Scared of not living up to All Might’s hopes.

Scared of never mastering this power.

Scared of letting down all the people that gave up their lives to take down All For One.

Scared of being the wrong choice.

At the end of the day, Midoriya Izuku is terrified of not being enough.

In the midst of all the fear and doubt, he sees Kacchan; the person Izuku admires the most, the hero he has chased since he was four years old, and the driving force behind his progress. Kacchan, who knows all of him, and understands him because he sees Izuku for who he is, all the good and bad parts.

His Kacchan, who is now offering to help him and ease his burden, risking his dream, his precious life in the process, to stay close to Izuku and protect him.

A part of him, the one that imitates All Might, is screaming at him that he has to reject the support, to do it on his own. He should hold the weight of the legacy by himself. However, the other part of him, the one that believes Kacchan is what victory looks like, tells him he isn’t All Might and he doesn’t have to be.

He is Midoriya Izuku, and he is allowed to live his life and fight his battles on his terms, just as Kacchan does.

He clasps his hand, and Kacchan smiles, without a trace of mockery or anger, just plain happiness and relief lifting the corners of his mouth. Izuku hasn't seen him smile like that in years, and he needs to say something. He means to say yes to his offer, maybe thank him, but what comes out instead is:

“I love you.”

The punched out gasp that Kacchan lets out shocks Izuku more than his confession does. He can’t believe the words he has hidden for so long in his heart escaped that easily. More shocking is the fact that he doesn’t want to take it back. Even if he is scared of many things, Kacchan isn’t one of them. Yes, Kacchan frustrates him, he worries him, and makes him nervous, but Izuku is not scared of him, never has been. He can die any day now, any of them can, and he is done with silencing his feelings.

Kacchan is not screaming or scowling, neither he is leaping out of the bed and running away from him, so Izuku would say he is mostly stunned, although he doesn’t see why. His feelings for him are a key part of the person he is. Izuku admires him, cares for him.

Izuku loves him.

“Do you mean it?” The question seems to pain him. He hasn’t released his hand.

“Yes, Kacchan.” Izuku is not hiding it, not anymore.

“After everything?”

The words strike his heart and cut deeply. Izuku doesn’t hold any grudge or resentment, and he can’t tolerate the idea of Kacchan thinking he can feel something for him despite their past.

“Because of everything, Kacchan,” Izuku replies, touching their joined hands with his forehead, shying from the red eyes. “The past doesn’t disappear, but that’s not our present, and definitely not our future.” He takes a deep breath to calm his heart. “You don’t have to say anything. I didn’t say it to get an answer.”

“Deku, you can do so much better,” Kacchan says, bluntly.

Izuku doesn't let the obvious rejection deter him from speaking with the truth.

“I don’t see how,” he stares at him, mustering a wonky smile. “You are you, Kacchan; you’re brave, honest, loyal, brilliant, and hardworking.” The words spill without filter, and he drinks the sight of his pale skin blushing. “It’s not about doing better, just who I choose, because when it comes down to it, I chose you a long time ago, Kacchan.”

Kacchan tips his head up, the blond strands cloaking his eyes. Izuku refuses to regret coming clean about his feelings, but as the silence grows between them, he starts to fidget. Little by little, he realizes the true weight of his confession, and the bridges he might be burning.

“This doesn’t have to change anything, Kacchan.”

“It changes everything, Deku,” he replies, not missing a beat.

Izuku curses his luck; it was just like him to confess his love right when Kacchan finally came back to him, something Izuku hadn’t dreamt in his wildest dreams. Dealing with these feelings much longer, when they are so powerful and consuming is not possible. Still, he should have tried, for the sake of their friendship.

A callous finger touches his chin, breaking his spiral of thoughts, and lifts his face. The fiery eyes are wide and defenseless, embers instead of the wild inferno Izuku expected.

The first touch of chapped lips is an awakening, and his first kiss is over before he can finish tasting it.

Kacchan leans back, and for the second time in his life, Izuku’s mind goes blank and his body moves on its own, chasing after him. Their second kiss is messy, they don’t have any experience, but Izuku is lost to it. He tries to commit to memory every brush of their lips and ragged gasps, how soft is his blond hair, and the feeling of fingers sinking in his curls, guiding the kiss.

They break apart, but stay close.

"You didn’t have to do that, Kacchan,” he says against his mouth.

“I never do shit I don’t want to do, Deku.”

Izuku grabs him again, bunching up his t-shirt, so full of love that he fears he is going to float away if he doesn’t get a firm grip.

“Deku, I-“ his voice quivers and Izuku kisses him again, softly and reassuringly.

“It’s okay, Kacchan, you don’t have to say anything yet.” Izuku told him because he wanted him to know, but he has had years to come to terms with it. He’s not expecting Kacchan to figure everything out right now.

“You better stick around after that, you damn nerd,” he touches their foreheads together. “Or take me with you. Two options, I’m magnanimous like that.”

Izuku giggles, the sound so foreign after the past weeks.

“Okay, Kacchan, for that I’ll stick around.”

“Or you’ll take me with you.”

Izuku is still terrified of anything happening to him, but he trusts him the most.

“I’ll stick around or take you with me,” he promises, and Kacchan nods satisfied, wrapping Izuku in his arms and hugging him closer. “I thought you said I stink.”

“You fucking do,” Kacchan says immediately. “When I think about this, the first thing that is going to pop into my mind is that my first kiss smelled like a wet dog.”

Izuku laughs until he cries, and Kacchan joins him.

At one point, his back is to Kacchan, and he’s playing with his hands. Izuku’s so relaxed his eyes are drifting close, sleep taking over.

“Hey, Deku,”

“Yes, Kacchan?” he says drowsily.

“You have magnificent taste.”

Izuku snorts, pulling his arm tighter around him.

“I’m going to sleep now,” he murmurs, and he jumps when Kacchan buries his face on the crook of his neck. “Wake me up if something happens.”

“You can trust me, Deku, nobody is going to pass through me.”

Izuku believes him with his entire heart, but he still chooses to only think and not say what crosses his mind before falling asleep in his arms:

I would die before letting anything happen to you.

[theartofdreaming1]

Katniss, bravely stepping inbetween Gale and Thread (and his whip) - she’s so courageous and protective, she deserves the world 😭

As usual, my thoughts regarding this week’s prompts and (many) random thoughts on chapters 7-9 are below the cut. (Is it just me, or are my notes getting longer and longer with each and every post? I swear, this book is so meaty, we’ll soon reach the point where I have to type out the entire chapter, with my thoughts in the margins)

heart

“Gale is mine. I am his. Anything else in unthinkable.” 

I think these words are a result of Katniss being so afraid of losing Gale that she’s kinda overcompensating; their relationship has been strained these past few months and they’d just had a row, separating from each other on bad terms - and the next time she sees him, he’s been whipped so bad that he’s lost consciousness and could be potentially dying from his wounds. Of course she’s so terrified of losing him, that she’s holding on as tightly as she can to him. It’s important to keep in mind how important their relationship is to her and we see that in her preceding thoughts: What a pair we were - fatherless, frightened, but fiercely commited, too, to keeping our families alive. Desperate, yet no longer alone after that day, because we’d found each other. I think of a hundred moments in the woods, lazy afternoons fishing, the day I taught him to swim, that time I twisted my knee and he carried me home. Mutually counting each other, watching each other’s backs, forcing each other to be brave. - Gale was the first person who was her equal, a kindred spirit, her partner. After Katniss had lost both of her parents when her father died and her mother succumbed to her depression - the people who were supposed to care for her and guide her through growing up - she was stuck with the role of sole provider and protector of her family at age eleven. She must have been so lonely all this time until she met this boy who understood what she was going through and they learned from each other and shouldered their burdens together, to take off some of the overwhelming pressure. Of course that relationship, of course Gale is important to her. But also now their relationship has become more fragile, after the Games they are in danger of growing apart - it’s got to be so terrifying to feel like the one proper, mutual relationship you’ve had seems to be slipping through your fingers. With everything that’s going on, her entire life as it is teetering on the razor’s edge (heck, the president himself has been threatening her and her family!), it’s no wonder that Katniss is craving that familiarity and safety that her relationship with Gale used to provide her with. And seeing Gale in this state just has her holding on to him more tightly than ever.

mind

Hmm, no big moment is coming to my mind right now; I think I’m always most impressed by the tiny moments that show how tenacious, resilient and fiercely kind humans can be - like Darius stepping forward to stop Gale’s cruel punishment, Leevy volunteering to tell Hazelle about Gale and promising to stay with the Hawthorne children, Madge bringing the morphling, Katniss pressing Darius’s hand in the Training Center, Twill taking Bonnie with her to flee to D13 and so on.

soul

I believe that Katniss was honestly surprised to learn that Gale had feelings for her; she had categorically shut down the idea of entering a romantic relationship for herself, so I don’t think she’d seriously consider anyone being romantically interested in her in return (that’s not how that works, of course, but I think that’s how she perceived the whole shtick). Their kiss threw her completely for a loop and if anything, she mostly saw it as something that contributed to the deterioration of their previous, easy and comfortable relationship.

Chapter 7

A mockingjay is a creature the Capitol never intended to exist. [...] They hadn’t anticipated its will to live. - In a way, the Capitol continues to make this mistake with the people living in the districts, too - underestimating their will to live (opposed to just surviving)

I look in his [Gale’s] eyes. His temper can’t quite mask the hurt, the sense of betrayal he feels at my engagement to Peeta. This will be my last chance, this meeting today, to not lose Gale forever. - Okay, we don’t know how much Katniss might be (incorrectly) presuming here, but the idea that Gale might feel betrayal because his best friend is being forced into an engagement pisses me off. It’s fine if he’s feeling jealous because she’s being paired off with Peeta when he wishes he could have a shot with her, but how in the world does this even rate as a betrayal?! A) It’s done against her will and B) Just because they’re friends doesn’t mean Katniss owes him anything when we’re talking about romantic feelings... Ugh 😒 Also, it’s quite noteworthy how insecure Katniss feels about their relationship - she’s constantly worried Gale will drop her and their friendship (waiting for Gale after the camera teams left after winning the Games: I’d begun to think that he’d given up on me in the weeks that had passed.- Ch. 2) and it doesn’t help that she’s been through that extreme, traumatic experience without him and they haven’t had much opportunity to spend a lot of time with each other (with the Victory Tour and Gale having to work so much) and when they do hang out, they don’t seem to really talk much, which doesn’t exactly help...

He [Gale] tosses the gloves on my lap. “Here. I don’t want your fiancé’s old gloves.” “He’s not my fiancé. That’s just part of the act. And these aren’t his gloves. They were Cinna’s,” I say. “Give them back, then, he says. - Gale can be so petty sometimes 🙄

While I talk, [...] [Gale] occupies himself with turning the food in the leather bag into a meal for us. Toasting bread and cheese, coring apples, placing chestnuts in the fire to roast. I watch his hands, his beautiful, capable fingers. Scarred, as mine were before the Captiol erased all marks from my skin, but strong and deft. [...] Hands I trust. - Oh boy, this moment really shows how these two are at cross purposes right now - Gale’s prepping the food as you would for a toasting (romantic connotation), while Katniss is oberserving his hands, thinking how their hands used to match (not anymore!) and basically wishing herself back into the time before the Games, when things were ‘simpler’/more clearly defined (and also platonic!); there is nothing romantic from her P.O.V. - it’s all about the friendship and trust

[Gale] steps in and I feel myself lifted off the ground. The room spins, and I have to lock my arms around Gale’s neck to brace myself. He’s laughing, happy. “Hey!” I protest, but I’m laughing, too. Gale sets me down but doesn’t release his hold on me. “Okay, let’s run away.” [...] “You’re sure?” I say. [...] “I’m sure. I’m completely, entirely, one hundred percent sure.” - Yeah, and I’m sure you’re not going to change your opinion in the next five minutes, Gale... In his defense, Gale didn’t know all the details, so in that regard it’s totally valid that he might decide to change his mind after having more input... It’s just that Katniss specifically asks him whether he’s sure and his reply is so full of conviction (100% sure!), only for him to do a complete 180 just a couple of minutes later; Gale’s very hot and cold, which makes for such a harsh contrast when compared to Peeta’s more measured reaction later in the chapter

He tilts his forehead down to rest against mine and pulls me closer. [...] I don’t try to move away. Why should I, anyway? His voice drops to a whisper. “I love you.” That’s why. - Oh man, Katniss just can’t catch a break 😞 Really not wise of Gale to drop the L-bomb here (after, what? a kiss they never talked about and little else... their communication is truly abysmal and it’s really damaging to their relationship, hurting the both of them)

“Gale, I can’t think about anyone that way now. All I can think about, every day, is how afraid I am. And there doesn’t seem to be room for anything else. If we could get somewhere safe, maybe I could be different. I don’t know.” I can see him swallowing his disappointment. “So, we’ll go. We’ll find out.” - I mean, honestly, I totally understand where Katniss is coming from - she doesn’t need a romantic interest, she needs a partner, which is why she’s been so eager to talk to her hunting partner, someone she’s used to rely on for survival and now he’s also confounding their relationship by introducing that romance-angle (as if it wasn’t bad enough that her relationship with Peeta got kind of messed up when that same angle was forced upon them prematurely)... Also, telling how Katniss thinks she’d have to be different to maybe even consider a romantic relationship with Gale - Katniss as she is right now just can’t see herself wanting to be with Gale romantically; it would require a change... I’ve got to give Gale credit for still going along with it, and trying to push past his disappointment, though

“My [Gale’s] mother is going to take some convincing.” [...] “Mine, too. I’ll just have to make her see reason. Take her for a long walk. Make sure she understands we won’t survive the alternative.” “She’ll understand. I watched a lot of the Games with her and Prim. She won’t say no to you,” says Gale. - That’s interesting, I wonder what exactly Gale means by that? That Mrs. Everdeen won’t say no to Katniss because she feels guilty that Katniss had to go through the Games or because watching her daughter compete in the Games really made her realize how messed up Panem is? Or that she’s more inclined to trust Katniss’s judgement after everything that has happened?

“Haymitch will be the real challenge.” “Haymitch?” Gale abandons the chestnuts. “You’re asking him to come with us?” “I have to, Gale. I can’t leave him and Peeta because they’d-” His scowl cuts me off. “What?” “I’m sorry. I didn’t realize how large our party was,” he snaps at me. - Gale doesn’t seem to have realized how close and important Peeta and Haymitch have become to Katniss... maybe because they never properly talked about this aspect of Katniss’s life (I swear, their shoddy communication must account for at least half of the damage their relationship has taken in these past few months alone)

“What if he [Peeta] decides to stay?” he [Gale] asks. I try to sound indifferent, but my voice cracks. “Then he stays.” “You’d leave him behind?” Gale asks. “To save Prim and my mother, yes,” I answer. “I mean, no! I’ll get him to come.” “And me, would you leave me?” Gale’s expression is rock hard now. - Boy, oh boy! I think Gale knows (like Peeta) that Katniss could never leave behind the people she cares about; then, he’s kind of gauging whether Peeta has already received the Katniss Everdeen Stamp of ‘Caring’ - and, as it turns out, he has! And then Gale ends up making it into a bit of  competition by asking her whether she would leave him behind (or, alternately, her turning him down has him confused about the depth of their relationship, I dunno); not fun

“There’s an uprising in Eight?” he [Gale] says in a hushed voice. I try to backpedal. To defuse him, as I tried to defuse the districts. - Katniss is going to be about as successful as she’d been at defusing the districts, too - But here we have another example of Katniss trying to rein in Gale’s temper because she’s afraid he’s going to get himself in trouble (like when she decided not to tell him about Snow’s visit to her house because she was worried what he’d do with that information)... It’s really not great that she feels the need to censor herself so he won’t do something dangerous... Katniss knows first-hand how badly impulsive actions and decisions can be received in the Capitol - and she never even meant for a rebellion to happen!

“And it’s my fault, Gale. Because of what I did in the arena. If I had just killed myself with those berries, none of this would’ve happened. Peeta could have come home and lived, and everyone else would have been safe. too.” “Safe to do what?” he says in a gentler tone. “Starve? Work like slaves? Send their kids to the reaping? You haven’t hurt people - you’ve given them an opportunity. They just have to be brave enough to take it. - Katniss is taking all the responsibility upon herself again... Gale is right to point out that she was merely a catalyst, not the cause for the rebellion - the cause are the awful living conditions of the people in the districts

“Stop it! You don’t know what you’re saying. The Peacekeepers outside of Twelve, they’re not like Darius, or even Cray! The lives of district people - they mean less than nothing to them!” I say. “That’s why we have to join the fight!” he answers harshly. “No! we have to leave here before they kill us and a lot of other people, too!” [...] “You leave, then, I’d never go in a million years.” [...] “What about your family?” “What about the other families, Katniss? The ones who can’t run away?” - This discourse is so painful because they are both right - Katniss has seen more of the districts and how things are handled beyond the (relatively tame) confines of D12 and it’s fair that she wants to know that the people she cares about are safe from harm; Gale, of course, has a point commenting that not everyone has that opportunity and the only way to have a long-lasting, wide-spread improvement of their conditions is through rebelling against their oppressor - but that will inevitably come along with sacrifices and collateral damage and it’s easy to say that it will be worth it in the long run, but when those who are hurt/dead could end up being your loved ones, it’s definitely easier said than done

He throws Cinna’s gloves at my feet. “I changed my mind. I don’t want anything they made in the Capitol.” And he’s gone. I look down at the gloves. Anything they made in the Capitol? Was that directed at me? Does he think I am now just another product of the Capitol and therefore something untouchable? The unfairness of it all fills me with rage. But it’s mixed up with fear over what kind of crazy thing he might do next. - Gale getting rid of Cinna’s gloves just because they are from the Capitol is a prime example of this “us vs. them” mindset that he will be (worringly) fast to adopt - of course, perceiving the opposite side as “other” will make it easier to fight against them; however, it’s all too easy to lose sight of your opponent’s humanity when you think like that (think of how Gale has a hard time understanding Katniss’s distress upon seeing her prep team being treated so terribly/inhumanely in D13); Katniss feeling upset that Gale might perceive her as a product of the Capitol instead of its victim is understandable (and isn’t that exactly what the inhabitants of D13 are going to think of Peeta in MJ?) - and yet, she is still worried Gale could get himself into trouble with his impulsivity; she’s a good bean

”Going to town?” I ask. “Yes. I’m supposed to eat dinner with my family,” he [Peeta] says. - I’m tripping over the word ‘supposed’ here - it doesn’t sound like Peeta’s looking forward to hanging out with his fam, although it can’t be that often, since they’ve been away on Victory Tour and he is living alone (maybe the end of the chapter will give us another hint why that is 😒😒)... I can’t help but wonder whether these family dinners are mainly for public perception (in that case... it really is no wonder Peeta is so good at playing the cameras - poor guy had to fool the outside world his entire life) or because they are the only chance for Peeta to hang out with any of the members of his family he might actually want to spend some time with

“Peeta, if I asked you to run away from the district with me, would you?” Peeta takes my arm, bringing me to a stop. He doesn’t need to check my face to see if I’m serious. “Depends on why you’re asking.” President Snow wasn’t convinced by me. There’s an uprising in District Eight. We have to get out,” I say. “By ‘we’ do you mean just you and me? No. Who else would be going?” he asks. - Peeta doesn’t just blindly agree to Katniss’s proposal; he needs to know what’s going on first (he has been burnt before - no more secrets!) - and it’s a testament to how well he knows her that as soon as he’s asking whether she meant just the two of them, he corrects himself because knows that Katniss would never leave the ones she cares about behind

“What about Gale?” he says. “I don’t know. He might have other plans,” I say. Peeta shakes his head and gives me rueful smile. “I bet he does. Sure, Katniss, I’ll go.” I feel a slight twinge of hope. “You will?” “Yeah. But I don’t think for a minute you will,” he says. [...] “Then you don’t know me. Be ready. It could be any time.” - Telling how Peeta immediately agrees to the plan once he gathers that Gale won’t come - he knows that Katniss cares about Gale and could never leave him behind, ergo she’d never actually leave under these circumstances - he knows her so well. Also, Katniss’s reaction is like that of a petulant child, it’s kind of funny 😄

“Katniss, hold up.” [...] “I really will go, if you want me to. I just think we better talk it through with Haymitch. Make sure we won’t be making things worse for everyone.” - Ultimately, Peeta would follow Katniss to the ends of the earth - doesn’t mean that he can’t throw in a sensible suggestion in there as well 😉 (Also, in the next chapter we will see how Katniss, Gale, and Peeta might be a little too inexperienced/naive to be able to form accurate expectations of what is to come - Haymitch and his generation have a little more experience in that regard)

He raises his head. “What’s that?” [...] I haven’t noticed the strange noise coming from the square. A whistling, the sound of an impact, the intake of breath from a crowd. “Come on,” Peeta says, his face suddenly hard. I don’t know why. I can’t place the sound, even guess at the situation. But it means something bad to him. - Why does my sweet boy know what a whipping sounds like, Suzanne, huh?! Care to explain that? 😭

Peeta steps up on a crate against the wall of the sweetshop and offers me a hand while he scans the square. I’m halfway up when he suddenly blocks my way. “Get down. Get out of here!” He’s whispering, but his voice is harsh with insistence. - Peeta was offering his hand to help Katniss up the crate because they are a team (and he’s a gentleman)! It’s only when he recognizes who is receiving those lashes and realizes that Katniss will lose her shit once she knows, which could make the current situation even worse, that he urges her to leave, and he is not the only one to think that: - Voices hiss. “Get out of here, girl.” “Only make it worse.” What do you want to do? Get him killed?”

Chapter 8

It’s too late to stop the arm from descending, and I instinctively know I won’t have the power to block it. Instead I throw myself directly between the whip and Gale. I’ve flung out my arms to protext as much of his broken body as possible, so there’s nothing to deflect the lash. I take the full force of it across the left side of my face. - Katniss is so selfless; she knows that it’s either Gale getting hit again or a lash to her own face and she chooses the latter

“Hold it!” a voice barks. Haymitch appears and trips over a Peacekeeper lying on the ground. It’s Darius. [...] He’s knocked out but still breathing. What happened? Did he try to come to Gale’s aid before I got here? - Haymitch sure appeared quickly - I can easily imagine Peeta taking off immediately to get him (or send someone to bring him to the square) once he knew Katniss couldn’t be stopped; but if Haymitch had been at his house in Victor’s Village, there is no way he’d have made that quickly to the square... maybe he was already at the Hob and had gotten wind of the whole situation? Also, poor Darius! Wearing a uniform/being in some sort of position of power is no guarantee you won’t get punished as soon as you show the tiniest glimpse of compassion - in a place like Panem, nobody is safe from the caprice of the people in charge

I see a flicker of recognition in the eyes of the man with the whip. [...] it wouldn’t be easy to identify me as the victor of the last Hunger Games. Especially with half my face swelling up. But Haymitch has been showing up on television for years, and he’d be difficult to forget. - Getting Haymitch truly was the smartest move to make (which is why I’m pretty sure it was a move on Peeta’s part - he’d know how to use reminders of ‘appearances’ to ensure a punishment wouldn’t go ‘too far’, y’know 😢). But also - Thread must have lived under a flipping rock, to not being able to recognizes Katniss (her face must have been plastered all over the place during the Victory Tour, which just had concluded recently) - or he was just too in the heat of the moment, with someone opposing him, bleugh 😒

“He [Gale] was poaching. What business is it of hers, anyway?” says the man. “He’s her cousin.” Peeta’s got my other arm now, but gently. “And she’s my fiancée. So if you want to get to him, expect to go through both of us.” - I love how Peeta’s just laying it down as it is; his phrasing just sounds so factual, rather than provocative (although it is, of course); he really has a way with words - Maybe we’re it. The only three people in the district who could make a stand like this. Although it’s sure to be temporary. There will be repercussions. - Haymitch, Peeta, and Katniss working together as a team again! Also, a good example of the effect people with public influence can have 

One [Peacekeeper], a woman named Purnia who eats regularly at Greasy Sae’s, steps forward stiffly. “I believe, for a first offense, the required number of lashes has been dispensed, sir. Unless your sentence is death, which we would carry out by firing squad.” “Is that the standard protocol here?” asks the Head Peacekeeper. “Yes, sir,” Purnia says, and several others nod in agreement. I’m sure none of them actually know because, in the Hob, the standard protocol for someone showing up with a wild turkey is for everybody to bid on the drumsticks. - It’s kinda nice to see the local Peacekeepers supporting Purnia’s claim to get this display to stop - this is the only way out of this situation where Thread’s authority is not openly challenged (and we know Thread doesn’t take well to having his authority challenged - see Darius)

There’s no stretcher, but the old woman at the clothing stall sells us the board that serves as her countertop. “Just don’t tell where you got it,” she says, packing up the rest of her goods quickly. Most of the square has emptied, fear getting the better of compassion. But after what happened, I can’t blame anyone. - It’s sad how that air of intimidation makes people want to mask their acts of compassion (and also says a lot about the precariousness of the existing living situations if that old lady is still selling that board - I’d never even consider exchanging money for that, but that’s probably my privileged situation showing here; Katniss brings up the theme of fear vs compassion - very fitting, since it seems to be her driving force (although, generally, her compassion wins out over her fear) and despite her assertion that fear appears to be getting the better of compassion we see a good amount of people reaching out to help, such as the following example:

Leevy, a girl who lives a few houses down from mine in the Seam, takes my arm. My mother kept her little brother alive last year when he caught the measles. “Need help getting back?” Her gray eyes are scared but determined. - The subtle suggestion here that Leevy might be further motivated to help out because Katniss’s mom helped her little brother is also an excellent example of how kindness breeds kindness

“Get some snow on that,” Haymitch orders over his shoulder. I scoop up a handful of snow and press it against my cheek, numbing a bit of the pain. - This moment reminded me of Peeta immediately reaching for some ice from that fruit tureen after Haymitch hit him on their way to the Games in THG (Ch. 4) - their different immediate reactions to getting hit in the face could simply be due to the fact that Katniss is a little too preoccupied worrying about Gale to think about her injury, of course, but I feel like you could also interpret them as examples for how much experience Katniss and Peeta have with being hit in the face, respectively...

Gale must have gone to Cray’s house, as he’s done a hundred times, knowing Cray pays well for a wild turkey. Instead he found the new Head Peacekeeper, a man they heard someone call Romulus Thread. No one knows what happened to Cray. He was buying white liquor in the Hob just this morning [...] but now he’s nowhere to be found. - As I’ve already mentioned regarding Darius, inhabiting some position of power does not guarantee you any safety in Panem (there is always someone more powerful who will treat their inferiors like garbage, if they feel like it)

By the time I showed up, he [Gale]’d been lashed at least forty times. He passed out around thirty. - Jesus 😨 poor Gale!

“What about Darius?” Peeta asks.“ After about twenty lashes, he stepped in, saying that was enough. Only he didn’t do it smart and official, like Purnia did. He grabbed Thread’s arm and Thread hit him in the head with the butt of the whip. Nothing good waiting for him,” says Bristel. - It’s so messed up how it is not enough to have someone who’d stand up and do something about a horrible situation - they have to do it the right way, or else they’re toast; there really shouldn’t have to be a smart way of doing the right thing

Snow begins, thick and wet, making visibility even more difficult. - (President) Snow is coming down hard on them, making it hard to see what’s up ahead

Ever so gently, she [Mrs. Everdeen] begins to clean the mutilated flesh on Gale’s back. I feel sick to the stomach, useless, the remaining snow dripping from my glove into a puddle on the floor. Peeta puts me in a chair and holds a cloth filled with fresh snow to my cheek. - Although she’s quite squeamish, Katniss stays as Gale gets treated (the force that holds the loved ones of the hurt/dying, just like when Peeta was being treated after their Games); meanwhile, Peeta is taking care of Katniss - there is so much care + love to be found in this moment

My mother has to save the strongest [painkillers] for the worst pain, but what is the worst pain? To me, it’s always the pain that is present. If I were in charge, those painkillers would be gone in a day because I have so little ability to watch suffering. - Honestly, same; I can’t stomach seeing other people suffer without feeling overwhelmed and feeling like crying... I don’t know how professionals do it

“Just give him the medicine!” I scream at her. [...] “Take her out,” says my mother. Haymitch and Peeta literally carry me from the room while I shout obscenities at her. They pin me down on a bed in one of the extra bedrooms until I stop fighting. - Oof. Poor Katniss! But yeah, it was the best call to remove her from the situation, Mrs. E. had to focus on what she was doing... Also, Haymitch and Peeta are the ones to get Katniss out of there and stay with her - these three take care of each other!

After a while, my mother comes in and treats my face. Then she holds my hand, stroking my arm, while Haymitch fills her in on what happened with Gale. “So it’s starting again?” she says. “Like before?” - Katniss’s mom has become a much more active and soothing presence in this book, I like it... Also, what does “again” mean? Does this imply there has been an attempted uprising in D12 that needed to be squashed before?

Cray would have been disliked, anyway, because of the uniform he wore, but it was his habit of luring starving young women into his bed for money that made him an object of loathing in the district. In really bad times, the hungriest would gather at his door at nightfall, vying for the chance to earn a few coins to feed their families by selling their bodies. Had I been older when my father died, I might have been among them. - Horrifying and absolutely disgusting 🤢 Those poor women! How desperate they must have been! 

... when the doorbell rings, I shoot straight out of bed. [...] “They [the peacekeepers] can’t have him,” I say. “Might be you they’re after,” Haymitch reminds me. “Or you,” I say. “Not my house,” Haymitch points out. “But I’ll get the door.” “No, I’ll get it,” says my mother quietly. - Again, Mrs. Everdeen is taking the initiative! She was so watered down in the movies

[Madge] holds out a small, damp cardboard box to me. “Use these for your friend,” she says. I take off the lid of the box, revealing half a dozen vials of clear liquid. [...] “What is that stuff?” asks Peeta. “It’s from the Capitol. It’s called morphling,” my mother answers. “I didn’t even know Madge knew Gale,” says Peeta. “We used to sell her strawberries,” I say almost angrily. What am I angry about, though? Not that she has brought the medicine, surely. “She must have quite a taste for them,” says Haymitch. That’s what nettles me. It’s the implication that there’s something going on between Gale and Madge. And I don’t like it. “She’s my friend” is all I say. - I mean, Katniss could be mad because A) Gale had literally just told her he loved her a few hours ago and if there was something (reciprocated) going on between Gale and Madge, that would have been pretty shitty for both girls involved and also B) she is friends with both of them and it would be hurtful to learn that two of your closest friends had been seeing each other without telling you anything about it... also, she’s super upset over Gale getting so seriously hurt just after they’d had an argument, her feelings are all over the place

... I’m selfish. I’m a coward. I’m the kind of girl, who, when she might actually be of use, would run to stay alive and leave those who couldn’t follow to suffer and die. This is the girl Gale met in the woods today. No wonder I won the Games. No decent person ever does. You saved Peeta, I think weakly. But now I question even that. I knew good and well that my life back in District 12 would be unlivable if I let that boy die. - Yes, Katniss, you knew that your life back in D12 would have been unlivable if he died - but not because you feared that people would shun you; it was because you “couldn’t lose the boy with the bread” and because “if he dies, I’ll never go home, not really”... This is an excellent example of how distorted your memories can get when you are in a bad headspace at present

The berries. I realize the answer to who I am lies in that handful poisonous fruit. If I held them out to save Peeta because I knew I would be shunned if I came back without him, then I am despicable. If I held them out because I loved him, I am still self-centered, although forgivable. But if I held them out to defy the Capitol, I am someone of worth. - Katniss, you don’t have to be planning to overthrow a corrupt and cruel government to be someone of worth! You’re someone of worth just by being yourself! - The trouble is, I don’t know exactly what was going on inside me at that moment. - Frankly, very rarely are our motivations clearly defined by a single factor - or my professor would not have been able to teach an entire semester-long course on motivation psychology😉)

Chapter 9

Gale’s dead to the world, but his fingers are locked around mine. I smell fresh bread and turn my stiff neck to find Peeta looking down at me with such a sad expression. I get the sense that he’s been watching us awhile. “Go on up to bed, Katniss. I’ll look after him now,” he says. - Peeta! Must have been hard for him to see Katniss like this (and the underlying strength of Katniss and Gale’s relationship, when his relationship with Katniss is still not all that solidified), and yet he’s being such a good bean about it 😭

I give a strangled cry and wake with a start, sweating and shivering at once. Cradling my damaged cheek in my hand, I remind myself that it was not Clove but Thread who gave me this wound. I wish that Peeta were here to hold me, until I remember I’m not supposed to wish that anymore. I have chosen Gale and the rebellion, and a future with Peeta is the Capitol’s design, not mine. - Katniss, gurl... Maybe your instinctive desire to receive comfort from Peeta is trying to tell you something??!? Also, Katniss is forcing this strange dichotomous association of Gale = rebellion and Peeta = Capitol, when in just a bit, she’s clearly connecting Peeta to the rebellion as well (aside from the fact that Peeta was basically the first person to suggest to her that maybe a rebellion was necessary... just saying)

Fighting the Capitol assures their swift retaliation. I must accept that at any moment I can be arrested. [...] There might be torture. Mutliation. A bullet through the skull in the town square [...] I imagine these things and I’m terrified, but let’s face it: They’ve been lurking in the back of my brain, anyway. [...] I’m already a target. - Oh geez! Despite admitting that she’s terrified of what the Capitol is capable fo doing to her, Katniss is still pretty composed naming the possible horrors in store for her, which is just a heartbreaking reminder of how many terrible things she has already had to endure.🙁

Now comes the harder part. I have to face the fact that my family and friends might share this fate. Prim. I need only to think of Prim and all my resolve disintegrates. It’s my job to protect her. [...] I can’t let the Capitol hurt Prim. - 😭😭😭 Katniss has reached a point where she can put her own need for survival/physical intactness aside, but the thought of something awful happening to Prim stops her short (it’s so strange to think that, in a twisted way, it wasn’t the Capitol who’d ended up inflicting the final harm upon Prim...)

And then it hit’s me. They already have. They have killed her father in those wretched mines. They have sat by as she almost starved to death. [...] She has been hurt far worse than I had at the age of twelve. And even that pales in comparison with Rue’s life. [...] Prim... Rue... aren’t they the very reason I have to try to fight? Because what has been done to them is so wrong, so beyond justification, so evil that there is no choice? Because no one has the right to treat them as they have been treated? Yes. This is the thing to remember when fear threatens to swallow me up. What I am about to do, whatever any of us are forced to endure, it is for them. - All these things are very true and it’s also very fitting that the main motivation for Katniss would be to ensure a better future for the children of Panem (and to avenge the evils done to the people close to her heart... while Katniss of course can see the abstract bigger picture/reason for the rebellion, she always operates best when it comes to specific people/circumstances she has a deep, personal connection with)... But also: all these things apply to you, too, Katniss! Despite your tendency to feel responsible for everything and everyone, you’re still a child that had to grow up way too fast and had to endure way too much!

We need someone to direct us and reassure us this is possible. And I don’t think I’m that person. I may have been a catalyst for rebellion, but a leader should be someone with conviction, and I’m barely a convert myself. Someone with unflinching courage, and I’m still working hard at finding mine. Someone with clear and persuasive words, and I’m so easily tongue-tied. Words. I think of words and I think of Peeta. - Katniss’s idea of a great leader for the rebellion is Peeta - interesting, isn’t it (she could have considered Gale, but no)? She makes a good point, though: it helps when a leader has plenty of charisma, and our boy has that in spades; he’s got a good set of morals, is not above joining in on the action/risking his own neck when the need arises and is very genuine and purposeful with his words and actions, which is inspiring... I think Katniss is severely underselling how courageous she is, though

He could move a crowd to action, I bet, if he chose to. Would find the things to say. But I’m sure the idea has never crossed his mind. - Why would you assume that, Katniss? Peeta’s literally the one to suggest to you that trying to placate the district might not be the right thing to do... Peeta’s not someone who’d stir up trouble just for the sake of stirring up trouble, sure; he’s much more deliberate about doing things the ‘right’ way, but he’s not generally opposed to challenging authorities (he’s literally the one to openly gift some of your winnings to another district!)

She knows what she’s doing, my mother. I feel a pang of remorse about yesterday, the awful things I yelled at her as Peeta and Haymitch dragged me from the kitchen. “I’m sorry. About screaming at you yesterday.” - It’s so sweet how Katniss feels sorry for yelling at her mom and apologizes to her; their relationship really has improved so much in this book - “I’ve heard worse,” she says. “You’ve seen how people are, when someone they love is in pain.” Someone they love. [...] Of course, I love Gale. But what kind of love does she mean? What do I mean when I say I love Gale? I don’t know. I did kiss him last night, in a moment when my emotions were running so high. But i’m sure he doesn’t remember it. Does he? I hope not. - Katniss is struggling to figure out in what way she loves Gale... She definitely doesn’t want him to remember their kiss because she knows it wouldn’t be fair to give him the hope that she might be able to return his romantic feelings when she is still in the dark about her own

... and I can’t really think about kissing when I’ve got a rebellion to incite. I give my head a little shake to clear it. “Where’s Peeta?” I say. - Lol, goes on to immediately mention the guy she’s been kissing these past few weeks (see, with Peeta you could actually have both: kissing and rebellion, Katniss - he’s the perfect man, isn’t he? 😉😋)

“He went home when he heard you stirring. Didn’t want to leave his house unattended during the storm,” says my mother. - Yeah, I don’t think Peeta left because of his house; I’m pretty sure he needed some time to himself after seeing Katniss and Gale this morning - he is the type of person who needs to be alone to work through his feelings when he’s feeling upset - “Did he get back all right?” [...] “Why don’t you give him a call and check?” she says. I go into the study, a room I’ve pretty much avoided since my meeting with President Snow, and dial Peeta’s number. After a few rings he answers. “Hey. I just wanted to make sure you got home,” I say. “Katniss. I live three houses away from you,” he says. “I know, but with the weather and all,” I say. “Well, I’m fine. Thank you for checking.” There’s a long pause. “How’s Gale?” - Aww, Katniss is worried about Peeta and gives him a call, although she hates being in the study 😊 Also, her calling him must have been at least of some reassurance to Peeta that she genuinely cares about him, in some way (though, he’s still clearly busy processing her relationship with Gale, since he’s asking about him as if he hadn’t seen that dude just a couple of minutes prior)

“Have you seen Haymitch today?” “I checked in on him. Dead drunk. But I built up his fire and left him some bread,” he says. “I wanted to talk to - to both of you.” I don’t dare add more, here on my phone, which is surely tapped. -  Despite everything, Peeta still made sure to look after Haymitch! And I know, there is also the issue of their houses themselves potentially being bugged, but I couldn’t help imagining how they could easily avoid the whole phone-tapping thing simply by using a tin can telephone (they do live pretty close to each other, after all) 😂

“You don’t even have a phone,” I say. “Effie had that fixed,” he [Haymitch] says. “Do you know she asked me if I’d like to give you away? I told her the sooner the better.” “Haymitch.” I can hear the pleading creeping into my voice. “Katniss.” He mimics my tone. “It won’t work.” - Okay, but Haymitch mimicking Katniss’s tone reminds me so much of when Peeta mimicked her tone towards the end of their Games, when she was trying to persuade him to climb into a tree as a lookout while he was insistent she’d show him some plants to gather; these three, I swear! 😂 On a sad note, Haymitch is talking from experience here when he’s advising Katniss not to challenge the Capitol 🥺😢

Some streets away from the square, I see a blaze flare up. None of us has to say it. That can only be the Hob going up in smoke. I think of Greasy Sae, Ripper, all my friends who make their livings there. - Katniss considers the people from the Hob her friends - honestly, even if the Hawthornes, Everdeens, Peeta and Haymitch all had agreed to leave D12, I don’t think Katniss would have been able to go through with it - she cares too much about the people in D12 to have been able to leave them to their fate

“Well, I better go see how much rubbing alcohol the apothecary can spare.” He [Haymitch] trudges off across the square and I look at Peeta. “What’s he want that for?” Then I realize the answer. “We can’t let him drink it. He’ll kill himself, or at the very least go blind. I’ve got some white liquor put away at home.” “Me, too. Maybe that will hold him until Ripper finds a way to be back in business,” says Peeta. - Another instance of Katniss and Peeta being on the same wavelength, having taken precautions to help out Haymitch so he doesn’t have to go cold turkey again

We find Hazelle in her house, nursing a very sick Posy. I recognize the measles spots. “I couldn’t leave her,” she says. “I knew Gale’d be in the best possible hands.” - The second mention of someone having contracted the measles in D12 - Why the heck does the Capitol withhold measles vaccination from the people in the districts?! They’re inflicting unnecessary damage onto the very people they want to exploit... But I guess cruelty isn’t always about playing it smart and logical...

When we’re outside, I turn to Peeta. “You go on back. I want to walk by the Hob.” “I’ll go with you,” he says. “No. I’ve dragged you into enough trouble,” I tell him. “And avoiding a stroll by the Hob... that’s going to fix things for me?” He smiles and takes my hand. - They are a team, they stick together (and they are constantly holding hands, always physically linked to each other)😩💕 Also, Peeta pointing out the irrationality of Katniss’s train of thought to calm her down and stay with her reminds me of how he’s going to use logical reasoning to calm her down after the jabberjays in the Quarter Quell arena

We go back to the square. I buy some cakes from Peeta’s father while they exchange small talk about the weather. No one mentions the ugly tools of torture just yards from the front door. The last thing I notice as we leave the square is that I do not recognize even one of the Peacekeepers’ faces. - How weird is it that Peeta and his dad just talk about the weather?! Is this supposed to illustrate how in the Mellark family they just ignored the ugliness going on in their lives *cough cough* the abuse *cough cough* and just pretended that everything was fine, on a very superficial level? Also, it makes perfect sense that the Peacekeepers have been exchanged; the more time we spend with people, the more likely we are to like them - that won’t do if you want to have a ruthless authoritarian police force in the districts

As the days pass, things go from bad to worse. The mines stay shut for two weeks, and by that time half of District 12 is starving. The number of kids signing up for tesserae soars, but they often don’t receive their grain. Food shortages begin, and even those with money come away from stores empty-handed. [...] The eagerly awaited food promised for Parcel Day arrives spoiled and defiled by rodents. - This is just so awful and despicable 😞 Life in the districts was already horrible but now the government does not even honor the extortionary rules they themselves have set up! I can’t help but wonder if the lack of food could be traced back to rebellions in the food supplying districts and, to keep this from the inhabitants of the Capitol, the reduced amount of good food was (obviously) kept for the Capitolites, so that the bad food had to be sent to the districts, anyway... It just seems like such a breach of ‘honor’/etiquette on the Capitol’s part, I dunno... Or maybe Snow was just desperate to use any means necessary to stamp out any potential rebellions in the districts that he still had some control over...

Gale goes home with no more talk of rebellion between us. But I can’t help thinking that everything he sees will only strengthen his resolve to fight back. [...] Rory has signed up for tesserae, something Gale can’t even speak about - Poor, Gale! Poor Hawthornes :(

My fingers have all but decided to release the arrow when I see the object in the glove. It’s a small white circle of flat bread. More of a cracker, really. Gray and soggy around the edges. But an image is clearly stamped in the center of it. It’s my mockingjay. - It is so very telling that the true symbol of the rebellion combines something symbolic of Katniss (which also contains a nod to Rue) and something symbolic of Peeta (the bread/cracker!) The people in the districts have rightfully recognized the both of them as symbol of the rebellion; they have a truer vision of the matter than the more artifically/forcefully constructed symbol of rebellion that D13 /Coin will push - we will also see that when the people in D13 will view Peeta as a traitor, while the rebels Katniss will visit in D8 instead ask her about Peeta and assure her that they know he was speaking under duress