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#lived as a rebel died as one
kurohaai · 2 years
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“YOu’re a weird persOn, yOu knOw?"
But I never regret meeting yOu.
--
The Retainer ♦️ The Seneschal
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arolesbianism · 2 days
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I’ve been having a rough few days, but I’ve been feeling a bit better so I decided to make some lil thingies for some spiraling upwards kitties :3
#keese draws#warrior cats oc#spiraling upwards#I’ve posted art of ratstar and pigeonbillow before but the other three I haven’t I think#but yeah these are some more of the minkclan founders#and by that I mean two of them are and one of them was a kitten at the time#lightning is haveniris’ mom but she didn’t trust herself to raise him so her clanmates sort of collectively raised him#and by that I mean mostly pigeon and two other old ppl that aren’t included here#light did end up opening up to him more and acting as more of a mom after he chose to become a medic tho#the two have a complicated relationship for sure but they still care abt each other a lot#oh yeah and literally all of these guys are dead by the time murtle rolls around except for haven#pigeon died about two years before the other two and raincinder has been dead since before minkclan was properly founded#which is unsurprising given she’s such an old withering woman#she mostly made it that long because she was given a guide sponsor life#so long story short not all starclan cats actually get to use the cool starclan powers and those who do are usually ‘sponsored’ with an#extra life and a cool star like marking#this isn’t a well known thing tho and even within starclan only higher ranking cats rly know anything beyond knowing that every now and#then new guides are chosen#now usually what’s supposed to happen is that the sponsored cat has a close eye kept on them and if they are deemed worthy they’re allowed#to keep their mark and become a guide once they die the second time#the main flaw in this system is that the cat who sponsored them has to be the one to revoke it#so if they refuse to revoke it for whatever reason there’s not much that can be done about it#or in raincinder’s case her sponsor ended up fading before they could judge her fully#so even though by all means even the most rebel friendly guides would revoke it easily she managed to keep her mark til death#this was ofc largely helped by her living til 19 fucking years dear god woman#but hey I guess it means minkclan gets a guide even though she’s a rly shitty one#rly that mostly only matters for the sake of nine lives and the sake of travel between starclan and the living territories#which actually does cause a lot of problems when all the guides decide to go haunt a child instead#oh also guides also pass on their mark to leaders who’s life ceremony they hosted#not the guide role tho each guide gets a new mark
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jelly-o630 · 7 days
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Everything I learn about my grandpa just reinforces the fact that my dad did a GREAT job
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opens-up-4-nobody · 9 months
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You don't understand how unhinged I feel trying to construct an ending for Bleach that I personally would enjoy while knowing Bleach does not deserve my time and also not remembering enough to actually make anything coherent. And yet here I am.
#god. no one gives a fuck abt bleaching. i am screaming into the void. y cant i put this energy into being productive#i just want there to be themes and a satisfying ending. and ending that is sad and yet happy#i just think. for me. ichigo kurosaki died on the night rukia pierced him with her zanpakto. oh fuck i cant spell. fucking strap in#i kno he didnt technically die according to the rules of the universe but i think as soon as ichigos soul left his body. that body became#a corpse. so when he goes back into it its not suitible to live in anymore and he only starts to feel that with the fullbring arc#i think when rukia jumpstarted his powers she lit the fuse of a bomb and becoming a visor allowed him to chanel his resentment#bc he does resent. ichigo is an emotional person. he felt emense guilt when his mothet died bc he felt he couldnt protect her bc he was#being raised to protect. the boy has a complex and its kinda fuckrd up and its 1000% isshins fault. so when thr opportunity comes for#ichigo to sacrifice himself for his family he does and he literally and metaphorically dies. his life from that point on is overtaken by#death. so what do we do with ichigo after everything is said and done bc he cant go back to being human he cant be a living corpse. he has#to go to the soul society. bc i like to imagine everything hes done to his soul. his twisted cosmically weird special boy soul. hes like a#bomb. its unstable and they need to teach him to control it so he doesnt tear a hole in reality and let thr hollows pour in. so its safer#if that happens in thr soul society. and rukia lil miss ice princess can teach him to do that. i would also make it weird with god stuff but#i never read the blood war stuff so i dont kno enough abt the gods. also i would make rukia more at odds with everyone who was gonna let her#fucking die and who overlooked her bc she should b held with more reguard for her fighting. but misogyny 😒 so then what do we do with#ichigo in thr soul society? i cant stand the idea of him becoming part of the institution. i cant. i think he should be rogue. rebell. idk#train to be strong and battle agaisnt the 13 court guard squad who r clearly going to try to control him as he tries to control himself.#send my boy to therapy so he can control his reatsu? is the the word? idk. maybe he should go to that dead dog district and look for kids#with spiritual pressure. he needs to feel useful. maybe id just give him weird god powers. i am an ichigo special boy apologist#thats as far forward as i can think. ichigo has to b dead. has to learn to control his power before he can go fight. rukia can teach him#he rebells against the institution. encourages rukia to go apeshit bc fuck everyone. and then idk. he keeps trying to save ppl forever#or he dies and destroys the universe. a big ball of resentment and bad feels and secrets upon secrets upon secrets. god y am i thinking#abt this so much. ive got bullshit to deal with. anyway. idk i just like ichigo a lot and i think thr ending to bleach is th worst forever#bleach ramblings
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partly-cloudyskies · 1 year
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i like ahsoka but i hate how all the recent material just basically frames her as a jedi like she left the order for a reason
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andi-o-geyser · 1 year
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Every day I wake up and want to cry because there is something so comforting yet so unbelievably terrifying about a prequel series that includes characters we have seen in the future because we know that those characters will certainly survive, or at least survive the events we are witnessing in this context, but everybody else has their fate completely up in the air. Will they live? Will they die? Is their absence in the future timeline and inherent confirmation of their death, or will they be fine and is there a perfectly reasonable explanation for why they do not appear with the characters who we know will survive? And that constant hope, that persisting anxiety about their fate holds for their entire time onscreen because we know, we know that their future is not set in stone. So we're fighting against our better nature as the audience to convince ourselves that somehow the characters will survive even when it feels like we should already be grieving their loss. Anyways I'm doing fine mentally and have consumed a perfectly healthy amount of media why are you asking
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charmspoint · 1 year
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The original thing I'm brewing rn is like: Do you wish your romance novel was written by an aromantic asexual who views love as something to strap on a vivisection table? Do you wish your romance novel included themes of identity formation and crisis, of emerging self-governing and the fear and the thrill of it, o being built wrong through none of your own fault and having to adjust that wrongness into a functioning human identity, of the first experience of ever being loved after a long existence of blind worship, of love as a transformative power, as a corruptive power? Do you wish the guy was the sub?
#lucy blabs#im like ehehhe my lil barbie dolls they are so romantic they flirt they dance~#imagine living as a tool without autonomy for your entire existance#decades and centuries of it#worshiping blindly because you were made to do so#executing your order because you were made to do so#your body surrender your will non existent modified and adjusted to whims of an unfeeling uncaring god that never saw you as anything more#than a tool on his workbench#imagine being created for one purpose only to be modified for something completely different uncaringly sloppily so#leaving you as something you can no longer recognize something that you were never supposed to be#imagine if your god died then there would be no going back no fixing you no changing this cage of a body you are trapped in#you are alone you are on your own you are growing a will growing a personality you are no longer a toy on the shelf#and you know what has been done to you you are realizing it now#the pain that you had brought the pain that has been brought on you all the things you now have to live with and an understanding of what#they mean#but your god is dead and you cant even rebel against him cant even wreak havoc on his doorstep can take no revenge for yourself or those#who had not lived through the madness and the pain to see this other side of the suffering#you are a tool turned human and you are only learning to exist and existence is helplessness and hatred and injustice#and you are a being used to worship but not to love tools are made to be useful not to be loved and you had never felt a kind hand before#and then someone loves you for the first time ever someone loves you and its a toxin its a drug and you would do anything for them#it doesnt matter what they do or who they are it doesnt matter who they kill or harm#they love you and you are a being used to worship and the only way you know how to love is to throw yourself on an altar#and rip your heart out for consumption#<3 and then they kiss <3
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onthesandsofdreams · 1 year
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The Rebel and The Captain [15/?]
Pairing: Cassian x Jyn Summary: Hoth is a frozen hell, Jyn decides. Words: 407 Notes: A series of short (100 to 500 words) stories.
Read @ AO3
Hoth is a frozen hell, Jyn decides.
Luckily for her, she and Cassian share a bedroom. When asked if they wanted separate rooms, they both denied it and asked for one. Why bother with the pretense when they both know they are together and will be until death claims them.
She is not used to sharing a room, much less a bed. Thankfully, Cassian is a considerate man who does what he can to make her comfortable. He's the one who knows the people that make the Rebel Alliance, and he's her guide in these waters that she has now jumped in with all her being in honor of her father and mother. Because she knows that she will not rest until the Empire is no more.
But right now, Cassian is somewhere on the base and has not come back into their shared bed. And she is cold, even with the clothes and the furs. She wants the warmth that is him, of his arms and wants his solid presence at her side.
Then, the door opens and the familiar figure of Cassian is framed by the light that comes from the hallway. She perks up. "You're back."
"Yeah," he says as he perches on a corner of the bed. His hand coming to rest on one of her legs beneath the covers. "It was a long meeting. Did I keep you waiting long?"
"No," she admits. "It's the cold that kept me awake."
Cassian's lips curl upwards, "I know. I remember the first time I came to this base, I could hardly sleep. And I wore so many layers, I'm sure I walked funny."
She chuckles, the image of Cassian walking strange due to clothing is too funny to let pass. "I wish I could have seen that."
"And I'm glad you didn't."
She watches as he begins to remove his clothing to change into something that he can wear to bed. She drinks him in with her eyes and loves how this routine of their is a quiet one. Cassian is a beautiful man, and she knows that he finds her beautiful. She is not vain, but she welcomes the compliment from him.
"Well, come to bed."
Cassian makes his way to his side of the bed and slides in, then opens his arms and she goes to them and cuddles into him, head resting above Cassian's chest.
"Sleep well, amor."
"You too, darling."
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hauntingblue · 2 months
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I <3
IN BETWEEN ARC EPISODES
PT. 2
#fujitora talking to doffy about bringing down the shichibukai.... boy.....#wait so the reverie was confusing and thats it??? and then they all went home ajdjkss#the gvmt sending money to the press ajdhak just shooting willy nilly..... omg... word dj...#WHAT HAPPENED!!!! SABO DIDN'T DIE!!!! I CALL BULL!! OMG MAKINOOOOOO NOOOO DADAN?????#now back to ebisu.... omg koby allies with drake.... sword captain???? ultra secret infiltration agency....#CP0 IN WANO???? ENOUGH oh yeha i forgor qkdjsin#KOBY IS GONNA CAPTURE BOA HANCOCK??? DIE!!!!! bc the shichibukai are dissolving so they are criminals again... oof#bad news for buggy lmaooo he wanted to live off the government..... respect#doffy is so right it is getting interesting#talking tag#watching one piece#episode 958#fucking sabaody bubbles ENOUGH#what are they making in the marines science division..... and who tf is rocks#if they are so busy have they tried not capturing every ex shichibukai at once?? idk#why is blackbeard at the rocks pirates island.... whitebeard buddies with kaido and big mom....#ohhh the govmnt is hiding them bc they rebelled against them.... omg garp... roger helped save the tenryuubito??? even when garp doesnt#respect them?.. what.... this is why roger got sick and died....#ROGER AND ROCKS MIRROR LUFFY AND BLACKBEARD OKAY WE GET IT.... THE D CLAN TOO......#2400 million..... god#shanks looks so slay in his wanted poster...#958 episodes for a roger flashback omg... op os going to last another 1000 more i am sure#episode 957
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welshaphrodite · 1 year
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I think the saddest character in the Hunger Games franchise is Mags Flanagan. She is as almost as old as the Games themselves. She won the 11th Hunger Games. Then, for the entirety of her life, for over 60 years, she was forced to relieve that same trauma year after year, trying to train kids, save kids, just like herself. Over time Mags watched the Games get more brutal, more “entertaining”. She watched her community sacrifice two children over and over again. There is nothing Mags can do but bare it. She desensitizes herself. She reaches her 80s. She is old and almost free of the pain; the trauma has formed a callous. But Mags will continue to work until she dies. This is all she has ever known. 
Then, the 75th Quarter Quell is announced and Mags is back on the stage for the first time in 60 years. A reaping outfit. Her name in a glass bowl. The tension, the dread, the silence before the reading of the name -- Annie Cresta. But to Mags, it never mattered the name that was picked. She knew her hand was going up. And for the first time since she was a child, she is back in the Games. 
During her the 11th Hunger Games, Mags was caged in the zoo with the other tributes. This time, she is presented with a gorgeous suite, the best food the Capitol has to offer, and the finest clothes. The 11th Hunger Games were televised on a blurry screen; now, all of Panem is going to watch her every move. Mags knows she isn’t going to win. But, as she spends the last weeks of her life walking in the shoes of every child she couldn’t save, as the trauma of her own Games is as alive and present as it has ever been, she knows that, for the first time in her long life, she was able to truly save at least one person from this fate. 
Hope is a funny thing. Mags picked apart the Capitol’s logic and the heart of the Games long ago. She knows why they allow one victor, and how every tribute goes into the arena hoping its them. She knows this is unrealistic; all of Panem knows that only one will come out alive. But even as she rises into the ticking clock of the arena, that stubborn feeling flutters in her chest. Maybe she will get out of there with the rest of the rebels. But if not --
Mags looks to Johanna. To Katniss and Peeta. To Finnick. Her hope for them is stronger, steadier, than the hope for her own self-preservation. She looks into the cornucopia of weapons, the familiar ring of twenty-four tributes, and allows herself to dream that maybe, maybe, this is it. This will be the last one. 
For the first time in over half a century, Mags won’t be watching the Games from the comfort and safety of a faraway room. This time, she has the chance to help directly. To be able to protect others with more than just a parachute full of supplies. To have the ability to save another life. To save multiple lives. To save all the future children of Panem. 
The gong sounds.
Mags smiles. 
She dives into the water. 
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bibxrbie · 1 month
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"Luke Skywalker isn’t like the old Jedi. He saves Vader with his attachments!”
Wrong!
Luke Skywalker, at the end of Return of the Jedi, after his confrontation with the Emperor drags Darth Vader through the destructing Death Star. He’s desperate, knuckles white under the heavy weight of his father’s body, a little boy dragging his dad to safety. He sets Vader down for a moment, to catch his breath or maybe to get a better grip. He goes to grab Vader again, but Vader, uncomfortable and in pain, asks Luke to take off the mask. He wants to see Luke through his eyes instead of the eyes Palpatine built for him. Luke refuses, says that removing the mask is a sure way for Vader to die. Luke doesn’t want Vader dead, he wants Vader alive. Not to hold him accountable for his many evil acts, but for the same reason why Luke Skywalker can’t kill Darth Vader; Vader is his father and Luke loves him.
And yet, after a moment, Luke removes Vader’s mask. He doesn’t want to, he hesitates, but he removes the mask with enough slowness to allow Vader to take it back. In that moment, Luke sets aside his desire for Vader in his life, sets aside his desire to see him live, and sets aside his entire mission, the reason he was even on the Death Star in the place. In his compassion for his father, Luke stays with Vader until he dies. It is this moment where we see him be the best damn Jedi he can be. I’d even argue that this moment is the greatest example of non-attached love we see. Because Luke lets Vader go! He lets his father die, and in some ways, by removing the mask, he too kills Vader, he stays with him until his last moment, gives him the kindness of granting his last wish and finally chooses Vader.
And Luke doesn’t have to do this. If Luke Skywalker’s love for his father was an attachment, he would ignore Vader and continue dragging him to the escape pod, put his desire for a father as his central focus and ignore Vader’s wants and discomfort. Maybe he would even save him. But he doesn’t. Instead, he watches as Vader dies.
He builds a Jedi burial for his father and watches it burn the remnants of Vader and Anakin Skywalker away. He mourns Vader, he mourns what they could’ve had as father and son, considers what ifs and maybe-if-I-did-this. Vader/ Anakin is released from his mortal body, from his ‘crude matter’ and Luke lets him go. He says one final goodbye to Anakin. Then, he joins Leia, Han, Chewie, Lando, and the rest of the Rebels and celebrates their victory. He lives in the present and celebrates what he has instead of what he lost.
Luke Skywalker is THE Jedi. Everything about Luke Skywalker serves as the foundational cornerstone of the Jedi, everything about the Jedi as a culture and philosophy is reflected in his character. Luke’s desire for the New Jedi Order isn’t to throw away the values of the old Order, but to vitalise them, breathe life back into dying lungs, and rebuild a path that people set out on their way to destroy. (Yes, his Order is different from the Old, but that’s because it has to be. He doesn’t have the resources or the safety of the Old Order.) The philosophies of the Jedi are difficult and they aren’t for everyone, and like the perfect Jedi that Luke is, he struggles and stumbles and sometimes he even rejects it. But, no matter how far he falls, it is a way of life he chooses again and again and again. It is a way of life that welcomes him back each time
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i-upset-to-dead-65 · 5 months
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How I imagine Snow's progression of being reminded of Lucy Gray throughout the Hunger Games trilogy
1. Katniss volunteers. How cute. She has no chance of living past the bloodbath. Her name sounds familiar.
2. Katniss scores an 11 in training. So what she shot an arrow at the game makers. Well, that 11 will put a target on her and she's no match for the rest.
3. Peeta reveals he is in love with Katniss. What an interesting angle. Definitely some kind of ploy. Viewership will be up, as well as sponsors. Interesting to see how this plays out.
4. Katniss is trapped by the careers and Peeta. Aw, look, she dropped a hive on her boyfriend. Looks like she doesn't like him after all.
5. Katniss allies with Rue. Odd, and a terrible choice for an ally.
6. Rue mentions her pin, a mockingjay. The connection is made. Katniss, that swamp potato dug up by Lucy Gray and her mockingjays that still infest the districts. His dislike for Katniss grows.
7. Rue dies and Katniss sings the Meadow Song to her. A jolt runs up his spine. That old song, sung to Maude Ivory by Lucy Gray. It's still around in District 12 and now it's on national television. Snow knows how much the Capitol loves singing tributes.
8. The new rules are announced. This will be interesting. Of course, there's no way Peeta will live long enough for there to actually be two victors.
9. Katniss and Peeta are in the cave, and Peeta begins to recover. The huge influx of sponsored gifts is concerning. Katniss will hopefully die at the Feast trying to get medicine.
10. Peeta makes a full recovery. That wasn't supposed to happen, but the Capitol loves it.
11. Cato dies. Seneca didn't think they'd get this far. Time to revoke the rule change. Katniss will kill Peeta or vice versa. These children barely know each other, and in the Games they resort to their basic human nature of violence. Oh look, she's even pointing her bow at him.
12. The berries. The double victory. Seneca Crane is a dead man. They have outsmarted the idiot game makers. Snow is once again reminded of his cheating in order to help Lucy Gray win. How well that turned out for her in the end.
13. After the games. Snow is certain they are putting on an act to survive and meanwhile, defy the Capitol. Peeta is good with the crowd and is quick witted. So much like Lucy Gray. Katiss is impulsive and heartfelt. So much like Sejanus.
14. Snow learns Katniss hunts in the woods, he possibly traces her lineage, and he finds out everything he can about her. Snow takes measures to quell the rebellion brewing and control Katniss and Peeta throughout Catching Fire.
15. Katniss's wedding dress burns away into a Mockingjay dress. That damn bird again.
16. The force field gets blown out, and tributes escape. Snow recalls when the 10th Hunger Games arena was bombed.
17. Katniss's first propo is televised in the districts, declaring herself the Mockingjay. He should have killed all those birds when he had a chance.
18. The Hanging Tree propo airs. He'd almost forgotten Lucy Gray's songs. How could this girl, now, know them? The song was banned, Lucy Gray was dead. She was dead, right?
19. The rebels in District 5 sing the Hanging Tree while blowing up the damn. Chills run up his spine as he watches the live feed. A crowd of an indiscernable number flood the walkways to the hydro dam. They're singing a song they didn't know yesterday. A song no one knew until now. A song that was as dead as Lucy Gray. Except, she wasn't dead. How could she be, if her song is still sung? The dam blows and the lights go out in the Capitol. Snow half expects the ghost of Lucy Gray herself to appear before him.
20. The war is over. The Mockingjay has won. She appeared from nowhere, echoing the songs of Lucy Gray like the birds themselves. Well played, Lucy Gray. Well played.
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mxtxfanatic · 1 year
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Tbh, I think if you read an mxtx novel with the expectation that the story’s hero is meant to learn some valuable lesson that fundamentally changes their character and views on life, then you are reading her books wrong. There’s not a single mxtx protag (currently) in existence who changes by the end of the story. It’s the world they live in that is changed because of their actions:
—Shen Yuan’s Shen Qingqiu transforms a toxic masculinity fantasy into a queer romance in which the unhappy stallion protagonist with a harem in the 100s is given his monogamous happy ending with a husband he actually loves and values with reciprocity. They fuck off to their forever honeymoon after exposing the corruptness of the cultivation world that ruined Luo Binghe’s life to begin with, and all of this was only possibly because Shen Yuan was just a genuinely nice fucking person. The world lives to see another day and a fuckton of people who died (or didn’t even get to exist) in the original stallion novel get to live long, more fulfilled lives in Shen Yuan’s revision.
—Wei Wuxian is killed for sticking up for a condemned clan, is resurrected against his will, and still stands by his actions in his first life while protecting those that continued to wrongfully condemn him. As a reward, the corpses of the people he died protecting save him and his loved ones (and the rest of the bystanders who killed them), he bags himself the most perfect and perfectly matched man in the cultivation world, and he continues to help others and do what he wants to the ire of the cultivation world who are now too embarrassed to fight him. The younger generation look to him as a beloved teacher, protector, and role model to aspire towards.
—Xie Lian rebelled against hierarchy as a beloved prince of a prospering kingdom, then as a beloved god against the older gods, then as a reviled scraps god against the then most popular gods of the present day. He was always willing to lend a hand to anyone who needed it and to never hold resentment even if that kindness blew up in his face (and it often did). He gets to marry the man (ghost) who has seen him at his best and absolute worst and chooses him unconditionally, something no one else has ever done before. At the end of the novel, he is the god that all the other gods look to for guidance and strength.
None of these stories humble these characters for being good people. Even when their morally righteous actions net them unimaginably terrible results, even when they falter in the face of their failures, they ultimately remain true to their goodness. And none of the books humble them for that, because being good is not a character flaw. So in short: please stop talking about how mxtx protags “needed” to learn valuable lessons to “be good people” when they were already good people from the very beginning. These stories are not about how the world changes people but how genuinely good people can change the world just by actively being kind even with no benefit to themselves and especially if that kindness leads to detriment.
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the-phoenix-heart · 2 months
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I'm on episode three of the live action avatar the last airbender, and while I'm not a fan of all the changes they have made with her character, I love that Azula's cover story when she infiltrates the rebels is "I lost my mother and brother in the siege of ba sing se." What an unhinged way for her to reword her real circumstances. I can just see her coming up with this story and learning, telling it to herself over and over again so it can be it's most convincing. "My family was perfect before the seige of ba sing se. Then my cousin died and my uncle was never the same. My mother disappeared one day and never returned. My brother was burned and died (to me)." Love the idea she uses this as an opportunity to roleplay her trauma and allow herself some grief.
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mrsnancywheeler · 3 months
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andante, andante // finnick odair x f. reader
masterlist
3.3k words
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request: could you write a oneshot where finnick and reader have always had a flirty relationship. the reader got taken and tortured by snow during the quarter quell, and she was brought to thirteen and when finnick sees her lots of fluff (and maybe smut?) ensues. i love your work, happy 700 followers!
warnings: smut, lots of it, there's some angst in the beginning Captiol related, confessions of feelings, hurt/comfort in the beginning, pnv, some degredation, teasing, use of good girl, unprotected sex, no use of y/n, unedited
𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒
There was no energy left, not a single part of your body had any form of passion left. Long ago you'd grown immune to the effects that Peeta and Johanna's screams had once had on you, probably once the starvation and dehydration had kicked in. Not to mention when you were trying to fight off the rats you could swear where in your pitch black cell, sometimes you'd swear you saw other creatures as well, but you tried to tell yourself it was hallucinations.
So when the team from District 13 came to rescue you all, you desperately willed the energy to return. You couldn't see him like this, Finnick. Technically you were just friends, but your relationship hinged on the flirtatious, playful banter which you didn't know if you had anymore. You hadn't spoken in a while, maybe you wouldn't even recognize your voice, it's not like the Capitol had much information they could get out of you. No one had thought to inform you of the rebel plan, for a while part of you was terrified that Snow would just have you killed for not knowing anything, but you were kept alive.
You'd had endless time to spend, when you weren't hearing or seeing things in your hazy state, to think about Finnick. How you weren't sure if he felt the same way about you that you'd felt about him for years, but should've said something before all this. Wishing that before you surely died in the Capitol he would know you had always cared for him, loved him from afar. You'd rather die with your love unrequited, but known. Yet now you'd see him again and you hoped if there was a chance he had feelings for you that you were half the woman you once were.
Of course, once all the fluids the medics were pumping you full of had taken effect you'd probably feel some of the spirit you'd had return. The universe seemed to look down on you because the first feeling you did feel in full force was anxiety about Finnick. You'd heard whispers of his names from guards so you knew he wasn't dead, but hadn't a clue how he actually was. Maybe you'd made up the voices of the guards and he actually was dead, what a cruel fate that would be, but with the way your life seemed to pan out it wouldn't have shocked you. Although if he was alive it condemned you to living the rest of your life in silent adoration, but he was the only person you would ever do that for.
When you entered the District 13 base on that medical bed the next full force feeling hit, overstimulation. The only noise you had been used to in weeks were the cries of Peeta and Johanna which you'd learned to tune out regardless of how loud, and the occasional order from a guard or a whisper. The flurry of doctors ready to fully assess injuries, people standing around full of questions, all the chatter and noise had your hands flying up to cover your ears. It was too bright, too loud, the bed was rickety in the floors little bumps, and you actually longed to be back in the familiarity of the cell.
“Hey, you're okay, honey." A much softer voice, much closer, warms ringer delicately brushing the hands covering your ears. Finnick. Your eyes snapped open as you slowly observed him.
“Finnick?" Your voice was much quieter, scratchier than you'd remembered it, but he seemed to hear you just fine. His kind smile blessing you as he slowly nodded, the next emotion was relief. You hadn't cried in a while, no water to allow yourself, but the fluids must have been working miracles because you felt like there was a flood about to break through your tear ducts. “You're real right?"
His hand landed more firmly on yours, assuring you with his very real body heat. “I'm real, I'm right here with you." Slowly you moved your hands from your ears, forcing yourself to take deep breaths to handle the noise. He looked like he was going to cry, “God, I'm so glad you're okay!" Finnick's warm embrace surrounded you and it made you want to melt into him forever. “They kept sedating me because I was so worried about you."
It confused you, to hear him talking about worrying about you with so much passion, of course he'd consumed your every thought, but you'd doubted you would've been on his. “Oh, come on, you would've found someone else to banter with, Finn." The first laugh you'd had in so long forced itself out.
“Good thing that the only person I want to banter with is you, and here you are, pretty face and all."
There was a pause before your voice came out again, delicate like a flower petal floating on the waters. "I missed you.” It came out sounding more vulnerable then you'd intended, maybe even too fond and he'd pulled his arms away. Before you could retreat though you were shocked when his lips were on yours. The kiss was soft, and spoke a thousand words you could only ever wish to translate.
When he pulled away you could only stare at him stunned, he'd felt the same way you'd felt all along. “I'm sorry, I-" Before he could finish you pulled his face back in, kissing him, it was addictive, you could drown in his lips. “You know, it's rude to interrupt." He muttered out before kissing you again.
“Sorry." You weren't, there was no time to be when it was like you living in a dream. Maybe this was a dream, maybe you were back in the Capitol and had officially lost it, but the heat of his touch was too real for you to believe that.
“I've loved you for so long." Finnick's hand cupped your face which must have been burning up.
“Me too, I didn't think you'd ever even noticed me that way."
“How could I not have noticed my pretty, sweet girl that way?" His smile was so perfect it made you feel like you were floating. The doctors insisted on doing an official check up on you which Finnick stuck by you diligently for. Fluids and food was all you really needed besides further psychological evaluation, but there wasn't much time for that when apparently Peeta was turning out to be the biggest problem imaginable.
Finnick had sat by your hospital bed, slowly feeding you a soup that felt like the best thing you'd ever eaten with all the time you'd gone without a scrap. He filled you in on life in District 13, how much protocol there was, but it would be worth it to end all of this so you could be together. Apparently he'd been assigned his own compartment which he rarely used when the breakdowns hit, so he'd spent nearly every night sedated in the hospital wing.
Eventually the doctors agreed to let you take a shower, you'd still be sequestered to the hospital wing, but you were grateful for the chance to finally be clean. You could sense that Finnick hated that you would be out of his sight again, like the moment you walked away he would realize this was all a dream he was having that had slipped away under the cover of night. “Do you wanna come with?" You whispered to him as the medic on the other side took the IV out of your arm, “Somebody's gonna have to show me the way there."
“Can I?" He whispered back and hurt you to know that he'd been this hurt over you, that you'd both gone so long without a confession to the other.
You nodded slowly as you pressed a quick kiss on his lips and he smiled, maybe this wasn't a dream after all. Finnick guided you through the drab underground of District 13. It was stuffy, but you were overtaken by giddiness. The Finnick Odair was holding your hand, the Finnick Odair had meant every flirty comment he'd made, Finnick Odair loved you back, Finnick Odair wasn't just a dream you could never have, Finnick was here, Finnick was yours. He loves me, he loves me not, he loves me, he loves me not. And the final petal had determined he loved you.
He turned the water on for you and Finnick respectfully turned around so you could undress and get inside of it. Your heart swelled to think he missed you so much he would be content to just sit outside, to feel your presence in the room. The feeling of the water hitting your skin was a relief, to feel the grime being washed away. It was lonely though, to think of him patiently waiting for you, how long he's waited to know you were safe, how long he'd waited for you to confess. “Are you gonna make me be alone in here?” You cringed at the way no matter how quiet your voice was it seemed to echo.
You'd hid behind the curtain, so you didn't have to confront the question. Maybe he didn't want to, but you'd also thought he just wanted to flirt as friends. The curtain swept to the side as he peeked his handsome face in, eyes glued to your face. "Not if you need my help, honey.” You would've sworn the way he said those endearments always made butterflies flutter in your stomach, even if it was something you'd felt guilty about when he initially began using it.
The hot water should have relaxed your muscles, but staring at his perfect, handsome face was making you feel a similar sensation that you despised. Whether he knew it or not, the sound of his voice, the things he'd say, and that smile of his all did unimaginable things to you. Things you'd felt guilty for when the fantasies flashed in your mind. He'd been your friend, so it must've been wrong to imagine him with his hands between your legs. Now though, he wasn't just your friend, and the feeling was back. “Maybe I do." It was embarrassing, but just being by his body would help you or maybe it would make the feeling worse, but you didn't care.
He grinned at you and disappeared for a few seconds before he'd opened the curtain again, slipping into the shower. “What do you need my help with, sweet girl?" Now you'd have to come up with something, you tried not to let your eyes trail over his body, he wasn't looking anywhere but your face. But it was hard when it felt like some tingling part of your body was now controlling your actions.
“Can you help me clean myself off?"
"Of course, honey.” He went to grab the shampoo bottle, eyes never ducking down. Part of you wanted him too though, so that this felt less like a dirty fantasy.
"You can look at me, you know? I won't bite, unless asked, promise.” You tried to sound like it was playful, soft and he laughed.
"Yeah, sorry, I just didn't want to make you uncomfortable.”
“I don't want to make you feel uncomfortable either." You reassured, “I'm not making you uncomfortable though, am I? If I am-" One of his hands grabbed yours making you pause.
“You're not making me uncomfortable either, you're okay." His sweet smile made you feel more than just like melting, you hoped the wetness pooling between your thighs wouldn't be noticeable in the water. Finnick softly turned you around to wash your hair, he was so particular, taking his time and the feeling of his breath on your neck, clever fingers in your hair. It was so calming, “This okay, honey?" You could only hum in approval as his hands moved so delicately across your scalp. Your brain so easily fell into an easy blissful state as you let his hands move your head with ease. He finished with your hair soon enough and was moving onto washing your body. You shuddered when he carefully pushed your hair off the back of your neck, “You sure you're okay?”
"Yeah.” It comes out more strained than you'd meant it to and you pray he's not put off by it, which he doesn't seem to be as his hands keep trailing downwards. He's soaped and rinsed you off, moving you with so much care that you wish you could absorb each second of it, but you're trying to leave the moment. If you let yourself think about it you're sure you'll give yourself away with the way you'd be responding to his touch. Then it's nearly impossible when he's washing your face, his hands seem like they were perfectly meant to hold your face and suddenly so do his lips when he's kissing you again. Instantly you're pulling him in closer, basically inhaling whatever he gives you. Then you're pausing when his hands start slipping down the small of your back.
Much to your chagrin he pulls away, pausing his hands descent, as he looks at you, “Are you okay with this?" He asks, his eyes speak depths on how much he cares. You nod trying to lean in again, but he leans back, “Need to hear you say it, sweet girl."
"Yes, Finn.” It's barely audible, but he rewards you by kissing you again. Fingers continuing their trail down your back, grazing over nerves that make you shiver. His hands finally land on your hips and you can barely breathe, but you won't let yourself pull away from his lips. They're too addictive and you're too scared you'll wake up to realize you never left the Capitol. And then his hands are slipping lower, your thighs pressing together.
His hands are slowly spreading your legs apart and you let them. Whimpering into his lips when his fingers start tracing over your pussy. His lips pull away and you whine more, even if it gives you a chance to gasp for air. “You're dripping, sweet girl, I haven't even done anything. I bet…” Finnick trails off and you gasp when the tips of two of his fingers are lightly pushing into you. You're instantly clenching around them and he's smirking. “Were you gonna tell me I was making you this dizzy?" You hum out something incoherent when his other fingers start rubbing you. “Seems like someone doesn't know how to use her words, sweet girl, I just have to look at her and understand how needy she is…” He kisses your neck, "Doesn't tell me she feels the same way about me, I have to do it.” Another kiss to another sensitive spot and you gave up on any idea of suppressing the wanton sounds you're making now. He was rubbing you faster now, “Someone's gonna have to teach you to use your words, like a good girl. Not today though."
"Finn-” You moaned out, head tilting back. "Need you, need you so bad. Need you inside me.” You clenched around the tips of his stationary fingers and he thrusted them upwards, the sound you let out was guttural with shock.
“You sure you can take me, sweet girl? Want me to split you open instead of helping you open?" He sounded condescending as he kept moving his fingers inside of you as you whined, before letting out another moan as he slipped a third finger in you.
“Don't care, Finn, don't care if it hurts, need you cock in me. Please, please, please.”
He slipped his fingers out and your eyebrows scrunched together as you whined, he was opening your mouth with his fingers soaked in your juices. “You're my pretty little cock slut aren't you? Gonna let me break you on my cock?" You sucked his fingers in confirmation, licking off your own juices and he smirked. “Did you fantasize about me? Were you not able to tell me how you felt because you were too busy making yourself dumb thinking about my cock?" You nodded, moaning as his other hands began making even more aggressive circles. His hand titled your head up, “If you want my cock, then you're gonna tell me what you thought about when you were fucking yourself stupid."
It was hard to form words when you wanted to do nothing but whine at the pleasure rushing through your body, "You, I thought about how much I wanted you-” Your head fell back when his circles got rougher and then was forcing your head back up, "Wanted you inside of me, touched myself thinking about, oh my god, Finn, please I can't it's too much, wanna cum when you're inside me.”
He was quiet for a second before sighing, “When you beg like that how am I supposed to refuse you anything? Just because my sweet girl just got back to me and must be being so brave, using her words like that. But you're not getting out of it next time, honey." Finnick removed his hand and you let out an involuntary whine.
"Thank you, Finn.” You said breathily as he finally lined himself up with your entrance. “Already so close."
“So needy." He clicked his tongue as he started pushing into you, you clawed into his back. “Jump." You obeyed and he hoisted you up, legs wrapping around his waist. Trying not to hit at his back when caused more of him to push in, but you couldn't stop yourself from the scream you let out when he carefully pushed your back against the shower wall and he bottomed out in you. “So tight, this pussy was made for me, feels so good." He groaned, “Can I move?"
“Please, you're so deep in me, feels so good. Wanna be yours, Finn, want you to do what you want with me." His face planted itself in between your neck and shoulder and you could feel him smiling into your skin.
“You're so sweet, honey." Then he was moving again and you were instantly crying out, “Everyone's gonna find us if you keep this up, know you're mine now." At your insistence he let himself be fast, pound in and out of you as you tightened around him.
Finnick moved a hand up to protect your head as he thrusted recklessly into you. It felt like an eternity of his perfect noises and seeing stars with each movement, you were so grateful that it was your cunt making him groan like that, that he wanted to be inside of you. “Oh my god, Finn, I'm gonna come."
“Good girl, come undone on my cock, sweet girl. Wanna look at your pretty face when you let go for me.” You could've sworn that you'd left the planet when he brought you past the edge. He must have felt it too because your ecstasy doubled when you felt him releasing inside of you, how full you were of him.
You don't know how long you stayed like that, listening to each other's breathing, but nothing had ever felt so perfect. “They're gonna wonder what happened to us." You eventually let out a breathy laugh and he nodded into your shoulder. He tapped your leg and you unhooked them from around his waist. Feet falling onto the cold tiles below.
“Good, I've got to make up for lost time." He kissed your forehead before finally pulling out of you and you hated how empty you felt without him. Finnick pressed his forehead against yours and you watched the steam from the water gather around him, “I should've told you sooner, if you hadn't been okay and here with me again, I don't know if I could've lived with myself knowing you never knew I loved you." And the way he kissed you sealed your fate, you would forever be making up for the times that neither of you confessed to how hopelessly you adored each other and you would relish every moment of it.
𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒
thank you for reading! I'm going to try and get chapter two of the river out before I do the next request, working on scheduling these each out! if you enjoyed it feedback is always appreciated, comments, likes, reblogs, and my asks/requests are open! thank you again and love you all 💋
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etfrin · 4 months
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❝ꜱᴏᴜʟꜱ ᴛᴏ ᴄʀᴜꜱʜ❞ — chapter eight | coriolanus snow
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「ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢ:」 SFW | Coriolanus Snow
「ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ:」 young! Coriolanus Snow x fem! Reader
「ꜱᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ:」 Coryo wakes up in the hospital and finds you... oh! you guys share a bed btw <⁠(⁠ ̄⁠︶⁠ ̄⁠)⁠>
「ᴀ/ɴ:」 hope y'all like this!!
beta read by the amazing spectacular @nowitsmissing
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Coriolanus Snow could hear a certain buzz as he regained consciousness. He soon realized it was the noise of the machine attached to him. The groan he lets out is louder than he thought as he opens his eyes and begins to sit up.
He blinks, the dim light of the hospital filling his eyes up and it hurts. He looked to his left and saw the empty beds beside him, a few nurses fluttering around, not paying any attention to anything except their remaining work.
He looks to his right, and he won't ever admit the fact that his eyes watered. A few teardrops even rolled down on his cheeks without his consent. You were there, safe and present. Curled up in a chair, sleeping. He hissed softly as he wiped the moisture away from his face. He ignored the sting he felt whenever he moved. The wound in his back would surely scar.
At least it wasn't his face.
He stands up on his feet, his arm holding the IV pole for support. He wondered briefly if he should wake you up but decided against it. It certainly wasn't because you looked so pretty right now, he just wanted you well rested. That's it (not).
But his attention is stolen by his tribute on the TV. Lucy Gray Baird live on the screens of every TV in Panem. Even the nurses had stopped working to look at her. She held a guitar. Coriolanus was glad that Sejanus Plinth did one thing right in his life.
“Good evening. Capitol. Districts,” she said. Her fingertips were on the strings of the lovely guitar. “I wrote this song for a boy back in twelve. I hope he hears it.”
Then she begins to strum out a tune and a sweet melody begins to play with heartbreaking lyrics.
“When I was a babe, I fell in the holler
When I was a girl, I fell into your arms
We fell on hard times, and we lost our bright Colors
You went zu the dogs, and I lived by my charms
I danced for my dinner, spread kisses like honey
You stole and you gambled, and I said you should
We sang for our soppers, we drunk up our money
And one day you left, saying I was no good…"
He grinned, Lucy Gray certainly painted a picture of a heartbroken girl nicely. It would certainly win the hearts of the Capitol if the sobbing of the nurses he could hear was any sign. Plus, he was sure Sejanus Plinth would be blinded by jealousy. The thought made Coriolanus feel so much better.
Then his attention turns to you, your voice much sweeter despite being raspy, “It was a rebel bombing they said.” You continue, “They wanted to destroy the symbols of the Games. Marcus, Sejanus Plinths’ tribute ran away. And several died. We were lucky.”
You stand up and stretch your arms. And he hates himself for his eyes lowered to see the flash of skin you showed when your shirt rose. He swallowed and pretended that his increased heartbeat wasn't because of you.
You walk up to him.
“You were lucky,” you said, your hand caging his with a hold he cherished. You rest your head on his shoulder and both of you watch the song end together, and Lucy walks off stage.
You begin to explain again, “Tigris had to leave for work. Sejanus left to give Lucy Gray the guitar. They both were present and worried.”
Your head turns to his side, and you whisper, “You're not allowed to get hurt again.”
“I don't think I have that in control-” Coriolanus begins to say, his voice defensive. He could see the tiredness in your eyes. He could see you overwhelmed by what happened. He didn't need to ask ‘Real or not?’. He knew.
You squeezed his hand so hard that he saw white in his vision, a surprised groan leaving his lips. “You're not allowed to get hurt,” you emphasized. Your eyes narrowed in a glare, you looked a bit adorable with how worn out you were and Coriolanus wanted to smile at you. He decided against it when the hold got tighter and he was pretty sure his hand wasn't getting any blood flow.
“Fine,” he agreed, “I won't get hurt again.”
He knew it wasn't in his control. But for you, he would try. There was no way to rationalize why so he put the promise he just made to you to the back of his mind.
Your hand loses the death grip and you gently make him sit down on the bed again. “Ma I mean Sejanus’ mom sent some food for us. She's sad that she couldn't visit,” you said.
“Ma?” He questioned.
“She told me to call her that. I had plenty of dinners at Sejanus place.” You answered.
“Plenty, huh?” He muttered it was so obviously jealous that you raised an eyebrow at him. You dig out a container from a bag and place it on your lap. In your hand, you had utensils for one person.
“Feel free to invite me to yours, Snow.”
But he couldn't, and that increased his jealousy even more. Sejanus could feed you steaks, and sweets and what could Coriolanus feed you? Expired milk and cabbage soup. He didn't say anything further, letting the hurt fester in his heart.
He decided to give you something else instead.
“Coryo…” he whispered, his eyes vulnerable, “Call me Coryo from now on.” Coryo was a nickname for his friends and family. Something intimate to him, something he owns to himself. And he was giving it to you and hoped that you accepted it.
“Coryo,” you tried out, and it sounded perfect from your lips. It sounded so much like the fate he avoids, that he looks away. He blames his blurry eyes on tiredness.
“Now eat,” you said, taking his attention with the spoonful of rice you held in front of him.
“I can feed myself,” he said. He wasn't that hurt. He could move his limbs fine. He can feed himself. He is not a child. You don't have to treat him as one.
“Don't care, Coryo. It's for me rather than for you,” you stated, “Please, Coryo.”
He doesn't argue. He doesn't know what to refute when your eyes turn pleading. And he knew that you were making the impression so he would give in. And so he did. Who was he to reject you after all?
He lets you feed him the rice and chicken gravy Sejanus's mom cooked deliciously. It was hundredfolds better than anything Coriolanus could compare to. He will remember to pass his thanks to Sejanus.
After the box is devoid of any food, it's returned to its place in the bag. And you curled up in the uncomfortable seat again. Coriolanus didn't like it very much, it was obvious it wasn't the most luxurious place to sleep in. Surely, your back and neck will hurt when you wake up tomorrow.
He moves himself until there's space in his small, hospital bed. He pats the space. “Come here,” he said. Before you could protest, he adds, “It's for me rather than for you.”
You don't argue with him, instead you slip him beside him. Your body against his in the small bed. He lets out a shuddering breath that you don't notice. His arm is under your head, being used as a pillow. In a sense, you were cuddling with how quickly your legs had tangled with his and your arm was over his torso. He felt caged, and he never knew being caged could feel good not suffocating. It could feel safe.
You made him feel safe.
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